I'm there for you

I don’t know what inspired me to write this, but I think everyone needs to read this or know this at least once in their life.

I know what depression feels like, okay? I know what heartbreak is, too. You must be thinking what a 17 year old girl must know about pain, right? You’re wrong.

The age or the act doesn’t justify the pain you feel. It comes in pieces and all at once, more with each time. Maybe I haven’t been exactly where you are but trust me I know the hell the world offers. First thing you should know is that you should never ever judge or criticize someone else's pain. When a person is sad, you don’t have that right to say otherwise. Apart from that, I’ve also known happiness, pure bliss, in little things such as my mother’s smile or big things like seeing my baby brother for the first time. 

Try to be happy in little things if miracles are not around. My love, you can’t find happiness if you stop looking.

I’ve been where you are right now or, for some of you, where will you be. I know that the world can be a cruel place, I know it’s not always a cakewalk and I also that know sometime it hurts so much that you want curl up in a ball, cry and never leave your house again or hurt yourself along the way so somehow the pain on the outside puts an end to the pain on the inside. 

Somedays you want to die and somedays not so much, remember and hold on to the latter one, okay? 
I know how you feel and somehow if you think I don't, then tell me, I'm here.

Listen to me (or read, whatever), okay? Every person hurts on the inside somehow and everyone reacts to it differently. You have to know that so you remember not to be harsh even if everyone else is. Everyone deserves love, everyone, okay? Even you. You are made to be loved and caressed and spoiled by someone, anyone. If not that, you can be that someone for yourself. I used to think love isn’t everything but over time and time I’ve been proven wrong and I've realized that love is the only thing that matters, only thing we hold on to. It might be in different forms sometimes but we still cling to it like koalas to trees, we're just less discreet about it. If you can’t find love in others, find it in yourself, because without that we, the humans, are nothing, do you understand me?

Love yourself for taking care of you,
love yourself for taking care of others,
love people so they can find love in you and in themselves,
love people so they can hold onto you,
love them so someday maybe you could hold on to them.

Love is phenomenal and everywhere. You can love little things and make them big, love your job, your ambition and your passion, your smile when you are truly happy, love yourself in that new outfit you bought yourself, love yourself for secretly eating a pizza when you're trying to lose weight, love yourself for loving your pets, love every little thing that somehow affect you. Let go off the past if it comes with regret or in the way of you loving something or someone or yourself, hold on to your past if it makes you smile and makes you fall in love with yourself for surviving even after all that you’ve been through. 

Be kind.

Let people know that you are growing and falling in love with everything around you slowly, more today than you ever were yesterday. Please forgive yourself enough to feel again even if you start crying because, my love, something cannot end without a start and when tears run out, smiles will blossom. 

Be beautiful; find that within you because I know you are a priceless art. You are a cocoon that’s evolving to be a butterfly someday, if you aren’t already. You're all beautiful because all butterflies are, no matter what type.

And please my love, do not ever give up. Ever.

You will find hope and love and beauty because it is in you. If you can’t, let me help you find it. Let me be a friend that already knows you are perfection in making, even if you can’t see it. If you can’t find it, let me the help, the cocoon that helps others.

Talk to me, I mean it. 

New phase of nostalgia

Let's go to something basic. Love. Actually, post-love.

You told me once about how you liked me before, when I didn't cry all the time. You said that I fussed over things so I stopped, kept to myself. Then you told me that I don't share what's bothering me. Should I hold it in or should I let it out?

You told me that I couldn't handle the disaster brewing between us, but then why were you the one to let go first and run away? You scared piece of shit. Maybe that was the time when you fell in my eyes for the first time. All those excuses and the lies to make yourself feel like a better person. News flash, you're not better than any of them. 

You told me you wanted to be my friend. So I saw you as nothing else, nothing. Then you go around and talk to me, about me, about how you've entrapped the idea of me in the narrow hell you've made for yourself where I am nothing but the satan. You talk about me like I'm a monster you escaped from. Maybe I should have been. Maybe I shouldn't have given it my all.

Our friends tell us how we're made for each other. I used to believe it at first, thought you did too. Now it just seems stupid. You're too calm to handle a storm and you can't name me anything but a hurricane. Everything that happened seems too fake and too hazy and too short and too distant that I'm overwhelmed with feelings, the feelings of a homeless. And you remind me of my old apartment building with ebbed and flowed memoirs like a photo stuck between the dusty old sheets, you were the type of home that could even scatter apart from the tremors of dancing feet upstairs. I should have know you couldn't survive an earthquake. 


Who'd have thought? I could get nostalgic for disasters.
Who'd have known? Nostalgia could turn into hatred.


Maybe, I shouldn't have protected you from my monster. I should have let it have you till you drained.

Maybe. 

If you come back, maybe I'll run back to you. 

If you come back, maybe I'll stab you and watch you bleed life as the light ones out from your eyes.