Hello Again

It has been quite some time since I penned down my thoughts, and I thought that meant I had actually moved on. But now, as my fingers move on their own accord, I have to reach the blatant realization that I have not moved on. Not an inch. Not at all.

You have been on my mind a lot these past few days. Initially, I thought it was due to my reaching out on your birthday. Later, maybe it was due to the guy that promptly entered and soon exited my life. Or perhaps even, it was due to the dream I had, where you were no longer a part of my life. A dream, while quite close to the reality I was living, that haunted me the rest of the night, and a dream, that haunts me still.

The thing is… even after a year and one month, I still cannot picture my life without you in it. Special days such as birthdays just make it all the more glaringly obvious. There was nothing more I wanted than to be able to wish you, and keep wishing you as I celebrated your day with you. All the while joking about how old you were becoming. However, I had to resort to sending you a sadly impersonal email. Making sure it did not sound too desperate, too caring, too I’m still in love with you.

I didn’t even realize I was… still in love, I mean. I was so sure I had come to terms with what happened with us. Until the aforementioned guy, one that did not even come close to understanding the essence of who I was, told me he was falling for me. The only feeling I had in the gut of my stomach was dread. Not butterflies… not even a hint of being flattered. Just utter dread as I realized I did not want him to feel such things for me. As I realized I didn’t want anyone feeling such things for me… except you.

I have become quite accustomed to this feeling of dread that has taken to inhabiting my stomach often these past thirteen months. Each time it visits, I cannot help but think of how I will never like, let alone love, these men who claim to be taken back by me. And then I wonder if maybe something is fundamentally wrong with my ability to love, as I think back to how I could never love the men who came before you… just like I cannot love the ones who walk through my life now.

But then, I think of you. I think of how easy it was to love you. To fall in love with you. The easiest thing in my world. And when I fell, I fell without the fear that so often incapacitates me these days. I was not afraid because I knew I was falling in love with my best friend. It seemed like it was supposed to happen, as if it were in the hands of forces much greater than ourselves. I can still remember the first time I realized I loved you. I had blurted it out to you by accident before realizing I meant every word of it. In that moment, I gave you my heart carelessly because I trusted you to take better care of it than I ever could.

Most of the time, you did not disappoint. Though you did trip and stumble a bit, you made sure to make sure my heart was in pristine condition. Until it wasn’t. We both got careless along the way, and our hearts became the victims of our cold words, our broken promises, and our shattered trust in each other. We went out separate ways, hoping it would help us mend our fractured spirits to be even a shadow of what they once were. It worked for a while.

Until that blasted dream I had, where you were no longer a part of my world. It helped me realize things that you may have figured out before me. Though you have hurt me more than anyone else, you have also made me the person I am today. In my every action, in my every word, there is not a part that you haven’t helped inspire. You became my best friend 7 years ago, and my love 4 years ago. With all this chaos, I forgot to realize that under the love of my life still lies my best friend. The man who knows me better than anyone else. The man who made me the woman I am today. I used to think my world would be easier without you in it. But now I know that without you, it wouldn’t be my world. Without you, I wouldn’t be me.



I ran into you today. It was like passing by a stranger, the way we both managed to ignore each other so well. Past the outer cool facade, there was so much chaos and noise inside of me. The shattering of glass, fingernails against a chalkboard, a loud ringing in my ears. My heart beating out of my chest, my mind a million miles an hour, my skin cold and clammy from a layer of sweat. Almost as if my body was compensating for how little emotion my mind allowed you to see.

So now, I am sitting down at my desk, typing away on my laptop, trying to put to words all the emotions still bubbling inside of me, threatening to burst open, quite like an active volcano. Typing away emotions you will never see. Even though they are emotions that only you can truly understand because there is no other person in this world who can quite begin to understand what we had. Like you can.

I’m having trouble putting into words what I am feeling, for what we had and what I feel transcends all known forms of language. It almost feels as if I am trivializing what we shared by trying to capture it with mere words stringed together into semi-articulate sentences. But I swear I am not. I have spent the past 8 months eating my weight in calories and waiting for you to come back into my life. Waiting for you to tell me you had a life-altering moment that finally allowed you to realize the value of my worth. Waiting for you to miss me as much as I have been missing you. And finally, waiting for you to look for me, to look for me with the conviction I had always hoped for but never found.

As I waited and waited, life passed by. And now, as I look back, there is little I remember that is not blemished with the thought of you. I don’t want to wait anymore. So, I’m writing away. I will continue to write away, putting to words every bloody emotion and feeling that comes to mind concerning you, whether it be good or bad. Many don’t think it will work, they think I am memorializing you by writing about you. They may be right. But I know that once my writing starts to no longer hold any trace or inspiration from you or from our relationship, I have gotten over all the mucky feelings and emotions that plague me still. Then, I will know I have come that much closer to moving on.

And I will. I will move on. Because loving you hurts me too damn much so I have to force myself to say goodbye to you. Each of these entries are my way of doing such. I hope, with each entry, I come that much closer to letting you go and finding myself again. That much closer to living again. Because I don’t want to be a passenger in my own life anymore, with no control of how it turns out. I want to be my own damn driver, navigating the many bumps and curves that come my way.


I had another dream about you last night, a recurring one I get whenever you’ve been on my mind a little bit too much. We were laying in bed, on our sides facing each other, naked underneath the covers. We were talking, as we often used to do before we fell asleep, about anything and everything, our eyes shiny with happiness but heavy with drowsiness. The dragonflies were erupting in my stomach again, a feeling I hadn’t felt in so long finally being ignited inside of me. Though you were inches away from me, our bodies were not touching. It is as if even my subconscious knew you were no longer within my grasp. And then, as we lapsed into silence, you moved your face closer to mine, and just before our lips met in a kiss, I woke up, my hair and body drenched in sweat and tears trailing down my face.

I always wake up at this point, on my side. But you are not there, next to me.

It has been ten months since we said our goodbyes, without the passion that has always fueled our arguments before. The farewell was dejected in a way, as if we had both given in to the hopelessness of our relationship, as if we had finally seen in us what everyone else had seen from the beginning. We vowed to never talk again, a vow both of us broke several times. And each time, we broke not only the promise but also each other, over and over again. When we parted ways in January, I thought I could not feel more lost and alone than I did at that moment– that moment we decided we were no longer worth fighting for. Turns out I was wrong. Over these past several months, I have felt as lost as a small boat drifting aimlessly along the Pacific ocean, with no one on board to steer and give it direction.

That boat has more of a chance of finding its way to the shore than I think I do of finding myself again.

I feel as though I have lost my purpose in this world. People say that when you are broken, you can build yourself up into whoever you wish to be. But what if you are broken into so many tiny, minuscule pieces that cannot be put back together? A shattered glass painting can never be pieced back, no matter how much you try, and in the process of trying, all you succeed in doing is pricking your finger and hurting yourself. And oh, there have been many who tried. And with each that gets pricked, I feel myself breaking just a little bit more, overcome with the knowledge that anything I may ever feel for them cannot hold a candle to what I had once felt for you. Still feel for you. It’s as if though I put all the feelings, love, and romance I had inside of me into loving you.

And now, there is nothing left to give.

So nothing is all I give, nothing is all I feel, nothing is all around me, suffocating me day in and day out before I finally succumb to the darkness of the night and let my dreams take over. Until I wake up the next morning, my hair and body drenched in sweat, tears trailing down my face.

And the cycle starts all over again.


Heavy sobs racked her body, her chest heaving up and down as her lungs struggled for some fresh air. All of a sudden, an eerie silence filled the room, as if sealed tightly shut like a vacuum, the sobbing seemingly having stopped. A distinct crack resonated against the tile floors and the thin walls, as her fist met the wall in a surge of blind anger. What used to be a pristine bare, white wall was now stained with a faint tint of red, mixed in with a bit of her flesh, her knuckles having been skinned with the reckless punch.

Upon seeing her handiwork, her face let up into a cynical smile before her body racked again, this time with the force of the maniacal laughter that overtook her small frame. The laughter soon transitioned into gut-wrenching sobbing once more as she couldn’t help but see the irony in how the blood-stained wall paralleled her own fucked up life so perfectly… the pristine wall her emotionless state before the physical pain of the punch allowed her to feel something. Though the pain was superficial, quite like the tint of blood, it brought her joy, sadistic joy, that she could still feel anything at all.

Once her sobbing let up, she took a swig of the liquid poison next to her, the alcohol further numbing it all as it coursed through her body. As she looked around her small room, she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror, hardly being able to recognize the tear-stained face looking back at her. She thought back to who she was just a year prior to all of this, her fists clenching once more at the thought. Taking another swig and ignoring the dull throb of pain of her hand, she mused over all that had happened to turn that bright doe-eyed innocent girl into this savage being in the mirror.

Her hand instinctively reached out for the phone, before she realized she had alienated all those previously on her speed dial. The one man that was once the only person she ever opened up to, heart and soul, was now the catalyst that had started the decaying of her existence. And, as she came to figure out, no one wanted to be around a self-destructing human bomb that was prone to go off any moment, with no warning beforehand or remorse afterwards. As she glanced down at her phone, she saw the many missed called from her parents, the only ones who still cared enough to check in.

Overcome with a sudden bout of anger, she hurled her phone at the wall and watched as it bounced off and hit the floor. She thought about all those who had abandoned her, at the time of her greatest need. After all she had done for them, after all she had put up with, she felt like they owed her. She felt like it was their turn to put up with her now. Too lost in her own delusional thoughts, she failed to see the selfishness behind it all, the pain she had put them through, the pain she continued to put them through, as she wasted away holed up in her room.

She was too lost in her own misery and her own self-hatred to see much else. The bottle in her hand was now empty, the poison sitting in her stomach, eating away at its lining. She thought back about him now, the only person who was still able to ignite something in her. She thought back on her love for him, how exhausting it had been to love someone so completely. She thought back on how she had put every ounce of herself into loving him, making him her whole world, until she could no longer remember who she was without him. And when he had left her, all she had left was a ghost of the person she once was, an empty shell of a long-forgotten girl. When he left, she lost not only him and her friends. When he left, she lost herself too.


Light brown eyes that could see through her,
Right into the deepest parts of her soul.
A smile that twisted her stomach into
A thousand tiny knots.
The deep, throaty voice that could soothe
Even the most bleary of days,
And the most terrifying of nightmares.
Those full, pink lips curved slightly upwards,
The ones that kissed her own into oblivion;
The same lips that kissed away her scars,
Even the ones hidden deep within.
A well-defined chest, with soft tufts of hair,
With a slight indentation that her body
Fit into perfectly, as if made for her.
Large hands, slightly calloused from all
He had been through, their roughness
Contrasting with that of her naïve soft ones.

His body was one she knew so well, dedicating hours
To memorizing every inch, every curve, every “flaw”.
She believed she knew his heart and soul just as well;
Having deluded herself into believing
His heart was hers and his soul was pure.
Until each of his many lies, his many deceptions
Started to unravel themselves,
And all she had left was the mad laughter
Which turned into gut-wrenching sobs.
She became a prisoner of the past,
Ghosts of her memories her only company;
And with each incident she visited,
Further into the rabbit hole she traveled;
Until she reached the very beginning,
Back when their story had commenced.
She could see now that though he made her a promise,
A promise to catch her when she fell,
As soon as she started to fall for him,
He had already begun to turn around.


The day he met her was like any other
Habitual at best, Dreary at worst.
Her entrance was like a ray of sunshine
After a week’s worth of rain–
Unexpected, but very welcome.
She was the answer to all the prayers
He hadn’t known to make;
And the moment he laid eyes on her,
He could not help but think
How he could spend the rest of his life
Worshiping her.

And he soon fell in love with her
Slowly at first and then all at once.
He fell in love with the way
She said his name;
And the way her face lighted up
At the sight of him.
He fell in love with the way the
Sunshine played with her hair;
And the way the stars
Were the twinkle in her eyes.
He fell in love with her quirks,
The very ones she hated;
And the demons from long ago
That still chilled her to the bone.
He fell in love with her,
Mind body and soul.

She was the Juliet to his Romeo,
Bonnie to his Clyde.
She was a cup of hot chocolate,
During a long winter storm,
With extra marshmallows.
She was the grass on
The other side;
The twinkling of stars
After a cloudy night
That shone bright enough
Just to guide him home.

Home– a word that didn’t hold much meaning
To him until she entered his life.
Home– the place he now associated
With her wrapped tightly in his arms;
The smell of her hair comforting him,
The touch of her lips assuring him
That everything would be okay
As long as he could come home…
To her.

Their love wasn’t perfect, far from it;
They bickered constantly,
Yelling out insecurities,
And whispering apologies.
But to him,
Their story meant more
Than that of Romeo and Juliet,
Bonnie and Clyde;
For their love was real.
Her love for him made him whole,
As his love for her sewed up her brokenness;
And with this love, they both found their home
Inside the warmth of the other.


She stood in front of him,
A frown marring her delicate features
As she looked at his hardened face,
A face she used to know so well;
One that was quick to betray
Any and all emotion he was feeling;
A face that used to light up
Whenever he thought of her
Or her presence was felt by him;
A face that now is the cause
Of all her devilish nightmares.

She stood in front of him,
Her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears,
As she looked into his dark brown orbs,
Ones she still loved so dearly;
Once upon a time, those eyes
Would make her melt; in them,
His love for her so obvious;
But now, all she could see
Was an unfamiliar darkness
As if the light in them was extinguished
Along with their long gone love.

She stood in front of him,
A defiant tear falling onto her lips;
And at that moment,
The sensation caused her to look down
At his slightly chapped lips;
The ones she could spend hours kissing
As butterflies erupted in her stomach;
The lips which once uttered soothing words
To put her qualms to rest;
The lips whose purpose was to now
Bring bigger demons to life inside of her.

She stood in front of him,
Her soft hands aching to reach out
And wrap her fingers around his own;
A soft sigh left her mouth
At the sight of his hands moving back;
Hands filled with callouses,
Symbolical of how hard he had worked
To make their seemingly epic love work;
Those same hands also caused the
Destruction of all they had built;
Crashing down with a single touch.

As she stood in front of him,
She realized she was looking at a stranger,
The anatomy of his features
Being the only trigger on her memory.

Two people who had once shared
Their entire souls, dreams, and fears;
Now barely able to recognize the other.
While their faces remained unblemished,
Their eyes told a different story…
A story of two souls that have been
Irrevocably broken and scarred,
From the actions of the other;
Actions, which supposedly, were all done
In the name of true love.