Hard truths

This is it. And it’s all the things you never thought it would be.

This is the extra baggage, the insecurity, the loneliness in a crowd, the emptiness of what you never expected. The bitter truth. That this isn't really freedom, it’s breaking out of a prison to find you’d actually rather be back there.

Because it’s familiar. Because you’d rather play a part in a routine you know than act in a role that you didn't know. Because it’s your house, but not really yours, your freedom, dictated by someone else, your life in the hands of an acceptance letter.

Because grammatically wrong suffixes don’t make cousins your siblings. And your hair never gets used to the change in salinity of water, so it decides to behave like straw. And the many accounts you opened on different social networking sites to feel surrounded by people don’t help. And because you know that all the salt and water your tear ducts can produce cannot wash away the stains of grief on your face.

Because traveling the world sounds fun at first, but all that the newspapers have to say washes away your naivete that makes you believe the world would be a beautiful place to see. And because the most beautiful cities have dark allies, hideous crimes, shocking truths.

Because you’re dumb enough to think living abroad would be fun but you panic when your dad takes too long at the grocery store. And you think you’re independent, but you've never really lived alone, and you're silly enough to think you’d be okay. Because you always thought you were mature enough, so you didn't really have to grow up. Because of the promise of time to take away everything you've ever known so the only thing that’s permanently true is that everything changes. Whether you like it or not. Whether you’re ready for it or not. Whether it’s served to you on a platter or kicks you in the gut, deal with it, deal with this, deal with everything.

Endless roads and fading sighs

Empty like your eyes, hardened like your heart. Still trying to find smiles in the wrinkly lines curving around your unforgiving face, I'm still searching for where this thing snapped, broke, and changed. I'm still wondering if we will ever be the same again, still wondering if irreversibility is our punishment, and we are to blame. 

I feel so consumed by this monster of hatred inside of me, allowing me no good feeling, no happy memories to lighten me, no forgiveness to ease my pain. I am sucked into black holes of poisonous words and failed friendships, late apologies and not enough love. I'm swallowed by the escapeless voids within my heart, black walls, no windows, no me.

I'm still searching for who I used to be, for what I could be now, still searching for us, searching for familiarity. I am no stranger to hatred and jealousy, tears and anger, pain and patience, resentment and regret, but I am a stranger to me.

Forever learning

''Life's like that, ''she said. ''We thought it would all be easy and fun, smiles and goodbyes. ''We learnt. That life isn't the merriment it sounds like. We fall, fail to get back up, crawl, pull ourselves up, we fall, fail again and sometimes there's a helping hand but sometimes there isn't and we learn, to fend for ourselves,to break and re-mend ourselves, to fix shattered hearts and broken dreams, to dry crying eyes and to suppress drowning screams. We fall, and the first time, we don't know how to get back up ourselves, but we learn.

Life's like that. People leave, you learn. You have to leave one day too, and you'll still be learning, still be living, breathing, writing reminders to yourself to move on when you find yourself empty and the road ahead barren.

Ask the widow, she lost her husband nearly twenty years ago, and she still has his ironed clothes hanging in his closet, making their house look like he's just left for coffee, making it look like he'll be back now, anytime now. She still has sleepless nights and she's still learning everyday, still learning, that he is never coming back, not today.

Ask the abused wife, she would do anything to be a widow, so she won't be judged, so she can live freely in a society that looks down on womenkind and dismisses their suffering, she's still learning that some things never change, some morals are never obeyed, some people can never be trusted.

Life is like that. You learn some, and you think you've seen it all, but you're always still learning, still learning till you're done, and you breathe the secrets of a broken heart no longer.

Decimating the beginning

I wish I could tell you what I feel but I fear it is too violent for letters on a page and too broken for sleepless hearts to read. I would tell you what I feel but I'm afraid my tears would blur the ink on the page and stain your fingertips with salt and pain.

If I did manage to spew out the vicious fire lit within my being, I would confess my fear that this wasn't good enough for you. You are only a few days old but I swear when I talk to you, you gaze at me with the intelligence of someone who understands. I wish I could tell you the family structure society thinks is perfect really isn't. How we imagine things should be aren't really the way they are in reality. You'd say a family consisted of a couple and their children, but I'd tell you that family is anyone who loves you. You would think you need a father to have a normal family life, I would make you believe you don't. You will probably ask me where your daddy is. I would tell you what I felt but I fear it wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't be enough for you.

I know you'll ask questions, and they won't be easy to answer. I wish you wouldn't have to ask about someone who never asked after you. I would tell you what I know, but I'm afraid your tears would blur the words they shouldn't have to read.

I wish I could live like that

Your perfection is marred by the path you walked, your scars and stories. Every experience you've had you've turned into a lesson, now you've learnt, this is how the world works. These are the disguises of the people who claim to love you and these are the people who do. This is the hurt-forgive-repeat cycle that life runs on, the handles in the hands of those who can. Who can forgive, let go, love, laugh, live freely.