“Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?”
For the past week, this song has been the top played song on my playlist. What drew me to listen to this every now and then in the past week, I do not know. All I know is that I feel a distant relation to this song. Somewhere in the corners of my heart, there’s thin line being connected between me and this song.
I admit that I tend to be overly dramatic and emotional. I admit that I sometimes overexaggerate the possibilities that can happen. I usually let my imaginations run wild and words just flow right out of me that whenever I look back at them, there are some that make me flinch out of disgust while some just brings back to life the wonderful memories I’d have forgotten in a while.
The other night my thoughts came around to some old memories I had. And then I remembered about the little things. It’s always the little things, right? Well, if it’s not for you then I’d have to tell it now that for me it’s always the little things that count. It’s always the little things that put a smile on my face whenever I remember and of them.
I remember being fourteen and seventeen–full of hopes and dreams and a never ending wild imagination about the fairytales in my head. I remember loving someone, only hoping for him to love me back. I remember having written a few poems about him and how he was the main subject of almost all my writing. I remember writing a fairy tale that told our story and how it could have been if he’d have loved me somewhere along the way. I remember the little things he did like picking up my handkerchief for me when I didn’t notice it fall or searching for me through the crowd just to keep his promise that he would dance with me in our last prom.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with him anymore. I’ve moved on and I’m happy that he’s happy with the life that he has right now. It’s just that, remembering these things–these sweet little things–reminded me of how full of life I was before. How I had vigor in my emotions and in my writing and how he had inspired me enough to be able to write some of the best poems I have ever written.
I miss her. I miss the she who could write for hours about her hopes and dreams and share it to the world without any worries or cares. I’m not like that anymore. I’ve become this shell who hides herself away and feels scared to show even an ounce of her emotions. But I won’t be living like this anymore. It’s time to go out and see the world as if it’s the first time I’ve ever stepped out to explore. I need to get the fire I once had back in my life.
I am who I am and no one should be able to change that. I may be weak but I’ve been trying to heal the pain and abuse I’ve experienced over the last year. Sooner or later, I will be back. Sooner or later, I’ll be stronger and braver.
So I leave you with one of the poems I wrote back in 2007 or 2008. It’s one of my favorites. And here’s also to hoping that I will soon find my sense of freedom and grace.
With no pretense I’ll slowly fade
Like whispers in the night,
Leaving an air of lavish sense
From which I hold you tight.
Hand in hand, we shall fly up high
Across the moonlit sky.
And feign on! Feign on
Like lovers lost in a lullaby!