If anyone's reading this, I'm just a wounded soul. I've been trading most days for nine years to see if I get a glimpse of what true happiness feels like. You know, how kids flap their tongue in the wind when it rains and catch the drops from the sky to savor them? I believe that's true happiness. I also believe only children could ever achieve it.
And no, I'm not a pessimist, really. What I mean by that is that, children have the unique ability of sweeping everything under the rug. Someone dies? Oh, they're on a really, tremendously long vacation. Their toy broke? They get a new one, a better one. They couldn't have a cupcake for breakfast? No, but they had FruitLoops instead. That's simply not my case. My best friend died, but I know she's not coming back. I feel her absence in every bit of the house, and I even see her in dreams. My heart broke as soon as I turned eighteen, and up until now I haven't found a new one, a replacement. I haven't even been able to stitch it back to how it used to be. I hardly have breakfast now. I'm not hungry most of the time.
If anyone's reading this, I just wonder why. Why people with the kindest hearts always have it the hardest. And no, I'm not tooting my own horn, though I'm conscious it may seem like it. With a fragile, kind heart, it is guaranteed you'll get hurt. You'll cry, if you're unlucky most nights, and no one will be around you to witness so. Don't believe me? It comes in the merchandise label, your birth certificate, read it yourself.
If anyone's reading this, I'm not sad. Not always, anyway. I still see the color in rainbows and sigh in admiration. I still find some types of food pretty tasty, and I still like going to the beach, though I don't know how to swim. But when I am sad, it's tough. I turn on the music to make up the ambiance, I weep over my best friend and my mother, I cry over my solitude. I don't think you've truly felt loneliness until you don't know what's wrong, exactly, something just is. It's like being itchy and not knowing where to scratch. I don't know what to change. It's the sadness that comes from being sad all the time and saying, 'Oh, come on, don't be melodramatic'. But that's the thing, you just can't help how you feel if you have a legitimately foolish heart.
If anyone's reading this, I'm sorry for turning so many moments down. I had the chance to sleep in my mother's bed for the last time the summer before she died. What did I say? 'Mom, I'm too old for that.' I had the chance to help her out when she was figuring out what was wrong with her body. What did I say? 'Mom, I've got homework to do. I'm sure you're fine.' She'd ask me out to the movies, touch me when I least expected it. Tiny trinkets of love. And what did I do? I pushed her love away, swatted her hands, made her feel guilty for loving me, her daughter.
If anyone's reading this, I'm not at my breaking point. Even at my lowest, I'm certain I can endure a little longer. After all, mother birthed a warrior. And yes, I'm blue, but that's a common occurrence for kids my age, right? Society does nothing, we refuse to do something. And so we sink. I guess I'm writing this to be a reminder of how I've been feeling for nine years. Hopefully, if anyone feels this way too, it'll be a solid embrace, a letter to tell you you can swim a bit longer, jump a bit higher, try a bit harder.
If anyone's reading this, having a lover is challenging. I know that first hand. Emotions are hard to cope with when you're so different. It gets harder, sometimes, to just push those emotions aside when you know the other one feels sad about those. Once upon a time me being sad triggered my lover's sadness, which triggered mine, and so on, and so forth. A never-ending vicious cycle. And I loved it. I love him, still to this day. I'm just saying, love comes in all emotions, a mosaic of confusing feelings and luxurious embraces. Take advantage of every single bit of those, even when it hurts.
And lastly, if anyone's reading this, I hope you know you're enough. This is a reminder to myself, hoping I'll re-read this letter ten years from now and see that myself. I want to find someone who doesn't paint my rainbows blue, someone who knows what I mean without me saying the words. You deserve that someone, too. I had that someone. My mother. And maybe I'll be lucky to have another one of those souls, someday. I pray to God that's the case.
What I mean is, if anyone's reading this, it's okay to feel alone. After all, we are alone, each and every one of us. We're just accompanying others through their solitude, feeling a bit warmer in return. It's okay to feel like nothing will ever be right again because if it ever is, it'll be the highest high you'll reach. And oh, boy, the joy you'll feel then.