Before You Go

Dear,

I know this time of year is tough. 

Things have gone by so quickly and it feels overwhelming. People have come and gone, and it's a hard reminder of where you are right now. It's the same drone and routine that's pushed you further back. The stress and pressures that has chipped away at the smile you use to wear. Replaced by lines of worry and dark circles of melancholy. 

All the things you've wanted to do, the places you've wanted to see, dreams you've dreamt -- all that haven't been done.

And I know you'd rather be alone now, just like all those years before. 

In your bed sleeping in for the first time in months.

Taking a walk so the icy needles of air poke your lungs.

Drinking some hot coco in a coffee shop with your lonely scarf.

Writing in that abandoned notebook.

Listening to the songs you've missed.

But I know you well enough to understand that you'll be okay.

And that you'll come back.

That your heart of love and kindness has infinite space. Even if that means you have to close the doors once in a while. 

But before you go,

I hope you know that I love you.

Four Words

I use to collect these memories obsessively.
Each note was dated. Each handwriting was labeled with names. Each doodle was an immaculate story. Boxes and smalls tins fill with moments forgotten by you, but living within me.

I'd write to you and recount each word on paper.
They were my quiet confessions, only mine.
But I wanted to give them to you.

I wanted to make your chest tremor,
move the waves in your smile,
ease the swells of your shoulders,
hold your heart gently,
and hush it to a soft sleep.
I wanted to be enough for you.

I wanted you to feel wanted.

So I stamped and addressed you my words.
But I don't think you held them close to you.

So I've tried forgetting the things I write,
because I'll never have the courage to ask for it back.

I told myself not to think of this anymore,
but I need to ask anyways.

Though paper yellows
Though notes get lost
Though pages rip
Though handwriting fades
Though nothing stays forever

Will you remember me?

The Weight You Carry

How much can you lift?

50 pounds? 100?!
Wow, that's pretty impressive. I can't do that at all, I have noodle arms.
But I've moved a bookshelf down a couple flights before. A few tables here and there, boxes too. I've lifted a mattress -- which is surprisingly heavy.

Carrying those things out and away is hard.
I always joke that there's no such thing as making two trips. Or that it's either no pain or no gain. So I tend to carry more than I can hold. Haha, my friends definitely know from the times we've went grocery shopping.

But anyways - yeah. I've moved a piano once -- desks, chairs, sofas even.

I've put their winter sweaters away, while they sorted the rest.
I've stacked the chairs into the hall, while they pretended it was a throne.
I've picked up one end of the box, while they labeled it with "fragile" on all sides.
I've brought a lamp down the stairs, while they double checked for anything left behind.
I've loaded the car for the 8th time, while they said goodbye to the Nelson's.

I've held the door for them so they could walk out first.

After a while, I'd thought the weight would be easier to carry... but it feels almost heavier -- and it's funny because it's not that bad.
Because those things can all be set down, unpacked, unwrapped, reorganized, dusted, and it's good to go. They're only heavy for as long as they're in your hands.

But what's bad is when it's not in your hands.
The heaviness can sit on your heart - now that's the worst.

I can never get a good grip on that heaviness. It has no handles, no corners, no concrete feeling -- it feels uneasy. Just like when

I overthink and let things go easily. when
I don't know what the last thing my grandma said to me. when
I get scared my family will be gone before I understand their love. when
I feel alone sometimes while I'm around others.

Now because I can never get a good grasp on it - it moves however it likes.
The heaviness can feel like that for a quick moment, or it can linger for however long it wants.

But that kind of heaviness is probably not what you meant.

So, no.
I don't know exactly how much I can lift -- but 100 pounds, 24 elephants, or however heavy Jupiter is.
It doesn't compare to the weight I've carried.

Looking Back

Hey you.
Whatever you do, don't do it.

I know it's easy and it's tempting to turn around and go back to everything you knew - but it'll only hurt a little bit more.

The places you've been, known, had gotten comfortable in - eventually gets old. You relive too many moments that begin to blur. Though you convince yourself you're making new memories there, it all  becomes the same.

The same people, gossip, reveries, and the semi-decent moments you claim to be wonderfully unique.

Been there, done that.
But you're right there, doing that - and it's not fun anymore.

We're not exploring, finding new things to do, and surprising ourselves with our own thoughts. As sweet as those moments were - looking back makes me lose myself a little more. It does.

It does.

So please don't turn around, because I might have to leave you behind.

I can't promise that it'll be good or bad - whatever's ahead.
But just keep walking forward.

You could hold my hand if you want.
It'll hurt a little bit less if you do. It does.

It does.

Where You'll Find Her

I can't find her.
She's gone off to wherever she goes.
I've looked most places, but no one has seen her for a while.

I know she's still here though.
She'd never leave without saying a goodbye.

Not in a sea of drunk laughter in the kitchen.
Not in the messy half hearted conversations by the door.
Not in the sweaty dance circles in the living room.

I found her.
She was in the bathroom.

She's practicing her smiles.
She's realigning lines of worry.
She's pulling out grey hairs.

She's telling herself it'll all be alright.
She's filling in the forgotten spaces between people.
She's moving through the fading shadows of others.

She's trying her best to stay, but it's hard when she feels out of place.

For now, if you look for the small moments, that's where you'll find her.

I Can't Have Nice Things

Blow out a candle.
Tie some balloons together.
Tell me that today will be wonderful.

For those 2 minutes, you can make me believe that everything is perfect.
I'll think with ease and move with peace.

But the moment will last for only so long, until your cheeks tighten and the smoke clears.

Because I know I woke up from slamming doors.
Because I cower from your mouth still wet with careless venom.
Because I shiver at the thought of those tense years.
Because I can only sleep with the lull of drowsy chords.

Nice things don't come by often.
I know this because they'd never let me hold on.

I Wish the Best for You

I hope you feel loved someday, because I'll try my best to do it now.

It might be selfish to want to be the one you cry to, laugh with, share secrets with. But I know that you'll find other people that will listen to your problems, or sadly brush it off. I know there will be other people you'll tell exciting news to first - and it'll hurt me to know that I can't be the one to be there for you all the time. 

It's alright, sometimes you'll need to be around someone that isn't me. I know that you need a break from me.

I worry you'll get tired of me - that everything will run dry. That you'll disappear to the places that you went off to before I was around. 

I know you well enough to let you go be on your own - because that's what you'd do for me too.

I'm sure you'll be fine, at least that's what I tell myself.

We've taken care of each other for so long that it's second nature. But I'll say it again for old times sake just before we go our own ways.

Please eat well. 

It's easy to fall into your old habits of not eating. It took you so long to admit dark parts to yourself, and I'm so proud of how far you've come. Listen to your body, don't listen to that voice.

Please rest too.

The quietness of the dead of night is so comforting, but books, movies, and TV shows will be there tomorrow for you. Make that cup of tea like I usually do for you, it'll help you sleep.

Please breathe.

One, two, three. Just like we practiced all those years.

Please be safe.

I hope no one hurts you. Though you've been broken, chipped, and taped together - don't mix up your kind heart, generosity, and warmness with the tough skin you've armored up with. One is meant to be taken off once in a while.

Maybe you'll read this later on and scoff, or find something worth while.

Until then, I wish the best for you.