On Life

I want to write about you

I want to write about beautiful things. I want to talk about that world you once filled with wonders and hopes for the future. I want to paint through words the feeling of having something to look forward to when I woke up in the morning.

I want to reminisce about how you gave me butterflies in my stomach, and how I do not know what to do when you were around. I want to find the perfect words to describe that paradoxical feeling of wanting to hide myself to avoid being noticed by you but also wanting, at the same time, to see your beautiful face and converse with you.

I want to write about you.


But lately, I find it hard to do so. For whenever I look into my memory chest and try to bring the words out, I find it half empty. I am afraid you have been gone for too long that your memories have started to slowly fade away like that of an old faded photograph.

You will probably never know it, but I had always clung to them for dear life. They had been with me wherever I go and I thought they will always remain safe in my heart, that nothing can ever snatch them away.

But I am afraid time and distance have done it. They have snatched you and your precious memory away from me. For the time you have been away has made me doubt your existence in my life. and your distance, miles away from me, has become the bitter pill that would wake me up from my hallucinations.

I will have to accept the sad fact that, sooner or later, I will no longer be able to write about you and all the beautiful things you made me feel and experience in this lifetime. Sooner or later, I will only be able to write about how you slowly and painlessly vanished from my life.


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