Letters. They’re just letters. I might or might not send it. You might or might not read them. You might or might not want to write a response. Nonetheless, let me keep them. Let me scribble the words I could never say. Let me tell you what you should or should not know. Just let me.
Let me write you a letter.
(Decided to create an fb page. Page name is on the title. You can visit if you’d like. Cheers!:))
How do you tolerate your own clumsiness, forgetfulness and stupidity? How do you tell your self that it’s okay to spill the coffee all over the table, trip yourself over in no particular reason, take note of what time you took your break only to come back late because you forgot the time, or do a simple kitchen task only to burn yourself and be reminded by the scars?
How do you accept your own kind of weird thoughts? How do you tell yourself that it’s normal to wonder about death and afterlife right after watching a romantic comedy movie, to let your mind wander before drifting to sleep, or to be fascinated by the thought of rain pouring on a sunny day?
How do you deal with your own demons? How do you tell your self that it’s fine not to forgive and forget as you just don’t want for bad things to relive, to be not expressive thru words or actions as you weren’t born that way, to cry out of frustration and anger but not be able to shed tears due to pain, to prefer being alone yet contented than be lonely within a crowd, to push people away in fear of them leaving, or to blame yourself almost everytime and sulk in the corner?
How do you love your whole being despite the things you hate about your self? Sometimes, you really don’t. But who else will, if you won’t?
I still don’t know how, but I sure will learn in no time.
Learn to value yourself a little more.
Learn to appreciate your own beauty, your own strength.
And if they still can’t see the colors that you paint,
Learn how to keep smiling,
Learn how to keep fighting.
Because at the end of the day,
It’s you, and nobody else,
Who would see your true reflection,
And will have the final say.
photo credits: firstname.lastname@example.org
She’s trying so hard to hide her smile.
But I could see right through her,
I could feel her soul.
I know she’s happy,
How could I save her from another false happiness?
When I know everything would just end up in a mess?