How did it all come to this? How did I end up being this person who barely sees the light of day?

Sometimes, I just feel like crying, and I can't even do that right. The other night, I got so drunk that I was on the brink of passing out, clutching on to my chest, holding on for dear life. The truth is, I don't know how to continue. I feel like I've reached the end of my journey, and now that I'm here, still awake, still breathing, still alive with no visible wounds, I'm confused. I'm so confused because I have no idea how to go on.

I keep asking myself: what do I do now? Where do I go? Am I the only one who feels this way? Like I don't need to be saved, I need to be hit by  a train. I need to get the wind knocked off me. I need to feel something other than this miserable existence.

I shouldn't be here. That's all I know. This is not a cry for help. It's so hard to wake up every morning, knowing you have no purpose. I'm so tired of hiding. I need to not be here. I need to be gone. I need this little burning flame in me to be blown out, so that darkness can finally consume me. I know with it comes the peace I crave so badly.

It's a cloudy Sunday afternoon. The sun is somewhere, hiding behind the ever mysterious gray sky. I sit in bed, going through bag after bag of various flavors of the same brand of potato chips, stuffing my face with junk, filling my head with music I've never heard before.

Somewhere in the realms of a city almost forgotten, they lay in bed in their fancy hotel room, exchanging stories, his arms snaked around her hour glass shaped waist. They all sport bed hair, as if they just woke up, and they probably just did. In my world, that is just unacceptable, but not in theirs. They can do whatever with whomever, whenever and wherever they want to. There are no boundaries to stop them.

What I want, right at this moment, is to forget how much I want to see him. To forget how he is now a few hundred miles away from me, when a week ago, there was an ocean and some countries separating us. What I want is to forget that he is with her, my very own replacement, reminding me of the song in my head that goes to the tune of I'm not good enough.

I could hop on a bus right now, wearing my heart on my sleeve. He'd probably tell me how long he's waited for me to say these words I've been trying to contain in the confines of my head, but I am afraid that he's even farther out of reach now that he's here. There were words we shouldn't have said that day we were both consumed with anger and frustration. I was full of jealousy, he was full of pride. We never did make it in any of our fights. Maybe, maybe there's a reason we aren't together now.

I've spent so much time pushing thoughts of him out of my mind. Some days, it's easy. I have other things to fill my time. But when I'm alone at night and sleep just wouldn't come, that's when the urge to call him is strongest. That's when I strain to hear his voice, crave the warmth of the comfort that tomorrow, everything will be okay between us. I'm done chasing, surely, I am. I'm done hoping. I'm just not done loving yet.

Ilang araw pa ba bago mo ko iwan?

Wala na kasing epekto sakin kung nandyan yung araw, o kung maulan. Hindi ko na napapansin yun, kasi wala na kong maramdaman.

Ilang araw pa bago mo ko iwan?

Kung pwede, pakibilisan. Hindi ako ang mundo para ikut-ikutan mo. Hindi ka rin hangin para manatili lagi sa paligid ko.

Pakiusap, iwan mo na ako.

Ayoko nang gumising na masaya lang sa loob ng limang minuto, pagkatapos, sira na ang araw dahil sa presensya mo. Ayoko nang matulog na ikaw yung huling iniisip ko; saan ba pwedeng magtago para di na tayo magtagpo? Masikip ang mundo para sa akin at sayo, kalungkutan ko.

Ilang araw pa ba bago ka umalis?

Yung kalendaryo ko, puno na ng ekis. Hindi ko alam kung hanggang kailan ko matitiis na mabuhay sa hinagpis.

Pakiusap, iwan mo na ako.

Tinanggap ko na na hindi ako perpekto. Isang maling desisyon, isang tiket papunta sayo. Gusto ko sanang bumalik sa pinanggalingan ko, yung mundong walang ikaw, yung araw na walang tayo. Pakiusap, iwan mo na ako.

Puno na rin kasi yung isip ko. Ayoko sanang maglaan ng puwang para sayo. Tulungan mo naman akong ulit-ulitin sa sarili ko na nangyari na ang mga nangyari, hindi na mahalaga kung dapat ba o hindi. Ang mahalaga, tapos na. Ang mahalaga, nandito pa rin ako, kahit nandyan ka.

Ang mahalaga, pinipilit kong maging masaya.

I am almost always asked how I manage to just shrug everything off like nothing is ever a big deal for me.

My answers change regularly, of course. One time, I said it was because there was nothing else I could do about it, so there'd be no sense in dwelling. Another time, I just said that was how it had always been for me.

What I always want to say, if I'm being perfectly honest, is that I don't know. Maybe I have a way with words, but I have a hard time explaining myself to people. I feel like it's going to sound really cold if I just say that I lack the ability to care enough.

Which is true, in a way.

I do get upset, even with the littlest things. I'm the most hot headed person I know. But usually, I just let things go. I have this quote in my mind at all times: Sometimes, you have to let things go, simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.

When someone or something means a lot to me, I find it hard to let them go. It's not easy when you invest emotions and feelings on things or people. Feelings, which, as a guarded person, you usually keep to yourself or simply ignore. But once in a while, a human being or a dream, or even a story inside a book can stir feelings in you that you will not be able to contain. And so you set these feelings free, because you've grown comfortable and you've familiarize yourself with the idea that this person, or thing, or story inside a book will always be there. When you've reached that level of comfort, there's no turning back. You don't think about the end, even though in the back of your mind, you know something this good can't last forever. You take that thought and file it in a locked drawer in the farthest corner of your soul, somewhere your fragile mortal memory can't reach.

And then, things fall apart.

Sometimes, you feel it slip away, like the sand you tried to cage in your palm on a family vacation at the beach when you were nine years old and didn't know better. Sometimes, it is an earthquake shattering your world to pieces when just a minute ago, you were picking flowers and humming along to Ingrid Michaelson. You've always known that the Earth has these fault lines that move every once in a while, but you didn't think the rules applied to you.

And then you find out that when they say these things happen, you don't have the convenience nor the right to think, not to me, they won't.

Maybe I'm overthinking this, or maybe I've had an earthquake in my life one too many times, but one day, I decided that I've shed enough tears for the things that didn't really mean much to me. I get hurt, still, all the time. A passing comment about my current weight gain equals one little stitch falling from my tattered self esteem. An accusation wrapped in two of the Earth's sweetest words from a friend: you've changed, can easily darken even the best of my days. 

So, in reality, things haven't changed much around here. I have all these silly little glitches everyday, and everyday, I face them. It's not that life got easier, believe me, it didn't. And I'm guessing it never will. It's just the way things are. What you can change, though, is your attitude towards all the negativity. I don't know when I've mastered this, but I just came to a time when I thought, okay, I'll give everything my best shot, and if it works out, then good, I'll have something to celebrate. If it doesn't, then I can let it go with the knowledge that there really isn't anything I could have done anymore.

I lose in competitions. I get bad scores in quizzes. I lose weight, people talk. I gain weight, people talk. I do what I can to please people, they talk behind my back. I do what I want for myself, they talk, still. They always will. So I stopped caring about what other people think. The first thing that matters when something happens is how I feel about it. I try to see if it makes me sad, or happy, or excited about life, and I go from there. There's nothing like the freedom I feel when I know I'm not living my life based on anyone else's standards. Through that, I feel like I can do anything. I know that I can do anything.

When I said I didn't want to see you, I didn't mean forever. But here we are today, separated by the wind and the stars and all the oceans combined, and there's no number on speed dial to fix whatever has been broken.

I want to tell you that I've spent the last four years looking for the piece of myself that has gone missing with you. Today, I might have finally found it, but I'm realizing how ugly that part might be. I have to tell you what the years have done to me, how much they've let the darkness consume me in my desperate attempts to find the light.

I did find the light. It was beautiful and blinding and rage inducing at the same time, and even now, I'm wondering how that could be. I find it curious to see that it is possible to live life without the core of your very being. Half of it you took six feet under with you, the other half I gave away to someone who hardly cares.

Let me tell you about the light. The light is a boy who had dark hair and brown eyes, and a life long death wish. He hops on roofs and rears of moving trains for fun. He rides his bike so fast, you can feel the wind cut your skin if he ever drives by you. He likes Chuck Taylors, I think he has every color, but his favorite is the navy blue one, even though you can't tell its original color anymore because he has worn it one too many times.

He was, for me, the sound of thunder rumbling far in the distance, but sounding so near, I jumped up my seat every time. He was the lightning that cracked my bright blue sky - showing up out of nowhere just when I thought it was a clear summer day, but oh, how I love the rain. 

I thought the light was like the sun - he was just as bright, but I was wrong to make him one. 

I couldn't tell you how dead I am inside even if I tried, but if you were here, you'd know. You were the sound my favorite book makes when I turned the page, absently, for I was always so engrossed in the story. You were the quiet sigh when the day has been challenging and I've finally found my comfort. 

I'm not saying I'm turning my back on the light, believe me, I tried. More than once. I'm just saying right now, I'm yearning for that comfort. To feel safe, for once. To let go of the anchor after years of sailing the sea. To get off the roller coaster, to catch my breath.

It's time to catch my breath, because right now, I don't have you, and the light is killing me.