I never thought that I would have the courage to message you first.
After all that we’ve been through, it was a great deal of courage for me to press ‘Enter’ and greet you for the Holidays. For once, I told myself that maybe I have really moved on from the pain you caused me three years back. Maybe, this time I was finally able to forget the pain. And though it had caused me so many times, a hope to find someone to be with, the paranoia of breaking my trust has left me all alone and cold.
I have always wanted to tell you how thankful I am to have caught up with you, yet I feel bad about you losing someone close to your heart as well. I may never had the chance to meet her, but seeing that she raised a guy like you well (even if our fallout tells me to say it otherwise), she would have been so proud of you, too.
As the year comes closer to an end, I pray for the best of your endeavors, and to the ones who are close to your heart as well. We may never know, but when the time comes I can probably meet you up and finally smile like I used to, when you were still mine.
When I look in the mirror, I see nothing.
A blank slate. A newly created canvas. Emptiness. Nothing.
Long have I been hoping to see something from this void that I am in. A future, perhaps? Something which is to be foretold, something I should have been looking forward to in this lifetime of mine? Or something that should have unraveled to me a long time ago?
I remember having dreamt of something like that back then – my elusive vision of what I would be a few years from now: a happy home, a great career, someone to be with when my hair turned grey; an early hike to the mountain summit, to see the rising sun above the horizon, or watching the sun set on the beach while holding hands with the person I will spend my days with.
Was the dream to abrupt to be fulfilled?
In this dark room, with only the lights coming from the small square of a window, the lights of the city illuminate this damp cell. With only the lost hopes of a bright future, I live out the shattered days.
My dad wanted to raise me as a ‘normal’ boy – one who plays Basketball, plays video games, and stuff like that. He tried his best in doing so. Tells me, that I should me “like every other kid” in the neighborhood.
But he was wrong. I knew back then, that I was ‘different’ – I saw things in a different light, in a perspective that most of my guy friends see me as a queer because of it. I liked reading, and poetry, but I did alot of sports. And I get teased most of the time when they see me writing my thoughts like a girl who keeps a diary under her bed.
I tried my best to go with what they see is ‘normal’ for a guy like me. Though looking back, despite all the things I’ve been through, as well as the lessons life has taught me, I believe I’m way more ‘normal’ as an adult now, than the ones who believed that being a bit different to the norm is not the way it should be.