an open apology to myself 

DEAR MIND,

I am sorry for the times I doubted and ignored you. I’m sorry for damaging you for what I thought was eternal. I’m sorry for allowing others to, too. I’m sorry for overworking you until you felt empty. I’m sorry for not letting you make me happy, I know you tried. I’m sorry for redirecting your thoughts and changing your views. I’m sorry for not listening and not acting upon every instruction you rightfully gave me. I’m sorry for losing you when I needed you the most.

DEAR HEART,

I’m sorry for making you feel weak when all you wanted to be was strong. I’m sorry for letting others tug on your strings whenever they pleased. I’m sorry for not guarding you with my entire being. I should’ve. I’m sorry for letting you go, only to call back for you, again and again. I’m sorry for letting you break. I’m sorry for not realizing how much love you held until I took it all away.

DEAR EYES,

I’m sorry for letting you become weary and dry. I’m sorry for the rivers you’ve cried and the sorrow, only you, have seen. I’m sorry for the things you saw; the things you shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for not turning away. I’m sorry that you couldn’t speak the emotions your pupils conveyed. I’m sorry you had to sit there, watching, defenseless. I, at times, feel the same.

DEAR MOUTH,

I’m sorry for the things I did and didn’t put inside of you. I’m sorry for neglecting you on the days you watered pining for nourishment and love. I’m sorry for letting mouths of those who mean nothing to me force themselves upon you. I’m sorry for their brittle touch and for the way it made you quiver. I’m sorry for the times you wished to scream, but said nothing at all. I couldn’t bare your sound. I’m sorry for the times you spoke too loudly and abruptly, creating no influence at all. I know you thought it would help. I’m sorry for not loving you the way you should be loved, I’m sorry for not letting others.

DEAR BODY, 

I’m sorry for the way your ribs peak out when you breathe. I’m sorry for not providing adequate warmth. I’m sorry for trying to make you looking like something that’s photoshopped onto billboards; I’m sorry for only loving you when I felt that you did. I’m sorry for letting others look at you like something that’s already theirs. I’m sorry for letting you feel like instantly acquired property rather than a hidden buried treasure. I’m sorry for the hands that touched you in your coldest moments. I’m sorry that I believed that they could provide you warmth.

I’m sorry for the times that I couldn’t avoid others’ grasps. I’m sorry for the way they gripped you; ways you shouldn’t ever be gripped. I’m sorry for not pushing back hard enough, for not defending you enough. I’m sorry that people feel entitled to your embrace. I’m sorry that they think you’re an open invitation. I wish that no meant no. Some tend to believe that no means yes, or at least that’s what they said. They thought you wanted their touch. Maybe they knew you didn’t, but didn’t care at all. I’m sorry for not loving you for what you precisely are. I wish I never expected more of you. I’m sorry for letting society conform you into a mold of something other than yourself. You are perfect, I hope it isn’t too late for you to see it.

DEAR ME,

I’m sorry for not allowing you to be your true self. I’m sorry for seeing you worst qualities rather than your best. I’m sorry for thinking that critiquing  was the only path to bettering yourself. I’m sorry for truly believing that you weren’t ever enough for yourself, or much less the world. I’m sorry for not telling you your own worth, every morning and evening, of every day. I’m sorry for not cherishing you the way you should be cherished. I’m sorry for thinking that others could fulfill your needs. I’m sorry for seeing you as one human of the billions, rather than one of a kind.

You are perfect and you are mine.“”

unfinished short story

He found himself sitting in the corner in the back of the little worn down café. Facing the window, rain droplets fell down one by one. He traced them with his finger as he stared into the glass, watching the cars go by. Dèjá vu crossed his mind of the day he met her. This same table, once before.

He suddenly missed the conversation from the other side of the table. He missed the sound of her laughter at his not so funny jokes.

For once in his life, he realized he made a mistake. The girl of his dreams was on a plane back to where she called home, and he no longer had an idea of where his was.

She was home.

 

 

 

love would always be a lie

He loved all the parts of her that she hated, and he reminded her of them almost every day. And maybe that’s why she drifted each time he told her that he loved her. Because each time he did she was reminded how much she couldn’t love herself, and how much she desperately wished to be able to. He gave her a love she hadn’t felt before. That scared her. It made her want to run.

She believed she was the epitome of destruction. So, that’s exactly what she sought out to be. Whenever things seemed to be going too well for her own good, she found a way to ruin them. She pushed with such a force that anyone who dared to love her would want to run away.

She waited for the day that someone would push back. The day that someone would tell her to stop. To tell her that they weren’t going anywhere no matter how much she tried.

But at the end of the day, no one stayed. No one pushed back. They just left.

Because of that, to her, love would always be a lie. And each time someone walked away, the words meaning became less and less.

on walking away

And he watched her walk away in utter astonishment. He’d never seen someone walk away from him with such ease before.

She walked with her head up high, little did he know, refusing to look back. It looked so easy for her, as if he had never mattered at all.

He sat with his back slouched to the bench, thinking. Thinking of what he had just done, of who she was, and of who she would be. Thinking that he’d probably never know.

The more he thought, the further away she seemed to be. She walked step by step until she was only a distant memory in his mind. And he was right. She was.

She wouldn’t look back, ever. Not even for a second.

The moment she chose to do that, she knew she had the power to choose anything.

And with knowing that, she chose to keep walking.

Far away from the restrictions life held for her, far away from the things that tied her down to one place at a time.

She chose to do the things he always told her she couldn’t.

With the knowledge of knowing she could, she did.

She dyed her hair the way she had wanted to.  She went to that bar across the street, the one HE hated. She ate pizza for breakfast. She wrote what she thought was important. And the thing she loved the most was, she didn’t care.

She was happy.

And she made a choice to keep walking away whenever she wasn’t.