I am art. I am divine. Breath taking, messy, and beautiful. The more you know me, my mind, what I have to say, the more I seem perplexing. One way or another, you have to stay around, because I grow, and I change, and in the pain of evolution- the in-betweens of constant awakenings- are my writings of the moments I live in.
I want to tell you that I lied to you sometimes and I’m sorry. When you messaged me and asked me, who are you? I’m from here, i’d tell you, most of the time it isn’t true.
I don’t mean to deceive, I only do what I do because in my cocoon I do not deserve to yet be called a butterfly. I don’t want to give you a face. I don’t want you to find out.
I don’t want you to remember me now as I am, the face of a tragedy. My battle scars. My uphill battle.
I want you to meet me when I have made sure through and through that you wouldn’t pity me, because despite the misfortunes, I believe myself to be a relentless force of nature. A miracle of sorts. The small annoying percentage of people who persists, and in the end, the universe will concede and say, “Okay.“.
I want you to see me as hope, not my struggle. And one day, I’ll tell you who I really am. One day, I can help you out too without guessing or feeling out of my depth with your questions because I really do, I really want to help you. I want to go home. I want you to go home. I want you to never worry if you can afford to be okay. I want us to be okay.
For now, I’ll let you know, I love the arts. I participate in it, and if you knew me and the way I’d like to live, my thoughts, my content, I am art too. I am music. I am paintings. I am the silent humming of your city drive at 2 am. I live in those moments, where I can be infinite and feel young.
Where I can be still and be present. Where I feel like I matter.
I know what to say when you needed someone to say something, because I know how to listen.
One day, we’ll meet and in that day, I’d thank you for believing in me even when I no longer believe in myself.
You are my hope. Thank you for never giving up on me.
Thank you for wondering where I’ve been.
Where have you been?
I was gone. My boss was breathing down my neck. Office politics was poisoning me. Someone important died. I lost a lot of money.
I don’t want to make excuses but I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t keep up getting attacked from all sides.
I hated myself. I wanted to let go, run away from everything, forget it all happened. It doesn’t seem too bad, I’m young and if I want to start all over again, I could do so.
I said I’m going to be gone a month and then it kept going. I lost track on how long it’s been. I just know I tried to heal other parts of my life that seemed to be in disarray, because before I went off the radar I felt like everything– absolutely everything– was out of control.
“Are you giving up on me?”, He said.
No. I know I’ve been gone a long time, but can we try again? It’s been hard lately, and I hope yours have been easier.
But here I am, and I’ll try again. God help me.
I’m just a girl who dared to dream.