I lost my life when I lost my room 

To whoever thinks a room is just a four-walled space in the house, I wholeheartedly disagree.

To me it was always more than just a place to sleep. It was a place to pretend to sleep. There are nights when sleep won’t come and there are also nights when it is unwelcome, either way, my room served as the perfect hiding place. It was a place that knows no time. It doesn’t force me to do anything because it is what’s expected of me.

My room was the only one who saw the smile painted on my face vanish ever so quickly the moment I close the door. It was a silent witness to my stifled cries. It does not ask me to ‘stop’ and ‘move on’. It just lets me cry until I’m too tired. It welcomed the angry punches I throw in its walls until my fists bleed. It did not protest.

I can write peacefully in my room because it is where I can be completely alone in my thoughts. It is where I can be truly honest without feeling sorry about it.

It is the one who hears my sleep talks and quiet conversations with myself without receiving ‘the look’. I can dance or lie on the floor without being told to stop.

I can make songs and sing out of tune. It was the very first audience to my self-composed songs. I even think it feels proud that after all the procrastination and monotonous tunes, I am able to make one. I can almost hear it sigh or maybe just because it thinks the worst is finally over.

It is the one who welcomes me without asking too many questions that I don’t know the answer to. It does not judge me at all.

And now it is gone, due to unfortunate events. I feel like mourning for my long-time companion. I miss it. I miss its quiet presence. I almost think I took  it for granted.

Being alone in my room makes me feel like watching my life unfold in its self. Without pressure, without prejudice, without time limits and expectations, it just lets me unravel my life. It gives me freedom in its truest form. Sometimes I wish to expand it to Earth’s size so everyone  can feel it too. But just like most good things, it came to its end.

So when I lost it, I felt lost too. I lost my room and I am mourning for it and for myself. I want it back. I lost my life when I lost my room.

I lost my life when I lost my room 

An Open Letter to the One Who Is Still Hurting

It was just the two of you against the world. It has always been like that. Yet, here you are.

You pictured a different ending. A vision that is a complete contrast to the one you are forced to face. And, literally, it hurts like you’ve never felt before.

You wonder why things turned out that way. You ask why it hurts.

You are hurting with stories you so desperately want to share with him. Then, you turn and realize, there is no one there anymore.

You are hurting with the words unsaid and the songs unsung. You wish to say them now, you wish they will still matter. And they won’t.You regret not telling him he is a wonderful person even if most see him as unaccomplished. You regret not telling him that book he lent you was one of the best you’ve ever read. You regret.

You are hurting with the half-assed conversations and divided attention you gave. It was the movie he wanted to watch with you, you said yes and bail out last minute because of deadlines and appointments. You weren’t there. You were elsewhere. Yet, he surprised you with a tube of ice cream late that night.And here you are now, wishing you had not stayed at work and watched that movie with him on an endless replay.

You are hurting with the cold shoulder he gave you when you forgot his birthday. ‘Girls are supposed remember that’, he said. But, you did and it does not mean you do not love him. You just forgot and you wished he would realize that. He did, but only a little late. If you could turn back time, that will be the last time you’ll forget his birthday. Each year, you’ll be looking forward to celebrating it with him. But that’s not the case anymore.

You are hurting with the plans you have made together. Just like the calm before the storm, he jokingly mentioned marriage. You shy away from the topic because it is out of question, at the time. He was wearing that silly smile you always loved. Then, you fondly said ‘yes’ while rolling your eyes, trying to hide the giddy feeling of butterflies in your stomach. And you wish you told him how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him more earnestly and perhaps, he would have stayed.

You are hurting with the echoes of the past that you still clutch in your heart. You still have not buried the dead butterflies. They make you nostalgic and unmoving. You fail to realize, it’s been a while.

Your relationship is not perfect. You had fights, most of them petty, you had ups and downs. It was a rollercoaster ride. And it was worth it.

Soon, you will loosen your grip onto these ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’. You will soon realize, it just didn’t work out and it is no one’s fault. Relationships fall. Relationships begin. It is nothing but constant change.

You weren’t able to grow as fast as he did. Or it could be the other way around, but that does not mean what you had weren’t real.

Most of all, you are hurting because it mattered. He mattered. What you had mattered.
I hope one day you will be able to look back and realize the beauty of this breakdown. Just like the fading glow of the sunset paving the way to the mystic night,this too, is the beginning of something beautiful.

An Open Letter to the One Who Is Still Hurting