I haven't written about myself for a really long time. Nor do I have the time to think of fictional stories in my head. I have long forgotten the time where characters live in my head, thinking of the plot again and again, and getting lost in worlds I created. But yep, here I am, writing something.
It's not to say that I have turned my back in writing. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I am writing my thesis now--something that I should've done before. I've written proposals for projects in my work. I've written modules for my students. I've written a lot in my time as a professional. So to say that I am not a writer now is completely false. I've long accepted the fact that maybe dreams come in different forms--before when I was young, I long to be a novelist; now, I dream of writing research papers and articles and all scientific nonsense.
Now I am 25. Yep, I am that old now.
I've noticed a trend in myself when I write something about myself, or fictional stories, or just about anything that isn't work. I write when I'm lonely. I write when I'm sad. Stories have always been a source of comfort for me since I was young. I've always written my heart out when I was in multiple heartbreaks. I've always poured my soul when things have gotten the way that I did not expect. I've always been a writer that writes everything inside my brain to keep it out.
And now, maybe I'm just not that lonely anymore.
Sad? Always. Yes, I do feel loneliness, but I've grown. At this point in time, whenever I feel sad, or lonely, or just wanting to empty my mind out, there's always at least one person in my life that I could talk to. Maybe that's what I've always looked for--just someone to talk to. Isn't that something that we all look for, anyway? Someone who validates us. Someone who sticks with us even in the craziest stories. Someone who will just listen.
But there's also a part of me that never kicks out that loneliness. I've just become accustomed to it, I guess. I've always felt lonely when I was young even in the presence of people that I call friends--alienated should be the right term. I still do feel it even if I'm already working, honestly. And that's OK.
...
Alright, I'm telling you the reason why I'm writing in this crappy website again.
Yep, it's about you.
I just saw your post seventeen minutes ago. As I'm writing this crappy note, there's a feeling of regret and longing and love--honestly--when I saw you again. At least virtually. But it's not the romantic feeling that I felt when I was with you. It's more of... I don't know. Thankful? Happy?
I'm happy that you're getting the love that you deserve. A part of me feels regret because I felt that I never gave that to you. A huge part of me still regrets and blames myself for what happened between us. I guess at that time I was angry--I never knew that I had to beg for love and affection that I was looking for. I still blame myself for feeling that way--for not being content--for not being happy on the things the way they are--for being clingy and needy--for everything that I wished happened that didn't--for expecting--for expecting--for expecting--
I expected something from you. I think that was my biggest mistake. I should've been happy for what we had before.
I don't know if I'm still struggling now. Sure, I gained a lot of weight after a year. I've stopped working out due to a persistent wrist injury. I've lost count of the number of times I've been burned out due to my work. I feel like time stood still for a quarter a year before I realized that, yep, I'm OK now. I can move on. I would never forget the pain (like I always do) but I've moved on and will accept the fact that I have to live with this for the rest of my life. I would always blame myself and blame me and blame myself.
And that's OK. We all have demons that we carry everyday. This is just one of the thousands I've accumulated over the years. What's one more to add, anyway?
I'm thankful that you've moved on and you've been living the best of your life. I hope that you've settled your problems with your family--or at least trying to. I really do hope that it's been better. I hope that you're taking care of your health as it should be your first priority. And I hope everyday has been the happiest of your life.
You deserve it, honestly. You deserve all the love in the world--including mine. A part of me would never forget the love that I have for you, but it's not the same that we had before. It's the kind of love that would always wish for your wellbeing. It's the kind of love that quietly cheers you on your accomplishments. It's the kind of love that hopes for your bright future without me in the picture.
(Of course I wouldn't call it romantic. Trust me, it's not. Sorry.)
Because, after all, you have been someone, at one point in my lifetime, that would be the one person in my life that I could talk to.
If you're wondering how I am... yep, I'm OK. Don't worry. I've always been strong and independent. But I would like to keep my distance, please. I hope you understand. It's for our peace and quiet.
