sulat.roniko

To Kambal

For you,

I know it hasn't been good lately. You feel like it's never going to end. So you tell yourself someday you'll have your time -that you'll wake up one day and realize that it's going to work just fine.

But not today.

Today, we cry. Today we sleep, we rest, we eat, we sing and watch, perhaps a very depressing movie that we can relate to. Maybe Jane Eyre meets Nausicaa and wound up with Shmuel and Bruno along the way. And it won't make sense but I'll get you those pop corns and ice cream that you love so much. And maybe, just maybe. It'll get better.

How are you? How are things?

I want to hug you (maybe not just for you but for me as well). I want to be there; to just sit there beside you. I won't say a word; I'll just listen to your silent sobs, your unspoken regrets and the what ifs and should haves of this effin life.

It's going to be fine. That's what I should tell you, right? All of it will end too. Maybe not soon, maybe not as fast as we want it to, but it will. I mean it should.

Right?

I don't know, I'm not sure anymore. Or maybe that's how it had always been. Or maybe this grammar sucks just like our lives right now.

But you are going to be fine -that, I can be sure of. You've gone through so much already. And you're still here, as we are with you. You're strong precisely because you're not afraid to admit that deep inside you're as fragile as that smile you wore today. You're afraid of change, of indifference, of new faces, of opening up to people, of yourself... and it's okay. That's normal. Because fear makes us realize a lot of shitty things about ourselves but also help us see the silver linings to these heavy clouds.

Are you alright? Are you sick? I hope you're okay. I hope you're sleeping alright.

Let's talk soon. I have a lot to tell you.

I love you and miss you. George misses you too. Please be well.

P.S. I did promise to tell you everything as soon as I'm ready. But you know me, I'm afraid of my own jinx. *cries a little* But I'll talk to you soon. *hugs*