I wished those days will come when every morning for you is a blessing, and the flowers blooming outside is a miracle. A when your usual coffee tastes like sweetened nectar you used to sip from Santan when you were still a kid. I hope those old weird photos with your friends will make you laugh and reminisce how much you have grown–and grew apart. I would love to see you greeting the mirror with a smile, just like what you used to when you feel worthwhile and loved. I hope the silence of the night and the faces you can barely remember will make you at peace. I'm praying that someday, you'll realize that living is different from just existing and that falling in love with being alive again won't rub salt to your wounds and won't open the closed doors of your catastrophic past.
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I wrote this piece a long time ago. So pardon, for it is so childish? And raw. Hahaha.
