Photo by: Jay Villafuerte
I felt the need to remember moments, to ensure and assure myself of the consequences of my very own actions. To determine what I have been doing wrong, what were the things I should have done to make things right, and avoid so I won’t get hurt or be punished for it. I had so many worries, situations where it led me astray and nothing but fear lingered in my body—I was lost, yet again.
I was told that finding yourself is not an easy task, it’s a journey that sometimes takes a lifetime of dawdling, searching for a soul that isn’t always found. That’s the kind of truth that bothers me.
There’s no such thing as a perfect path line, there’s only good guesses, rocky roads, a bump, or even an unnoticeable hole that can drag you down in a dark place. And then, assurance. What a wonderful word it is, it’s something that we deem to take in order to find even the littlest form of validation — it’s a thirst, a kind of hunger we crave for. It’s a want, but not necessarily a need.
I’m still the person that I was years ago. Only that I have gained more experience, a part of me grew better and yet, another part grew worse. It’s life. Demons exist; even underneath an angel’s halo, horns can be found. It persists that pleasure and lust has its way, that even God himself cried for it to perish but it cannot be undone, yet no one can really say we can’t change the course of our lives.
Even in the very last moment we take our breath where everyone was asked to gather to mourn with the coming passing with a bitter goodbye, with tears of acceptance and the last words of an apology. It makes a difference. It could be a lesson in a form of regret, or just simply heartbreak.
In the marks of my journey, I have been through loops I never thought I could ever get myself entangled with. Choices I have made, that no one can be blamed but myself. That’s not really the point where I began to hate myself, it is just another leech that made that hatred latch longer, even so it didn’t really stop me from moving and no, I never forgot, the nightmares still visit me. Whether my eyes are closed or whenever I look in the mirror, it watches. It whispers.
Now, you can read this with awe or you can read this with sympathy, but that’s not the reason behind this short narrative. This is a gesture, a sign to anyone who needs to hear that you don’t need to confine yourself for whatever wrongdoings you’ve done. Letting go is hard—it’s something that I’m still learning for the longest time but it is rewarding to know, though our chances may be unclear, and whatever happens next may be within life’s chaotic roll of the dice.
Knowing is never the answer, it’s taking a risk. Whether you get the ending you want or the ending you desperately avoid, what really matters is you tried. That you looked life dead in the eyes, and you did it anyway. You tried. So never stop there.
- A dedication from me to you
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