Gone to Me

I feel that it's just pain.  It's just an immense pounding, a constant beat that never leaves.  I feel that you're gone to me, that you're just a stranger to click on, when I browse through Facebook.  Because no matter how much I love you, no matter how much I care for you as a friend - you're gone to me. 

Letting Go

Love is about letting go.

I'm letting go of everyone and everything.

Freedom

I always wanted to be free.

To be free from words, to be free of my chains. 

To be able to fly, far beyond any sky or dream.

But in the end... I just wanted to be free from myself. 

     Everyone feels pain.  Between the bruises and scrapes we receive as children, falling from the playground set; to the raw, angry words that are shouted across hallways and felt through sweet, sugary lies.  Then there's the indiscreet pain, the one that people indirectly inflict on each other.  The quiet shrugs, the turning away of their head.  The ignored text messages, or the passing of time that draws two people apart.  Pain comes, all too often, from inside.  The doubts, the fears.  The feelings of abandonment, the loss of direction.

     My pain came from inside.  I was never enough.  Never enough for myself, for others.  I was caught in the midst of delusion, of beating myself down because I never felt that people truly cared.  I never knew if I was a burden, and that in itself drove me down.   Freedom was an illusion that never came, as each friendship and relationship became another cage of pain, that I created.

     And it hurts when you see people moving on, when you see that they have their own lives to live.  When you're stuck in one place, trying to hold onto what doesn't exist anymore.  It's selfish, I know.  But sometimes the hurt just comes, before you can put up your walls, before you can move on yourself.  When that person has changed, has reached a new stage in their life; and new friends, to share it all with.  When the extent of your communication is when you're the person who starts the conversation, all the time.  When you know that they don't care as much as you do.

     But in the end, that's not what matters.  It's seeing that they're happy - seeing that they've found people who can carry them further than you ever could.  And there's no other way to make it out.

It doesn't matter who I am, because I'll never be that person.

I'll never be enough for you, I can never be enough to hold onto this.

Dreams

     We wanted to dream.  To dream into our life, to race towards a point that never got closer.  We wanted to discover, to venture out into a world so big we didn't know where to begin.  But dreams rarely become reality, and the world wasn't so bright, like we thought.  

     I'm sorry, for everything.  I'm sorry because I don't even know where to start, now.  I'm too afraid to take the first step, too broken to be brave.

     At some point, I got used to you leaving.  It became a habitual pattern, of you staying for a while, some small talk, some emotional things I was dealing with.  And eventually you would trail off, forgetting to reply, or getting too busy with your life.  And I understood.  I understood, but even understanding didn't take away the pain.  The only thing, that honestly did, was when you came back.

     Right now I'm lost.  Right now, there's a path, waiting for me, but the world is behind, left for another child's dreams.  

 I think my pain began with exactly this:  dreams.

It started when I was younger, when I held more innocence than I do now.  In a once upon a time, I thought that I knew the journey of my life, and where I was going.  I was going to become an engineer of some sort, the path that I've been pushed to my whole life.  And it's a journey I have loved, in some aspects.  I can't deny that.

I don't know when things changed, but my view of the world shifted, I began to explore things in depth.  I started to love the humanities side, while my resistance and anger shifted up many notches.

Even when people told me, "follow your dreams", I couldn't win.  If you love two sides, two sides that make up a whole, then how... can you win?  Even though I do love one side more than another, it's the fear of failing that catches me.  It's my inability to move forward.

I know I have four years, and the rest of my life, to decide this, but I don't think it will ever go away.

Many years ago, in a series of emails that I exchanged with a friend of mine, he once said,

"However, it is the pain you are feeling, that turmoil, that will point you towards what you want to do with your life.  By keeping your eyes as open as you can, you will see a path you want to live, one you will develop the strength to obtain." 

In the end, I think this was, and is, what keeps me stronger through the anger, and through the pain.  

But it never goes away.

Introduction: Her Chains, My Scars, Our Lives

"Everything will be okay in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end."

If our chains defined our freedom then we would have nothing left to give.

     She had many chains.  Many scars, that painted her past and haunted her present.  "Demons", she called them.  Demons that were born from her own flaws, from the voices, consuming her mind.  

     It's hard to know the start.  It's hard to see the first chain that truly confined her, that gave life to the shadows in her mind. 

     Like many stories, there is no beginning, nor an end.  The beginning does not exist, and the end is yet to come - in death.  But there is a "now", and a past, that lead to this present.  A sky that wasn't so blue - and the clouds that covered even the days of sun.