Dear Past,
Sometimes you come out of the blue.
You make yourself feel at home in a time that does not belong to you.
Others may think you’re narcissistic, but I think you’re artistic.
The way you destroy the power of a clock with a sweet talk.
The way you make sure to define the illusion of the time.
You whispered into my ear what you wanted me to hear but what I wanted to disappear.
Past, you cannot be described by anything else than a loveable zero and a significant ten.
The loveable zero that represents the unknown, the emptiness you made me feel, and the sadness that made myself ill.
The significant ten that represents the smile that is miles away from what came to be today.
The smile that could define my lifestyle and that today feels like a trophy.
A trophy that means this journey, called life, should get rewarded.
A journey that we did not choose neither can refuse.
A trophy that represents everyone as a winner in this spinner.
A spinner that begins turning when it wants and stops turning when it wants, the thing we call life and death.
See, you made my quotes feel like notes that no one would promote, my kindness feel like blindness and my dream feel like a desperate scream.
My eyes told lies that my mind signed.
The mind that could not build the air I needed for my chest to feel less stressed.
The mind that could not leave behind the nonexistent wind that was insufficient.
You let despair take my soft air and my sadness, my childlike gladness.
You told me that friends don’t hurt each other.
Therefore, I befriended disappointment and sadness, because like you taught me, friends don’t hurt you, right?
And that’s how the fire within me, began just warming my hands but not reaching my heart, so that love could be given but not be felt.
Past you are a lie.
A lie that I could not run by without feeling that silent cry.
A lie that I still try to beautify.
A lie that felt hard to be followed by a goodbye.
I felt like you had turned the monsters I was afraid of breaking into my home at night, into monsters that instead of breaking into my home broke into my inner room.
A room that started to bloom flowers, that did not match the powers of all my darkest hours.
Past.
You were strong.
You were smart.
But it was time for you to depart.
So, let the comment “you feel everything too deeply and your sensitivity is ridiculous” just feel like a power that represents my flowers in the good hours.
Transform this generation into faces that express their own bless and swallow every follow by human beings feeling unappealing in this game called healing.