Dear You, Pt. 34

dear you

You once asked me what it meant to be happy and I still stand by what I said: I’m not entirely sure. However, after some careful consideration, here is what I think. Happiness is waking up late on a Sunday morning to the smell of breakfast being made and the sound of your favorite television show playing in the background. Happiness is finding an old picture while rummaging through items of a neglected desk drawer. It is jumping in bed on a Tuesday afternoon and listening to the songs that helped you fall in love during high school. Happiness isn’t bound to one singular thing or train of thought. Happiness is a multitude of choices and opportunities that come and wait for us. They wait until we decide to choose them or ignore them altogether. But that’s the point. Sometimes happiness is a choice. It’s something we are free to choose and decide for ourselves. Sometimes happiness is crying in the arms of the person you love. Happiness can begin at the end of a toxic relationship that has gone on for far too long. Happiness can be opening your heart to a stranger that you only met the night before. You say that you’ve grown numb, jaded by the pain that has accumulated throughout the years. But those feelings of excitement, those feelings of happiness and joy, they still reside inside of you, locked away while you mope around holding the key. I’ve wanted to reach out, to tell you that it will be okay for a while now. Despite these intentions, I could never find the right timing. My words became muffled under a blanket of noise, my actions were always seconds too late, overshadowed by another. But I was able to muster up enough courage to write this letter, to finally convey these words to you. I pray that you will be okay. I pray that you will find happiness. I pray that I will get to see you again.

Because quite frankly, you make me happy,
Me

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Dear You, Pt. 33

dear you

I want to honestly tell you something. It’s been a while since you’ve heard that, hasn’t it? Maybe it’s been a little too long, maybe your memory is better than my own and you remember a recent moment of sober truth that I have unfortunately forgotten. But for once, in possibly a very long time, I want to be honest, so here it goes. I was afraid- or should I say that I am still afraid. I am afraid of the idea of being honest, of laying down my feelings out in the open for the naked eye to see. I am afraid of people listening to my deepest darkest secrets, afraid that once someone knows about my pain and what keeps me awake at night, they will find me burdensome and a nuisance. In short, I am insecure in several ways but I am too afraid to admit it. I am scared to death at the idea of opening up to people because I have a constant fear that one day they will slowly fade and slip into a memory that I constantly yearn to relive. It started with one wall, then slowly four, and eventually I ended up with a kingdom that became home to unspoken thoughts and unaddressed feelings that kept piling up into the human that is writing you this letter today. I am afraid I have listened to others for so long that my words naturally lost their way when I needed them the most. I am afraid that I will continue on this road of self-ruin unless I scream and plead for help. And right now, I am begging on my knees, so if you have the time, I hope you respond.

I am weak, I am broken, I am in need of you,
Me

Dear You, Pt. 32

dear you

You carried a darkness around with you, naturally and without any second thought. On some days it would be barely visible, a small little speck on the collar of your shirt. You walked around with a smile that covered your entire face and on those days it was genuine and sincere. We would spend hours engulfed in conversation, happily walking between the realms of imagination and the world that we’ve come to know as reality. But then, of course, there were other days. On those days the darkness became visible and draped itself across your shoulders for everyone else to see. It felt unbearable and brought with it the weight of the world. When those days came, time seemed to pass slower than before and everything seemed desolate and hopeless. Even getting out of bed felt like an impossible task. But you still managed to open your eyes and breathe. With every breathe your emotions stabilized and your limbs gained strength, but that was never enough. You felt like you were never enough and despite what everyone told you, their words could never pierce through the deafening silence. I tried to console you through various means. I tried to understand you multiple times, so that I could find the right words to say. But it seems that I forgot one crucial detail. It is okay to feel the way that you do. It is okay to entertain that darkness from time to time, as if welcoming an old friend. But do not dwell in it, do not allow it to consume you and cripple you, making it difficult to move. Every emotion that you feel is valid and real and okay. But I only hope that in the end, you will be happy.

I hope that in the end, you will choose to be happy,
Me