Looking glass.

It all started with a look. A smile. Little did the wanderer know of the long road ahead. Almost did he decide not to. But fate had other plans.

And so he rode. In the dark of the night, under street lights and other headlights. A road he never took before. On and on, it went until he found it. Small, quaint, warm, bright. Brilliantly warm. And he knew. But he did not know how much more it would grow.

And as he lay there with her arm suddenly around him, it struck him. He wasn’t impenetrable. A heart he thought was content and happy was stolen from him in a few seconds by a simple look. And he did not sleep.

And from then on, during breakfast and on the way home, his mind was infused with thoughts of her. His heartbeat pulsing with the rhythm of his engine. And as he carried on the next few days, he found he wanted her. And the decision was made. And from then on, the days were different. The sun shone brighter, the wind was sweeter, the stars were a canvass of new colors.

She took all of him. His thoughts, his emotions, his very existence. She took him. And he let her. And he took her for himself. All he wanted was to live for her. He devoted all his time and energy to seeing her smile. To make her laugh. To just be there for her.

He never felt that way. Not for anyone or anything. It was all new and foreign and strange. But he took it all in stride. She made him feel so many new and wonderful things so much that he could do nothing else. Nothing except to love her even more. And more and more.

One look from her and he knew what she wanted. What troubled her. And one look was all it took for him to stand up and wrap her in his arms. To show her that nothing and no one would ever harm her.

She would cut him from time to time. But his love proved far stronger. Stronger than all the pain and sorrow. Strong against the winds of change and the force of time. And even though fate dealt a cruel blow, he knew that what he felt would endure. For not even the vicissitudes of time and destiny would alter the heart of this wanderer. And though she is far away now, his entire being would still cry out her name from time to time. And up above the stars and to the heavens, his tears would pierce the very fabric of the Divine.

He does not care what is being said. He does not care because no one truly knows what’s inside. This is the way he feels and it was and is what he knows. And though he gets lost most times, everything goes back to her. Nothing is left but to see her as it was. To see it as it is. And so life goes on. His storm inside unknown and misunderstood by all.

And it all started with a look. Eyes he would love to look into once more.

You.

They say it’s suicide. Stupid. Ridiculous. I say they’ve never known this feeling. To truly and freely give all of yourself to someone. To pour out and empty your heart for another. That in spite of all the pain, you would still choose to love that person.

In its very essence, that’s what love is. To overlook and forgive. To see the person and understand why. And though it cuts you all the time, you know that in the end you still love them . And you choose love because that’s what you both had.

I loved you. I love you.

There is no other excuse. Pieces of me are with you. And I can never take them back. Nor do I want to. Yes it hurts. Yes it is a form of self mutilation. That in me is an emptiness that only you can fill. But you will never do so again. I was totally yours. And a part of me will forever be yours. You may or may not like it, but that is the truth.

I love you.

I have never been so happy, so in love. I have never felt nor experienced such a whirlwind of emotions. A frenzy of love and pain. All of the drama, all of the hugs, the tears, the laughter. All of it. Was because of you. And you and I, we were beautiful. My life was beautiful.

You were my first thought in the morning, and the last in the evening. In my dreams, you remain my queen. And you still are. You still do. And I want it to stop. I want to stop loving and caring so much. But I can’t. You forever hold a piece of me. A part of me that I freely gave to you.

I catch myself singing our songs. Songs that remind me of you and those places we drowned with our love and laughter. I catch myself staring at those places we would frequent. I catch myself remembering and playing our memories like a movie. Everything on repeat. Then I feel my heart ripping apart. My soul in anguish. Because it’s all you.

I loved you. I love you.

I know that if you ask me to fight for you, I would and I will. That if you find yourself in trouble, all you have to do is cry out my name and I would be there. And that in itself is screwed up. If you called my name, my entire world would stop and I would look at you with so much of my broken pieces. Pieces that were once whole because of you. Pieces you don’t realize pierce and hurt me everyday.

How many times must I tell you? Have I not shown you already? It was you and I. It was beautiful. I chose to give you all of me. You chose to leave.

I loved you. I love you.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall.

“Enough!”… Screaming into the darkness, looking out and up towards the stars, wondering when it will all end. The past molded what you are inside. And you may not know it, but it is what dictates your every decision now. And so you fall asleep.

You open your eyes, glad to have another day. You choose your dress and put your make-up on, and you smile at yourself in the mirror… And yet…

Am I right once more? It haunts you, doesn’t it? The very things you told me, the very same experiences that tore you back then is haunting you now. But you shut them out once more. And you look forward to all the plans you’ve made. Things that I know are meant to mask the wound inside. A temporary bandage for yet another day. A wound festering inside because it was never given the right attention it deserved. It needs to be confronted. It needs to be healed.

So why did you read that chapter to me? And why only me? Did you think I could heal it? Did you think I would have done anything and everything in my power to root out the rotten and make it all new? I most certainly tried. I would have fought your inner self and immersed myself in the abyss you’ve created. I would look the devil himself in the eye and have taken his head for you.

Do you even recognize yourself? Look. Look deeply. Your screams inside are deafening. Even in slumber you are chaos. There is no calm in you even in your dreams. How many times have I woken up in the middle of the night all because you would move to the edge of the bed? How many times have you asked me to put you to sleep? And how many times have you told me stories of you being disturbed?

Beloved, you are a mess. A beautiful, broken mess that I would always kiss and try to put back together. A shattered mirror held together by temporary pleasures only to crack and give again. A reflection of your true self only I would always, always pick up and press together with these hands. These hands that have constantly bled since we met. Hands that would always want to hold you and show you how even more beautiful you can be. Ask me to stand up to the shadows that follow you. Ask me to rise up and shut out the darkness that engulfs you. Ask me.

I have wrestled with the devil himself. Literally. Nothing scares me if it means bringing you up and out of your pit once more. They see the star shining. I see the core of the star struggling to keep the light burning. I see the tears inside. I hear the cries and whimpers of a vulnerable child. One who holds on to those around her because they keep her standing. They give you that strength you don’t have yourself. Temporary. Fleeting.

The silence is strangely gratifying. It understands the longing of the soul. A longing not even you know. What is it? Were we not created for love? Out of love? Is not love the answer to all? And yet we don’t understand it. We can never fully grasp the immensity that is love. And so we follow the world’s definition of it. Wrong. Has it not complicated everything? Look in you. Look around you. What a mess.

And so are you. And I understand. I know. So ask me to kiss those wounds once more. Because in the realm of my dreams, I still do. Even if those pieces cut me open all the time. I still lovingly do.

Clarity or Sanity?

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star… You’re so near and yet so far… Up above the world so high… Wish I could reach you but I can’t fly…”

You must have been singing this in your head during that first road trip. Do you remember? We were coasting down that road when you rolled down your window and looked up at the night sky. Ambrosia’s “Biggest part of me” playing on the radio. I certainly recall that moment.

Do you still look up? You have so much you want to do, but let me tell you this. They won’t fill that emptiness in you. That void I so understand and know all too well. You see, I’ve been there. I was once at that stage. Wanting so much, wondering and dreaming to no end, not knowing what I really wanted. And so I did it all. I did all the pleasures to somehow cover the strange void inside. Because I always thought about what “I” wanted. I had no regard for the feelings of others. And I most certainly did not care if a person had nothing to give me.

Selfish, right? Insensitive. I won’t condemn you. I won’t judge. See, I learned the hard way. I broke myself so many times with my stupid, selfish decisions. I broke myself countless and innumerable times just to find meaning for this existence of mine. I cannot tell you the number of times I lived in my own little world. Molding and shaping standards for those I wanted to fit in my life. Stupid me.

I was brought back to reality in a very cruel manner. I was shattered. It took me more than a year to recover. Pain? Child, you have no idea. So here I am saying these things to you. Why? Because I see through you. You’re wandering. Lost. Like I was. And I don’t want it to reach a point that you hurt yourself again. Yes, again. I know, right? Makes me wonder why you’re doing this. You made a choice and I respect that. But what you are forgetting is that I loved you, and I love you. And come hell or high water, I will always do.

I can love you from afar. From a distance. And let me say this. What you did was mean and cruel. It is something not even I would wish upon anyone. I went through the devil’s mouth and fought for my very sanity. You are the only one who took me to and through heaven and threw me down into the pits of Hades in a manner of 180 days or so. And for that, you are a permanent imprint on this battle scarred wanderer. You are the only one I took care of like that. You are the only one that made me feel all those unexplainable things. Wonderful, unexplainable things.

The moon and the sun collided. Creating such a sight that others could not explain. An eclipse so out of this world because it wasn’t planned or predicted. It just happened. And for that short moment, they stayed there. Burning a light so immense in the darkness that the entire universe conspired to leave them there together to create such a spectacle. The cosmos aligned and the star crossed lovers were left there… For the time being.

Then it was over. The moon had to continue its revolution. The moon, in the dark of the night, had to revolve somewhere. The moon and its dark side that no one knows. Except for the sun. The sun that shone all its power for the moon. The sun stays in the center. The sun stays where it is. Burning with all its might.

Tenacity.

I told you I remember. And when I say that, I really do. You see the problem here is the dream world you’ve created. You try to do so many things to escape a past that has wounded you. A past made by your choices. We’ve all made bad choices. And any normal person would learn and do better next time. But not everyone is normal. Like me.

There are inner wounds. Wounds that you thought have healed but haven’t. They haunt you. And now you’re scared. You’ve opened up to a select few, only to have them hurt you in the end. And so you decided to take one more leap of faith. You came out of hiding and narrated your darkness to the one who brought light into your world. Thinking he could save you. And did he want to save you? Yes he did. And I’m sure he did everything he could to do so. But he’s not perfect. He never said he was. He made mistakes. But would he have fought for you and defended you from the demons that haunt your very soul? Damn right he would have. He did, didn’t he?

What scared you? The fact that he wasn’t perfect? That he didn’t fit the standards you had in your head? Was that enough reason to suddenly hold back and rethink everything? Darling, I’m pretty sure he never thought twice about all the things he did for you. He would overlook and forgive, time and time again, all the mistakes and slips. Because he knew what was going on inside you. He knew the battle you were waging within your very depths. That is the very reason he took care of you. Why he gave you everything even when he had nothing left.

You wanted more. Pushed him to the very edge. He was hurt. And hurt a lot. But still. Still. He pressed on. Determined to fight for you. To fight what was and is within you.

You see, he is the only one who sees through you. Through the smiles and the laughter, the show and act. Through your eyes. He sees it all. Weaknesses, vulnerability… He stood by you. Took the storm for you.

Then you let go. You say you tried. But you let go. And what’s left of your warrior but fragments of his broken armor. A shattered sword. Shield? He didn’t have one. He exposed himself to all the risks and dangers you asked. He would slay those dragons for you time and time again if you asked. Little did he know that the bite would come from you.

You left him there. Injured, wounded, a bloody mess. Left him there to remember all those days and nights you were at his side, as he took out your demons. Now he remembers them all without you. All the words, the kisses. Your touch. The sound of your voice. The smell of the glorious night sky as he held you in his arms. You were his gold. You were all the riches of the world to him. You were all the beautiful things he imagined. He adored you. Loved you.

Imagine the sacrifices. The torture. The sorrow. The suffering. Now tell me that isn’t love? Tell me someone else would go through all of that for you. Your own personal hell and he chose to walk through those gates. Burned by the fires, he wanted more. He refused defeat. He pulled you out as best he could. Then you were out, and you were afraid of reality. So maybe you went back to what was familiar.

To the place you said you wanted out. The former of which you no longer wanted a part of. It pains him to see you this way.

It beats.

Oh, cruel reminders of yesterdays gone by. And how, when you thought you were getting there, it all comes crashing down on you again. It’s never going to be just “okay”. And I’ll tell you why.

Behold, this heart which has loved so much and continues to love. Behold, this soul. Laid bare and exposed to the one it found. Nothing hidden, nothing held back. Raw, pure. Given and placed into the care of one. Of which a million and more beautiful things were felt and experienced. A thousand beautiful night skies, and a selection of stunning sunrises and sunsets. There was nothing holding back, and no force would hold them back. Finding out that there is… beauty in all its power.

Were not the same things said? Was not the start impossibly possible? Were we not one as you always said and wanted? How cruel then, what happened to this soul.

Have I not given everything? Have I not killed myself over and over again, just to see you smile? Was it not your heart calling out to me on hearts day? Did I not sing your song? Did I not lull myself to sleep with your voice in my head? Have I not killed myself enough with the painting of your face in my head?

Am I not the only one who truly knows you? And do I not, to this day, keep those secrets in my own little box? Pandora herself would see hell before I give it.

What part of “I love you” don’t you understand? What more do you want? To this day, dear child, I am tortured. The flashbacks in my head of the places we discovered and enjoyed, the songs we sang, the laughter we shared, the silly things we did. All the crazy things you would do just to make me laugh. And my God, you could make me laugh. That’s how you did it, right? You always could make me laugh.

And now, you always let my tears flow.

What have you done? And even now, your eyes can stop my entire world. Even now, your voice freezes my very core. A glimpse of you both darkens and lights up my abyss. You have unleashed the very thing in me I have always been afraid of. Little one, you know. You know because I am still yours. And even though you don’t want me anymore, I still belong to you. Isn’t that terrifying?

A simple touch. A look.

No, I won’t deny it. I miss you.

“Sing us a song and we’ll sing it back to you
We could sing our own but what would it be without you?

“This heart, it beats, beats for only you”

A mask behind our masks.

What are you afraid of? No one’s going to know so tell yourself now.

Failure? Set expectations? Conforming? Not looking good? God forbid, love?

So how do you deal with it? I’ve been there. Whatever it takes, right? Go out and drink, party, sing, laugh. Then you come home alone and it all comes crashing down in you. Yes, “in” you. Torment, I know. Like I said, I’ve been there. I’d be lying too if I still didn’t have some sort of struggle in me. You stare out into the vast expanse of that void, up at the stars, wondering and pondering… Only to do it all the next day.

Oh poor child. We all wear them. We all like to appear strong and tough and happy outside. But what if… someone sees right through you? What if your soul was made bare and one could see the real you? Behind the act and the drama, the holes and the cracks you’ve created yourself, is a cry. A song only you sing. And little do you know someone knows your song and is more than willing to sing a duet with you.

A melody. A harmony. A march that only your heart plays. But where is the glory of marching alone? Why not make music together? And in the first place, why fear? Why so sad?

Not everyone understands. They will scoff. They will laugh. They will pretend or seem to sympathize, but they don’t really get it. But I assure you, someone out there does. Because that someone has heard you humming. That someone has heard you singing your piece. And while you continue writing and rewriting your lyrics, that someone has been strumming. Drumming. The keys of another piano heart slowly playing along. Sing.

Don’t pull the strings and bang on the piano because when someone started learning your song, you suddenly thought it was worthless and you threw it away. In the first place, would someone want to sing your song if it was pointless to do so?

You are not alone. Yet everyone feels alone inside, one way or another. It is perfectly human to be imperfect. To act out on impulse and emotion. To lay bare our soul for someone is absolutely beautiful. Nothing wrong with that. So what if others laugh? If they say otherwise? Is it not your spirit that is longing? It’s yours and yours alone.

So what about the one who learned your song? Oh, I’m sure that song will be playing on repeat. Pining.

Madness.

So this is it. Where it ends and starts.

Is there even an end? Isn’t that like another start? Or do we label it as an end because we were perfectly contented with that start?

Are we not all just lost, trying to start something, and always fearing an end?

Because you believe at the start. You choose to believe. You chose to. And when the end comes, you choose to believe otherwise. You will always choose to believe in hope. Mad hope. False hope. Because at the start, it was all of it in one package. Immensely beautiful. Terrifyingly perfect.

There was no end in sight. You refuse to even entertain an “end”. Even a single moment had no end. A day could go on and on and you could care less because for that moment in time, you were beyond bliss.

You thought. And so you still think. And you still don’t want an end. Then so many words from different ends. Do you listen? Which ones? Who’s right and wrong? Unfair, isn’t it? Stupid? Maybe. But you choose.

Me? Good question. Me. How about you? Another good question too. You.