I made a home in you for the past five years.
You were all the emotions that contained me for the past five years. You've seen me grow from just posting quotes, to actually writing down my own vulnerability, stripping me off the masks I wear on other social media platforms.
You've witnessed me wishing for love, and not wishing for it; writing letters to You, whom by the way, I thought I finally met but sucked that it wasn't him all along. I saw You in every men that tried to know me deeper and whom I had allowed to. And in all those struggles about wishing, finding and losing love along the way, you were the only place I run to cry on. I always find comfort that you're just there, and me in all my vulnerability, waiting for me to come up with words, to come up with sentences to defend my choices, and memories that I refused to forget. I am glad I did though I wish I have spent more time honing my skills by my frequent visits to you. I wish there could have been more time in keeping my mind in shape, to have something to do.
2013 was the best year for us. Deadlines were met even if it means having to write after a dreadful overnight flights with eyes drooping and eyelashes doing butterfly kisses on the computer screen. I was writing because it fulfills my need on something to do, so there was something to look forward to every week, which happened to be something that I (learned to) love doing. And I was happy then. I was happy not needing anyone but hoping for one day to come along bringing a boy with it. Friends were superb part of life, they are always the things I like most, like a good massage and some 90s music.
There were a lot of stories to tell, but I chose to banish it in the deepest parts of me that seemed to have poisoned my person in some sort of way. I was diagnosed with a disease called not needing my own person. I put my happiness on people, and people taking it, and not giving it back wholly when they don't need it anymore. I failed myself through the process, and this a my way of hopelessly trying to bring myself back to how I was. It has scarred my being that the only way to heal from it is to become a completely different person. And this, writing again is one of the things that I want to bring back to my system.
This is also my way of bidding farewell, You. I haven't reached my 300th letter but let's pretend we did. Those five years have gone by with me always talking to another person, writing letters to someone, to anyone. But I realized, on this process of curing this disease and the high hopes for the possibility of eventually healing, I have to give this up. I have to give this blog up. I have to give my voice another try, where it'll be all about me, still the vulnerable me, my thoughts, my imagination, my little victories and my failures. The rest, I have to leave behind. I know that this is a reminder of who I was, and the nouns that have put this blog into creation will forever bring a smile on my face when I reread it for youth reasons, no matter how old I get.
Sending all my love with kisses.
Signing out,
Mae Ann
