so this is the final note,

i already sang my ideal goodbye a few months ago. cosmic tears, silent breaths. wished that not only the sound of my breathing that was missing.

i promised myself that i wouldn’t let myself go back into the well-lit corner where we tried to sync our voices so we could sound less disastrous. but then it inspired another analogy. we are that corner. more than anything else

have you ever looked at someone and thought, “you’re the young adult novel i read last month.”

written on brown was another goodbye note. unsent messages and remixes of old regrets. i got rid of idealism and embraced the disaster that was going to happen. but it didn’t work

i’ll have you know that i never read those novels anymore. i find them too naive, or maybe i’m just too bitter. i’ll have you know that i stopped after our second first meeting.

and a few days ago i thought that you were just a fuel that keeps my fingers tapping. not the destination. but i guess you won’t reach any destination with an empty tank, will you?

remember a year ago that you were just another form of my failed dream? of a regret that isn’t quite clear. you became much greater than that, you are a bigger, higher hope, thrown harder to the ground.

remember when i thought you share my madness of two. ours. it took me a few tens of stair steps and a couple of incompatible seats to realize that you never were. my naivety never went away after all.

remember when you turned your back gracefully; remember when i was glad that my pillows weren’t made of sponge? remember diamonds turning into broken glass?

you don’t. you will never. because you never knew (or pretended to not)

and in the end, i’d do it all again.

i’ll betray myself again; i’ll let myself down again. i’ll always love to think that i’m not the only one that is afraid, that is screaming my fears away.

but even after shouting my heart out and putting my mind on display, i’m not quite outside my head, not yet. i really do believe in miracles. and maybe one day someone will drop a key to my thoughts and leave me to exit them myself.

*sometimes i like to think that person is you.