T-25 days to my 22nd birthday, that’s crazy! It feels like a few months back I wrote a whiny post how I celebrated my 21st birthday, alone with a slice of carrot cake and a lit up cotton bud with Vaseline in a dark room. I am counting days to my birthday in the next few weeks, just because. I think I need an escape or something to reward myself for being able to make it to the day. Nothing? Just for a reason that I still can see how the morning rays peeking through my window every morning because I didn’t take my life away last night. I didn’t crash the road divider when I speed up because I remember people who would mourn over me. I’m glad I didn’t jump over from the 17th floor balcony of my friend’s house that night because I thought life was really hard. A pat behind my back because I decided to join my boys’/girls’ dinner and listen to random rants and stupid jokes, because if I swallowed the whole bottle of Zoloft that night, I can’t see that faces that could lit up the whole room.
Getting to 22 years of living, I have this thinking that maybe one can never get used to the feeling of losing someone. I’ve heard before how the right person will come along and you won’t need to do anything to keep them interested for the simple fact that you’ll be enough. You will always be too much or not enough to a person. Find someone who accept you for “just enough”. I am trying my best to be good. But nothing ever comes easy, it takes an ounce of strength to settle in a good place. You have no idea how exhausting it is to do nothing and how lonely life can be even though you’re surrounded by people. I don’t know about you, but I’ve thought about running away more as an adult than I ever did as a kid. And one thing that I am sure of right now is how hard I have been pushing myself to forget that person. If El Chapo can escape from maximum security prison twice I can escape this feeling, I wrote that as a mental note.
Everything has been hurting a little too much for a little too long. I’ve been sad for years so don’t tell me it gets better. Imagine days of having to forget the feelings I have for a person when I have to look at the face once in a while when I walk around laughing over silly things and *snap* he is in front of me and left me choking and gasping for an air. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl grey tea makes me miss him so much I don’t know what to do with my hands. Sometimes I forgot that I decided to leave him for good but I still check up on him when I woke up from sleep at 4 AM. I said don’t even dare to find me back, but there are those times I wished his name would popped up on my phone screen.
That’s why, that’s why I want to let myself out for my 22nd birthday. I want to be at a good place surrounded with good people whom I love and would sunk myself in their chest because I just love, love people to the extent I want to feel their presences on me. I’ll always be that sanctuary for people who just need a home and walls to lean on. Always. And for that price, I want to feel at home with people I love that day. Just to be at the park, with strings of white balloons all over the place. That evening we will talk about things we love to do, things we are tired of cursing to over sugar glazed donuts or maybe anyone’s favourite slice of pizza while talking with our mouths filled to the brim. I don’t really fancy a bouquet but maybe a clean vanilla butter frosting carrot cake with peonies on top would be lovely. When I’m asked to blow the two candles, I would make a wish for something like please grant these people endless happiness for what they’ve made me the most luckiest person.
Or maybe I could spend the day on my bed while inhaling a box of thin crust pizza over my favourite movie and sing Like A Fool over and over again until I fix my tone deaf.