It was a lonely Thursday when I impulsively got on that plane to find myself.
Soothe the trembling hands from a longing so unbearably painful, the noise from my throbbing chest so awfully loud.
Is this how it is to love truly? To intentionally be blind from candied lies and dilated pride? Could I even take it all in? For the longest time, could I or should I or would I? Must I?
Blank spaces. I remember staring at the wall of the four corners of this cramped up space I pretty much called home for the weekend, waiting for a call that will never come and started to ask my self, am I even significant? So many unanswered questions kept running through my head and it kept me awake most of the night, inviting insomnia overthinking on the past 12 years.
And in between the commotion of what ifs and regrets I try to battle when evening comes and the silence sets in, I realize that life is a fleeting goodbye and peace is a fragile bonus. I realized, as I grew older, the circle I treaded, once wide, has become small and narrow, and I’d rather that. My time is now. This is my time. And I choose to be selfish. I will release myself of anything that does not curve the corners of my mouth and quiet the insecurities that threaten to surface. I will feast on wonder, on silly nonsense, on joy, on self love; to wake and greet the reflection that has evolved into this beautiful version of Me. Wounded, scarred, but slowly healing.