I only know you understand me least when you tell me that you know exactly what I’m going through.. And how would you ever know, and why should I ever blame you?
I have lost definition of proper sleep over the past two weeks. Yes, it’s been exactly two weeks since I saw doctors and nurses trying to find a way to help you inhale the gaseous form of the elixir of life. And each breath, tore a little piece of my soul. The nurses kept giving me -at first- undefined looks, it took me this long to decode what their looks meant at that time. They were scared, terrified would be better put here. They were scared you’d stop fighting to breathe, and they were terrified I’d understand.
I haven’t held a pen in what seems like a very long period of time, and I know I’ve disappointed you.. a lot. But what you don’t know is, my every thought takes me home. To you. I’m running myself in circles here without you. And I keep drawing letters that seem so fragile and breakable on the piece of paper I have in hand; compared to what my heart wishes to speak.
On the bright side, that’s the only downside.. lack of sleep and excessive thoughts of what could have been. But you taught me better, you taught me a lot that’s of patience and what should be. And I’m waiting. And I’m learning about how things should go.
People say that a losing battle is when you have nothing left to lose, is it? Because lately it seems that you only lose when you lose what you’re fighting for, and not when you’re fighting with all you’ve got. You can fight till the very end, and lose every ounce of strength, or you can take a few steps to the back and attack when you’ve gained what’s enough to come back and DEMAND what you’re fighting for.. over and over again, as long as you know of patience, carry of strength and use of wisdom what you need, to take what you’re fighting for, you’ll never lose.
And then you come and tell me that I should be happy, but I’ve almost lost definition of what that word could mean. I know what having fun is, didn’t lose that yet.. but being happy, that’s like coming home to a marching penguin band.
But almost is not definite, I’m still holding onto the little things, just like you taught me; they turn out to be the big things after all.
But I smile, often. To thoughts of you. And them. And him. He makes me smile, but he tears my world apart -the world as I know it-. And at night, when I’m left comfortably confused, you gracefully talk me through the darkness till I hear the morning birds, and I see some jumping at my window, that’s when I know you’ll go back to your penguins, and I’ll go back to my fears.
You’re beautiful. Stay connected. I love you.