The Unsent Text

The texts were written and then erased, never sent to the recipients. They were written in various platforms: text messages, WhatsApp, Facebook Messengers, Snapchats. The way they were written varies depend on who the recipients are, but the intent was similar:

"Please save me. I don't want to be alone today. Please help me."

When memories hit and the sense of loss became profound, there wasn't much I can do but to frantically ran away from it, before it overcame me and leaving me drowned in my own tears, kicking and grasping uselessly for air. And it always catches up with me.

This is the time where I became reckless. Where I would do impulsive shopping or eating my pain away. Where I would have copious amount of Bloody Marys or find myself flirting with a guy I don't really care about. Anything, anything to keep the sharp edge away. To keep me numb enough to not feel the pain.

But the running and the hiding won't do me any good. It wont make the ghosts dissappear. The pain will keep coming back. The 'what if's, the 'did I f*ck up?', the 'I used to be so happy' wont stop pestering my mind. Not always, but when these ghosts visit me, it leave me crumpled on the floor.

I know what happen can't be prevented. I know I'm holding on only to happy memories, and if I stay it probably wont be as pretty. I know that I did very, very well in taking care of myself and my sanity, and to turn my grief into energy to power my growth. I love who I am right now, more than ever.

But logic doesn't work well with emotion. Here I am crying on the train as I write this, because I feel so lost and so lonely, because the pain cuts me like a thousand blades. Somebody please save me. Somebody please take the pain away. Somebody please dull the sharp edges. Somebody please comfort me, tell me I am not a f*ck up and it is ok to be sad.

In my madness a text was sent. I regret that instantly. No person can save me from the ghosts of my past. No person can rescue me from my own grief and loss. Not even if I have all the love in the world could I escape from this pain. Only I can save myself. Only I can put my past to rest.

Forgiveness, acceptance, and all that jazz. Been doing that for what like seems forever, and I still have to do some more. When will it stop, I do not know. Will I eventually grew tired and 'meh' about the pain that it stops bothering me? Will I woke up one day and finding out I have stop caring about it? Will this ever, ever end?

In my solitary I found power inside me, the power and strength to face the ghosts of my past, the power and strength no one else have or can give to me. I need to stop running and hiding. I need to face and conquer my ghosts. And I have to do this alone.

I imagine myself unsheathing my sword as I stood firm against the treacherous mass of darkness. I will slay it again this time. It will come back. I will slay it again. On and on the cycle will continue, but I will not back down. I will slay it as many time as I need to. It can kiss my pretty ass once I am done with it.