Trapped In Wonderland

Morning sun blazing through the window panes, curtains that flutter against the summer breeze, butterflies settling on my sunflowers awaiting a dehydrated death as the climate and my forgetfulness; both, deteriorate at the worst possible time.

If one day you don't love me anymore, please don't hesitate to tell me up front.     Dont wait.     Don't procrastinate or draw it out. Be open and tell me honestly like always.    

I can't erase the traces of you, they'll forever be there.

A collection of open letters to different people. 

I’m convinced that what hurts us the most in life is lack of clarity. It’s the not having closure, always wondering, being confused part of the bad things that happen to us that destroys us. 

Love, Here goes nothing. I’m going to spill my heart out in this open-letter. You won’t see this anyway, no one will actually (except my very few followers).

We all have our insecurities, parts of us that will always be vulnerable and raw. But those parts, will always be the parts we hide from the world. It could be because you're ashamed of them or because theirs something worth hiding, but you know the real reason? 

I want you to know that writing this letter did not come easily for me. There were parts of my life that I wished you were there, but then I finally understood that growing up without you was the best thing for me. 

“We are who we are” you used to say, as though we were only innocent bystanders. As though we couldn’t help what we’d become. I don’t think it’s enough of a reason and even less of an excuse. I prefer to use ‘what we’ve been through made us who we are today’, though that’s hardly any better. It gives the past too much weight. 

Every time I write about you its like I’m writing about the sun. A source of light, something gentle that makes everything glow with its powerful rays. 

“So,” he smiled, “tell me yours.”  “My what?” She replied.  “You know, your love story, tell me about the guy who made you obsessed with the idea that you’re better off alone.” 

My mother never believed in God. She would always tell me that holiness lay in the mundane, in the most ordinary moments of life; the ones that we don't even register as they pass us by. 

When I was sixteen, I fell in love with the idea of love and this blindly led me to someone who was not even worth a single glance never mind months of my time but he told me all the sweet things I wanted to hear and I stuck around for the false sense of validation. 

I remember when I was heartbroken like you. I remember how the waves of missing them was constant and the cruelty of being forced to carry on living despite constant reminders of memories laced with salt invading my gaping wounds. 

Your relationship with yourself is the only one worth going out of your way to preserve. Because sometimes people tell you they’ll always be there for you and a week later they’re telling you to have a nice life. Then you’ll feel stupid about the time you put their feelings above your own when they don’t care about hurting you at all.

I'd been told I would only get hurt in the end. I'm not an idiot - I'd seen it coming, too. 

A favorite saying of my mother is "we keep a part of every single person we meet". This way we can never forget anyone, not completely. A part of them always stays with us.