A letter to old self

This standing before me is a perfect face of those moments where one should allow God to speak louder than pride as I gradually realize the truth about myself and my lack which completely is your presence. I will not dwell (though I desire to) on saying those sweet words that mend even the most shattered of hearts as  you might not welcome them and justly so. I find myself looking staring at your thoughts and memories that you've made possible through your broken short lived smiles hoping to find a clue as to how to find what I have lost but the emptiness of your silent words and piercing absence as I come to accept that you lavishly breathe without me make me lose myself even further. Visions of you have faded in mirrors, in clean waters and the winds have stopped carrying haunting sounds of voice around as if you were heaven’s favoured lipstick.

Nonetheless I didn't write to you to bother you with my lonesomeness or to boast about the miraculous strength I carry with me in every battle and how your absenteeism has oddly made me value the faces that stare at me in the mirror because they know me better than you ever could, because even in those rainy days of agony they are still brave enough to smile at me when we meet, the kind of bravery that was always way out of your league. I wrote to say I still find myself dancing the fading tone of your voice, playing your favourite song and to confirm that I still embark on my religious Sunday morning journeys looking for that old phone of mine that has your number, that number you never got to giving me, the phone you never bought for me. You always struggled with keeping to your word.

 I find myself consumed by anxieties of what may have been had I become what you sought yet strangely this morning I found myself ridding myself of your lifeless skin I wore around my flesh to remind myself that we were once a beautiful union though we constantly shed wrecks of glasses in every tear in every battle for we never were in unison, hoping you’d come for me as you last said in that letter you never really sent, though I still believe that you are capable of keeping to your promises. Every shower has become an ancestral ritual that cleanses me off of all that you ever stood for. I thought you should know.

 As I have pointed out earlier, this wasn't to bore you with my apparent lifeless words; this is to assure you that I carry memories of you in a bottle that’s half open, that you still come up in conversations over cups of solitude and that I have well taken care of myself since you left. Also know that I have become the exact opposite of your aspirations that you hid under every prayer you uttered against me, that I have been bravely stupid enough to make a wrong turn to victory that she follows my every footstep haunting me with good news like the Gospel.

To sum up this little cold letter, all I want to say is “Hi Stranger, I am sorry for your loss. I wish I had words bold and brave enough to fill the void in your heart, I wish I had prayers worthy enough to mend you and make whole the pieces of your soul. It will be alright, sooner than you think. Take care of yourself.