Letters to Myself

Letters to myself 

Dear Mish, 
There will come a time when you'll be at your lowest
And you'll breathe through it all.
There would be days when you'd miss your mother 
More than ever.
There would be days 
When you won't be able to stop crying and you will tell no one about it,
But the next day when you wake up you'll feel better.

In papers and through ink I've cried.
Through all these years that I've tried.
Tears leaking through these pages.
Unspoken words 
Drawn in images.
Something that has remained within me,
As slowly I learn about myself.
Shortly I realised
What I value,
What I'm passionate about.
If only I knew 
How to let it out.

Scars that remain:
What am I supposed to do
With you,
And your first world problems?
You cry, I laugh
Wondering had you actually seen, 
Dealt with mine,
Would you still be standing here, 
Laughing at my face?
Like I'm a child, how mocked, I felt.
Now being too happy, I fear 
Ask me why, 
Because I find myself  more than saddened.
In a depressed state shortly afterwards. 
And it seems never-ending
When compared 
To the short lived happiness that was,
And never shared. 
 

Home doesn't feel like home anymore,
Like a thin polybag floating ashore.
Sometimes here, sometimes there, 
I don't belong, do I want to belong?
Maybe they predicted correctly, 
With cats all around, 
Or would I even dare 
To grant myself this little cheer? 
Then I utter, "where am I?" 
Just like you did long ago 
Words I once heard you say 
But didn't understand why. 
I took you out 
Before taking you right back in. 
Such a chaotic shout.
So, time for me to go, 
I decide. 
Don't want to hold on anymore or even try.
Will I always be the first one to leave? 
Ironically also the last.  
This fleeting feeling of peace and bliss will pass,
Washing over you 
just like waves do, 
And washes away as fast.

 
But what do I do?
When I see them crying in my nightmares.
Carried all day, 
Mimicking my hesitation.
Leaving them be as in my dreams
And save them for my head
Of unsung reality, untold. 
When did I abandon myself,
When did I lose? 
All that was mine to hold.
Don't ask me what I did with my head
It's a coo coo's nest up there 
And Midnight blue is my colour
With a splash of orange if I may.
Queer enough,
Such an obedient fool afterall
And I think I knew what you were looking for.

And then they ask me why I stare at walls,
"What's in a name? 
That which we call a rose, 
By any other name 
Would smell as sweet"
And then they are afraid to come near
When I sing when I should cry,
Another way I could try 
To deal with my dismay
Everything wrong with being just pretty, 
They don't accept any anomaly. 
So here I go again, 
Losing myself for another.
When will I stop? 
When will I learn? 
These questions keep tormenting my mind. 
  
And how do you  cover from your own?
Someone's protective arms 
Against harsh tones.
Just a feeling of disdain now
Mixed with what could have been.
Telling myself repeatedly-
Limerence is easy or may not be.
Why I ask? 
Let it go, 
Why do you keep hurting?
Because I believe
We can do it again 
As we've done it it before,
And one day I'll say 
I love the person I'm becoming  
Until then I'll tell myself-
Don't chase this facade, 
Its liberating to know- no one cares 
Away from all the lies, 
But who is to say I'm giving up too fast 
So enough with all the tries? 
 
And then I realised 
Some tears are supposed to be shed alone.
What makes people believe? 
Such faith, I wonder..
Is it also because you lost yours?
The idea that there is someone thinking of you, looking after you.. 
Loneliness, worth a ponder. 
So wipe those tears now 
And Believe out of desparation,
Is this your want? 
Some people feel like home
Only for a while,
But I need to let them go.
Tired of temporary abodes, 
I wonder if it's because of us
All this self doubt creeps in. 
I wonder if there is a right reason 
Or a right way to be
Reiterating if I don't believe in myself
Then who will?
It has got to be me.

Writting letters to myself-
Dear Mish,

There would be days
When no one would see 
Your watery eyes 

Except me.
There would come a  day 
When you'd wish people would stop asking 
About the streaks down your face. 
There will come a time 
When you'll be at your lowest,
There would be days when you'd miss them all 
More than ever.  
But the next day 
When you wake up 
You'll feel better
And you'll breathe through it all.