Her.

“Who are you waiting for?” she asks.

I take a good look at her face. Her dark brown hair is tied up in a bun, but not in the way you usually see those young girls of her age do it. Her tied bun looked more like maa’s hair tied into a bun. There are a few strands frizzy and dried, flying off as if they are naked wires, searching for plugs. I laugh remembering how mother always complained that she looked like a grandmother from behind when she tied her bun like that. She must be looking like one even now. My eyes fall on her forehead. It is covered with tiny indistinct spots, almost invisible if you aren’t concentrating hard enough. There are dark bags hanging  below her eyes because she had lost sleep for a couple of weeks. Although a sleep lover, she’d been refusing to sleep for some unknown reasons to both of us. Her nose is sunburned and a little tanned than the rest of her skin. There are light speckles and scars in her face. Sometimes, I feel like if I looked hard enough I could find more furrows. But right now, she looks tired and worried. Even as she looks straight back at me, I somehow feel that she is looking beyond me, searching for answers, seeking escape, looking for a way out. She is tired and worried.

“You,” I finally say with a sigh. “It’s time for you to come home.”
Because I’ve realized that even the girl in the mirror needs a reminder of the love you have for her. Especially during time like this.

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Dear you.

Dear you, there are so many things inside of me. Things I want to say, things I want you to listen, things I don’t know, things that I thought never existed, things I have lost, things I have found, things I ignore, things I want to ignore, things I forgot, things I always remember, things I hope there is, things that aren’t there. And beneath all of these things, buried deep inside is a girl who wants to break free of all the things but is afraid to let go.

Dear you, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I exactly want or even need. I don’t know what I dream about in nights, I don’t seem to remember them anymore. I don’t know how I want my life to be.

Dear you, I am confused. Most of the times I don’t know what I am feeling. Not the feeling like happy or sad or mad, but feeling towards people. And mostly feeling towards myself.

Dear you, I feel nostalgic and melancholic like my heart is heavy, ready to be burst but I don’t know. It has never burst before.

Dear you, have you broken my walls? Was I ever surrounded by wall? Although I would like to believe yes, I don’t think so. Is it good or not good? Does that even matter?

Dear you, what exactly in this world matters? Chasing after your dreams or being with your loved ones?

Dear you, how to manage time? How to struggle and juggle between work, home, people, love, dreams, aspirations, wishes, wants, needs, friends, family, mom, J., and myself? How to know the limit? How do I keep a time for myself?

Dear you, how to deal with ever changing heart? It wants you the first day, then hates you the next and be indifferent the day after.

Dear you, how do I know I am not going to hurt anyone in the end? And disappoint them? And make them suffer and sad? It’s so tempting you know – doing what people don’t want you to do, breaking hearts, burning souls.

And how do you explain it to people? This sudden feeling of emptiness, fullness, anger, somberness, heaviness,  peace, hatred, happy, joy that doesn’t affect anymore, and dead. How to be alive anymore.