Hi, sad one.

 

Hi. I’m not sure whether I should be happy that you’re back. You’ve been gone for so long. What made you come back?

 

It’s not a question of why I came back, but why I left in the first place. You didn’t want me.

 

I didn-

 

See, now you’re in denial. You see this paper heart? Your paper heart. It’s bleeding. It’s crumpled, wrinkled, stained and torn. You see my hand? I’m still holding to it after all this time.

 

Why? Why do you hold on to something vain? Why do you try to mend up the broken pieces?

 

To bottle it up, and throw it out to sea. Watch it away as you cry. Show you a new taste. And like how I know it feels-- moving on-- I want to be there with you, for you.

 

I don’t even know myself at all. From whose grips am I trying to loose free? I thought I would be happy by now.

 

The more you try to push it, realise, you have to let go of control.

 

But how do you let go of control, if that’s the only thing you know? What if it’s the last thing you hold on to; the only certainty left midst all the havoc, the pain, the misery? Every night I try my best to dream that tomorrow makes it better... then I wake up to the cold reality that not a thing has changed.

 

If there’s something I hate is to see your heart break. I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close. I’ve been there before. Even if it’s just a spark, it’s enough to keep you going. So keep going.

 

From day one I talked about getting out, but not forgetting about how my worst fears are letting out. So I ask, why put a new address on the same old loneliness?

Breathing just passes the time until we all get old and die; talking's just a waste of breath and living's just a waste of death. So why, why put a new address on the same old loneliness?

 

And thus why, you have to learn to write the future; write it out, loud. Think of the future. Think of your dreams--

 

--think of a new life. Don’t get lost in the memories and keep my eyes on the prize. I know enough of the bull, and like everything else, it’s always easier said than done.

 

I assure you, you'll get away from here. You'll get away eventually.

 

But see.. there is not a single word in the whole world that could describe the hurt; the dullest knife sawing back and forth, ripping through the skin. How were you to know? The blood in these veins isn't pumping any less than it ever has... and that's the hope I have. The last thing I cling to. The only thing I know that's keeping me alive.

 

For all the air that's in your lungs, for all the joy that is to come and for all the things that you're alive to feel.. let the pain remind you hearts can heal. And I know, because I am you. I know.

 

Do you know how hard it is? This is you and me, me and you... until we have nothing left.

 

Love happens all the time to people who aren't kind. To lovebirds-- heroes, who are blind. To mere beings who expect perfect scripted movie scenes. We’re such fragile broken things; a shame we all remain to be, and will always be.

 

..These darkened places deep in my heart was once blazing light.. but now a tiny spark. I feel like fighting on my own in a war that's already been won. But why do I feel otherwise? What am I trying to prove? It’s all vagueness and uncertainties—but only until you come and find me here.

 

The mess we make of love and other simple things—it remains a mystery as to the question why. Learn to forgive, even when it wasn’t a mistake.

 

The scars left on my heart formed patterns in my mind... it haunts me. I question every human who won't look in my eyes. It haunts me. All that's in between; a brand new life and I this time. It haunts me.

 

All you need are your thoughts and your small acts of creation and your ability to go or do whatever you want to go or do. You are yourself, and that is the point.

 

Or maybe I am better like this. Maybe I could live in my own world, and then simply leave it when it’s time to go.

 

I am very compelled to feed you to your own fears. But what did it matter to me? Did I think by making you rational about one thing, I could make you rational about everything? Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to save you from your fears.

 

The doubts. You had to save me from my constant doubts. That deep-seeded feeling that I wasn’t good enough for anything.

 

The mistake is thinking there can be an antidote to the uncertainty.

 

The thing I hate the most is knowing how much hinges on my reaction, how your unburdening can only lead to me being burdened. If I lose it now, I will lose you, too.

 

The key is to never recognize these imbalances. To not let the dauntingness daunt us.

 

I don’t deliberately pull away… but I find myself suddenly there on the outside, unable to lose mself in where I am. You catch me sometimes and I’ll snap back to the presence.

 

Even when I detach, I care. You can be separate from a thing and still care about it. But even if I do, I always glance back at you.

 

Always?

 

Always.