June 20, 2012

Dad once told me that if I can’t tell anyone else what I was thinking, I shouldn’t bottle it up and instead write it all down on a piece of paper. He said, whatever was in my chest that was already too much for me to handle should get out from it, or else I’d end up exploding in front of someone who might not have anything to do with my feelings.

I’m not really a vocal person, nor am I good at handling my own feelings, that having been given that other option was a blessing. Ever since then, I started writing out my feelings on a piece of paper that I would always slip inside a cardboard box I always hide under my bed after I finish so no one will ever get to read what I have been writing about. Each paper was like a letter to someone, of an unnamed friend, just so I don’t feel unnecessarily dumb by writing to myself.

Ever since starting to write my feelings down on a piece of paper like how dad told me to, my chest became lighter and the things I used to bottle up and think about till one in the morning easily gets forgotten as soon as I close my eyes. It was almost like a natural thing to write about what my day had been, what I was feeling, what I was mad about, that I didn’t consider writing as a chore but a form of solace I learned to depend on especially at times when I just have to let it all out.

My letters piled up inside the cardboard box until it was almost full—that, I haven’t even realized not until one day in spring when dad died.

I used to ignore the number of letters I had already written because I thought it wasn’t necessary. I was enjoying the little routine that in fact I even aimed on filling my cardboard box and then buying another box to fill it up until it’s all packed again and I have to buy more boxes to place my letters into. Writing became an obsession.

But when dad died due to his bad heart condition, I became incapable of writing my feelings down because every time I did, I would be reminded of him. Of the pain.

The pen and paper I used to rely on to make me feel better weren’t enough to alleviate the pain dad’s death caused. It only worsened the wound in my heart. Because everything about the solution he gave me reminded me of him. And so, writing ended up not being of any help to me. My tears and silent woes were my only way of easing the pain, but it hadn’t really helped that much. I was still broken.

On the fourth night after my dad’s death, I decided that writing was nothing more I could use to empty my cup. It was no longer any form of solace or escape, but a way to remind me of all the past memories and painful feeling already embedded with it I had hidden inside my cardboard box. So, I stopped from writing since then. I kept my cardboard box in the farthest corner underneath my bed, vowed never to touch them again, and only used my pen and paper for school work. I threw away the extra pens I bought before that I used for my letters and hid the stationeries I used to write on under the pile of school books on my desk.

It was such a hard obsession to let go of but I managed to control myself from going back to the routine after talking myself into it and distracting myself with other things like going out more, making friends and dating.

It was on the 5th day of September when I actually met this guy, Oh Sehun, in my high school and started dating him after a couple of months of courtship.

Sehun’s in the same grade as I was. A gentleman, good looking, thoughtful and no doubt the sweetest guy I’ve ever known after my father. He was the person I hanged on to for dear life, poured my heart out to, and the days we spent dating each other was probably one of the most amazing times of my life.

Or perhaps it’s the best, yet also the worst.

I came to the point in our relationship when I finally realized that I loved him, but then it was an unfortunate day when he told me the news that broke my heart and set us apart.

One day, he brought me to our favorite park and sat me down. It was pretty unusual for him to be doing that since that time he said he was busy with school work and couldn’t tak