Letters to the Sun.

If I knew I would eventually regret my choice, I never should’ve let you go.

. . .

Y’know, I can still remember those moments. After all, it was forever etched in my memory.

. . .

Back then, I was the stupid kid. You are the dazzling sun.

Yes. You are absolutely breathtaking. Your eyes sparkled, glistening with the mischief you’ll do and the joys of life. Your voice was like the chorus of happiness, your laugh a joyous melody. You acted like the Earth was your own personal wonderland: carefree, innocent, beautiful.

It was the stark contrast of my world. Mine was desolated. I was alone, in fear, wary of what I may come across. I walked amongst people but my memories of them do not matter as it was with them. It was mutual.  I was floating in the system but I was the dark side of the moon.

Still . . .

The day we first met was forever etched in my memory.

It was magical. At least, it is, in my mind. Remember how movies started out black and white? That was me until I met you. You’re skirting around as you always did, chasing you’re mates like a kids while I sulk at the far end of the corridor listening to the blaring noise of My Chemical Romance’s “Welcome to the Black Parade.” You looked over and grabbed my phone. Your eyebrows scrunched like of those cute little kittens. You pointed at the screen and said “Who the heck is this?” but then you added “I like that song”. Then you gave it back to me and you skirted away. See? Magical.

Never did we realize that we would see each other again, more often that we have expected. It kind of became a routine. For me, it felt like my moon is starting to rotate itself to the bright side again. You intrigued me. We both incited each other’s ire. But that moment put me back in color. For the first time in my life, I doubted even the beliefs I held proudly to myself for so long.

And so I decided I wanted to know more. You know how hard it is to psyche up yourself for a mentally exhausting attempt at life. I wasn’t the most sociable of all people. I would have preferred to stay away from others. But your existence made me try at life again. You taught me how to love the dazzling sun.

I was really prepared for a long arduous fight. Heck, I even slipped a few push-ups in between. But between all the slip-ups and the hesitations, I steeled myself. I knew this would be hard, but I will do it.

I asked. Halfway through, you said yes. I didn’t get to say my speech.

. . .

Cruel as it was, those beautiful days were short-lived.

It must have been me being stupid. Or us being absolutely perfect.  But on that fateful rainy day, I lost my light. I lost the sun. I lost you.

I lost my life.

It killed me. It felt like a nightmare was slowly killing me. Every single second, every day, every sleepless nights. I die.

“You wasted us”

That were the last words I would ever hear from you and ironically, the last thing we would ever agree upon. The aftermath has left your heart scarred and hurt,. It left mine with guilt and regret.

. . .

It was a long gone, but I’ve always wondered who got the better end of the stick. I’ve always watched you from far away, and despite everything, you remained the dazzling sun, much brighter, much wiser. It was too late for me to realize that not only the world revolves around you; you had become beautiful as life itself.

It must have been pathetically late, but I wanted to say goodbye. It may have taken me many long years to figure out that our lives aren’t going to be entangled by knots of fates. We eventually went and unraveled each of our different lifestrings. Thank you, for bringing my world back in colors. The world for me has always been ugly, but you’ve always been beautiful to me. The light behind your eyes made me realize that life would be better if you live as you wanted. Do not bother untangling the knots. Let them scramble and tie themselves.

Thank you. I love you. We did try, so that’s our consolation. Still, it’s a bummer that you realized something earlier than me.

That we did great, but the Fates never favored us anyway.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s