As much as I try to avoid writing about you, I find it impossible to resist. Please, don't flatter yourself. Writing is in my blood, and it's my way of processing my emotions. So, once again, this is about you.

You may never know this, but last week, I made a conscious decision to stop writing about the people I love, those who've left their marks, whether sweet or painful, on my life. I resolved to focus solely on you. I considered you my ultimate source of inspiration; there wouldn't be another muse. Even if there were, I wanted you to be the one I remembered forever, the muse I could speak highly of.

However, that plan fell apart in less than a week when you made it clear that you wanted no part of me. After all, what's an artist without their muse? So I erased everything – you, the past, the emotions that felt so real. Maybe they were, but you made it seem like it was all in my head, as it always had been. I deleted those words, as if they never existed, as if I never felt them, for you and everyone who came before you.

But this isn't the point of what I'm writing now. I've decided to write, endlessly, about you, anyone from my past, or anyone in the future. I won't stop pouring out my feelings until they dry up. That's a decision I've made on my own.

Whether it's about you or someone else, the emotions I experience in any given moment are as real as they can be.

So, with that said, here's to you.

Surprisingly, I don't hate you. Truth be told, I got over you rather quickly. Well, nothing compares to the pain of rejection from a company, but that's a story for another day. I was sad, I must admit. I experienced the usual heart-dropping, tear-inducing feelings that always accompany such moments. I couldn't be alone that night, and you reminded me that I have good friends. Thanks for that, by the way.

You also showed me how mature I've become when it comes to handling my emotions. No more impulsive decisions or foolish declarations of love for someone who clearly doesn't want me. Although it did take a night of knocking on my friend's door with bloodshot eyes, I consider it progress. I accepted what you told me; it was difficult, but I made peace with it. I don't hold any hatred for you.

Were your lies necessary? No, they never are. But that just revealed that you're not perfect; you never were. The idealized image of you in my head shattered instantly, and this time, I'm the one doing the breaking. The thought of being with you no longer occupies my mind – it never should have in the first place. I simply craved love.

This isn't a love letter or a letter of rage; it's just a blog entry.

– ✈️

What exactly takes the pain away? Here I am at 12:41 am attempting to put my pain into words once again. So what does take the pain away? Some would agree it would be death, since life is sometimes just a series of pain over and over again. One might feel like death, but sometimes it might hurt a little less than before. But death isn't an option right now. I don't know why, honestly. Do I feel like it? Yes, but is it wise? Not really. I know deep down I have so much to live for, so much to do, so much to offer to the world. And that, I assume, is in the future. But what about right now? What will it take to alleviate how I'm feeling, right? Friends? Family? Therapy and a two-month prescription for drugs I have to live with for the rest of my life? A feeling that I can't exactly point my finger at. Anger? Betrayal? Loneliness? All of that, and because of what? So many unanswered questions, so few answers. The people in my head better be paying rent because all these thoughts are truly unnecessary.

October 29, 2023

Dear Future Me,

This letter is dedicated to you, or rather, to the me that exists a year from now. In 2023, things haven't exactly been on our side. It might not have been as disastrous as 2021, but it did put us through the wringer. Our heart endured two breakups this year. It's quite ironic how we once believed that life's most profound lessons were learned only once, right? However, this year shattered that notion; it seems like pain is a recurring theme in our life. I wonder how many times we must experience it before we truly understand its purpose.

As of now, we've been without a job for a whole month, despite countless interviews. It's been a challenging road, and just when we thought we had escaped the darkest corners of our mind, we were pulled right back in. Honestly, we're growing weary of it all.

Right now, we feel incredibly unlovable, and I'm not sure how to comfort us. We've often told ourselves that the right person will come along, but I'm beginning to question whether love is meant for us. Experiencing heartbreak twice in a single year feels like twice too much. Was it our fault? Perhaps. Will we overcome it? Undoubtedly, but at this moment, everything is still fresh and raw. So, I'm penning this letter for you to read in one year, praying to the higher powers that things will change.

A year from now, I hope you can read this and tell me that indeed, things have transformed. I hope we've strived for what we want because, honestly, we have close to nothing left. Once again, we've been stripped of everything we once possessed – every ounce of happiness, confidence, faith, and hope. Admitting to myself that we've been drifting away because of the trials we've faced is difficult. I pray that one year from today, I'll find my faith again. I genuinely believe it's possible.

So, a year from now, read this letter with all the gratitude in the world. Cherish it and pray for us. Pray for the changes we hope to see, for the strength to face what's ahead, and for the love we seek. May our future be brighter and filled with hope.

Sincerely,

2023 you

Dear 2022 Me,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm writing to bring you up to speed on the whirlwind of changes and experiences that have unfolded since your last entry in the journal of life. Hold onto your hat, because some pretty significant shifts have taken place in the short time since you last checked in.

First and foremost, I quit my job. I can already hear your gasp of surprise. I know, you probably remember that amazing job promotion last year, and it did bring a sense of accomplishment. However, as time went on, the daily grind, the early mornings, and the constant traveling were taking their toll on us. The work-life balance was out of whack, and something had to give. So, here I am, on the job hunt, four weeks of joblessness behind me, and a sense of looming insanity creeping in.

We don't go on as many dates as we used to. Life has been throwing challenges at us, and the number of bodies now stands at eleven. Yes, I know you're probably doing a double-take at that number. Things got interesting in our dating life, didn't they? Last year was quite the rollercoaster, and this year we've only added two more to our count. We've been seeing the same two people consistently – one of them being our long-standing friend, and the other recently broke up with his girlfriend. But you might want to sit down for this one: I've decided to put a pause on dating altogether. Yes, you heard that right. We've met someone extraordinary, and I hope, someday, they might be more than just a number in our list. This change wasn't for them; it was for us. We realized some important things and decided to make a shift.

Now, let's talk about loneliness. It's still here, lurking in the shadows. But I believe we've been managing it better this year. Our friends remain an incredible source of support and joy. We've seen them from time to time, even made some new friends, and, just like last year, we're still navigating this journey alone. Though, brace yourself for a surprise – we've gained some and lost some friends this year. You wouldn't believe who it is, but trust me, there have been some unexpected twists.

In a nutshell, this year has been quite a challenge for us. April, our birth month, was a tough one. We reached a breaking point and had to take an unpaid leave to find some relief. Our hearts, well, they got tangled up again. It might not have been as brutal as what we experienced before, but it still stung.

Most of the months this year have felt like I've been operating in zombie mode. Life has thrown us for a loop, but we're still here, pushing forward, and learning as we go. It's a journey with ups and downs, but I'm hopeful that we're growing stronger and wiser with each passing day.

So, 2022 Me, I hope you're doing well, and I'll keep you updated as the journey unfolds. Remember, life is full of surprises, and change can be both challenging and rewarding. Hang in there, and keep moving forward.

With love,

Your 2023 Self

No one had prepared me for the anxiety that would come with managing the constant stream of communication from recruiters, encompassing phone calls, emails, and text messages. And then there's the intricate task of ensuring that interview schedules don't collide, whether they take place virtually or involve a commute just a few stations away. Yes, I have my trusty planner, adorned with the appearance of someone who has it all together, but currently, it's a maze of appointments and commitments.

Since Sunday, my health has taken a significant downturn, leading me to reschedule the interview I had lined up for Monday. That decision came with a heavy feeling of guilt, as if I were neglecting my responsibilities by staying home and being unemployed. While I have been diligently responding to emails and submitting job applications, the guilt still clings to me like an unwelcome shadow.

I've been on this relentless job search without a proper day of rest since the journey began. Consequently, the unfamiliar terrain of self-indulgence feels rather disconcerting. Today, I defied expectations and opted not to attend the scheduled interview, simply because I wasn't up for it. Given that my health showed no signs of improvement, it seemed more prudent to remain at home.

Yesterday marked the end of my journey at work, and while on the surface it didn't feel like a significant event, there was an underlying weight to it. I couldn't help but sense that, if I allowed myself to dwell on it, it would take me days to fully process what this step meant for my life moving forward. As October ushered in a new season, it hadn't brought any respite or improvement in my circumstances. While I acknowledged the many things I had to be grateful for, I couldn't deny that this year, in general, had been a challenging one for me. Yet, it was crucial for me to remember that some aspects of life are beyond our control.

So there I stood, at the threshold of my former office, taking my final step out. My work laptop had been meticulously cleared, my desk sat empty, and all the memories of the past year and a half had been carefully stowed away in my drawers. It was a moment of closure, yet it was also a moment filled with uncertainty. However, I wasn't alone in this transition; I carried the weight of a strong support system on my shoulders. Despite not having another job lined up and the prospect of no more monthly income, everyone around me was incredibly supportive, affirming that the decision I had made was, in fact, the best one I'd ever made.

Upon returning home, I decided to meet up with a friend, and to my delightful surprise, I was met with not just one friend, but an entire group of them. The day had been orchestrated in my honor. Even though this new chapter sometimes felt like I was straying from the path I should be on, the presence of my friends was a reassuring reminder that I was embarking on the next phase of my life, and they were there to wholeheartedly congratulate me on this momentous step.

I suppose it's high time for an update, given the last time I had a heart-to-heart with myself. These past few months have taken quite a toll on me, though I remained oblivious until someone else had to point it out. That someone happened to be my parents, who made it painfully clear that the child they once knew, the happy, cheerful, and quick-witted version of me, had seemingly vanished. In her place, they saw only an overworked corporate drone, a shell of the person I used to be.

It didn't truly hit me just how dire the situation had become until my parents uttered those fateful words: "You need to leave." At first, I assumed they meant leave for work, but it wasn't just about employment. It was about losing my financial security, about struggling to pay rent, and ultimately, it meant returning to the place I thought I'd left behind when I embarked on my six-year journey into adulthood in the bustling city.

When the phrase "just quit" escaped my mother's lips, I felt an incredible weight lift off my shoulders, and my eyes welled up with tears of relief. No more financial responsibilities, no more monetary constraints, and no more agonizing over what meal I could afford without revisiting the same tired options I'd grown sick of. But then came the creeping realization: I was elated, yes, but was I truly prepared to abandon it all, to return to a place I no longer recognized as the home of my childhood?

Despite my reservations, I made the choice to go through with it. The more I contemplated, the more I feared I might lose the courage to follow through. People described me as "bold" when they learned I'd quit my job without a backup plan. So, since that moment, I've spent countless hours clicking the "apply" button on job websites, sending out resumes, and enduring endless rounds of "tell me about yourself" questions.

The city had been my home for six transformative years, and severing that connection felt like an immense sacrifice. I wasn't quite ready to bid it farewell, but I also didn't want to bear the heavy burden of adulthood, as they say.

There's just something about high school friends that has always amazed me – they have a unique way of sticking around, even long after those school days are over. My journey with these friends, though not from my own school, has been nothing short of extraordinary. They embraced me in a way that made me feel like I was one of them, an integral part of their group.

If I dwell on it long enough, it seems almost unbelievable. I was once an outsider, standing on the fringes, looking in on their close-knit circle. I never imagined that I could find such a deep connection with people who were not originally part of my life. But here I am today, and I can say with certainty that I am one of them, and they are a part of me.

Through all the highs and lows we've faced together, I have grown inseparable from these cherished individuals. As life took us on different paths, and we momentarily drifted apart, I felt myself changing. I thought I had lost touch with who I was when I was with them. I believed that I had undergone some fundamental transformation, losing the essence of myself in the process.

Yet, when the fates brought us together again, a remarkable revelation struck me – I had never truly lost myself. They didn't change me; instead, they brought out the purest version of myself. It was as if their presence, their support, and their love acted as a catalyst to unlock the most authentic side of me. And in that revelation, I found comfort and reassurance.

It's true; I possess different aspects of my personality, each with its own unique charm. None of these sides are bad; they all make up who I am. However, when I'm with these high school friends, a particular facet comes to the forefront—the one that feels the most like me, the one that carries the essence of my hometown, my roots.

In a world that can sometimes be harsh and relentless, these friends are a grounding force, a reminder of where I came from, and the person I have always been. They carry a piece of me, of my past, and of the place that nurtured me. With them, I feel a sense of belonging that is unparalleled.

As we continue our journey through life together, I cherish the bond we share. High school may be behind us, but the friendships that blossomed during those formative years have grown deeper and stronger with time. They have given me a sense of identity and belonging that transcends time and distance.

In their presence, I am reminded of who I truly am and where I come from, and for that, I will forever be grateful. These high school friends of mine are more than just companions; they are the keepers of my past, the mirrors to my true self, and the carriers of a shared history that binds us together in ways that words cannot fully express.

You lied. You fucking lied to my face. All those months we spent talking, building a connection, sharing our lives, it was all a facade. Behind my back, you were entangled with another girl, weaving a web of deceit and betrayal. Each time you claimed to be busy, each time you said you couldn't make time for me, it was all a lie. And now, here I am, shattered and broken, while you bask in the happiness you found with someone else.

I trusted you. I believed every word you said, hanging on to the hope that we had something real. But it was all smoke and mirrors, a cruel game played at my expense. How could you do this to me? How could you watch me invest my heart and soul into something that was never genuine?

The pain is overwhelming. It consumes me, gnawing at my core, leaving me gasping for air. I try to make sense of it all, to understand why you would inflict such anguish upon me. But there are no answers that can quell the storm raging within my heart.

I am left here, struggling to recover from the wreckage of our shattered connection. I am left with the bitter taste of betrayal, the bitter realization that I was nothing more than a disposable placeholder in your life. The nights are filled with tears and sleepless agony, as I wonder what I did wrong, how I failed to see through your lies.

You know, being a writer can be a rollercoaster of emotions. One moment, you're anxious about writing, the next, you're anxious about not writing. It's like a never-ending tug-of-war with your own thoughts.

And let's not forget the anticipation of people reading your stories. It's a mix of excitement and fear. Will they love it? Hate it? Will they even bother to read it? The uncertainty can drive you up the wall.

But then again, there's also the anxiety of people not reading your stories. It's like pouring your heart onto the page only for it to go unnoticed. It can be disheartening, to say the least.

And editing? Oh boy, that's a whole new level of anxiety. You're torn between wanting to perfect your work and being afraid of ruining it. It's a delicate dance of self-doubt and meticulous scrutiny.

But here's the catch: even when you're bursting with ideas, anxiety sneaks in. Having too many ideas can be overwhelming. You're drowning in a sea of possibilities, unsure of which one to pursue. It's like having a thousand puzzle pieces without a clue where to start.

Then there's the agony of not having any good ideas at all. The blank page stares back at you, mocking your creative drought. The fear of running out of inspiration gnaws at your soul.

And time, oh precious time. Not having enough of it is a constant struggle. You yearn for more moments to dedicate to your craft, to dive into your imagination. But ironically, having too much time can be equally daunting. The vast expanse stretches before you, and suddenly, the pressure to produce something remarkable becomes overwhelming.

So, you see, being a writer is a delicate balancing act. Anxious about writing, anxious about not writing. Anxious about readers, anxious about being ignored. Anxious about editing, anxious about ideas. Anxious about time, anxious about too much time. It's a wild ride, but one we willingly embrace, hoping that our words will resonate with someone out there.