Flopping Forever

June 25, 2014 at 7:01am

Dear forever,

I am sorry to hear you have a blurry vision. All that I see in you are but scattered pieces of the puzzle I long to solve. 

You were crying? I’m sorry I can’t be there yet. I am alone working for us. These already broke even the 206th bone in my body. I am but impaired, disabled in reaching for you. I tried putting you in my jewelry box, hoping I can have access or keep you. You revolted. You said you desire freedom. I was afraid to give you wings because when birds learn to find ways to survive, they forget they came from another bird. You were stronger and so I gave you all that you asked–wings, freedom, love, understanding. You forgot those were the things I am made of. You left. I got no idea where you’ve been. I wanted to look for you, but everytime I happen to bump into you, you’re elusive. You say you are to work to be regained. I didn’t understand. You brought with you every piece of me, why can’t I at least have you? 

Now you’re in front of my door. Asking one more chance to be returned in that box where only I would have the control. I let you in, for the uncountable times. Wherever I go, I hold my most precious treasure–the box where I kept you, not because I am depriving you of freedom, but because you said you’d want to be obtained later on. I don’t know until when I can keep and take care of you. You see, I’m weak. That’s why I rely on you. You confessed you have no assurance of what you are. For so long, you are but a blurred reality. That’s what you were, and have always been.