High IQ, Hurricane, Palm Tree, Real, Right, Crescent and Valentine

Mister High IQ,

You should've seen the look on my face when I found out I got into the school I've been wanting to since I was 14. It was the only burst of joy I had this year -- this year was hard enough as it was -- but it all subsided way too fast, I didn't even get to soak into it.

You came to my mind right away. I wanted to tell you about my achievements and how far I've come. I wanted you to see what I've finally come to accomplish, but I couldn't, because you couldn't hear me anymore.

All I could think about was how proud you'd be of me. After all, you went to the same school and that was a dream come true for you. I didn't know what that kind of happiness felt like, and I looked forward to one day understanding.

But the timing wasn't right. Even though it was a privilege to be there for a seminar and even though I was glad I got the opportunity I've been waiting for, it wasn't what I was striving for, or at least, it didn't feel like it. My wounds were still too fresh and I couldn't function when the sting was still that strong. I couldn't absorb the material as well as I should've.

Of course, I was happy to listen knowing that I was following after your good example, but it tore me into shreds having to acknowledge the fact that those footprints in the sand I've been trying so hard to mimick and imitate since I met you -- my steps smaller, and forced to take bigger leaps to attempt to keep up with you and yet still fall behind -- didn't exist anymore.

I've been fighting to keep up, falling down, and standing up again just to follow you. Then, suddenly your footsteps vanish into thin air and in the middle of the woods, despite all successes I might reach, I feel lost because I'm without you.

How do I take another step? As the wind blows harder among the trees, I panic. I don't have anyone to hold my hand. I've come all the way to the very end of the path you've walked and I find nothing there. From here on out, I'm supposed to take over and live without the guidance.

I'm not ready. I wasn't, and I'm still not.

I wish I can still make a request to you and I wish you could just do this one last thing for me -- so that the suddenness isn't as sudden and so that I can at least I can have closure.

You wouldn't even have to say a word. Could you clap for me? I want to hear you cheering me on. I need to know that you were proud of me for the step I took. I need you to reassure me that my boldness and loneliness will pay off one day.

Can't you let me know I made it?

It's only valid if it comes from you.

-C.L.

-

Mister Hurricane,

The chaos of our story is quite something. It might not seem like much to anyone else, but to me it's more than a lot. It's intriguing in somehow both every bad way, but also every good, and it hits every spot considering the definition of luck and also the epitome of unlucky.

When the stars aligned above us the first time, I was too busy looking in another direction, and I know that that's my fault. I've admitted that already, haven't I? And I understand that it was me that should've taken the chance when I got it, and that I should've lunged for you. I should've shown that it meant everything to me to hold you closer.

But I didn't. I was too late. And when the time came that I finally built up the courage to claim you as mine, everything backfired against me. I felt the pain that I put you through. This time around, you didn't even spare me a glance. It was my turn to suffer through that.

That's fair. I deserved that, just as much as you deserved to move on.

Still though, I can't help but to ponder on what the heck happened between us. Didn't it ever hit you out of the blue, that twice, we looked at each other, but both times we didn't express the same longing in our eyes? Haven't you noticed that we both looked at each other, not one, but two times, yet not in the same way?

Our story wasn't the once-in-a-lifetime kind. After we hit our climax, the story went back downhill, but eventually it came back up again, and in two chances we couldn't make it click.

What does that mean?

Does it mean that I shouldn't be over here bawling like a child because we couldn't figure it out? Did we not make it for a reason?

Or was this an example of the the love that's yours, truly becoming yours when they choose to return? Isn't it a saying that if you let your lover go and they don't come back they were never yours to begin with?

That probably wasn't the case for us. I get that I made a mistake and it's as simple but terrible as that and still, in the back of my head I'm telling myself that maybe we could've been. I shouldn't be, but I can't deny that I am.

Yes, I flew my wings. I wasn't ready back then. I had a situation I had to put up with that I couldn't drag you into, further than I already did, but I wanted to call you home. You don't know how badly I did. You only could do that if you could read my mind.

Then, one day I wanted to come home. I wanted to spend my life in your arms, holding nobody's hand besides yours, and that's where I saw myself blossoming. Yet when I did, my home was demolished and there was no longer a place for me.

I hate how the world works.

I hate how the stars aligned.

I hate that I wasn't ready for you when I met you the first time, but that I was also aware you were the one.

I hate having to let you go.

I hate that you're permanently asleep.

But that's what happens, I guess. We are a hurricane, and together it was bound to get messy. What a shame.

-C.L.

-

Mister Palm Tree,

Your girlfriend went live on Facebook the other week or so, and though I near to never tune into things like that, I found myself seeing what she was up to. I don't think I've ever felt that much empathy for a person in only a second of time. I was swollen from head to foot in empathy in fact, and I became sore all over.

She was singing. Though she might not have came to social media to pour out her feelings word for word, one look at how often she blinked and how she'd start laughing in the middle of a sad song, I knew exactly what was going on in her heart. I felt it too

The melodies she sang were the ones that reminded her of you. Maybe they were the songs that she always thought of when she thought of your love story, maybe they were songs she heard you sing before, or maybe they're songs you introduced to her. Whatever the case, I know she thought of no one else except you.

To hold back her tears when she'd get too deep into her feels, she'd giggle about anything she could find, in hopes it was enough to fool her brain that she was happy, at least for as long as she was in front of an audience. She didn't want people to see her vulnerable or weak, and I can tell, she's a strong person.

But strong people fall apart too, and there's no shame in that.

Regardless, nobody deserves to reach the point that they have to trick themselves into happiness. Even though it does show that she loved you and even though it's proof that you made her feel like the princess she is, it doesn't mean that her suffering and fighting this battle is what she deserves.

She's worthy of love and not pain, and that's why she had you. I know that for certain and I feel bad that once she learned to live with you, she had to learn to live without you. It's not right. Not at all.

You know what you were to her, right? Dang near to everything she had. When the sun was too hot, it was the shade your provided that allowed her to calm down. When the wind was too strong, you were the one that gave her something to hold onto so she wouldn't fall. When it rained heavily, it was you who provided her with shelter.

You were a tree to her, and I don't think that anything is going to change that.

You were the prettiest one of them all.

Her palm tree.

And even though I wanted you too, I can't stand to look at her hurting this much. I want the best for her. She's honestly out of this world, just like you were. It's not everyday I find a heart as golden as hers.

No wonder why you two were so made for each other.

-C.L.

-

Mister Real,

A successful author once said, "you will feel safe in the middle of your vulnerability. You will find home," and I don't know if I'm just not to that point yet, but I can't fathom getting there whatsoever. My vulnerability is the very factor that's opening doors to new fears, and has made me afraid of things I didn't know humans were to be afraid of.

I've never been this terrified in my life.

Yes, among this mess, I'm trying to be as positive as possible. I'm telling myself that an author wouldn't jot down such thoughts if she didn't believe it at least a little bit, because that's what writing is in the end. It's the opportunity for a person to show the raw feelings they are forced to own in a secret manner, assigning them to someone else in the world of make believe.

Some pain of people hits the market, and people enjoy reading it. Others remain just as secretive as it was before pen hit paper, but whatever the situation is, the best characters are the ones that are relatable, and to this line specifically, I can't see myself relating.

Of course, I can't really say I know the person. All I know is what she expressed about herself through that character, kind of like how celebrities do their very best to choose what side of them they show to the cameras. Maybe for her specific situation, those words made sense, but for me, I don't think it can.

Now, when I look in the mirror, I find myself wondering why the face that reflects back at me, is the person's perspective I live through. Out of the billions of people that exist in this world, why am I me? Why wasn't I you? Why did the world to decide to take you away, but didn't take me? Why was I a person out of the several that met you?

There's so many questions out there that even science couldn't answer. This burning rock in the middle of a vast sky is home to multiple mysteries for every person, dead or alive, and there's so many that we couldn't comprehend no matter how hard we tried.

I thought for a very long time being vulnerable is a good thing. In that increment, we would learn to be humble, to ask for help when we need it, and it's through it that we can grow as a person, but it's different in a case like this. When you lose someone that you know can't come home, and that can never be found.

Being vulnerable like this makes me feel helpless. If I scream for help until my lung aches and my throat burns, nobody comes, and if I shut up, all that shows up before me is danger. There's nothing good in life anymore. Everything tastes bitter, and to make it worse, I'm constantly craving for something sweet.

This world holds too many "why"s and not enough "because"s.

I don't know how to live with that.

-C.L.

-

Mister Right,

Should it be embarrassing that I'm not over what we could've been, when we never reached it?

It won't slip my mind. I can't block out the sound, and it feels like that idea is always calling my name. Every second it's there. It doesn't give me a break.

I hate that we were full of misunderstandings. All they had to do was be righted, and it would've been fixed by simple words or the press of a couple buttons, but we passed up on those opportunities. That's why we lost everything.

We could've been better. We could've strived to the highest heights side by side if we pursued us harder. If we fought the offenses that weren't a big deal, and we got over it we could've been everything we wanted to be together.

Did it never cross your mind that we had the potential for something much bigger? Did that ever hurt you? Even once? Did you ever long for me like I longed for you?

Despite rejection, I let part of myself think that one day we would see the most beautiful we could be, and I learned the hard way that it's not necessarily promises that makes the heart sick, but expectation.

But for some reason, I wouldn't take it back. As shallow as the beat gets and as hopeless as I become, I like it better having memories with you whether they're good or bad. Every single second I had with you I thank God for, in anger and in spite, still, I would not change my mind.

So my heart was broken and it tossed and turned with my pillow every night. Okay? That doesn't change that even if it was temporary I entered a period in my life that I felt lively for the first time in a long time. I learned in that period that there's a meaning to happiness that I've never felt. You made me calm again, in the way that only a child is calm.

Once I got a taste of that, there is no possible way I can let go of it. If I can't get more of it in the future, then I'll have to deal with that, and that makes me hold tighter to the memories. If I had the choice to forget them and forget why I hurt now, I wouldn't. I'd rather suffer than lose you entirely. What I have left is all I know now.

I don't care if I'm supposed to be embarrassed. I can't be and I won't be that way because you did too much for me I'm the limited eternity that we had and I would be a fool to let go of that. It'd be the most stupid thing I've ever done.

Everyone can call me crazy, but every dream where you appear, no matter how much it makes be cry, I'll be glad that I was able to see you once more.

How else would I be able to smile?

-C.L.

-

Mister Crescent,

You remind me of the moon these days. There's some nights that I can look up to the sky and the moon is so full, staring down at me so fondly that I can nearly see my reflection. On other nights, I can't see the moon at all, and even still, sometimes there's only a slither of it or half maybe.

Recently, I've been seeing this blank canvas of a sky and I can't help but that soon enough the full moon will be back soon. The dark truth is this time when it went away, it couldn't come back. There's an abnormal, powerful gravity that pulled it out of orbit.

The impossible happened. The very thing that a person would never think to occur happened, and that's exactly what went down when the next thing I knew, you were gone.

Whether it's the moon, or it's you, it's equally shocking because the world is not meant to lose such things. Not if they're this precious.

These days, I've been forced to accept that in this world that we're living in, it's a sin to waste time. We're told since we're children that life is short, and that radiates in her minds as we grow up, but it radiates there for so long that we don't even consider it a big deal anymore. Eventually, we grow immune without realizing it whatsoever. We just shrug our shoulders and go on with our day, sincerely believing that we took the thought in in it's entirety, but we were wrong.

We're told life is short, and yet, even so, it doesn't register in our minds until it happens, and at that moment we come to find out that it's even shorter than what we thought.

I've been so conflicted as I try to absorb this information. People always say that we should never allow ourselves to become so worried about the past, and they tell us that we shouldn't let our days get repetitive, so that we can actually enjoy the life that we were gifted with. That's the advice the elderly give to the children, -- I've seen it countless times -- and I wish I was in a condition to think of that in the heartwarming way it was supposed to be.

I've been tainted or something, because I can't.

Once I hear those kind of words, I can feel my blood begin to boil in my veins, and I can feel the rush speed up as it flows through the river within me, but not in a way that gives me energy or helps me go on with my day, but rather, in a way that makes me nauseous and sick to my stomach. In a way that makes me struggle to take the tiniest of steps.

Because how can I go on when everyday, I fall back into the repetitive pattern of remembering you? When I get used to the way my fingers clamp up, my joints stop supporting my body, and my sweat covers the coldness of my skin that I don't know any other way?

How can I go on when the past is all I've got?

After all, that's where I saw you last, and I don't want to leave.

Everyone falls in love with the moon.

-C.L.

-

Mister Valentine,

There's one thing that I've said before that still hasn't changed as the days pass, and that's that I consistently feel like a hypocrite for hurting the way I do, especially when I put myself up against the pain in your girlfriend's eyes.

I still feel like she's allowed to hurt and like I'm not. I feel like a hypocrite somehow. I don't really know how to explain it, but that's what's going on inside my brain.

I never would've thought in a million years that this is what life would come to. I remember when I found her social media profile for the very first time, I wanted to pull my hair out, she was so pretty. She was the type of girl that people wrote songs about. She makes you awe in the way you would when you see a shooting star. She had that kind of rare physical beauty, to such escalation that at one sight you knew for certain the world didn't deserve such a masterpiece.

This is the creation you thank God for. This is the creation that is literal proof of how generous the higher powers can be. You had the whole world in your hands when you had her, and that's a fact impossible to debunk.

It would be a lie if I said I wasn't jealous. I was, certainly. To the depths that even a submarine could never find, I was tremendously jealous when the two of you first began, and it's not like that was the worst part.

The worst part was looking at this woman and feeling agony that I couldn't hate her. She was perfect to the furthest extent a human being can be, and on the inside, she was triple that. I found out that day that you moved on after carefully searching and you discovered a pearl. An angel fell from heaven. Of course you'd fall for her.

And of course, I could never be like her.

I couldn't stop myself from admiring your love story from a distance and in silence. I didn't want to, and there were times that I would have debates with my own head to pull myself back, but I always returned to watch and look at the life I never got to have.

I stared, jaw fallen to the floor at the life I've always wanted, but fell short of every time I got the chance, and I considered her lucky. I wanted to be her.

But now as the tears fall down her cheeks as she faces sorrow an angel should never feel, I shiver before her. I don't know how to act, and I don't know how to console. I can't bring you back after all, and that's the only thing that would fix this.

I try to though. I do my very best to be there for her when she needs it the most. I try to somehow be the person you were for her at one point. The one that kept her happiness grounded.

I know it's not totally effective, but I do the best I can. I want to be her friend. I want her to be the kind of happy she was when she was with you and a past jealousy could never change that.

It's human decency, and without you, the world needs three times more the amount it has to equal when you were still here.

All I can do is my utmost.

-C.L.