Snowstorm, Sparkling, Raindrops, Silver Light, Rose, Raven and Believer

Mister Snowstorm,

The times I'm living in now, without you, have been the iciest cold I've ever known. My insides are frozen solid and there's nothing to crack the surface of it or a warmth to get things up and flowing again. Everything is stuck in place.

I say this a lot. You'd have complained about that if you could hear me by now, but I have to say what's true. Is it wrong go miss you?

Then I'm a sinner. So what? How much would that even change?

I've had one thought on my mind, and it's been embedded deeper into my soul as I'm forced to live on with a heavy heart: why do I have to live through this pity, shame, and regret? Why did the world align in a way that made us so close but so far?

I've been so teased by nothing except your graceful presence and it only takes a snap for you to be taken away. I was robbed. Seriously. I was robbed of you -- someone good and someone the world needed if it was going to improve at all. Or at least someone who gave a distraction from all the bad that went on barely any feet away from me.

There's too much to think about these days. One thought with a topic slightly related to this is a wind that's begging to drag me away from my grip on the cement, but I've been living with every single one on my mind at the same time and I don't think I'll be able to take it much longer.

We promised soon, we would be meeting again. We promised that one day we were going to create memories better than the ones we already made. We promised that the end to our story was nowhere in sight. That we were just getting started.

On a Tuesday, I start feeling like I'm moving on. Like I'm accepting and like I can live without you good enough. I can talk about other things with the passion I used to have for it, and I can get out of bed in the morning, but on Wednesday morning I can't say that. By that time, I'm drowning in my own chaos because I can't shake away the thought that we were the right people at the wrong time or I blame my immaturity for getting in the way of us.

Passed midnight, I'm still thinking about what your thoughts might be on that subject, if I could bring it up right now and hear your honest answer with my own ears. I'd ponder on if you'd think that we were possible at some point in our lives, if we can have a do-over, or if we don't share the same regret.

Some days I feel like even though I made mistakes I was there for you the best I could be for the circumstances I was in. I feel like I made the right or reasonable decisions, for being in an unknown about how much time we had.

On other days, I hate myself because I should've treated you better. I should've dropped everything and chose you the moment I met you no matter what consequences would come along because of it. I should treat my first meeting with you like it was going to be my last, and every single day after that, the exact same way.

What exactly, was the right decision?

Should I be justifying for myself?

Or despising what I've done to you even as it gets deeper into the past -- part of a chapter I can't change?

I don't know. I don't think I ever will.

All I know is that I miss you.

I miss you in this cold, cold world.

I miss you making it warm and cozy.

-C.L.

-

Mister Sparkling,

The day came that my bravery was actually able to push through. That is, if you call "bravery" managing to press the send button. I swear to God I ran over a mile around the small width of my bedroom just from pacing back and forth. I've read the message so many times that by time it formed a bubble as one of thousands in our chat, it'd been memorized since long ago.

There's a secret that I haven't told you since the day we met, I had started out. The first time our eyes crossed each other's was definitely the beginning of something special, or it had the potential to be, and as I looked back on that day I couldn't help but to become more jittery. It's like the feeling of the first day returned. It didn't fade yet. Somewhere in me, it's been hiding, become part of me just as much as my bones and my organs.

I think part of you knew the entire time. I've never been good at keeping secrets. I pondered again. I don't think I've ever been more clear about anything before that. Eyes can tell a thousand words, but when they came across you, it was consistently the same three a thousand times.

And I'm afraid to do this. I'm better understanding how you felt when you told me these words to my face, and even more, it was in person. I'm glad that you managed to. I've been reciting excuses over and over to myself this entire time -- before I could stand up and finally tell you, that maybe it'll stay a secret and I can't even see your expression. The thing is, the more I go over it, the more I realize that there's no use in denying it. The more I realize that it hasn't gone away, but that the flame has burned hotter and brighter every second.

I could feel my heart pounding as I typed the only words that remained, even though he hasn't even fathomed that I'd said anything to him yet. With a deep breath and shut eyes, I typed it out, shivering beneath my skin.

I like you, I topped it off.

Then I waited, and waited and waited some more, my heart beating in my throat.

I thought about the irony between those words and "I love you" -- words that should mean more, but that are often said more casually than the other. I thought about how overtime you've become both the source of my weakness and strength, and how insane it is that that can even be possible. I thought about how crazy it is -- the way love works.

Then, I found that it was one ding to my notifications that defined what my near future was going go be all about, and hesitantly I peered into what you had to say to me.

I'm sorry, I read aloud, but I can't right now.

My stomach dropped to my feet, and under my breath I whispered what I typed.

That's alright, I can wait.

But I knew at that second I ruined everything.

nI ruined our friendship.

I ruined what we already had because I selfishly wanted more.

Little did I know though, I didn't lose you entirely yet. At least you were still alive.

I thought it was the end of the world way back then.

Silly me.

-C.L.

-

Mister Raindrops,

I visited my relative the other week, after I heard that you were gone. She recognized I wasn't myself from the get-go, as apparently I wasn't my usual sing-songy self. When I didn't burst through her front door nearly screaming at the top of my lungs, but rather forced myself in with almost no strength at all, I'd already earned her sympathy.

She sat me down reassuringly and I decided to tell her the truth about what was lingering on my mind. It was new of me to do that. I tended to feel like I had to fight my battles by myself, but I think this time I was too numb to realize what I was doing until I did it.

"At least you told him you love him," she told me. "At least you know what came from it, because if you didn't, you'd regret what you don't know. You'd be up every night because you can't help but to wonder what would have happened if you went for it."

And for a while, I thought about that. In some ways, she was right, but then on the other hand, I feel like there was so much "awkward" I could've avoided if I kept silent and was proud of our friendship as it was. I felt like I could've had more genuine time with you if I would have kept my mouth shut, even if it was only a friendship.

Either way, I'd be pulling all nighters, worried about totally different things.

I'm trying to tell myself that I didn't sacrifice my future out of being afraid to love you or that I didn't bask too deeply in feeling that I didn't deserve you, and that I should at least be proud of myself that I took the leap and tried to make you mine even if it was too late, but I couldn't be real with myself when I thought such an idea.

I felt that was wrong.

I get that if you could hear me now, you wouldn't be saying "why didn't you tell me when I was alive?" when I cry every night out of my love and longing for you, but you'd be saying, "I know. And there was no way for it to work" and for some reason I feel like it would be better off if I didn't know that.

Maybe I'd rather have "what ifs" rather than know so certainly what I missed out on because I was dumb and idiotic. Maybe I'd rather be able to fantasize about what we could've been because I didn't jump out for you.

Yet I can't do that now. Because there's no blank spaces. I know everything. I know that I missed out on a lifetime opportunity to love you and for you to love me. I know that I hurt you and that I wasted both of our time, and I know that you moved on and became happy with someone else.

The moral of the story?

There's pros and cons in every scenario.

But more time with you?

That's worth more than any con that comes along.

What if I had been quiet?

Would that have gave us more time?

More time to be even friends rather than strangers with memories?

-C.L.

-

Mister Silverlight,

After not chatting for days that soon added up to weeks, you could probably imagine how ecstatic I was to see your name pop into my notifications. It's the only name I ever cared to see, and you knew that. You know how much I came to treasure you and how I wouldn't let myself be ashamed about it.

If my heart was beating so fast that I couldn't feel every one of its pounds, or if it stopped for far too long, I have no idea, but no time passed by to open up your message.

Turns out, it wasn't an ordinary paragraph of words, but an audio of about three minutes long. I didn't know what I was going to get into if I clicked on it, but obviously, there was only one way to find out and so I fell down that rabbit hole.

You were singing to me, of all people, the lyrics of Coldplay's Yellow. I've learned over our bondings that they weren't necessarily your favorite, but that you chose to sing their songs because you felt they suited your voice, and I agree with that. That right there was enough proof to show we weren't strangers, regardless of what happens to us.

Even if we rarely talked anymore.

You weren't in spot-on key throughout the entire song, and there were times you were off, but it made the song raw and somehow more heartfelt. There's always been something about you that I can't exactly explain, but mysteriously your imperfections appear to be perfect. There's no other way to describe it.

I listened to that clip thousands of times. It felt like you were telling me you wanted to devote yourself entirely to me and that you'd do whatever you had to do to make sure I was yours. It felt to stand for the fear and nervousness you felt to go for it, but that it would be worth it in the end if we could be together, and it's the only time I can say that technically you told me, "I love you".

But reality said otherwise. Reality said that this had nothing to do with romance. It was a reassurance that you valued the time we had together and that you looked up to me for the lessons that we learned together. It shouted that you loved me as your brother, and that it would never be anything more than that. All it was was a gesture of respect.

Deep down, I knew that. I knew how you would do something like this to break it to me easy, but I didn't want to take it that way. I wanted to pretend that you gave me such a gift because you were promising to stay.

The truth is, it was exactly the opposite. You were telling me that we had to let go of each other in nearly every form, and that you were standing solid on your own now. That you moved on and found someone who would treat you the best without any bad introductions.

And just like that, I had my last real form of communication with you.

I from then on, watched your love story with somebody else.

From a distance.

-C.L.

-

Mister Rose,

The days going forward from then on was nothing but overwhelming and emotional. I didn't realize coping for a shattered heart and trying to mend it back together relied on so many escapes that brought you right back to the source of the pain, without permission. There was literally nothing to avoid that from happening -- you don't even know.

When a snowy, frigid, foggy day came along, I found myself whipping up ramen the way it was made when we and our friends slurped it up on the beach way back when. I remember how terrified I was to eat it because you liked it spicy and I didn't, and I swear to God my mouth was on fire until the sun went down. It only took a bite, and you made fun of me for that, jokingly. After your rejection, I think I was too numb and out of it to notice the spice. Compared to the strength and punch of the ache in my chest, it was nothing.

When I'm still awake and the light is finding it's way back into the sky enough to begin knocking out the darkness, I thought about that time you made fun of me to the extreme because you found out I was one of those weird people that only had a playlist with my liked songs on Spotify at 3 or 4 am. The alcohol we were drinking finally started kicking in and we found it funny. When we woke up the next morning and recovered, you got at me properly for it.

You gave me a playlist of songs your recommended, and made me promise you I would develop that habit from then on like a sane person you didn't need to fear. I started doing that -- but your playlist, I haven't tampered with it. Honestly, it's the only one I can get myself to listen to.

I miss the taste of halo-halo desserts when the sun is shining too brightly and I reminisce on the time we ended up at the mall talking over such a delicacy simply because we longed for the air conditioning, and I miss the look on your face when you stared at me when I tried taho for the very first time after of course, ranting for an hour and a half about how I could be this deep into my life and never had it before.

I rewatch the movies that we watched together at the cinema, and instead of craving popcorn I crave you.

And I find it crazy that I can even come up with the lie while I face the world, telling them that I'm fine, that you didn't mean that much to me and that I'm not hurt whatsoever about the time I wasted because if anyone took a glance -- just once glance would be all it would take -- they would see that by now, in every little thing, you're part of me.

You're part of me in ways that I'm not part of you.

All that I've learned these days is that even if we live in a world of roses, there will always be thorns.

And in my world, only the thorns know how to grow. Right when I thought I was at my worse, it gets worse.

As always, I miss you.

-C.L.

-

Mister Raven,

There's so many things that we will never understand unless we've experienced it ourselves, isn't there? That alone terrifies me. Everything I've never comprehended once in my entire life can be the exact thing that puts me on a mission of "surviving" rather than "living" and being educated on that puts me on constant unease.

After all, I'm facing losing you indefinitely. You're asleep and I didn't expect that. It'll probably go downhill from here, yeah? Life gets more unpredictable as it goes on, and yet it never gives you a break.

Watching the recent news go from bad to worse, I've seen that personally I've changed perspective on the unfortunate events that people go through.

A lot of times people will say that what they're experiencing is "a thing that happens to other people, but not to me," and I used to think that was selfish, as in they'd wish for others to be worser off if they personally didn't have to go through with it. The reality is, it's not like that at all.

Going through this pain and heartache -- you wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I understand it now, because I have to. The saddest of events can happen to the best of people sometimes, and as sucky as it is, that's how the world spins. Saying "this is something others face and not me" is said because you'd never guess such a nightmare would become your reality.

Other people's nightmares are not yours, and as sympathetic as you try to be for them, you don't feel the same pain as them until you do.

I think more thoroughly about the trials my friends have faced in the past. When I watched them split into millions of pieces and when I thought I was there for them -- I don't think I was with a new outlook on it these days. I didn't know that kind of hurt yet. I didn't know what it was like to not be able to sleep at night and not be able to eat even your favorite of foods, because of the lack of appetite. I didn't know they'd lose the ability to get excited like they used to.

I thought I knew what it was like living their life in third person, but I didn't. I second guessed myself, and when you experience it from your own eyes, the story is entirely different, it's not even the same book anymore.

I could see someone that didn't understand what this feels like, that this is a chance for me to improve as a better person and to work on myself -- to deepen the good qualities and push out the bad ones, and in a way, you could say they're right.

I look at life in a new light, but one that's dimmer and that couldn't actually be a good thing, could it?

As wrong as it might sound, I'd never take such a deal if I had the choice. I'd rather be worser off as a person, as long as you were still here. I'd rather not be able to sympathize or empathize with the pain of other people this profoundly because I never experienced such aching myself. I'd rather have more time to get closer to you. I'd rather not be able to feel other people's tears in my heart.

Because it's a fact, not a myth -- that I'll never forget you and your raven hair, and what it was like back in the days I could brush my fingers through it.

-C.L.

-

Mister Believer,

The deeper I get into this the more it hits me that this isn't even a logical thing to do. Writing to you like this, I mean.

Maybe for other people, it'd work. They have belief that their loved ones can hear them from up above after they've been buried and remembered by nothing but memories and a tombstone, and I'm glad that with that belief they can cope. They can do things like this and not even think twice about it. They're comforted this way.

I'm not one of them. I don't believe that I can talk to the dead and I never have. To me, it sounds just as realistic as the tear drop that revives the one they miss in the animes. It sounds like a fairytale or a Disney movie.

I wish that I thought differently. I wish I wasn't such a buzzkill and I believed that you can still hear me, but I simply don't. I believe that this is the end of life until eventually it isn't.

So maybe I'm not supposed to be talking to you at all. Maybe this is proof that I've always been a selfish person and that all I'm after is to soothe my own pain. I'm just looking for a way to cope and to heal, and that none of this is for you. Or maybe I'm beginning to shift out of my emotions.

Whatever it is, in the process, there's a lot of pain that's backfired against me. There's a lot of truths that I've had to take on head on when there's not an ounce within me that wants to accept it. A whole list of these exists and it's embedded by nail right into the center of my wrist, but the one that won't leave me alone is this:

People always say not to chase a man. They say that a man that wants to stay will stay, and that he'd never run. As long as I've walked this earth, I didn't second guess it once. I always took it as a fact that we deserve the person that wants to be with us because he doesn't see a spot for him anywhere else.

Regardless of what I put up with, I didn't stop thinking about that sort of logic.

But now I've realized this harsh reality that sometimes people leave anyway, and it's not because they have a choice. If it was up to them, they'd stay and grow old with the person they love. There's no doubt about it, but when the air is sucked out of them and the blood runs dry, that's not a choice for them anymore.

They have to go.

They had to run.

Yet if it was up to them, they'd hold tighter to this earth and vow to never fly off from it. They'd humble themselves to the ground and grip tightly to the soil, and there'd never come a day they disappeared.

That wasn't the case for you.

-C.L.