Wind-Chime, Dynamite, City Lights, Pulse, First Place and Eagle

Mister Wind-Chime,

It's 4 am and I haven't slept.

The wind is blowing outside like it always does in my area, and I want to blame it for keeping me awake, but I know that I'm immune to the wind since I've moved here. I've learned to not get bothered by it, but for months, I haven't figured out how to get you out of my head in the dark hours. Or the bright ones, honestly.

It took a week to block out the wind. When I first got here, despite being terrified of the wind at point and the way it howled, I figured out how to get to sleep at a reasonable time, but I don't think I'm capable of blocking you out.

I don't know how to rest anymore, and I don't know what that proves -- or if it proves anything, for that matter. It's not like there's purpose in my body doing this to me.

But I do think it's evidence of this: I don't care about you because it's convenient, or because it's easy. I'm so built this way now that I can't go a day without you coming to mind, and it never relied on the breath of your life. It wasn't hypocritical. I didn't do it because I wanted something from you, whatever that could be. I always want to care for you, even if it makes me bend over backwards.

My reason to cherish you isn't because you made me confident or because you made me happy, because I cherish you when I'm down and I cherish you when I'm sad.

I cherish you even when you're gone. I cherish you for who you are. Don't you see? When I'm alone with the cymbals in my imagination, all I'm thinking about is you. My eyes burn and they want to shut, but my brain is keeping me awake, and as it was before when we were near each other, it's still you. It always will be you.

The difference is, back then it was butterflies in my stomach and now it's a consistent pain down the back of my neck, but despite that ache, when I wake up in the morning it's natural that I go to my phone, still expecting you to reach out to communicate with me, when you're not capable of doing so. When I go on to work or I go on to my day, I'm still waiting and I can't stop.

It just goes on and on and on, doesn't it? When the life of a person impacts you extremely, the death of that person impacts you the worse. It makes sense, but I didn't want to reach a day where I understood.

I didn't think I would. I guess nobody does.

If there's anything I've learned in the recent days, it wouldn't be anything much. Usually, I try to put myself out there every single day. I wanted to do something that improves me as a person while I'd understand something new, but I haven't had the will nor the desire to do that. Not like this. Not without you.

Don't believe me? Here's an example. This is the most I've learned, and it effects me in no way whatsoever.

Did you know that the Chinese ancient civilizations created the wind chimes? They were made as religious objects that they believed would attract kind spirits and that would drive away the evil ones.

Yet I don't feel they were right.

You were the only one who could do such a thing for me. You're the one who shined so brightly that every sort of evil was blinded, and I know this because if there was a kinder spirit around me, I think I'd feel a little more upbeat.

I haven't felt that way since I last saw you.

You're more a wind chime than it itself.

Without you, I feel icky and sick.

I don't feel like me.

-C.L.

-

Mister Dynamite,

I got a message in my PM today from a person I don't even know and never met before. We have no mutual friends between us, besides you, so it seems, because she was from the big city where you were raised majority of your life, and she was so defensive of you, and so deeply angry with me.

I was confused when I read through her rant. None of it made much sense, and it didn't seem relevant to talk to me that way because again, we barely knew each other. It's not possible that I could've done something to make her so wrathful, but when I got to the end of her long paragraph, I saw what this was all about. No exaggeration, it made my heart stop.

She blamed me for your death, and come to find out, most people from your hometown did. They still do, and I think they'll always resent me for it. Maybe I should try to understand that they're going through the same pain as I am losing you, and they need someone to blame, but hearing that they'd call me someone to contribute to death, and not just anyone's, but yours, my lungs could hardly take it.

The story goes back to the day I rejected you, which was over two years ago now. I don't get how that can be relevant now, or if someone twisted the story so badly they thought that it just happened recently, paired up with the fact they must live under a rock because your relationship with your girlfriend was not private, but that's what I hear.

They tell me that you couldn't handle the pain of being turned down, and it was that one extra thing added to the several things that you were going through that toppled down the whole tower. They make it sound that despite what the media shows, that you were deeply in love with your new girlfriend, that I contributed to your death because I broke your heart at one point.

Clearly, everyone could see that this is a reach. There's not even anything about it that's factual and the timeline doesn't fit their claims, but that doesn't take away the offenses.

I confided in a relative that's living in that area. You wouldn't believe after the mess that came up how good it felt to actually be offered condolences. I never have yet, because I wasn't recognized to have a spot that close to you that would care that deeply. I thanked her for the simple gesture.

But I wasted no time. I was desperate for answers of what could possibly be going on, and as I expected, she'd heard about the entire thing too. She told me that in that area, regardless of what updates showed up on social media, that you weren't really in love with her, and that between your family and her -- you never moved on.

You found a woman who looked remotely similar to me, a man, and you dove into her kindness and treasured her as a friend, but not romantically, purely because you thought it'd be easier. You were worried about society.

And for some reason, finding that answer made me more confused. First of all, that didn't sound anything like you. You were the kind of person that never cared much about what anyone thought. Secondly, I couldn't wrap my head around why I was so known in your hometown when she wasn't near as. Third, I saw the way you looked at her. That can't be faked. There's no way. You were a whole lot more than friends.

None of that added up. It still doesn't.

I always thought to myself, "my crush and I are both in love. Me with him, and him with somebody else. With her," but it seems like I'll never know the truth.

I said love was simple.

I guess it isn't.

How do I handle everyone who hates me when it was you who would shield me away?

I can't do this anymore. I'm gonna explode.

-C.L.

-

Mister City Lights,

Have you ever heard of Rumple Buttercup?

I know it's an awfully random question to ask, but the author and creator really taught a powerful lesson in a simple way, and I really admire the way he did it.

It can be painful at times to be different. It can suck when people look at us as strange or as some sort of oddball, and it drives me insane how our self esteem can be so easily effected by what other people like to say or like to claim. As minorities, we could never feel to equal up to the majority, and it felt like we were constantly battling them, as if we weren't all made up of the same bones and blood. As if we weren't structured with organs in the exact same spot.

I know it hurt. I went through all of it with you.

But genuinely I hope you didn't live in fear of what other people thought. I used to, and those were the hardest times of my life. When you showed up there, I stopped being ashamed of who I was and the changes it put on me were drastic, yet I'm beginning to get worried that I wrongly assumed that you were naturally living that life because you were the one who mentored me.

My logic was -- for a teacher to teach their student, don't they have to personally know the material? The thing is, maybe with things like this, it's not necessarily that way. Everyday is a new fight, and we have to learn the material again, from the top. None of us are professionals at life. We're all beginners, whether we like it or not.

And we'd still all find that the best times of our life isn't the moments when we hide away from everyone being ashamed of who we are. We can't hide underground forever and we can't belittle ourselves because of what we think others will define us as.

The way we live isn't anyone's business.

Nobody was meant to sit and pout while we watch everybody else have fun. Looking down on ourselves as a person is another form of prejudice, and that's not realized as much as it should be. Beating ourselves down is just as bad as beating someone else down. Even if we tell ourselves we can make the most of the tiny things, there's more to the world that we deserve to see. We can't let time pass by.

Wouldn't you agree?

I guess what I'm trying to say is sometimes our biggest enemy is our own head. Even though a lot of people might look down on us, there's a lot of people that won't. There's a lot of people that we might be able to inspire, like how you did for me, and that's what's actually important.

We can't spend our life freaked out about one piece of negativity. We can't panic over a small stain on the floor. You get me?

I hope that while you were alive, you lived that way. I'm not saying you had to have chosen me. I'm just hoping that you spent your limited time being the you that you wanted to be.

I hope you lived for yourself and nobody else. Everyone is different. Everyone has that thing that they think everyone will criticize them for, but those are the very things that should be celebrated.

You should've spent your time celebrating you. That's when a dark city will go bright.

Did you?

Did you live life the way you wanted?

-C.L.

-

Mister Pulse,

You're not dead.

I mean, I know physically that you are and that that's how it's going to be for quite a while, but in any other way, you're extremely alive and well in the thoughts of those who knew you for the person you are. Memories never die, and they'll go through the craziest of crap to make sure of that. That's because you gave them something worthy to remember.

Because you were so funny, and were the consistent key to getting a smile out of someone who thought they would never smile again, you'll always exist in the mind of a person, somewhere. Your aim of cheering people up was so loyal and faithful, you've developed an audience of people that will do the same thing toward you and more.

I know to those kind of words, if you heard them, you would just look at me in disbelief. Then you'd start up an argument about how I was exaggerating everything I said, and didn't mean it, but somewhere in your body you'd have to accept that I wouldn't lie to you and that I emphasize the things I do because I want you to understand them like I do.

Listen. You know laughter is a contagious thing and you were the reason it came up so many times. You made so many people happy and you even thawed the ice in the coldest of hearts out there in this frigid world. Things like that don't get left behind.

You're not the kind to be easily forgotten.

Trust me.

Now, every time we find ourselves with the ability to laugh, we'll think of you. We'll bring back up all the things that made us double over laughing until our stomachs hurt and we're going to keep remembering those things until our worst days feel at least okay again.

Funny people don't die. Not entirely.

By this point, the pathways in our brain connect laughter to you and only you. Every time our lips curl upwards and our lungs can't help to heave because of a silly face, a silly joke, a silly sound -- it's your face that shows up front and center in our heads.

Laughter takes us back to the past -- the good pieces of it, and we find happiness looking at the times we considered and consider to be a gift for us that we take down from a high shelf when we need it the very most.

I can imagine you scoffing at this kind of thing. You'd be too humble for your own good and you wouldn't easily accept that you've made a difference. You'd turn every good thing back on me like I was the origin of it all, but everyone knows that that's not true. Everyone knows that you're the original source of joy.

Even while you're gone, we rely on the contagious laughter that you started go stay afloat in a chaotic sea, and we always will until time comes to an end.

It was and certainly always will be you.

You. You. You.

-C.L.

-

Mister First Place,

I've always been the type to be enamored by the celestials. When the stars would dot the sky like a white paint flung against a black canvas, when the moon would show off how full and beautiful it could be, only for the sun to return to shining the next morning, I didn't think that I'd be able to look away.

Then you came, and so easily you won, like it wasn't even a competition, and like your opponents didn't have a winning streak. The sun, the moon and the stars, which I love couldn't surpass you, and you didn't even have to try.

That's why it amazes me that you can't see what I see. How could you not say that you're more than words can describe when you entered my life making such a statement, without even lifting a finger?

The world doesn't deserve you. Not at all, and if you don't get that, I don't think you truly have seen yourself. You look at yourself in a reflection in a window or in a pond, and your automatic thought is how much you dislike your front right tooth, or the shape of your nose. You complain about the color of your skin and how it doesn't match to the beauty standards that should've never mattered in any of your heads, and you wish you had lighter hair or lighter eyes.

You think you're bland and you think you're boring, and you're wrong.

You must've never seen the glint in your eye when someone dared to mess with your family or mess with me. I saw how your fingers would curl up into balls on your sides and how you would resist making an emotional decision, and to walk out peacefully, but in the process you would show obvious that even if you have little confidence in yourself, your priority on others will drive your need to protect.

You probably never saw what you look like when you're talking about what you're passionate in -- like that character you talked about from your favorite book that you felt to relate to so much. You didn't specifically say you did, but from the look on your face I could tell you saw yourself in that person and you loved how the story progressed to the climax.

You haven't seen yourself when you're looking for the perfect present to buy for someone, and your eyebrows furrow up as you think about what it would look like if they wore it, or if they opened it for the first time. You haven't seen yourself when you're pouting because you want to spoil your girl and you don't have quite the money you need to give her what you know she would love, and you haven't seen how that emotion quickly changes to determination.

You didn't see how gentleman you prove to be when we were out hiking and had trouble getting over the muddy areas or the rockier climbs. You were the first to lend a hand and make a trip out more fun for everyone.

You haven't seen yourself when I gave you a glance and you couldn't help but to then away shy and blushing.

You couldn't have seen yourself the way I do. You think you know your face better than I do and you don't. You don't realize how beautiful it is and how your heart makes it even more stare-worthy.

You didn't even get to one time.

One time, you should've seen yourself through my eyes. Most people's eyes, actually.

Your first place in a lot of perspectives.

More than you know.

-C.L.

-

Mister Eagle,

Have you ever stopped your entire day and just begged life to go easy on you because it feels like it's getting way too hard?

Seriously, I never thought that missing someone was this difficult. Usually in times like this a person knows that soon a time will come that they won't have to miss anymore, but it's not like that with you. Even if I was right next to you right now, you wouldn't be able to hear a word I said, and if I could see you, you'd be pale, rotting away with the dirt and the dust that we came from. Even in that moment, I would still have to be missing you.

"I remember". How many times have I said that now? I don't think I can count that amount, but that's not necessarily the painful part about this. The painful part is knowing that that "I remember" is all I have.

I'm scared to go on from here. I'm scared of what comes when I get attached to someone, and I'm afraid of what happens when someone becomes special to me.

I'm afraid to love again. I'm terrified to have a friend that I can confide in with honesty -- to have the kind of person I can sit and have deep conversations with, because those are the best kind of people, and the best kind of people are the ones you can't let go of.

Stop being so special to me. I don't get why our lives were able to curl into one another's if this is the way it was going to turn out. Haven't you seen what the universe has done to me? Haven't you seen that life wants to do nothing but torture me?

I was once a little boy who cared too much, and like a barrier collided with my abilities, suddenly I cared about nothing. Once I got there, I couldn't snap out of it. I knew it was good to feel empathy for people and to care about the pain that we're all going through, but I got absorbed within myself.

I didn't have the strength to care about other people, but like you had the very magic I needed in your back pocket I could go back to the way I used to be. I started to care about you, and then I began to care about the world again. Life started to have color.

You were firm with me too. When people came and went, when the world started to randomly cave in, you were there to lift the ceilings. You took those bad moments and together we brought our heights to a place I never believed could be possible. When things fell apart right onto our heads, our potential raised higher up into the sky.

In a dangerous place where I couldn't find peace and quiet, and a time to rest, you were the only one who was nice to me. You're the one who blocked out all the terrible sounds. I felt safe again, after not feeling safe for years and years. When the whole world's population couldn't stop screaming, you gave me reason not to feel terrified.

I have so many reasons to enjoy your presence and to enjoy your company and it should be clear to see. You should've known about it.

How can the one who gave me desire to live, -- desire of togetherness -- not understand the weight of what they've done?

You made everything okay again. It's true.

You made everything okay again until it wasn't anymore.

-C.L.