Existent

Help me understand the way things are before I leave this place for good.
I want to have a clear mind for my small departure, and silence the defeaning screams inside my head even for a while. Through all the small things I love— trees, flowers, ocean, rocks by the sea, jellyfishes stinging from the water grounds, documentaries—even the ones I forget to finish, books I loved to read, every one last bit of paintings and sculptures from museums. I want them all right before my eyes.
I want to see the wonders of the unspoken poetries from my fingers, the thoughts I couldn't comprehend, the told stories I'd long since forgotten, the body that lost its soul, the wide eyes that shifted through time, and all the mysteries I sent good bye.
Let me feel them one last time.

There's something I need to understand.
It's not something huge or too small, it's something that I've been carrying for so long that it stopped me from absorbing love from myself.
I'm tired of always surrendering in the dark, in the familiar void I'm always trying to get myself out. I want to feel something beyond selflessness. I want to be kind—
to myself, even just a bit. That maybe one day, I'll stop clutching on to broken glasses that only end up wounding me.
That one day I might be able to tell my old self that I finally break free from the dreadful past that drowned me. That one fine summer, I might be able to think that I'm actually living, happily.

So as I drift back to the dustiest parts of my mind, let me be alive. Let me be free.

Let me exist.

Because I'm afraid if I didn't, I'll realize that my entirety is just a phase.

…