the urge to feel anonymous

Dear (A)nonymous,

I think it was a bad idea to let you read the letter that I wrote for you seven years ago. Despite repeated reminders that it was an old letter that I posted in this blog, I do not want you to misinterpret my presence now. I'm not sure if you took note of my blog's name or link. But I know there's a possibility that you'll read this someday. I just don't know how to tell you without disappointing you, so I'm writing here.

I agreed to meet you, secondary to our business transaction, as I also missed your company. I missed talking to you and just being myself with you. I'm so comfortable around you that I don't need to hide and pretend. And, it was really nice to see you again after the lockdowns brought about by the pandemic.

But my dearest A, after all these years, some feelings change, some desires fade and flames extinguish on their own. I must admit though, that it was flattering to hear about your plans, that inspite your busy schedule and tons of responsibilities, you still want to make time for me. I actually should be excited about this too. For a second, I almost casually said yes to your proposal. But, I had to pause and really think these through. With everything that happened to me, in between the years that we were apart, and the entanglement of my complex past, I had to decline. I just can't.

I can't risk my heart again. I'm afraid to feel again, as I don't trust myself, especially with you. We can't stop the world and make it revolve around only us. Not anymore. I've had enough heartbreaks, and not just mine, but of people surrounding me. I can't break anymore. There's almost nothing left to break. There have been so many pieces of me scattered everywhere. And I can't even begin to pick up those pieces. I'm afraid to pick them up. I'm afraid of the memories. I'm terrified of the future. There's just too little left of me to even let myself shatter once more.

So when you asked if we could go out and drink next week, I imagined sitting next to you, with a bottle in our hands, while looking at the city lights on the horizon. We'll surely be talking about so many things, laughing, reminiscing, and pouring our hearts out with what's happening with the world and our lives. But after that, we go back to our separate lives, and be with the people that we're supposed to be with. A good night text, then cherish the night that we just had, half sober, half unconsious, but with a big smile of relief. For there would be more meetings and exchanges. There would be more time for us, and it doesn't need to be often nor soon. No obligations, no compromises, no worries of other people being hurt.

I truly miss our friendship. And yes, that is all that I want now. That is all that I need now. A friend, who will listen and be there. Be here. Be present. Be real.

With all my love,
Your Old Flame

Photo credit: CV Bederico

Sometimes, I stare blankly into space and see myself hanging on a noose. Or, climbing on a stool and about to hang myself. Sometimes, I see myself standing by a cliff, the waves crashing on huge rocks down below. Then, I jump. Sometimes, I see myself driving so fast that I crash and the car flips. Sometimes, I see myself grabbing a knife and stabbing myself by the heart. But these are just split second blurred fleeting images, collaging in my head at random places and random times.

Truth is, I cannot do such things. I can even barely hold a huge knife, to save my life. I'm afraid of pain. And I'm afraid of a slow death. I can only hope that one day, when my time comes, that I will just close my eyes and never open them. No pain. No struggle. Just a state of sleeping, but only to never wake up.

I know I am not normal. There are things that I need to confront and deal with. I need to get help. But I'm helpless. I do not have the courage and the financial capacity to face this. I cannot ask for support from my family because they will never understand.

The only person in the world who understands me and accepts me, is living across the globe and we both cannot do anything about this, because of the pandemic, and both of our situations. I want to run into his arms right now and just hug him. Cry it all out and say nothing. And I know he will do the same. Just there, wrapped in the clutches of space and time, hugging each other and pouring our hearts out.

But I'm glad that he is able to confront his demons and divert his energies into drawing and painting. I wish I can have that energy too. I wish I could focus like him, too. He's been driving me to go back into art as well, but I just can't. I would love to do it. I already started months ago. I don't know why and I do not understand why, but I do not have the energy to do anything anymore. He encourages me to find where my heart is, and do it. Just stand up and do it. But I don't even know how to find it.

I'm at the crossroads of my midlife. And saying that I am in crisis, is an understatement. I just feel so numb. And the slightest hint of sadness makes me cry, at the same time. I feel like I'm a water balloon, fragile and full. Just a slight bump or a pinch will make me burst. Then, I'll drown in my own sorrow.

I wish I can just erase the pages of my bitter past. I wish I could go back in time and re-write, at least, the part where we separated the first time. I want to bring it all back and change things. Make it all work out then, so I will not go through another cycle of deceit, overcontrol, belittling, gaslighting and soul-crushing discouragement with another. Having to face that once in a lifetime was already too much. He saved me back then, and he is saving me again. But this time, I need to pick myself up as well. But, my spirit is crippled and the healing is taking longer than I would have wanted.

I still blame myself for what happened. For being blinded with overconfidence that he will run after me and fight for me. I waited, instead of stepping down from my fabricated pedestal to actually see that he too needed me. He needed me to be there with him, on one of the most confusing of times for him. But I was selfish, and I failed to see his struggles.

But I know now, we both have grown and he remained my confidant all these years. And I want to make this work this time. The problem is, I am now broken. The once fired up, starry-eyed me, has lost her brilliance. I know that he can only do so much and that I feel like I might slip away from him, from myself, from the world. We don't have much time left and when we will finally be with each other again, in the flesh, it might be too late.

I want to spend more years with him. I want to see our gray hairs grow even grayer, together. To laugh at his silly, cute and macabre jokes. To lavish at his home-made boerenkool. To hear his stories of the classic times. To discuss literature with him. To learn from each other. To listen and discover music together. To rearrange our bookshelves, mostly his, but I own them now too. Ha! To tease each other about who is better, John or Paul; Nirvana or Pearl Jam. To fight over silly things, only to laugh in the end, of our silliness. To see his smile whenever I open my eyes in the morning, or in the afternoon, if we stay up too late. To toast a beer or wine glass with him at night, or become strunk, while we start painting each other, or some silly or kinky manga, or analyze each other's abstract works. To piece together our jigsaw of failures. To be there for each other during our breakdowns or success. To just cuddle next to him, while watching a brilliant or stupid movie. To dance in the snow, or ride a bike in a debatable cold or hot summer. To kiss in the rain. To run my fingers through his hair and marvel at his deep blue eyes. To tickle under the sheets, or just hold hands while watching the sunset together.

I want to stop the void from calling and sending morbid fleeting images in my head, and replace them with these beautiful moments with him. What do I want to achieve in the end? Make these all come true and stay with him until the day I die.