If You're Reading This, It's Too late

March 14 2016

I almost wished I didn't win. I wished it happened ten years down the road instead, when I may be happier and struggling less. but life does not go the way we plan, and I am learning to be more thankful. so today, I get to share with you some of my writings. hello. and yes, I'm listening to Drake.
(many) people are willing to listen when you share what pains you. but they are often unable to help, and worse, they later forget you shared at all. why, then, become vulnerable? I struggled greatly with this for a while. but the closest explanation I’ve found so far is when I opened up to my friend gabby, she replied, “thank you for helping me love you better.”
at 6am, I stumbled into the bathroom, saw myself in the mirror, and thought of you. I’ve told you about my puffy eyes and how much I dread the morning-afters of crying myself to sleep, but you told me it was cute. it was a passing comment on your end but I took this to my heart, because no one has ever told me this about my biggest insecurity. and it surprised me that I remembered, that I thought of you at all in the wee hours of the morning, because I didn’t realize either I had taken this to my heart. so I sat in the corner of my cold kitchen floor and drank my breakfast smoothie, and wondered if I’ll be thinking of you on my mornings with swollen eyes from now on -- if small reminders like this will fade away on their own, or if they will be around forever, or if they’ll only sometimes come back to catch me off guard and bite me till it stings. we were strangers, then no longer, then are on our way of becoming strangers again. but parts of you are tucked away in random corners of my life, and they are here to stay.
I used to crave love, as well as the idea of being love. recently, I caught myself not thinking of love at all. this scares me.
I used to sneak out to the patio where you keep your cigarettes
and cut them in half with scissors, hide the unopened packs, and flush them down the toilet.
we learned in school today that smoking kills, I'd tell you, and you'd smile back.
but sometimes when no one was home, I’d hold one between my lips, unlit,
wondering what it’s like to be you, smoking alone till the wee hours of the morning.
smell of musky fog, I learned from you;
lingering bittersweet aftertaste, I’ve learned without you
so this is what it’s like, to grow old, to become you
it isn’t at all the same as what I had imagined
I have no idea if you still smoke
I wonder if you still do
I’ve been thinking of what it might be like to no longer have my mother around. she’s been noticeably becoming forgetful and growing weak. we laugh about it, but in the silence that follows, we both think about how there isn’t much time left for us to spend together. I regret being too immature and not loving her enough for most of my life. for some reason I thought, between me growing up and my parents growing old, it will be a forever. I was wrong.

lastly, a quote by my favorite saint:
“let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you, all things are passing away: God never changes. patience obtains all things. whoever has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices.”
-- St. Teresa of Avila

[email protected]
instagram: @sungmeeen
Washington D.C.

comments powered by Disqus