A BEAutiful Soul
PRIMARY NOTE: Having two blogs is just stressing, but...that's right. I don't care. This is already up in my Tumblr, but I am pinning this as much as I want to. Besides, I am not sure who are and who are not reading this right now, and it is better to be safe than sorry. Hear this out, people. Life has been given to the English language and literature.
I have posted something about wanting someone to write for me recently. I did not know I’d be getting my wish granted as early as now. I am, in fact, rewarded with a priceless package from a beautiful soul, and the feeling is nowhere near to what I imagined it would be. I am immortalized.
This post of art, The Art of Writing, is surprisingly not mine, because someone else deserves it. This is not about me bragging ‘Hey look someone wrote for me when I wanted people to!’ This is about me giving justice to the strength and beauty of this work by letting you, or anyone else, read, feel and be moved by it. She has proven that writing, indeed, is the whole other form of breathing.
For someone who I’ve been dying to talk to: (Although, I still can’t find the right words to say to you.)
I’ve lived for 16 years now, yet it wasn’t until recently that I have fully comprehended the fact that words are stupid. Why is humanity cursed with such a complex system of made-up symbols and sounds that are to be used for communication when the heart is fully capable of doing exactly that itself? Whose bright idea was it to give humanity words when all they seem to do with it almost always purely concerns everything that is evil on earth? I could ask thousands of questions concerning the very existence of words. The list might go on forever if I try hard enough. However, there is one measly detail that might be the only possible positive thing about words.
One cannot deny the fact that words are powerful. Words can create ideas, motivate people for a cause, and make one feel special among many other things. It is a tool that could be used to bring nations together no matter what differences each nation may have. Conversely, there are a few fools who think that stringing words together is their talent. They use words neither for their own pleasure nor to seek attention from others. They use words as a form of expression exactly like how painters use paintings to define their own abstract version of the earth in ways only they could understand.
Oddly enough, I am one of those fools.
I read somewhere that you like the thought of people writing about you. Some may think of that as brash. Some conceited. Personally, I think you want to know what it feels like to be immortalized in someone else’s writing simply because you’ve spent so much time writing about other people, you’ve started to wonder how it feels like when they read what you have written. You want to know how they observe you; how their mundane eyes gather information about you which will be later etched in their intuitive minds. You’ve written countless things about people, about how you feel, and about how you feel about certain people. It takes a certain kind of bravery to write about them but it is another story when you decide that you want to share it with others because I think you’re giving them a tangible part of your mind and soul. You’re not afraid to let them see you and for that, I admire you because I am your polar opposite. I’d rather hide things I’ve written although you’ve told me at numerous times before that I have a talent for writing. That’s probably because sharing my thoughts with strangers isn’t something that I am fond of. I’d rather share them with people I trust.
One of those few people is actually you.
It may not feel like it at times, but yes, I consider you a friend. One of the best ones even. I’ve told you that words are my weapon, but then again, I have never been able to fully express myself in verbal means. I’m only good with words when I am able to hide myself behind a piece of paper and a pen and when I am my “writing fuel” is at an ultimate high (like now). During these times, I need to write or else, I’m very much going to explode. Fascinating how I manage to write about the littlest of things, too. I could something about scotch tapes and make it sound like it was from one of Ed Sheeran’s songs or something serious that concerns the universe how insignificant I am if I think about it. For now, however, lucky you, you’ve inspired me.
For the record, you’ve inspired me a number of ways and not just in writing. You’ve actually inspired me to sing to a crowd of people even though you know very well that I hate exposure. You’ve inspired me to know that it’s okay to have idiotic friends because I’ll be grateful for the laughs and the memories later on. You’ve inspired me to not take life as serious as it is because, I quote (non-verbatim) “Hey, nobody’s going to get out of this lifetime alive, anyway.” But most important of all, you’ve inspired me to be myself. After all, I’m the only me, aren’t I? Just like how you’re the only you.
You’ve been through so much, and you’re only 16, like I am. Consider yourself lucky because you know how to love and you know how it feels to be loved in return, even if it was something that you lead yourself to believe. You’re mature enough to handle it. As you probably know by now, that’s what love does. It makes you want to rewrite the world and remove everything that’s bad from it. It makes you want to choose your characters and make your own plot wherein every single piece just falls into place. Sadly enough, life isn’t one of Colleen Hoover’s books in which every single detail coincides with each other. It also certainly isn’t Disney where you just find your perfect one in the middle of a good song. Love is always together with pain. They are twins after all, inseparable. Happy endings don’t just pop out of nowhere, you have to make it on your own. I might not be speaking from experience – though I wish I was – but I know that what I am saying is the truth. I’ve asked you if you were okay with what happened and you said you were. I guess if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that sometimes okay is the best thing that could happen to you. You won’t ask for anything more or anything less simply because okay is enough.
Aside from love, you have friends and I’m more than happy to see that they adore you as much as you adore them. I like that you surround yourself with their personalities as you are allowing yourself to become a little bit more like them every day. Maybe through them, you’ll allow yourself to feel again, to become whole, and to regain what you’ve lost when you’ve given it to him.
You also have your family with you. Certain tragedies have happened, but they’re still there. They still love you. You can always rebuild what you’ve lost and buy the things that you want once more. Those weren’t the things that matter the most. What matters is that you’re still happily together. If anything, that fiasco only made you stronger.
Last but not the least, you have the man upstairs. He loves you enough to let you know that your life can still go on. Only remember to thank Him always, as He will always be your number one supporter and fan.
As for me?
Well, I’m always here, marveling at you from a distance. You may not remember me much anymore, but I will always be right here when you need me. We’re soon going in move in different directions, but always know that I will be eternally grateful for our friendship and those once in a blue moon strange hugs you give when I feel like I’m going to cry or when you want to congratulate me for something I didn’t even know I could accomplish. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I pretend to hate those hugs yet I secretly love them because they always made me feel like I was wanted, for once. You are definitely one of the few diamonds among the fool’s gold. I’ve said it once, and I will gladly say it again.
You may be as ephemeral as a passing comet but that’s what makes you one of a kind, Belle. I hope you realize that. Maybe not now, but someday, perhaps.
Love always,
Y.
This, also, is an ass-kicking proof that there are concealed people, and are yet to be discovered, who should be heard by the world.
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