This might be the first entry in September, I think.
The star is non-existent, and it feels like it will fade very soon although it has managed to surprise me. The sun sets as per usual, and I do not wish to revere in daylight any longer from this point on.
I have contemplated death so early in the morning, I looked up to the sky and conversed with God. I told Him that I don't really want to die and I thank Him for giving this measly me so many reasons to live.
Continuing about my conversation with God, I was finally honest with Him. I really do not want to die. But it does not change the fact that death feels so excruciatingly close; stalking me like a cat waiting to pounce on her favorite toy.
Is this constant imagery a byproduct of grief, or the lack of it?
It seems that the more questions I ask of the universe, the more I am curious and the less I am indulged with the answers.
I have always wanted to be brave, crossing my heart and step into realms I cannot fathom, sights I have yet to see, and experiences I have yet to taste.
But I am just filled with fear. Fear that life is so much scarier than what death can offer. Fear that so much of me is so inadequate for the rest of my short life.
I have achieved nothing. If I die today, everything and everyone I know will have not known me for who I was, or who I am or could even imagine who I could've become. I will just be another forgotten tombstone, a presence missed, a speck of dust to be rid of.
If I die tomorrow, I have not written any proper letters for the people I love, the people I have loved and for the people I have yet to love. I have not prepared hellos and goodbyes that they deserved from me. I will have failed myself, my ideals and those who have been here for me for a long time.
Will everyone remember me? Will you remember how my fire burned down bridges during bright daylights? Will you remember how my fire lit some cold nights for some of you?
I certainly hope you will. And I hope you will never relinquish that feeling. Remember that if you want to burn, burn so bright that others can't help but to feel the heat. Remember that if you want to be like the raging sea, crash on the shores with all of your might that others can't help but to drown in your greatness.
I really tried. This war deep inside of me is so hard to battle. I lose on all fronts. All of it.
Even small wins felt like losses.
One thing I will try not to do is to take my own life anymore. I do not just owe it to myself. I owe it to others for me to do what's right.
One of the reasons I love the ocean is because when the great ball of fire is slowly swallowed by the endless horizon, I am reminded that the only light left would only be all of us. We are the last frontiers of this great wide world, even when at times it felt like we are the only ones destroying what we are.
We are not just the harbingers of doom. We are the last prophecy of hope. And it is so beautiful that we get to choose who we want to be.
I have always wanted to be a part of something bigger, something more meaningful.
And I have. My life has been a huge cascade of heavenly coincidences, magical choices, dire mistakes, truthful laughs, deceiving tears and agonizing memories; all woven into this seemingly impractical existence of mine in this indifferent universe.
I am melancholically unhappy, nostalgically joyful and undoubtedly, conscious of my own life.
