Dear Me, It’s Not Your Fault.
Words can be sharper than a knife, and it cuts deep with scars that will last a lifetime. What hurts the most is when those sound waves echoed with insecurities and catastrophe all came from the hollowing corridors of your own heart. A heart that now struggles with replying to the sound of love but manages to speak of only revolting criticisms. Criticisms made by the owner of the body where the heart bleeds and the wounds never stopped.
“Dear young body, why did you quit?” asked the lifeless soul now holding upon said heart and saving its last breath in case love comes back.
“I quit because you stopped believing in me.”
No words were said after. Not even a pin drop was heard but the body now stares at itself. Gazing up and down while the brain generates feelings of disgusts. The reflection holds the resemblance of disappointments that everyone else is speaking about. That’s what you thought. It’s what they said. It’s their words. Not me. I love myself. Really?
As the body stands longer the eyes now focuses on every aspect. Not just the exterior but you passed through the cracks and curvatures of your body. How did you get here? How could one breaks itself this much? How do I fix everything?
Dear body, I am sorry for not taking care of you as much as I should have. I am sorry on days I starve myself or overeat because my emotions got the best of me. I am sorry for letting poison enter you because on some days hallucinating is the only way out of this hopeless reality. As much as I prayed that religion would help I actually found religion behind the drugs that clouded me.
Please forgive me on those days where I let something shiny and pointy breaks the threads of this body. It’s with those wounds and holes that helped me learn about myself and allowing light into this unholy body.
Dear heart, I am sorry for overworking you with free labour every time I let anxiety take over me fully. On those days it was hard for you to catch up just because I was scared of a possibility. If only I would stop asking “But what if?” maybe you would’ve been healthy. Maybe if I stopped overthinking you would’ve been happy. I hope you could forgive me for the times I tried to make you stop functioning fully.
Dear mind, I am sorry for always initiating negativity. I am sorry for the times you asked for change but I never let my body free. I am sorry for being a terrible host for only listening to my heart and leaving your glass filled empty. I am sorry for listening to only unsupportive comments from third party. I made you think you are worthless and so is every counterpart of this body.
Dear me, it’s not your fault. It’s years of trauma and abandonment that made you function the way it is today. It’s those countless hours of overthinking words from other people that tore you apart till this day. It’s those times you spend your night crying not knowing what hurt you so painfully. It’s that feeling of longing not for someone but, to finally feel happy.
Dear me,
“It’s not you. It’s me.”















