Three years, we still have a lot of firsts

First wedding together, first time living in together, first time parents to two boys

Two years, same love, same evolving love.

I love you, my Pancho

I love riding the highs and the lows with you

When you tell me we’d get through this together

That you’re building a life with me and wouldn’t want that with anyone else

I love to love you

When we fall asleep in the home we’re building

That you’d hold me close and whisper “I love you” then doze off

I love you more than words can encompass

When you’s hold my thigh, an intimate gesture for me to know you’re here with me

My baby’s week long birthday celebration 🥹

Tides may change but something I’m certain of is that I’ll be riding the waves with you.

I kept emphasizing your kindness and patience and I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying so, your love has healed parts of me that I never knew could be mended. In the chaos that is my mind I hear your voice echo with reason and for that I’m more than grateful.

You’ve welcomed me with open arms and so has your family and for that, a part of me feels like I belong somewhere and is welcomed. For all the bullshit this life has to offer, I offer to accompany you through it all.

You’ve been my home, my solace and light with everything that’s been dark. We’ve built a home, a dwelling place where you and I can just… exist.

For all the times I find myself wanting to run away from your safety is the exact moment that I have to remind myself that peace and security was never normal to me and that unfamiliarity has been haunting me and for that I will keep fighting and fighting and fighting because where you are in this space, in thus world is where I want to be in.

I knew and understood the weight of my words but to experience it in all its glory and pit falls, to my core. I mean it when I said that I’ll be here and figure out life with you

For a future that I never knew was possible to me. I know that you’re my end goal.

I’ve been in a depressive slump, like really depressed that I’m suicidal.

A friend’s passing took a toll on me, with things rapidly changing and not enough room to breathe.

I’ve been lost and distant and you had to bear witness and experience it, love. And you don’t deserve it.

I’ve been suicidal, like I would’ve almost done it this weekend. But in a way I got pulled out of it, because of you.

I just hugged you and your warmth almost made me cry, I’m imagining how I wouldn’t be able to hug you and feel your warmth if I’m dead.

I’m dead

I’m dead

I’m dead

Letters to Eda

It was around afternoon of a Saturday when James messaged me, asking me if I heard the news.

News? What news?

“Eda’s gone” James said

I stared frozen over my supposed breakfast at 3pm, then tears started flowing while I typed anxiously.

Both James and I were distraught over what happened, I searched the post and it said nothing about the cause of death and yet within James’ and I’s conversation, had the sinking feeling that we knew what it was.

I was frozen, remembering that not only Monday that week when you messaged me. I then find myself spiraling into the what-ifs. The instant regret and sadness that kept hitting me wave after wave.

“Should I have made her go to me or I to her?”

“Maybe I should’ve made more effort”

“Maybe I should’ve reached out more”

Maybe then things would’ve been different, and maybe then I would’ve unknowingly saved your life.

I couldn’t stop crying and mourning for that empty space you left. I couldn’t be left on my own because I knew too well how alike our darkness was, and I just might follow suite. I can’t, not when I’ve just pulled myself out of the thought of death recently, I know that it’s only a matter of time until that happens again and I’m scared for myself too.

I can’t hope that you should’ve fought harder. Because I know how hard you’ve fought already and for that I am so proud of your bravery.

I could only imagine how scary it all was for you, to be so utterly alone that you felt that maybe the other side wasn’t so bad after-all.

Maybe, one mindless message from me asking you to hang out would’ve made it feel less scary, and that maybe there’s something about how mundane the next day that would’ve made you stay.

Two days in and all I could think is how you’d appreciate staring at the sun as it rises, nothing more profound than that. Just gazing towards that warm light that feels comforting just as I’ve felt, I keep wondering if you would’ve felt the same? Would it have made a difference?

I kept wondering how this breeze in the morning after dawn feels for you. Does it tingle you with something indescribable but makes you want to breathe another breath just like I do?

These things I’ll never know, I will never have the chance to ask you about your thoughts and what you feel.

I pulled up one of the first gigs I went to and you were performing, you played a beautiful unreleased song, a song that no one else would have the delight of hearing.

I miss your voice, and how I wish we could just sit down, talk and crack so much dumb and messed up shit but you’re nit here anymore.

I can’t selfishly keep asking you to stay when it’s been so painful and exhausting and so all I can really do is hope that the other side’s treating you well. That you feel a sense of ease from everything worrying you, that you feel like you can finally rest and be authentically who you are. Rest easy, my Eda.

When time has served it’s purpose, I hope I’ll see you too, and we would’ve been caught up by then.

I would’ve told you so many stories about when you left and how many comical mistakes I’ve made and I hope by then you’ll realize that a part of you lived within me.

There may come a time, eons of years in the future that no one might remember you and I and by then we would’ve served our purpose of inspiration.

My boys’ weekend in a nutshell