Maybe Say It

Dear Atarah,

It’s been a while since I last wrote you a letter, and quite honestly, I do not know how I will write this one for you either. My days have been filled with so much darkness that rendered me incapacitated. There is a deep sense of loneliness and fear that I couldn’t quite wash away with my sheer will to live.

No matter how hard I tried, my body just felt so weak all over. I guess it is true that when your spirit is dying, your body will die along with it. I could feel myself wilting away each coming day. I want to live, like really live. But every drop of life seemed to have already drained out of me.

After days of rain, the grass in my front yard has overgrown, so I finally managed to get up to clear it. While I was cutting the grass, a neighbor came up to me and asked if they could park their car in front of my gate because they’re moving out.

This was the first time I ever talked to them or saw them. But that oddly made me feel grief-stricken. Have you ever been sad because a person you barely even know was leaving? I know this might sound strange to you, but to me it’s not.

The reason for this grief is not these strangers. It’s their moving out that touched what’s already hurting in me. It reminded me of the life I didn’t get to live. It magnified my own feeling of being stuck. They get to move forward while I stay in the place I have been wanting to leave.

I am once again terrified. I’m scared of being stuck here, of being left behind, and never moving forward. I grieve the life I couldn’t live. I regret the time wasted. I long for things to change.

Tell me, Atarah, will things ever get better for me?

Until my next letter,
C