I sit cross-legged on my bed. The air conditioning unit is blowing at full-blast. The radio is playing a quiet song from my earphones. I stare at a page from my journal. It is blank. Neat. A far cry from the rest of the pages, which are stained with scribbles. Ink marks, short notes, my thoughts and feelings inked for me to relive.

I leaf through the previous pages. A date jumps up at me. October 30, 2006. The words are written with a heavy hand. The ink seeping through the next page. It is a page filled with anguish.

It hurts to say goodbye.
I can’t breathe. And you have no idea.

It is a painful page, weeping with sadness, a sense of loss pervading the words. Every letter screaming in loneliness, regret, and love. A single teardrop smudged the last letter of the entry. I wanted to tear the page and crumple it. I wanted to forget ever feeling that way. But I didn’t. It is part of my journey. Part of What Is.

I return to my blank page. My pen is poised above the first line. I wrote down a word. Crossed it out. Tried again. Scribbled a few lines. Uncertain of what to write. My mobile phone beeps beside me. I pick it up and read the text message. It is from him.

 

With you, I saw the sun,
Heard the birds
And felt the rain.
With you, I learned
Of love and life.
With you,
I smiled and laughed.
With you,
I came to life.

I broke into a silly grin. He always surprises me with these sweet rhymes. One of the many reasons I fell in love with him in the first place. I see his face in my mind, grinning with his boyish, mischievous smile. I can’t help giggling at his sweet face.

 
My gaze falls upon my journal again. It lay there blank with its mess of crossed out lines. And suddenly I knew what to do.  So I picked up my pen. And started writing.

You are worth all the pain.
Thank you.

 
-- November 28, 2007
Wednesday
5:41 p.m.