I was awakened by the intermittent light through the wall in my bedroom. At that moment, I heard some talking. It felt absurd. And when I looked to my right, someone was indeed there and — it talked to me. It was my past. It spoke in different languages. I do not understand.

By the time I wrestled against the sheets to be fully awakened with me to force weight into my upper abdomen, I was disturbed. The voice somehow had me disturbed recalling all those UN-favored moments in my lifeline. There I was, my eyes saw a pitch black, and I fell asleep once more. However, the voice continued to haunt me. Dragged me frantically to my abhorrent imagination and in just a snap, I was brought into the darkness like Eurydice.

And then some sepia-toned light garnered me into a world of different dimension.

Some five or six years ago (this was the place where my reverie brought me), I saw a very familiar place. A fresh scent of mild flora and the inconsistent brush of the wind against my cheek were present. They were anonymously dragging me to a room full of white tones and tragic sorrow. To the left of that room was a restroom. I entered that room and forced myself into the first cubicle. It was drenched in blood and I realized, my hand started scarring itself. Right then on, a Swiss knife fell and was inert at that moment. It felt nostalgic, knowing that I do not know what trouble may start haunting me. I walked out of that cubicle, with tears in my eyes flushing against my skin. Terrible. 

Then, I was dragged again, by anonymous, to a room out of dried cogon grass and a poorly built structure. It tricked me to a voice that said…”You’re not worth it…You don’t belong here, freak show!” Startled voices were crashing toward me and I fell. A hole on the floor opened and I fell again to a somehow endless void. I opened my eyes, and I closed them again, thinking that all may have been lost — forever. 

I opened my eyes in reality. I arched my back and forced myself to sit down. I was awestruck by all those tragic memoirs. I sat on my bed and it was five years later after those tragic memories appeared. I realized then that I was trash before. I folded my sheets and arranged my bed (unfortunately) and climbed down the double-deck-abode bed. I went to the bathroom, washed those terrible memories and went straight to my desk with a pen and paper ready.

I wrote:

To my past

Back then, you were terrible. You let yourself be crashed by the people around you and called you names. Why the hell did you allow that to happen? Just because you’re weak doesn’t mean you can’t fight back. You are pathetic. Look at me now — I have gained a lot of friends, and had less to none who betrayed me (although there is that one person but that doesn’t matter). No one trusted you, or if they had, they somehow did that out of desperation. You surround yourself with people who are non-biodegradable for a fact or so. But look what they have done to you. They treated you insanely and back-stabbed you literally. But then you allowed that to happen. How pathetic and miserable of you.

       Well then, I have decided to let you go. I cannot accept you anymore in my life. Flee away from me–SHOO! Wander off somewhere else away from me or better yet, bury yourself and your conscience. You are dead and you are not there to haunt me again. Never will I trust you and never will I thank you for everything that you have done.

Was that painful? Well, you deserved that and you will always deserve it. I live in Hollywood right now so don’t you mess with me. I have starred in a lot of films with me nominated as best actress for the entire two seasons. I am rich, finally, and moved out to a place where I can cherish my last years of happiness. Never will temporary happiness trap me again for it doesn’t count. I have Someone right above of me all the time. 


Then, I tried to go for a P.S. to finish the letter

P.S. Get lost you…(add some wonderful adjectives here).

So that was it. I crumpled the paper with deep aggression and threw it away like so. And that is how to throw away the past.


One thought on “A Letter to My Past

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s