It's raining. In attempt to distract myself from a reminiscent, I moved to reading Kafka's Letters to Milena. Despite melancholic, I carried on. But the atmosphere of this nostalgic rain brings with it a familiar pain. The breeze wraps my skin. The sound drags itself to my chest. Now it is the film that I didn't finish. The book left unread. Still the coffee remained untouched. The rain brings me back to the warmth of your palms, how those landscapes held the coldness out of me. I remember your eyes gently locked in mine. Your thick cotton wool clothes I wore.
Doesn't it gets tiring remembering, all over again?
Everything will succumb to time anyway, but somehow there are still trails of aching left in my path. I look back and there I am again, writing poems, scribbling letters, rewriting notes so much of i-love-yous and i-miss-yous and i-still-wish-it's-us at the backs of my worn out journals.
I'm left to say, my journals nowadays are filled and piled up with words I could no longer send. Somehow, time went on a roller coaster and some days it is left to numb the pain. Numbing the still open wound would never heal it, don't you think? Though it was stitched a little on the rough edges, memories come running and the yearning for a long lost love flashes on. You see, it's like a film. Just that I never finished watching it. You see, it's a book with dozens of chapter left but I'm no longer allowed to peek at the pages. You see, it's a coffee I no longer bothered to drink because it wasn't your own mix. It wasn't you who prepared it to me.
Middays like this one, where I'm left to watch the rain fall upon the rooftops and carry all the pain right back to me is one of the long-list numbers of sadness I carry with me in my own little universe. I carry the weight of drowning emotions and living in the depth of darkness. Maybe I'm always meant to suffer. With this rain. With this longing.
But how are you? I still think about the past. Though many would instead move on, I'm still on every brink of falling hard. It is never the same. Because the passing days either become better or worse. But today, you could guess it's the latter. Perhaps because of the rain. Or the petrichor that comes with it. Or merely just the waves of missing you.
I miss you. This love never changed and as long as I never wanted to say this again, and though I don't want to admit: love, i miss you.
It has been ten aching months and the loneliness still resides inside the room of my heart that once belonged to you, that belongs to you, and will always belong to you. Take all the ways of care, love yourself. I'm trying to love mine as well. I love you, and it never changed, it's still you, after all.
—jubena.clb
it's been almost two years since i wrote this.
photo owned by: Kevin Laminto, @kxvn.lx on IG