Everyday’s Hidden Pieces of Transformation

I miss the late nights I would enjoy staying up to just for the sake of it. For the sake of a silent world and a freed soul. Those late nights grant me freedom in the weeks were days seem longer and they do nothing but strip me out of my self.
I miss the really early mornings when I would wake up to the sound of my clear mind and state of being. Now it’s only noises and I don’t mind waking up late to my immediate life distractions. They make up for the ugly things I don’t wish to take a second and think of.
I immediately shove his memory to the back of my mind, where I keep things like him, things I would rather remember in dreams, not in a faded out reality. He would love to put on music when he wakes up. He makes good days contagiously wanted. Till this day, I would wake up to his voice echoing through the messiness of my no longer existing home and I would wonder if it bothers me knowing he isn’t there or makes me happy that I still haven’t forgotten the sound he used to make when he was here. When his existence was the only one I needed to value my own.
And it’s those bittersweet days when I miss myself the most. The self I have no idea where it ended. A self I have lost in search of shelter from the world.
I miss you. The you that used to love it when Fridays come ‘cause that meant having to wake up late into the afternoon. And that would mean the noises wouldn’t bother you a bit longer than usual.
I miss the you I haven’t got to meet. The us that didn’t fight stronger into the ugliness of this world yet I know yearned a love so strong its own fire burnt us both till the remainder was ash.
I miss being able to talk to myself. And missing it so much made me hate the fact that I can no longer find anything to talk about other than the regrets and sorrows I feel for thee. And that’s not a talk I can look forward to.
I miss the excitement I would have for celebrating other people’s existence. Now I no longer long for my own existence that I despise other’s for contributing to mine. I no longer find interest in my own life events. If it was up to me, I would decline to all requests for my own survival.
I miss the simplicity of things. How as simple as it is, at a young age, one would care less for pettiness than now. However, as one age, one would take more notice of one’s surroundings and occupations, others claim that you grow wiser. I believe one grows miser of himself and his life. Happiness can’t be obtained along with smartness. If it happens, then one was never smart enough to find reasons to love and enjoy this life.
You knew I would give in eventually. And you left your shadows behind to witness it all.
I truly wish you could’ve been here for witnessing the aftermath. The aftermath of your love. Your laughter. Your playlists. And oh how much I truly wish my mind could stop playing you up like a videotape that has no stop button. But I love how your smiles are on rewind the whole time throughout my days so I can never forget what’s it like being conserved with warmth. The warmth you get on a regular cold day.