With all the filtering that happens for this blog, I am almost never sure what content is or isn’t fitting anymore, especially when I draft something quite personal. (I currently have eleven posts in my drafts.)
However, a couple of wonderful people who read my work advised me to not edit and filter so much lest my voice be lost in the process. So, along with other attempts, I am making one at being honest. Cautiously.
I didn’t talk about this in detail at the time, but these are most of the gifts I received for my nineteenth birthday. For these past months, they have remained bundled in one of the gift packages at the foot of my bed. But since I’ve been trying to try again, I decided to open them up: four notebooks, an inspirational book, a set of markers, and a couple of pens.
Not to mention, the letters.
Forevermore, my beloved Ara. This is her nineteenth birthday letter to me. On my eighteenth birthday, she gave me a different set of words I will always carry with me:
“No matter how unbelievable it is, some people stay.”
And then here is the tear-jerking letter from my girlfriend, Joy. The letter (inscribed on the first page of the notebook she gave me) begins, “This isn’t poetry, but I hope I do you justice”, and then proceeds to make me cry. The Polaroid picture is one of me, Kris, and Mikee at my debut last year. The caption “We have too much pictures together. Have this instead. ♥” tells me so much about my relationship with these people. It’s like I love them collectively as much as I love them individually. Their names are constants on my list of people I’ll never lose, but those stories must be reserved for another time.
I need to tell you something important.
I was supposed to keep it under wraps, but perhaps it can be said gently and quietly, mostly because I need to say it out loud. By my own choosing, Boy and I have parted ways. He used to take me places — and it was great — but there are many certain places I wish to go that he cannot take me to, and vice versa. For my birthday he gave me that incredible set of markers that I adore, and I will continue to use and treasure them. Boy himself has been locked away into my little notebook of important stories, but that’s where the story ends.
Since then, I have made several promises to myself.
I opened this trove of birthday presents, because I am trying to use gifts from the past to rewrite and redesign the future. New notebooks with new words for new stories. Like I said, I am trying to try again. And this time, I am going to try a little harder.