Dear K

Dear K,

I can't wipe away my tears. If I do, they'll know that I've been crying. I'm afraid, K. What if they find out? What will I ever do if they find out about me? They won't let me live, would they? I'm scared, K. I don't want them to find out about me. But I just want them to know. I just want someone to know. I guess I just want someone to wipe my tears away.

I'm tired of doing everything on my own, you know? It
hurts, K. And I'm tired of it hurting. I'm tired of it hurting so much! Every
day! Every single day! Every moment! Every single moment! I guess I'm just
tired of it all. No, K I don't need rest. I just need someone. I just want
someone. To come. And wipe my tears away. 

K, it's too early to be tired. Isn't it? I know it is.
Even I didn't think I'd get tired so easy. I thought I'd take some time. Settle
my pace. Get worked up and then, get tired. 

But it's too hard. It's too hard, K. And I can't deal
with it. I'm too tired to deal with it. Too devoid of hope. Too broken. 

My wings pain a lot, K. It's like they've been,
they've been chopped off. But they're still there. I know they're still there.
I can feel them. Fluttering with trivial faith and stuck with hopeless motion,
their pace almost nonexistent.

They're paining, K. They're paining a lot. And the
pain is almost unbearable. I cannot make them fly anymore. I cannot fly
anymore. I've been cut down, locked up, drained out and tied in.

I wish my wings didn't know that I was so hopeless, so
pathetic. I wish that they could flutter enough, just enough to lift me. Lift
me higher than I am. Higher than I could be. But they can't. They just can't.
And they won't. They just won't. My wings won't stop paining me, you know. And
I can't make them stop paining. I just can't. I'm stuck, K. I'm stuck. 

The sky seems deluded now. It seems so beautifully
deluded. It's full of illusions, you know? It's full of hope, full of dreams.
It's the haven of my make believe world. And maybe that's the reason why it's
been so out of my reach all my life. It's just been so far away. So far.
Seemingly like the dream it is. The utopia it is. My utopia it is. And I guess
it just feels so beautiful. To have the sky a little closer to me. As a part of
me. As a part of my utopia. It's my dream, you know? My illusion and my
delusion. My hope and my seemingly untrue reality. It's mine, you know?
Somewhere deep down, it's mine and it always will be. 

Always.

They're calling me, K. I guess I better hide my tears,
if not wipe away. I can't let them find out about my tears. I can't let them know
my fears. I just can't. But sometimes, when I get too lonely, I wish that I
could tell them. Tell them about me, and everything that is me. Sometimes I
wish I could tell them everything. 

I guess loneliness has another stage with me, doesn't
it? It has a different level with me and now, now it has become my addiction,
my obsession. Because no matter what I do or where I go, it keeps coming back.
To me and to myself. It's like it's a part of me now. And the worst part is
that I don't even mind. I've grown so used to it that I don't even mind it
anymore. And it drowns the silence, doesn't it? But I think I just like the
silence more. 

They're getting angry now. I really need to go. I
can't let them get angry, can I? After all, they're the only ones I have left.
The only ones I'll ever get. I think I'll tell them sometime. About me, about
myself. They have to know, don't they? And I need to tell someone, just
someone. Maybe they'll do. 

I've got to go now, K. I hope silence doesn't get too
loud with you. If it does, you would drown it, wouldn't you? You promised you
would. I hope you live up to it. You live up to yours and I'll live up to mine.

Goodbye, K.

Love,

Emm