Hey, friend.

I hope you are well.

Restart.

I hope you took a breath today.

I walked into your room at 3pm two days ago and you were still in bed, curled up, eyes bloodshot. You dared to smile at me, I looked at you and your lips quivered. This year has presented quite an unexpected turnout.

Friend, I know life has been moving fast, and not in a good way. You seem to be a little more tired than usual lately, a lot more really. Even trying to perform and play pretend is something you are not acing much truly, good thing I guess. You do not play your early morning rock music which I used to never understand, or dance to your Amapiano beats. You do not go out for ice cream anymore, just for helpless past-midnight walks to any place far from all of it. No place IS far from any of it.

I am sorry, friend. I really am, my heart goes out to you. I am sorry that instead of admiring the beauty of the starry sky or gasping in joy as the night breeze hits your skin, you whisper “Hello, darkness, my old friend“. You told me last Tuesday that you wish the night monsters could find you roaming or something like that, but we are not five anymore and koko does not exist.

Lately, nothing seems to be going right for you and it has taken its toll. You are overwhelmed because you know that time does not stop to let you nurse your wounds and regather yourself. The rest of the world keeps moving as yours falls apart. You are tired. You want it all to end, or to reset. You want to go back to 2016, when everything was not moving as tumultuously, when the world was not as chaotic and when everyone was still alive.

You have cried more than you have laughed recently, and even your laugh does not echo anymore. It is not wholesome and boisterous, it does not force me to tell you not to disturb people at 2 in the morning and it does not bring you to tears or knock the breath out of you. It comes out tense and ends with a sigh. Your eyes do not crinkle when you smile, they just glimmer with the kind of sadness so grave it makes my heart physically ache.

Your nails have been bitten to their skin, and your lips too. You cried about toothache because being gritted is the new normal stance for your teeth. You pop Grandpa very frequently now, yet the headache never goes away. I never have seen you so anxious, so scared, so worried.

It has been truly heartbreaking to see you like this and friend, if I could make it all go away…

I want to let you know though that you are not alone. Just as you have continuously told me that we are in this together, I am reminding you of the same.

In a very recent unfortunate event, someone unlikely but very likely echoed my favorite line to me. REMEMBER TO BREATHE. It was not until she said it that it dawned on me that I do not remember the last time those words left my mouth or ran through my mind. I had forgotten to breathe so much that I had forgotten to even remind myself to try. To you as well, REMEMBER TO BREATHE.

It may not seem like much but for as long as the breath still fills in your lungs, comes back out and continues the pattern, there is possibility. Where possibility lies, lies hope, and vice versa. I know hope crashes. Hope crushes. Hope burns. But hope also rises up again. Hope also rebuilds. Hope restores.

I may not have the solutions or even know exactly what it is you are feeling. I may not know what exactly happened five years ago or five days ago. But I see you. I am you, to some degree. And I think you will be okay one day, some day.

You are loved. If not by anyone else, by me at the very least.

Love,

Your friend.