A Quiet Breath

sometimes i feel an urge to bare my heart out in hope that it will help me let go of certain things and certain people in my life.

my journal is the only thing in the world i have been truly faithful and truthful to. i dont lie to my journal, and in return it doesnt lie to me either. but i dont usually take out my past journals to read because im afraid that i would uncover some memories and emotions which i had previously buried within the pages.

on a particular spring, i wrote about how you once told me that you wished i could be the fifth person you met in heaven (with reference to the book by mitch albom), so that i could talk to you forever. and how i felt so touched at that moment because i had wished that you would be one of the people i meet too.

i wrote about how you accidentally dozed off one night when we were on the phone and i was so worried for the entire night because i knew you were down and i thought something had happened over your side.

i wrote about how i once lost something, only to find out a year later, to my complete surprise, that it was none other than you who took it and kept it.

people come and people go in life, but in my journal, i write about the people whom i hope i would remember. and within those pages, i hold their names and keep them in my heart.