#26.

and you're there for me when i needed you,
with smart comments ready to fire,
or silly anecdotes of romantic nothings, nobody cares.
but always sitting/waiting/standing
with a free shoulder,
listening ears,
and open Heart.
never has the name 'asshole' been so endearing.
i love you.
(thank you)

#25.

click the button.
i dare you--
do it.
say sayonara to the past;
"we" are no longer
relevant
in present and future.
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
but the ghosts of "we" cry from pictures,
with the flowers in our hair wilting,
and the ice cream cones in our hands melting.
i guess we should move on
now.

#24.

here's the thing: i know you're there.

but i can't see you, and you can't see me. it's like we're both part of some complex scheme that can't unfold until every bit and every piece is in place. we're putting together an thousand piece puzzle, you and i.

and, i hate puzzles and am terrible at them.

but i have faith you exist--i'm sure of it. as cheesy as it sounds, i can feel you there; in the way my Heart moves when i hear a particular phrase of music, when i read a familiar line, and when i feel the warmth of the sun beat down on my bare shoulders... you're everywhere and also, nowhere to be found.

but i think it's good for us both, because i don't think i'm ready to meet you yet. there's too much to do, too much to learn, and too much of me that needs to grow. so, here's a promise: one day, we'll find each other. and we'll love each other. and when we do, it will be wonderful: the kind of love that people write novels about or base movies upon.

one day.

#23.

i try, sometimes, to be a bigger person--
to forget bad memories by coating them with sugar.
(can't lie anymore; things are exactly what they seem.)
but after everything, the artificial sweetness still hangs about,
like the bad aftertaste of lemon drops in my mouth.
it ruins me sneakily, all the while pretending, pretending, pretending
to be for my well-being.
(cos you're never what you say you are.)
oh my, you're tricky.
(but it's so much easier being mean.)

#22.

"woe is me,"
is a popular diction.
many agree, but i must reconsider.
woe, to me, comes in form of chili bowls,
and crusty bread crumbs,
all adjoining, together, with soggy connections.

i do not wash dishes.

#21.

july, my sister, wore only white lace dresses and heart-shaped sunglasses. she tied her messy hair neatly into pigtails and smelled like freshly mown grass, rainfall, and sunshine. she liked picking dead dandelions and blowing away their fuzzy parts--sometimes, she would let me join in this mysterious and intricate ritual: "close your eyes," she whispered, while gently entrusting the frail flower into my small hands. closing my eyes, i would hear her mutter a little something and then, i felt a warm breath brush the tips of my fingers. when i opened my eyes, the air around me was encased in beautiful, mobile bits of white and heather grey. she said that they were made of pixie dust, like all things beautiful in the world: daisies, bubbles, dust bunnies, and music notes. at that time, she looked so pretty that i thought that maybe she,too, was made of this ethereal substance. july, my sister, disappeared when i was seventeen. sometimes, i think i see her out of the corner of my eye: she wears her white lace dress and heart-shaped sunglasses and is holding a bouquet of fresh yellow dandelions. and i think she sees me too, because sometimes we'd catch each other's glances and she waves a sad little notion. july, my sister, went back to her beginning, when i was, but, young and tender Seventeen.

#20.

dear Nineteen,

i write this as your alter-ego, Eighteen, on the eve of your birth. it is about two hours before midnight, before i become you and you become me, and we are one. right now, you are listening to your favourite song--i'm yours by jason mraz, which has been played a total of 20 times since the rebirth of your computer. i wonder how many times will you have played this song by this time next year?

this year, you have suffered and triumphed. you have lost friends and in doing so, have had your Heart broken into pieces. the people whom you've thought were to reside there forever, have evacuated both suddenly, and permanently. let's not tell lies--you are still a little hurt. however, i have faith in you: you will get over it and will look back on your memories with them happily.

and remember: you have also met new people. they are slowly moving into the vacated apartments of your Heart. it is as though your Heart has placed an ad, 'for rent', on kijiji or craigslist, and there are many responders. this year, you have been naive. so please conduct thorough interviews before letting them in--not everyone is as good as you think they are, and it is best to be cautious. i just don't want you to be hurt again, and neither does your Heart, because it is a rather cowardly organ and is most scared to get hurt. picking up the pieces and re-assembling them is not easy either.

this year, you have re-discovered the power of love and are reminded of it everyday: through your friends, your sometimes bothersome family, music, your pets, and youtube videos. appreciate it! it is a flickering light that dims and fades but never dies. and i hope that you will always try to find love in the darkest places but always remember, save a little for yourself. because you cannot love another before learning to love yourself.

this summer, you have tried to write again. some things you write are overily sappy and cheesy but have no fear--this is your space to control and write. let the cheesiness of your art coat every letter, every word, every bold and italicized header... and i love it; i hope you do too, because it is yours only. this year, let's read more, get more inspired, imagine and daydream more. sleep more, and visit the foreign lands in your sleep more-- let them bring you to a land that cannot be accessed by most.

this year, i hope that you will have more faith in yourself. take more risks. get rejected. rejoice. flounder in rejection because one day, you will be floundering in success. but most importantly, i hope that you will love more: love yourself, love your family, love your friends, love to learn, love to read, love science, love conducting experiments--find ambition and motivation and do things. these are my hopes for you.

let me tell a little about the person whom you are right now. you might be afraid to read it because some of it might be harsh. you are naive and cautious. you are scared of the future and responsibilities. you secretly wish that you would die young so that you would not have to face the consequences of your decisions. but this cannot be: you must live with conviction in your life, and take risks. you only live once and when it is gone, you will regret it.

you are afraid to fall in love, because you believe that your Heart is fragile and cannot be repaired once broken. this is not true because the Heart heals irrevocably, and you will have strength to love again.

you are lost, and you don't know what you want to do with your life. don't be scared; this is normal. don't listen to what your parents are telling you and follow where you want to go--your aspirations, your dreams, and act upon them. one tiny step can open up new paths.

you care too much about what other people think. this is a simple truth but who cares? you are you, and you cannot fake being you all the time because it is too tiring. so just open your arms and accept yourself as you are, imperfections and all.

so i pass the torch to you, dear Nineteen, and remember, i love you. i don't feel as though we tell each other this enough. but i love you. have a good year.

bisous,
Eighteen.