LET GO



Letting go of what’s familiar.

Start it all over again seeing that we move to something new. I recently do. I just let my old phonenumber go and make replacement. Maybe it is too trivial to argue, but I believe that each one of us have it—at least one insignificant thing but in less graspable way, it is an essential part of their life. Just as my old phonenumber attached to me­­—or I to it—since I was in junior high. So attached that I’ve memorized it by rote. That all my friends have saved it in their contact as mine. That everyone should be notified of the replacement.



“Why did you replaced it by then? You don’t have to.”

There will come a time when we shall do what we don’t feel like to. Let go of something we want to hold. We must learn to let go in order to be free, after all.
And that is what I did. Release the old phonenumber that I’ve been use for years, get ready to share the same information repeatedly every time someone asks about it, and adapt to the new one.

Because nothing lasts forever.


    

I never wanted any of it to change,
but that’s not how life works.
- Ted Mosby

LOST THINGS



Do you know when you've lost something-like your favorite T-shirt or a set of keys-and while looking for it, you come across something else you once missed but have long since forgotten?
Well whatever it was, there was a point where you decided to stop searching, maybe because it was no longer required or a new replacement was found. It is almost as if it never existed in the first place-until that moment of rediscovery, a flash of recognition.

Everyone has one-an inventory of lost things waiting to be found. Yearning to be acknowledged for the worth they once held in your life.
I think this is where I belong-among all your other lost things. A crumpled note at the bottom of a drawer or an old photograph pressed between the pages of a book.

I hope someday you will find me and remember what I once, meant to you. 


- Lang Leav, Lost Things.

DROWN ME LIKE YOUR EYES DO





I always keep in mind about the way you described me. That I’m tearfully sentimental over certain movies, that I always went along with my friend or easily sunk in the latest trend. About how I easily believe upon majority of votes or about my fondness of people’s quotes.
Concisely, in a sea of almost anything I will likely get drown.
And I wont argue.

Because I know I was drowning when certain memories recalled, I know I was drowning in the riddles that you speak between your undertaking to calm me down when I become sulky, and I know I was drowning when you took me out to a place where sunbeams peeking in the slit of the leaves—like a new hope to despair.

But I also know, and for sure, that nothing can completely drown me the way your pair of shady, soothing eyes do.