Mavyka
adore
Try to find the synopsis of who I am & what comes next.
Often times I will wake up disoriented and dreamy — My grandma merely opened my door, and out of some instinct or perhaps guilt, I lunged out of bed and quickly came up with apologies
“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting out of bed now,” “Did I not hear you call me the first time? I’m so sorry,” “Discúlpame, Abu,”
After all that fell from my lips like foam or sickness, she stared at me blankly.
“Es un sabado, ah…” I heard myself mutter, but it wasn’t me — she was much more little and scared, confused, avoiding punishment and afraid.
‘Solo quería ver si estabas respirando’, was what my Grandma said to me, gave me a chore, then left my room.
I can’t tell if it’s part of being multiple or if I was simply so engrossed in my dream, a continuation of the last one, that I was fearful and timid and everything I’m not supposed to be.
As long as you find your happiness, does it matter if others do? That’s just the thing! Happiness for most is happiness of others as well. We are not us without our friends, after all.
Without your friends you’re nothing, not quite. Without your friends you’re half of something — we only learn who we are through social interaction, after all.
What good does isolation do? Play in the sun, get tanned, or burnt, get sea salt in your mouth and sand in your hair. These little inconveniences make life so much sweeter — There’s nothing better than a shower after a beach day, there’s nothing better than gazing upon the smiling face of the ones you love most and knowing you’ll hang out again soon, there’s nothing better than kissing your pet on its little forehead knowing it doesn’t understand but loving it anyway.
There’s nothing better than being alive!
Atlas is such a wonderful name ー It makes me think of you, you know? Someone who carries others worries like it’s the world on their shoulders. They’re not that big, I promise. You can carry them in the palm of your hand, on the tip of your finger. Your own worries can be worn as a hat, maybe a scarf. Worn in the right conditions, they’re helpful, good, even. But in the wrong weather, constricting and annoying and troublesome.
??? I don’t know I was just possessed by the urge to write this.
My future child, whom is yet to even know their father, will surely have big rosy cheeks that will be kissed every morning & night, their eyes will twinkle with delight at the smallest things — They may become truant, yet they’ll remain studious, perhaps a little quiet but the loudest voice in the right room. They’ll be my little star and their cradle and adolescent room will be covered in the things, space ships and planets and galaxies, to let them know they’re greater than any space mystery, that they will be out — of — this — world! That I love them more than the universe’s ever expanding mass, and they will never know what it feels like to be unloved because all they have ever felt is their mother’s warm, protective embrace and their father’s supportive hand on their shoulder, their grandmother’s sweet yet chiding words, their aunts & uncles spoiling them rotten with gifts (They will not forget their manners!). They’ll have all my letters one day, of before their birth, of after, they’ll know they were so wanted no matter the circumstance, that their life was meant to be lived, that if nothing else has a place in the world, they do, they do, they do.
This is where I say my “I love you”!
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