This letter is for the people I met in college – coursemates, batchmates, blockmates, dormmates, orgmates, classmates, groupmates, roommates. This letter goes out to my squad back in high school. This letter goes out to my families beyond blood – the Search-Inners (my own Circle 15, my coremates, the council, and my kids in Circle 18), the Victory people, my classmates and teachers in Grade 11, and the whole Batch of 2015 itself. This letter goes out to those who danced with me in prom, to the ones who went to my debut, to the ones who took a picture with me during our graduation.
But most of all, this letter goes out to the people I got to talk to one-on-one – about college, or love life, or families, or friends, or us. The ones I’ve eaten breakfast/lunch/dinner/midnight snacks with alone. The ones I’ve pulled all-nighters with, filled with late night conversations. The ones who’ve confessed their worst fears and funniest moments. The lost boats going through heavy storms, who saw me as their one and only lighthouse, and vice versa. The ones I’ve had novel-length letters with. The ones I’ve had one-hour long phone calls with. The ones who have stayed after months of inactivity. This is most especially for you.
It is now December 2015. Now, frankly speaking, back in January, I was so sure I was going to kill myself this year. Actually, ever since I was in first year high school, I was so sure I was not even going to last long enough to graduate. That the last few weeks of high school was going to weigh me down so hard that it was going to drown me.
I’ve told so many people about my suicidal tendencies, I’ve been so vocal about needing help, and so so afraid of how people would react in return. Looking back, at this whole year, wow. I did receive help. I didn’t know it back then. Depression has a way of blinding you. But now, my eyes are clear.
I’ve probably said this to you before, but just as how you never got tired of telling me “It’s fine” whenever I asked you if it was okay for me to rant, I will never get tired of thanking you. Thank you, for keeping me alive. I’ve said this to many people, and maybe the fact that I’ve said such a thing to so many people will make you doubt if it’s true. But it is.
Superheroes don’t exist in real life. Not for me. Because that would mean that everyone else who have no superpowers aren’t heroic enough, and that’s not true. In real life, anyone can be a hero. You are my hero. I’ve tied myself to a train track day by day and each day, someone different comes to save me from myself.
Maybe it’s in the form of a “hey, wanna grab lunch?”, or the sound of my Facebook chatbox snapping me back to reality. Or maybe it’s in the form of a dance, a drink, a laugh, or a late night stroll – anything that’s stopped me from being alone for too long. Maybe it’s in the form of a hug. Maybe it’s you guiding me into a spiritual journey. Maybe it’s you riding with me on an emotional one. Whatever it is, it has helped me.
Sometimes, the heroes don’t come. The people whom I expected to save me never did at the time I expected them to, but that’s okay. I was a pigeon that you scared away just to see if I could fly. Because you weren’t around, I learned how to save myself. Thank you for not being there when I needed you to be. It was during your absence that I learned how to love myself unconditionally.
And now, it’s December 2015. I’ve lasted this long because of you, and all that we’ve been through. I don’t care if it’s only just one night, or three days, or one car ride, or one whole school year. No matter how short our conversations, you are still important to me. I couldn’t have done this year without you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I love you to bits.
I treasure each and every day and night I have spent with you this year. I keep every picture of us close to my heart. I open all my recollection letters, graduation pictures, and special text messages whenever things go rough. I remind myself that, despite the fact that I haven’t talked to these people for months, it doesn’t mean that they don’t care about me anymore. I look at my followers and tell myself that “look at these hundreds of people who haven’t unfollowed you! These people still want to know how you’re doing everyday. They haven’t gotten tired of your rants or random stuff.”
I am definitely a lot better than I was at the beginning of this year. One big change about me is that I am so much more hopeful now. The shadows no longer become tangible enough to pull me down. They lurk around sometimes, when I’m left to eat alone, or when I stare blankly at the ceiling. They taunt me. I admit that sometimes, I can still hear their whispers. But I’ve stripped away their power. I know I am much stronger now, because you are here to fight them with me. Even if you’re not here with me physically, my memory of us (and my love for you) is strong enough to defend me.
Even if I am not to spend a new year with you, know that I still love you. Deeply. Know that I still whisper a list of names before I go to sleep, and know that I am thankful even just for your existence, as your name gives me even just one more second to delay another inner battle.
Thank you for an awesome 2015. Cheers – to a longer list of names, and hopefully, to having no need of a list at all.
dolor hic tibi proderit olim 