Do You remember that lovely yet funny poem Tae wrote for his brothers “IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL!“ I hope you laugh a lot after reading this too….
[ IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL ]
It’s too hard sometimes, you were right when you wrote about the pain of your heart shattering into pieces, I feel that right now, weak and unhappy for reasons I don’t know.. Yet, its not a big deal .
Our lives have changed a lot, forced to live indoors , staring at blue screens for hours, days and weeks , instead of at those autumn leaves that fell for the zephyr , a now at the snowflakes welcoming the December .Waves of hope and joy of a new year . But, its not a big deal.
When I’m writing these words, my heart finds solace in the aureate glow of the memories we shared. People who failed to see what you are - friends, classmates , all those who said that you are either too much or not enough , wasted too much of their time judging you, and yet you let them take over your dreams? Your happiness? You know its not a big deal.
You are still that young girl with those jewel eyes that sparkle and don’t you worry about those tears, you will smile through them like a winner, embracing the falling confetti. Isn’t it so strange , our whole life we try to be as real as possible , but end up being fake, worthless and lost. Still its not a big deal.
But there were times when you told me, “Its alright . You will be fine !” and it did . So I’m rooting for that strong girl who taught me to look at the world in a better way . So let people create chaos and destroy themselves . Its not a big deal .
//You are alone in this mess Angel . But we all are alone, fighting our insecurities and embarrassments. It's not a big deal . I just want you to know that, no matter how hard it was, it is or it will be , our plan is to fight// ( together……forever……) We are we are forever bulletproof!!!!
The way your fierce essence bestowed warmth to every single part of a cold body which was nothing more than a dead house of anxiety. The way you embraced darkness to reach the light. I have admired you, for what you are, for what you were. I will always admire you for what you are yet to be. To overcome the fear don't run, don't hide feel the fear, walkthrough, sink in fear and burn the fear.
If you win, Sun wouldn't mind giving you the first glimpse of dawn every day. If you lose, delightful yet spooky dusk is always yours learn from it, Every ceasing sunset leads to the path of initiating sunrise. You who made a cloud of imagination on your own which rains the tiny drops of love and bucket full of confidence. After being entangled with inner demons and outer world. You came out to be the strongest women whose tears are the pearls of the ocean.
You became that love , that you never received. You made love yourself .Love isn't easier to be made for oneself . It takes strength , it takes time , it takes a pure commitment . Love is angelous , it has to take in pain to make love . And to prepare love for oneself takes loneliness , care and faith , faith to support even when our shadow goes missing . Fears abvolate when you love yourself . Doubts drown in the ubuntu of self love .
This kind of love , the self love feels "heavenly" when it is received from "a stranger called ( y o u )" You make yourself a heliophile . You're precious to "the one's" who found you .
//A 52-hertz whalien left alone// still alive with some hope diving along waters It's tears unnoticed , but they're ! Actually ! We love it ! We're just like the blue whale , belonging to the same specie , we know eachother
~~ A golden spring seasoned by magical winter wonderland ~~
You're the realest person alive , while walking on the clouds or while tears brimming in your eyes . You're that flower that people don't chose , that won't get to be trampled , that won't be the "proof / sign" that's (t e m p o r a r y ) You're that flower , that God made to stand high on the mountains , that the God himself shall smile at and be happy seeing you progress . He's happy seeing you fine in storms , warm in winters , merry in every phase of life . You're not meant for wordly pleasures and signs . You're not meant to be known by others .
You're meant to be known by the God ( who made you - to live ). You're made as the star who won't fall or won't twinkle . You're the sun meant for galaxy .
// A sun's never meant to be dark if the galaxy is wrong , there shall be another galaxy that's waiting for you to shine upon //
( To the girl who flips the pages of her favourite stories under the moonlight , who traces the outlines of dragons between the clouds , who giggles when a shooting star escapes her sight , who secretly believes in magic , who dreams , this is for y o u )
There are times when I'm guilty of wondering about the slight hint of foolishness caked on your heart , the kindest of its kind . Your innocence treats the world thinking it to be blessed with a heart like yours , pumping every second to keep the endangered beauty alive . You pour gallons of water onto the rocky paths , patiently waiting for it to turn green someday . But the idea of benevolence has somehow lost the audacity to bloom and breathe in open , it secretly mumbles how it feels safer wrapped around your soul .
Your eyes can't see the people they truly are , the reflections travel a bit deeper into the icy layers of millions of hearts , landing directly on the person they have the potential to be , but don't have the courage to become . With a trembling smile , you break parts of yourself , offering them till the day they make you feel empty , forgetting to stitch you back. That mind of yours goes on searching for angels inside demons , leaving them to wonder how a good heart knows so much pain . Little do they know ...
We all enter this world slightly marred , slightly broken ( stepped on blooms with awkward smiles , looking for a glue , they have named as / love / ). You've pushed , wept shattered , stumbled , they called it a disaster , the worst of its kind . But everytime my vision falls upon you , I find the audacity to call you beautiful , "cause you're !"
Stomped on flowers , smeared with the dust sticking to our boots , still manage to grow . So will you .
These people , this world , what if it fails to see the beauty of your thoughts you've weaved into garlands ? Don't you see how it is still busy in collecting the fallen petals , still learning the alphabets ?
When your numb fingers will travel through the tangles of your hair strands , when a chuckle will leave your parted lips while you watch people falling in love , when your boots will crunch the dried up autumn leaves and you'll pick a handful of them , breathing their faint aroma , listen closely to the tune they'll play .
//That day , the masked singer will be unmasked again and the world will come to learn , who were you before they broke you and who you chose to become when your own fingers stitched you back//