Author: Neyzielle Ronnicque

The sadness tonight is a little too much.

I am trying to be okay by forcing myself to be with people I am comfortable with, but I still feel so… lifeless. It has been this way for so long, and it seems as though I can no longer save myself from the rubble that has been building up since I can’t remember when.

I don’t even want to live anymore. Every day feels like just another day of trying to survive the dread of not having the courage to kill myself. Weird, I don’t want to live, but I don’t want to die either.

Does that even make sense?

Apparently, it does. And it sucks.

It sucks how no one is around at 2AM when all I need is a tight hug or a tight right-hand grip to stop my spirals. It sucks when breathing gets hard and I don’t have anyone to call just because I am too shy to ask. It sucks when all I wanna do is to stay longer with people I feel the most comfortable with, but I still worry that they cannot stay forever with me, or at least any longer.

It sucks that I cannot fully open myself to potential lover/s, because the trauma of not being “enough” still hunts me to this day. It sucks because living gets harder, and the misery is always louder with grief.

It sucks, because these days, these gnawing feelings persist.

I am not okay, but never mind, because maybe, just maybe, one day, things will get better.

And if it does, I hope it lasts.

Hi, I miss you. Perhaps a little too much.

I have been crying a lot lately because even the little things trigger my anxiety. I cannot even function well enough that I always end up contemplating quitting law school or flying abroad to stay there for a while.

I have been going out a lot at night, too. I am drinking with our friends which I never did when you were still alive. I need the beer spirit so that I could sleep /peacefully/ — or soundly– at night. Most of the time, I compel them to stay until two or three in the morning, because those were the times that I feel so weak and vulnerable. I am having a hard time stopping myself from crying.

Losing you is just too painful. Sometimes it’s unbearable.

You were my 2AM crying shoulder. You were always there to remind me that life can be daringly beautiful as long as we have family and friends believing in us. You always reminded me that I can be so much more, and I will never be too much to anyone who knows my worth.

I guess it’s only you who knew that.

I have been writing a lot and sharing too much on social media lately, and our friends keep weeping with me. They have been very supportive of my writing and crying spree, but I guess I need to stop now. I will just try to write to you via our own little chatbox.

But, bebe, I am in too much pain– emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and even physically. The weeks I’ve spent sleeping beside your coffin have finally taken their toll on my body. I am not complaining, but the moment that I felt the surge of pain in my system, my initial reaction was to send you a message. I wanted you to come and check up on me.

Then I remembered you were gone. So I was back at square one.

I miss you checking up on me. I miss how you barge into my house just to bring me food and coffee. You even come unannounced just to give me meds and clothes even if I was too shy to ask. You always knew what to do. You always say the right words to make me feel better.

One month since you’re gone, and I still don’t know how to move on from this grief. I still don’t know how to live in Ilocos without you. I still don’t know how to navigate life without your presence.

I will try again tomorrow.

I cannot promise that there will be no more crying — I swear there will always be a lot of this, but I will try to live again tomorrow. For you. For my family. For our friends. And I guess for me.

I miss you very much, Edmar.

But I hope you are happy up there.

I love you.

I always will.