My live without it? Or perhaps, you’ve taught yourself

My phone has its volume on again.

Does that not sound relevant or interesting at all?
Let me tell you, it still surprises me, I get startled each time it makes a
sound but, dear God… it has its volume on again.

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Each twenty-four hours that passes by seems just like another random
twenty-four with me just staring at the clouds as I cover most steps of a five
kilometre walk.

 Five kilometres is really short when
music is screaming in your ears and you’re feeling each word of the song. Seems
even shorter as multi-verses form in the back of your head, creating worlds
that distance you from others.

I am quite detached; I am logged on to a
server that is running in real life, so I float between what’s there and what’s
out of touch.
So it would make sense why I have the capability to over think this much.

 Are
you still with me?
I’m going to be on about a few things that don’t matter to you, unless I matter
to you and well, I don’t even matter to myself, yet these things matter to me
so I guess, it’s up to whatever it is you want.
Why do people even read what is written, am I right?

Anyway…

My mother doesn’t even know that I write, and the clearest memory I have of my
father is his straight face. The house is filled with ripped off pages of my
old notebooks, pieces I’ll never get back, work that will never be appreciated
in a house that sees waste rather than passion.
Have you ever been so deprived of approval that you taught yourself how to live
without it?
Or perhaps, you’ve taught yourself how to think that you can live without it.

I’ve looked at the sky more times than I’ve
felt how it feels to make family proud.
In fact, I look at family and find more reasons why I should never get one.

You know, I was that child that wished upon
stars to keep people who are no longer in my life now.
I chanted the old rhymes, like a prayer for each night, wishing that the bright
star would let me be with my dearest friends until my last days.
The wishes only came true for as long as I was trying.
All the stars started to dim once my eyes were open to the empty promises we’ve
made.
Guess that’s what happens when you grow apart.

At sixteen I met a person who I’d be chasing around until seventeen. I promised
to stay by their side even if it was a little bumpy at eighteen. Never did I
think that at nineteen I’d be saying goodbye.
I set my walls up so high that I only remembered I had a heart each 3 am that
their name comes up.
Never had I been so cold to anyone else at twenty, so cold to the one who gave
me the warmest hug.

I wonder if you could guess that from the
way I choose my words, I am the type to deny how I feel even when it is already
given away by my swollen eyes.

What do you have to say about me? Well, I’ll tell you now that it doesn’t
matter, because I’ll bet that you can’t think of me in any way that I haven’t
yet thought about myself.
In other words, if you hate me, it doesn’t matter because I most likely hate
myself more.
Somehow, this mess I have for a brain is convinced that no flood can drown me
if I burn myself first.

If our eyes could see in metaphors, I bet you’d be really surprised.
You’ll find that I am that one dreamless kid with her head in the clouds.
And if we could breathe from those eyes, your lungs might get full of smoke
from all the bridges I’ve burnt.

Here’s another metaphor for you… at all these moments, I put my phone on
silent.

At these moments, I tried not to feel…
anything.

You see, a heart trained to forget how it is to feel is like a phone gone silent.
It doesn’t make a sound yet it’s still getting the calls and messages.

Though my heart was close and walls were up
for every time that the sky fell on me, it didn’t cross out the fact that the
sky was falling. Even if I was safe from feeling the pain, the problem was
still there.
Then I started thinking maybe the problem was that I tried not to feel.

How is that a problem, you say?

Well, we have to feel the pain.
I believe that the challenge in our existence is to feel the sadness that comes
with misfortune and not letting it harden out hearts.
Pushing away how we feel doesn’t really solve the problem; it just keeps us
from thinking about it. Though it might not be running away, it leaves marks of
the same storm.

If you haven’t guessed, I rebuilt the
bridges.
I welcomed back the struggle that I’m supposed to face.

I’ve been reintroduced to the pain that comes with love; I’ve let it come to me
like a wave pushing me towards the shore. 
It made it so that I didn’t have to wait until twenty one for another
milestone to come before I hold the hand that fitted mine once again.

Maybe I sound delirious, but that’s
alright, because to love is to be a fool, and with love comes pain.

So I have let my phone have its volume on again.

For I have let my heart beat again.