A few days after I cut off with my friend Bear, I realized the sadness was eating me, like a school of fish.
That’s when I lay in bed, listening to the song “Big Fish” by Chau Tham.
[su_youtube url = “https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PGvM5EvJQY”]
His sorrow is in this corner of the wall, in that scent, like a sharp knife, in every beat, every beat of the piano hitting a weak, me.
And I burst into tears.
I cried again, like the day I was 6 years old.
I thought, oh my god left me again.
A few days later, I felt myself creeping in. Besides the sadness of gnawing, there was something else.
Serenity – inside me, it is as vast as a breeze, passing through a vast field late in the afternoon, before the sun goes out.
And I wonder why am I serene?
A few days later, I found the answer.
I am at ease, because during all that time, I have loved you with all my heart, with all sincerity, without hiding, without fear.
Relying on you, I have based it completely. Relying on you, I have relied entirely. I love you, I have completely injured.
Although the end result is still, you hunt for another love; but most importantly, I completely devoted myself in that love, not holding back anything, not hiding anything.
So, when cut off from you, I am in pain, but serene.
Turns out, sincerity has such great power.
It gives me the courage to face, face to face that I was sad, to cry, to struggle like that, to face that I loved someone with all my heart, and perhaps, only half of my response. Sincere, half anxious.
And it gives me the courage to breathe in serenity. No pity. There is no regret.
For a year and a half I knew you, even though I always relied on you to balance my emotions, I rarely slept peacefully. Many nights I cried until I was so tired that I could sleep.
Unexpectedly, when I left you, I was able to sleep peacefully.
I have a book project for three years, which is unfinished: “I am 22. Brightly young.”
I started writing from 2015.
The story begins like this:
“1:00 pm, March 16, 2015. The sun is bright on my head. I run home.
I hurriedly ran into a small alley on Ly Thuong Kiet street. I pulled over and pulled my face down on the steering wheel. I cry.
Tears cannot be controlled. They fall continuously, drop by drop, through my cheek, down the steering wheel, wet the sleeve. I tried to wipe it away but tears continued to well up.
I am in pain, I am in pain, in this heart I see something heavy, like a boulder blocking. I hugged my chest, I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t say anything. I just raised my face, screaming like a spanked kid.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me, even I didn’t know why I ended up like this. I only know one thing: That’s it, I am finished. ”
That day marked me starting to get depressed.
At that time, I never expected, I will struggle for 3 years afterwards.
My efforts during the past 3 years revolved around two things: keeping myself alive, and not affecting other people.
I disappear, disappear completely from almost the whole relationship, almost from close acquaintances.
I go, I find ways to rebalance myself.
I rushed to India, I wandered on the road between the Indo-Nepal border alone at 5 am.
I bought a plane ticket to Sapa, I went to Muong Hoa valley, then sat on a rock in the middle of the river for many hours.
I wrote “I am 22. Brilliant youth” for 3 years, gaining 103,784 words.
Yes, you read that right. One hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four words.
It gathered all my emotions for the past 3 years.
I wrote in great detail, very well written the “Why” paragraph.
Why am I angry, why am I suffering, why am I running away, what I am hungry for, what I am afraid of.
But to the “How to cure” section, I was jealous.
How do I know when I can’t even cure myself?
How do I know when I still cry at midnight?
I cried during the day, I cried at night, I shed tears in the meeting room, dining room, toilet, in the middle of the coffee shop, countless times telling.
I know the method to cure.
That is love”.
But I don’t know what love is.
I also don’t know how to love someone.
So I have no way of writing.
So the page is unfinished there, and I wandered.
Until today, December 14, 2018, when I realized that I was at ease, able to continue loving others with all sincerity, I thought I continued to write, “I am 22. Glorious youth”. OK.
Strangely, why can I only learn how to love when I am miserable, why I can only begin to love one when I owe it to others.
But maybe that’s how love works.
They are not born, not lost, they only transfer from one person to another, with sincere hearts, and when we are brave enough to love a person with all we have, not only them be healed, but also be healed ourselves.
And I am back to the word page, the keyboard, my own world, again, and I am still the old me, but more passionate, not afraid, not hiding, writing in all emotions, written in all sincerity, slowly word for word, to speak carefully, how weak I was, in a very clear landscape, every wind, every scent.
It might take another year to finish this book, but that’s okay.
The best, the most earnest things are never easy to do, right?