‘My One Day’ or ‘Just a Dream’

Sometimes people write the things that they can’t say…That's what all of this is. That’s why I dump it out here and it’s been such a long time. I ghosted this page or maybe I ghosted my thoughts. Or maybe I ghosted all the ‘Maybe’s’ of my life.

Today I wanna ask you, Have you been in search of ‘the One’ too? The one job, the one boy, the one town, the one home, the one dream.

Do you know what ‘the one’ even really means? How does this work? The search, the findings, the filterings of which one is it and then there is the waiting.

How do you know that this is it? Do you feel it in your heart? Do you feel the rush? Do you see your tomorrow with him?

It’s a dream. A dream worth everything.

A dream where he smiles. A dream where you keep noticing it.

A dream where he dances. A dream where you keep stealing glances to watch.

A dream where he dresses up. A dream where you keep admiring.

My problem is I kept dreaming of this one day. Kept changing trains. Smothered and searched in every piece of people. Somehow racked my heart out for finding ounces of love to give to people in order to get some back. Mortgaged my heart and a piece of my lifetime to make it the right one. To be the right one for someone.

I don’t know if this is the one, the one that I have got in my hands and heart right now. Or maybe, I know. See, that's the sad part. I am so so empty and so tired. I thought when I run out of battery, people will stop to suck out life from me or life will stop sucking out people from me. But none of it stops. You just keep getting tired. You keep getting emptier, and emptier. Maybe, whatever is in your heart never runs out completely. Or you become a corpse of blood, bones, and broken stories who wanders the world yet in the search of someone to pour a bit of life and love into your part.

All this while, if you found him and if you are with him, you do your best to give everything else left. Everything you could arrange to give. That’s what love is, right? An art of giving, a denying longingness of receiving, and a myth of sharing. But now you are afraid, if there’s enough left to give.

This is a love story. A love story of a corpse pouring her heart out for a dream with a love story of a prince just waiting patiently for his sleeping beauty whose long dead.

Either way, this is a world of possibilities, if dreams shatter here, it means they existed here. Even if life takes the life out of you, it means you had something in you to give. It means you are living a life and maybe you’ll live the dream too.

He is my dream. Every second, every sunrise, he is THE DREAM and even if there is an ache of what’s been taken away from me, I'll go to the corners inside me to find and collect all that’s left of me to give it to him. His princess might be dead and maybe, my dream is too. But then again, I am the dead corpse, I can never wake up from the dream because I can never fall asleep. So, even if this is just another ‘nothing’ and we are a love story in nothingness, we are still a prince and his princess, we are a corpse and her dream. Who cares, if the dream is dead or the princess? As long as there is a dream, there is him and there is me loving him. And that’s a dream worth everything.