Miss ____,
I have been meaning to write you a letter. How do I even start this? Is it with the: “Good Morning, Miss! I’m leaving for good.”
There have been many nights where I wasn’t able to sleep well, not because I was working, but because I was thinking too much. During those nights, I find that there are moments when all the words we wanted to write just don’t seem to fit.
I don’t know you very much, heck – you don’t even know me, as well. Jokes on you, I’m also figuring out myself too. Sometimes, I feel like changing the world, taking the bigger steps and getting visions for the future; certain ideologies I set out for myself. All my days, I’ve been talking to God about the deepest dreams I have. But, I am still failing.
I don’t mean to be overly dramatic; I think you’re not the kind of person who could easily understand drama from a staff you barely even know.
Before, I imagined myself successful at 25 – all settled with a nice apartment, a nice breed of cat, and unlimited books to read. Sometimes, being tita at coffee shops. All those things, I’ve imagined when I was 10. But then, they were only just pieces of broken memoirs as I was growing up. In reality, it was as I’ve seen it: a harsh world.
Miss, I am sorry for not being good enough. If there were days when I felt like useless. That there were days where I could’ve done well, but I chose not to. I’ve been carrying disappointments I’ve inflicted upon myself. And that sometimes, I never really understood why I am tired. I am sorry. I hope you’ll know that whenever I went missing – I needed to breathe.
I want you to know that I am really trying to do better – like waking up extra early in the morning – yet I still fail at it.
Other people would want to leave because they had enough. My officemates are all tired because they were working so hard. I wanted to leave because I’m not enough; that I don’t belong in our world, and maybe I was tired, not because of the work, but because of myself. Some nights, I wonder where I should really be. Often times, I find myself wanting the things that are not meant for me.
People have always told me that I was brave. That I have surpassed a lot of boundaries, people thought I never could. I was so passionate about defying the norms, winning the hardest battles – as if I had a story to tell. But, I don’t. I am just a lucky person.
I am writing this letter not to say good-bye, but to say sorry. I wish I could do more. I wish I could be more relevant. I wish I wasn’t so weak to cry every time I don’t understand things. That I wanted to be a good person with pure intentions of doing the best that I could – without giving up. I really wanted to present a quality work, something that would make myself proud. But I couldn’t.
There is a fire in me, but they no longer seem to burn. Then suddenly, the very things that I'm once so passionate about, just doesn’t seem right. I am sorry for letting you down.
Maybe, one of the reasons people leave is because we don’t know what we want anymore. Our souls can no longer breathe.
I’ve never heard my soul shouted so loud before, it almost crashed. Almost. I wanted to believe that my soul is still fighting. That, no matter the disappointments, it will always surprise me. Sooner, when I finally say good-bye, I hope we all realize that even in the most hopeless days, we tried to fight. Even if no one knows it, except us.
Miss, I have been meaning to write you a letter: “Keep the fire alive.”
Love always,
AP
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