I understand this now. I understand why it is said that youth is wasted on the young.
Moreover, I understand why people would say, if I only knew what I know now, my life would be completely different.
Of course it would be.
I understand why I used to believe that the future was something for old people to worry about. And then I grew older. I used to believe that tomorrow was always a given. I believed that there would always be other chances and other opportunities to see something beautiful, one more time.
I understand why people consider the idea that at some point, we walked away from someone for the last time, and no one knew.
I do not curse my youth or my mistakes.
Not anymore.
I was too young to understand the preciousness of time. I lacked the understanding of how perfect a minute could be, even with its imperfections. When time goes through stages of blemish or change, I never knew how valuable a minute could be. That is, of course, until that minute was gone, and so was the life I knew or the people I’d see.
I somehow believed that things would be the way they were. Old friends would be lifelong friends, and new friends would complement the pack with an updated style. I never believed that I would be tired, like I am, or in bed as early as I find myself. I assumed that life would always be a certain way.
I believed in my rebellions and that the fire from the bridges that I burned would light my way.
I believed that I was always growing, always moving, and forever evolving. and I am. Only none of this happened the way I thought it would happen.
And love?
Or with a clearer perspective, when it comes to the moments that become our future looking glass into the history of our love life — wild and all, crazy, heated, like the explosion from a passionate night which became unmatchable and with an insurmountable thought, I never thought that I would look back at me as I was or like I look back now. I never thought that I would think about the way I used to be.
I never realized how valuable time is.
I never thought about how crucial it is to waste a day. I never realized the waste of overthinking and over analyzing. Meanwhile, if I could go back to a certain time or a day in my life, I know that I would not waste my time with indecision. I would not destroy another chance with the wasted breath of unnecessary things.
I understand time comes with a price that not even wealth can afford. I understand this because no matter how wealthy a person is, there is no way to buy back our youth or relive the perfection of a first kiss. There is no way to unsay a self-destructive or hurtful thing.
I think about the times when words got in the way. And yes, I think about the times when the need to have the last word took priority.
I think about the senseless and useless fights that built a rift between me and my precious heart.
I think of this and how we built walls instead of bridges.
There are times when I found myself locked in arguments. There I was, mid-bout, and I can recall the foreshadowing that took place in my head.
This was as though I was there for the fall of Rome, watching the walls crumble and burn when, in all truth, I wish I could have stopped the crash.
There are times in mid-bout where I said to myself “just shut up.”
I looked at her and thought, “Just grab her, you idiot!”
You’re going to regret this.
You’re going to push this too far.
You are going to hurt both of you.
Tell her you love her.
Tell her you’re sorry.
Tell her you’ll do whatever she asks.
Swear to yourself (and her) that you will do whatever it takes.
Now say you’re sorry.
Kiss her!
Kiss her now, because you will regret this if you don’t.
No matter who you are or what you think, there is no such thing as a plethora of tomorrows. Time is always limited and yes, it is much later than you think.
Do not waste yourself. Don’t waste your breath.
Do not settle for something other than your truth or your passion. Never negotiate your dreams, or give them up, or give them away. Do not lose this.
Learn to admire and enjoy those who live with an understanding for the beauty and the reciprocity of mutual life. Do not be pridefully selfish. But, be selfish enough to understand that we only have one go-around. There is no sequel.
Do not give up. Do not quit.
Never allow your spirit to grow so old that you forget the wonders of fireflies at the beginning of summer.
I don’t care what happened or who hurt who or who said what — understand that pride kills the beauty of our future. And yes, it can be really easy to grow old and lonely.
It can be even easier to wake up one morning and realize that life has gone by. All of your dreams and passion have spoiled like fallen fruit that dropped from the vines of our existence.
My youth was wasted. Much of my time is behind me.
And yet, I am still here.
I am still here and regardless of my age or despite the aftermath of my choices, one day, I swear that I will celebrate my love. One day, my love and I will walk the early sunrise.
We will be together as the dawn exposes the horizon to a brand new day.
One day it will be my last day, but until that day comes, I swear from my heart that I will leave no stone unturned and no trick unpulled.
Here before you, I am humbled and brought to the ground floor of my own personal rebirth.
So, when the time comes, or if time allows me, I swear and promise with all of my heart that not a second will pass without you realizing the truth of my heart.
My first poem. Remember?
If I listen, I can hear you in my thoughts
and if I look,
I can see you in my dreams
and on the movie screens
behind the walls of my eyelids
But I only hope that one day
soon,
I will hold you in my arms
forever ~
I have not, cannot, and will not forget the meaning of this poem. As old as that poem is, it could never be truer than it is to me today.
Never leave a moment unlived.
This is something that kids do.
While I am a kid at heart, I am too old to lose to childish games.
I don’t need to be right anymore.
I can be wrong.
And I can be fine with this too
But when the time comes, I’m going to catch my dreams, like lightning in a jar, and I swear, I’ll never let them go again.
I promise —
The Written Addiction 