When I was younger, I dealt with my emotions by penning them down. It was my personal form of catharsis, to trace the timelines of when each wave of thought crashed upon my shores, to the second they receded, to the wet prints left on the sand. Then, in Bookpub, I learnt how to put my abstract ideas into skeletons, details, metaphors. Somewhere along the way, I became well-versed in romanticising pain.
Since then, my first instinct has always been to make art out of my new pains. It didn’t matter if nobody understood what my poems meant, as long as I did. Never mind that the words never made it to pen or paper, never mind that they only resided in my head.
It took only the closest of friends to know the sad part of me; the part that imagines the worst in every situation, the part that immerses herself in re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy or Love, Rosie, the part that listens to sappy Copeland or Stars tunes. Most know the optimistic, jovial, out-going aftermath of all that.
But you, my dear, was one of the closest to comprehending my pains. You were there for the re-runs, the concerts, the orchestras. You were there with your burden for my burdens. You were there, praying for my salvation. And our God is a faithful God. But your pain, my love, is not mine to romanticise. It’s something beyond my imagination, beyond what I have ever experienced. Something above trivial worries like a bad grade or unrequited puppy love. Something that no words, no art, no tracing could help me fathom even a semblance of what you are going through.
My human understanding is so clouded, my wretched heart so limited that I don’t even know what is the right hope to harbour. I didn’t know back then, that there was an all-knowing, all-loving Father who knew what my thoughts were before I even articulated them in my head. But now I do. So I can only entrust everything to our sovereign Lord right now. I pray that His peace and comfort covers you, His right hand hold you wherever you are, His fresh mercies revealed to you, His protection guard you against the enemy’s lies. Love you bbygirl.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
– Psalms 139:7-12