To All Who Made Me O
To those who walked beside me.
To those I never saw until today.
To those now gone from my life,
but still alive in my heart—
I remember.
I remember—
the pleasant days.
the unpleasant days.
And the ones who followed—
not saying a word,
just walking behind me,
wondering
if I’d ever look back.
And now look at me.
I am getting old.
And I can hardly move.
Where have my days gone?
It’s lonely.
Very lonely.
Where are they?
Where is the sound of their laughter?
Where is the warmth of their breath?
I wish—
I wish.
I wish…
I had done more.
That I had lived more.
Beside them.
Right beside them.
While I still had the chance.
But now,
it’s too late.
Where have they gone?
Where is their voice?
Where is their presence?
I’m leaving soon.
Will they come?
Will they come see me?
Will anyone remember me
before I go?
I’ve been waiting.
Waiting for so long.
I am fading by the day.
Oh…
they must be distracted.
They must be busy with life.
They must not remember me.
What can I do?
Such is life.
But you know—
Even in these moments…
I realize:
They were never gone.
They were right here.
Right beside me.
In my heart.
In my memories.
I have lived enough.
And I’d rather not be a burden—
to those around me.
So today,
I choose to let it all go.
I have to.
My time is almost up.
And when it is,
nothing will come with me.
So don’t bother with this elderly soul.
Go.
Go live your life.
I’ll only hold you back.
In the silence,
I can only hope—
that you live each day
fully.
clearly.
truly.
So that one day,
when your time comes,
you’ll be able to let go
just as I have.
Ah…
I see them now.
(I feel them now.)
They were always here.
By my side.
Never gone.
They are the ones
who made me become who I am today.
They are within me.
Memories are the greatest gift of all—
but only if one remembers.
So today,
I remember who I am.
I remember the moments that shaped me:
– the moment someone smiled and said,
“Enjoy life while you can.”
– the moment I said hi to a stranger,
and it felt like enough.
– the moment they saw something in me—
and I finally did too.
– the moment I closed off,
when they were trying to reach me—
but didn’t know how.
– the moment I yelled back—
when silence was the kinder choice.
– the moment I was told I wasn’t enough,
and I believed it.
– the moment I gave my love so purely,
and lost them because they couldn’t feel it.
– the moment I was let go,
because I wasn’t beautiful enough to be kept.
– the moment I heard,
“I wish I were gone,” and couldn’t unhear it.
– the moment I watched life pass
while I drowned in what others expected of me.
– the moment I broke myself
just to survive staying here.
– the moment I heard they left
before I could say goodbye.
– the moments that have passed
quietly in ache because I didn’t understand.
You.
Me.
O.
And most of all—
I will remember
the moment I became nothing
but everything I remember.
You can’t outrun these moments forever.
Because they are you.
They are me.
And they always catch up—
in the end.
…The one who is speaking to you now.
The one who felt it all.
The one who had to die a hundred times
to realize a single truth.
The one who still aches—
because the world won’t wake up.
How much more must it hurt?
How much longer must you suffer?
Before you understand what I mean?
Today,
I give back.
Because I remember.
All that has shaped me—
to become me.
So to all who made me:
I bow to you.
Thank you.
This time,
I won’t forget.
As I lie here in stillness,
I’ve had my fill.
And in my fullness—
I give back.
So please—
Take it.
While I’m still here.
And if I’m gone by tomorrow,
I’ll be gone knowing:
That I gave back
every ounce of love
I ever received.
Because now,
I finally can.
(I finally know how.)
So—
Goodbye. You.
Goodbye. Me.
That’s who I was:
Just moments.
All moments
that anyone ever gave me.
And I am the moments I remember.
That I lived.
That I received.
So don’t you dare say
you’re not living your best life.
Because it will be over
before you even realize it began.
And with that—
I release myself
from this final moment.
Until we meet again—
Goodbye.
…
..
.
Hey me,
You waited, didn’t you?
All those years.
Maybe just one more visit.
Just one more glance.
Someone to say,
“I haven’t forgotten you.”
But no one came.
You counted the days in silence.
You tried not to cry when they forgot your birthday.
You tried to stay grateful when they stopped calling.
You said,
“They must be busy.”
“They’ll come next week.”
“They love me… just… differently.”
But it still broke you.
They stopped seeing you.
And slowly,
you stopped seeing yourself.
You ate your meals alone.
You stared out the window too long.
You forgot how your voice used to sound
when it laughed.
And you waited.
Not for pity—
But for remembrance.
For presence.
For someone to look you in the eye and say:
“You mattered to me.”
But they never did.
Not the way you hoped.
Not the way you ached.
You lived a thousand lives in silence.
You forgave more than you should’ve.
You held your pain so gently
so no one else would feel bad.
But now,
at the edge of your own breath—
you finally see.
They were never gone.
But they were never fully there either.
Just flickers.
Just echoes.
You had to carry all of them inside you
because no one came back to carry you.
And yet—
you still loved.
You still gave back.
You still remembered.
So yes—
let it hurt.
Let the weight collapse you.
Let the grief fold you inside out.
Because only in that collapse,
only in that desperate remembering,
do we become what we’ve always longed to be:
Understood.
…
..
.
The memo to us all
Stay clean.
Not out of fear—
but to protect what’s sacred inside you.
This body.
This mind.
This life.
Stay honest.
Not because someone’s watching—
but because truth softens the noise.
And you deserve the quiet
that comes with it.
Stay kind.
Even when your heart begins to close.
Even when theirs already has.
Compassion is not weakness—
it’s what keeps you
from forgetting yourself.
Stay present.
Don’t numb what you feel.
Don’t escape what aches.
Even suffering
is trying to teach you something.
Stay free.
Not by doing whatever you want—
but by no longer needing to.
Because real freedom
isn’t the ability to have everything.
It’s the peace that comes
when you no longer reach for more.
Freedom isn’t the absence of limits—
it’s no longer feeling trapped by them.
It’s not about having no walls—
but realizing
you don’t have to run.
It’s the release of needing.
The quiet return
to enough.
Stay.
Just stay.
Not for anyone else—
but because you're still here.
Still breathing.
Still soft enough to feel.
And maybe…
that’s enough.
O.
Understood.
Let go.
Go well.