Screams into the Abyss: Requiem for a Dying Warrior

Written as a sacred requiem — a goodbye to the brave younger self who fought, fell, loved, and carried forward so that wisdom could be born.

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I still don’t like publishing these but this one is a mandatory stand of respect and honor.

I waited a really long time to speak this one up.

To be precise, exactly 30 years of a long wait, of passionately watching in silence, of biting my lips, squeezing my heart, and clenching my fists.

Now I get to speak.

Fuck yeah, I get to speak.

Maybe a little bit more than speaking.

Part I : The Requiem

Requiem

/ˈrɛkwɪəm,ˈrɛkwɪɛm/

A Mass for the repose of the souls of the dead.

An act or token of remembrance.

29 is an awkward age.

It's not the glorious 28, prince of the 20s, nor a fully respected 30 years old.

Then by the end of the last year of your infamous 20s, you start hearing:

People: Age is just a number

Me: HELL NO it’s not

Age is more than that.

Age is a word that wraps infinity in its essence.

Age is the tears you cried.

Age is the love you gave, the love you took, and the love you broke.

Age is the sleepless nights only YOU knew about.

Age is the traumas you dug deep burying.

Age is the burden you broke your back carrying.

Age is the hell you walked barefoot.

Age is the laughter, the smiles you loudly shoot.

Age is the bonds you formed and the hands you shook.

Age is the memories you made.

Age is the wisdom, the foolishness, the boredom, the screams, the thoughts, the feelings engraved eternally in a book.

And I’m glad I can write this today.

I’m proud to write this today.

My Dear Warrior, I love you.

I know you think you know but you really don’t.

I know how unsatisfied you are coming to the end of your battles.

How you always look at what’s missing.

How you demand of yourself to keep chasing.

How you pour from your cup to the last drop without hesitating.

How you’re always relentlessly hungry for thriving.

You pushed and pushed and pushed,

And now I can see, you arrived,

Fully wounded,

Brokenhearted,

Ashamed,

Head down,

Thinking you’re not crowned.

Remembering only how life knocked you down.

How deep in the oceans you drowned.

Eyes full of tears.

Lungs out of breath.

Holding a heart in that chest.

Screaming at me I AM SORRY,

It’s all that I got left

Let me tell you this my dear friend: You did what you knew best.

You fought well and even when you wept,

You made me proud even when you fret.

But don’t you forget... Don’t you forget how tough you tamed the demons in your house.

Don’t you forget how firmly you held the reins of that horse.

Don’t you forget the tears, the cries, and all the hopes.

Don’t you forget the battles you gloriously fought.

Don’t you forget the times you kept your head up against the odds.

Don’t you forget how you gave and never expected.

Don’t you forget how you loved deeply with no regrets.

How to this day you’re incapable of hate.

I’m taking everything you felt:

Unworthiness,

Shame,

Guilt,

and doubts.

The words you never spoke. The dreams you never touched. The loud silence in that heart.

I'll breathe it in.

I'll fuse it in my blood.

I'll burn it in my soul.

So the whole world can see,

That the wise man in me,

Is no one but the brave heart,

You handed me.

That the tree standing tall in the sky,

Is the seed you planted so I can fly.

Rest in peace 20 years old me.

You did what you did.

You carried on.

So I can BE.

I can’t be you.

But hey, you rest inside —

And WATCH me.