To Jonas


I sometimes wish I could travel through time too. Maybe go back in the past or see the future, but maybe I wouldn’t want to change a thing. And when you said how much of slaves we are to time, I felt it. Time is such a huge concept, something that many people has used as metaphors over the years. Time isn’t compassionate, you had said. And often, often people say it screws us. Maybe it is true. It always does.

When you felt angry at time and future and destiny, I felt you too. But your silence is so loud, you know, breaking borders and walls. The first time you came back, wearing your infamous yellow jacket, your face so devoid of emotions, I wondered how much of the grief you had tucked deep inside and how much of a burden you carried with yourself. Because like you, people have a habit of creating a shell too. They push all of the grief and emotions deep within them, creating layers upon layers and wishing it away. They think that it would save them, these walls, keep them from further hurt, but what happens when anger and emotions all spill out? When you cannot take it anymore?

Grief and emotions, like that, is so unnerving. You can do so much to save yourself from it, prevent it from settling around you, holding you in its grasps. But grief is inevitable, and it is all around. Your emotions always have a habit of consuming you from all ends. And maybe it is the want to break free from it, from the feelings of sadness that hinges at your soul from inside, from the sharp claws of feelings that rip you apart slowly, that made you take the hardest decisions. That made you want to change, fight. Selfish.

I wonder so much about why you did what you did. What made you – what pushed you over the edge? And maybe I do not understand grief like yours, maybe I never will. And maybe I’ll always keep wondering how and when and why people are so selfish, but people are selfish, right? People are and will always be selfish. Selfish for a taste of freedom, selfish to love whoever they want to, selfish to choose, to change their destiny, their future. Simply selfish to exist.

And you were selfish, but I could never blame you. You wanted so much; to fight back the world that took so much from. To have a freedom of loving, and your love was so big, Jonas. Your love was big and it moved and it wasn’t bad; it wasn’t a bad thing that you wanted the impossible, because you wanted to be with Martha, to change the future. It wasn’t bad that you thought of yourself before anyone else, and that even if you knew the truth, you couldn’t give up your life to save your father’s. It was such a loop, an ugly loop, and I do not blame you for choosing yourself first. Because if I were you, if I were in your shoes, maybe I too would have done the same, done so much to change the course of actions, to try and – simply try.

And you did try, didn’t you? To change your future, to have that freedom that you so ardently craved for, to find the origin, to save your father, to have a family, to love Martha freely. You tried so hard and maybe you did succeed. Maybe you didn’t. But you tried, and sometimes that is what matters. Our destiny, I like to believe, is written, inscribed. That no matter how much we may want to change it, our actions and our decisions always relentlessly influence our fates. Round and round we may go, but we’ll ultimately end up on that same stage that we were always destined to. You knew that. You always knew that.

Life and love are never a smooth ride. As someone once said, the ways of the heart cannot be explained. It truly does what it wants. That sometimes you want to let go of your past so desperately because it consumes you wholly, but it has a way of finding the way back to us. Because you never really let go of your past entirely, not always – it stays with us like the unconscious emotions and desires forgotten, unattained. You may think you can suppress your desires, your emotions, your grief upon losing everything, but it comes up to the surface, doesn’t it? It always comes.