I'm feeling the desperation to hold and cling onto whatever memory and opportunity to create memories of the time I'm counting down to giving up this beautiful (albeit dysfunctional) home. I've known broken and functional simultaneously all my years growing up here, so deeply that I'm truly afraid of moving on to a healthy and genuinely functional life ahead. This desperation is causing me sorrow, the sorrow irreplaceable with any other home I'll ever have. I revisit every corner of this home as much as I possibly can. I keep reassuring others of the better days ahead and yet I'm semi-uncertain/semi-certain if it stands as true as spoken of. The place doesn't make the love, but it's the love which makes the place. If so, why do so many fall into the grave blunder of not letting go of places.

Twenty six years and I have never felt my dad ever relenting to sorrow until this day. Standing in front of him sends me waves of a sadness never describable - the sadness God gets, the pain and loss of probable goodbye. His ability to experience sadness with regards to being permanently physically distant from us has, for the strangest of unknowing reasons, shown me his depths of sentimentalism toward us. The fear exuding inside-out of him was fragile and vulnerable; something I believed to never live long enough to witness. This fear I saw, it was precious and endearing.

Amidst this (I dare say) very painful and difficult ongoing phase, it has been comforting to know that this is not about to lead to another dark episode. Having Ben's love and support has provided me solace and strength. In strangest ways, I see and feel God and His Godliness in my sweetest soul mate. Never has either God or Ben given up on me and released me to any form of empty abyss, in which I'm largely grateful for. I know Ben tries, and God knows he does too.

Ben, for the times you feel you weren't able to comfort me right, you were wrong. Your love has been the greatest source of motivation and love these 2.5 years. I'm stubborn, although not apparently, but my stubbornness is deep-rooted and sometimes I appear to take you for granted. Nevertheless, thank you for always being here for me - for being happy when I am and for being sad when I am too. I never have to feel the familiar utter loneliness again, now that I have you from now forth. Thank you, for the endless sessions of having to console or reprimand me. More than often, I never thanked you enough. So I send my perpetual thankfulness in writing, so that you will always be able to read and remind yourself of the great things you have brought about in my days, and most importantly, of how happy you make me no matter how sad I may be. I love you always.