Drifted in Solitude

You wanted solitude somehow and you have to find out why. You’re constantly going to be misunderstood by many but it’s okay. This is your life. So just go figure yourself out.

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June 21, 2016 • 11:31pm

And then it finally occurred to me… that they never, — in the slightest way,– will ever understand me the way I am– now. Or the reasons why I do things the way I do —why I do the things I do. Nor why I’ve changed, in so many ways… that is way too far from what they’d expected; or shall I say, what they want me to. Because people want you to be the person they want you to be. No, not the way you want yourself to be. They won’t let you. When you try to fly… when you always wanna fly, –but they won’t simply let you. They just won’t. They’d pull your wings down and would want you to keep yourself on the solid ground, instead. But that’s because it won’t really cost them anything if you ever fall. Even if you know how much it would cost you if you did fall; even if you understand. You know very well that it’d break you. Still, they’d drag you back down.

And then they’d ask what’s going on with you; what’s the matter with you. Or why are you the way you are now… What the heck is happening to you, stop acting like that. They ask still why you’re broken. And still, –they have no idea. See?  funny how certain people can forget so easily.

They’d break you, and then ask why you’re broken.

They won’t understand the anxiety and paranoia that you feel… They won’t understand the feeling of being alone even if you’re surrounded by them. They won’t understand the things in your mind or the voice that you hear. The silent screams… the deepest sighs. They won’t understand the reasons behind closed doors; or the reason why you’re still up till 3 in the morning — or 4, even. They won’t understand why it’s so hard for you to talk, or why you always want to be alone. They won’t understand that you don’t really have a reason for always wanting to be alone, but you just feel like it. They won’t understand why you don’t want to communicate most of the time or the reason why you don’t wanna connect with them. They won’t understand your choices.

They won’t understand why you feel so distant with them; or the reason why you don’t want to be close to them anymore. They won’t understand the things that you say or the decisions that you make. Or the way you move and the way that you talk. The tune of your voice and the expression on your face. They won’t understand the time that you spent,– and the days that you wanna spend,– locked up in a room. They won’t understand your silence nor your solitude. They won’t understand your aloofness and changes…

They won’t understand you. Not because of any fucking reasons. But simply because they can’t.

They won’t understand that it’s also because of them. That it’s because you’re so tired and so empty. That you’re so tired of hoping and getting disappointed over and over again. Tired of expecting something good from them and yet, getting hurt once again. And empty because you tried your all. All that you got.– all of your power… and energy, to hope for the best, or even something better, and expect in something good that might happen… But then again, being let down again. And then I realized…–And I kinda feel like, I’m doing the same thing that they do– expecting the things I hope for them to do, and hoping for them to be the person that I’ve made them up to.

They’re not the person that I want them to be; as much as they want me to be the person that they’d always expected me to. 

Life is weird like that. It doesn’t simply work that way.

We are doing the same thing to each other and I think I have to stop.

But they won’t understand that you are who you are right now, not just because of you.

But it’s also because of them and what they did to you.

Or maybe… it’s just because of time and inevitable change. Or also because of life, and what happened.

And then you’re constantly going to be misunderstood. But it’s okay, this is your life. As long as you continue trying to figure out who you are; as long as you never stop trying to understand yourself… and what’s going on inside you. As long as you continue to seek for reason, and meaning…

For as long as you believe that there’s going to be an answer, somehow. Everything you do is going to be worth it; no matter how messy. No matter how misunderstood you may be in the eyes of the crowd. Because you are. You are always going to be misunderstood by them. But it wouldn’t really matter by then,–by the time you find out why. 

One day it would all make sense why you have to drift away…–from yourself, from them, from those people, from your own life… Why you have to get lost, and wander around not knowing who you are…

This sort of seclusion or inexplicable phenomenon that’s going on with you is not going to waste; you’ll find meaning to this– in time. They won’t necessarily have to understand it, you’re the only one who needs to understand…–this, yourself. And your solitude is not gonna be in vain. You needed this to understand yourself,– to figure it all out… To figure yourself out.

One day, you’d find out why and it’d be worth it.

And I know you’re kind of just free-floating right now… but just hang on and…

 Go figure yourself out…

Wanting Nothing

When you can’t go on with life because you don’t even know what you want anymore. You have no idea what to choose when you don’t even know what to want.

June 11, 2016 • 5:04pm

I realized even dog wants a bone, a bird wants shelter, and the plants want some rain. How could you, a human being,– A life of its nature,– can never have something to want, or do not have any? I realized that you can’t go on with life without even wanting anything at all. We can’t live without wanting. We need to want something in order to live; in order to feel alive. How could you possibly live your life if you don’t even want a thing? Want to pursue a dream, want to achieve your goals; even wanting your wishes to come true. Want to touch the lives of others; even wanting to be held back. Wanting to have an answered prayers, and wanting…to live. You have to want, for you to live. It’s not being vain; it’s just being alive. It’s being human. The moment you stop wanting is the moment when you’re possibly, already,– dead inside. When you’re no longer interested in anything… When you no longer find it…appealing. Everything is just…dull. And bleak. When you no longer find yourself wanting. And living. That’s when you know. That’s when you’ve have lost it. When you lost the desire to want anything at all. When you’re not just able to want anymore; to want anything… When you can’t find a reason to want, — not anymore. Because it’s not easy. It’s the moment when you lost it. — when you lost it all. When it’s hard to want anything; when all you wanted was to…

And I guess that’s what I am right now. I can’t find myself wanting anything. But that’s because I cannot bring myself to want something… I’m just… empty. I don’t want anything at all. I’m just… a dead person inside. 

I don’t even know what I want.

I can’t go on with life when I don’t even know what I want. Let alone what to want –to begin with.

I am simply lost. And wandering…

Lowly Moon and Mighty Sun

And I will always be the moon who floats around; and wandering about…

June 10, 2016 • 1:34am

And you’re like the sun,

You shine so brightly up there. You’re so mightily beautiful, and so strong. You light up the whole world; and everyone can see everything because of you. They needed you, and they depend on you. I thought maybe that’s why the earth is so glad just sticking around with you.

And I’m just like the moon,

so far and so lone. I don’t shine as brightly as you do, every. single. day. I can only light up a little at night,– just every once in a while. I’m not as powerful as you, the light I emit is just enough for me to shine — for them to see me. But not enough to make them see everything else. I can’t light up the earth; I can only shine in darkness… and not everyone can notice me and be aware that I’m also there. When I shine, I can only make the sky light up ever so lightly, but not the whole world. I can’t make everyone look up to me even if I try to banish every star on my way just so it’d be time for me to stand tall. So it is just me that they can see. I can’t make a day for anyone, like the way they know their day starts when they finally see you. I would show up sometimes; and not everyone would care, and not everyone would even know I was actually there. Not like you, when they see the bright light outside,– they’d know you’re there; when the day starts, they know you’re there. You are always there. There’s no day you won’t show up, because if you don’t, they’d look for you and wait for you to smile again. There’s no day without you. You are so warm and magnanimous… you always warm them up. You seem so selfless. You are so fulsome and so great in every single way. That is how they feel you. They can see you and they can feel you. That’s the way they do.

I’m not like you. I can only be seen, but I can never make them feel anything. I can only be visible; I can’t come up to their senses. I’m present only to the naked eye. I am so cold and merely isolated; I have no power to warm them up. I can do nothing for them. While you are made up of fire that’s burning inside and out. Your soul is blazing with passion and firing up with love. While I’m just made up of stale cold air that lives in my own utter existence; a mere presence. A plain depth that contains nothing but emptiness inside. An all-out being that nothing comes alive but a grim and distant atmosphere. A vast space of void — the same empty space that wraps up my vacant place of nothingness..

And you’re enormously magnificent and excellent in everyday; in every way. You do not fail anyone; nothing can defy you. Whilst I am just a momentary event that happens from time to time. An absolute happenstance. I can only stay for a while, I don’t even last a whole time. I come and go, I can’t stay so long. I’m just nothing, but a being that’s going around here, coming from outta nowhere; going to anywhere… Just floating around, and wandering, and… fading. Here and there. While you light up the great big world with you, and the world is revolving around you…

You can satisfy the whole world by just simply existing. The earth is thankful to you because you are you… The earth is grateful because you are just there…not going anywhere.

Because you exist. 

You shine in the big blue skies… You stand tall up there; you shine with them. And it isn’t just you, but also because of you, the skies and the clouds can also be seen because you’re there. You are the reason. You have always been the reason, why everyone has a day; why everyone has a life. You shine even when everything around you shines, too. You shine even when everything is bright. You always, — always stood out. Because you’re the one who shines the brightest. Your light is what shines the most. I’m not like you. I can only shine in the dark. Without the darkness, I won’t stand out; I won’t even be seen. I cannot shine on my own. I can’t light myself up. Without the darkness, I can’t show up; they wouldn’t see me. That is how I am so dependent to the dark, like the way everything else depends on you. 

I depend on it; they depend on you.

They can’t go on without you; and you’re there for them. Always. And here I am, almost not needed. Uncalled for. Just a momentous happening that needed to pass through sometime… in times..

No air. No warmth. Nothing but a pure emptiness and a lingering solitude.

I can’t shine on my own light..
I always need the darkness with me; here beside me.

And I guess I can never shine as bright like you. As strongly as you do; I’m not like you, You’re the only mighty sun and no one can do things like you do. But I am not you..

And I can never be you.

Maybe One day

I’m not okay, and I want to be.

May 31, 2016 • 1:37am

I’m not okay and I want to be. I want to be okay one day.

Im not okay! Okay?

I fucking hate hearing questions like, “how are you?” Like, how am I supposed to answer that? Here– lost, empty, broken, exhausted, frustrated, burnt out, fed up, indifferent. “I’m okay” I’d say, instead. They ask you all sorts of questions like how are you, when you’re apparently not okay. Okay, maybe not. Maybe not obviously, but, come on! Because I’m not fine at all. Finding answers to that is depressing alone; much less bringing it up and remembering why you’re actually so depressed.

They’d ask something like, “how are you?” And then I ask myself the same question: “How am I?”

They ask those questions that drives you insane. They ask questions like nothing, and you’d find potential answers like crazy. When I ask myself the same question… like, “how am I again? “Oh, I’m miserable.” Whenever they ask me, I’ll instantly ask myself the same question. And I’m losing my sanity just to find answer to it. But I don’t wanna look like a fool in front of someone who asks me a very simple question. And I’ll realize immediately that’s why we have this term “okay” to answer just that; that is why I say “I’m okay”, we all do. But truth is, it’s not really that simple. That question is really not simple at all; it’s frustrating AF. As frustrating as math equation. It brings me paranoia. Like I’m really. being. paranoid. It stress me out; it’s not simple for me at all. It’s so complicated, tricky… so confusing. They’ll ask you how are you and then you remember you’re actually depressed, miserable and lost. It’s not fun to talk to. All it does is tear you apart, crush you and depress the hell out of you. That question only reminds you that you’re not okay at all.

But I understand the concern. I understand the good intention of the question. It’s the most noble question, the most acceptable standard a person can do. And the noblest of all humanity and of the human race. The most catastrophic yet the most basic.

I don’t hate people for asking me such questions. I hate myself for having no real answer. I hate myself for being troubled. I hate myself for panicking; hate that I’m getting anxious every time I hear it especially when I asked myself how I really am. It’s easy faking it to people, but faking it to yourself only makes you feel desperate than ever… It’s like any moment, my mind’s gonna blow up because I don’t know, I don’t understand and it’s killing me.

The question itself is killing me. My mind is killing me for having no clear answer; my paranoia is killing me. It’s. Just. Killing. Me. And every time,– it killed me. And every time it kills me, I die.– apparently, inside.

I wanna stop dying. I wanna wake up and know that I’m okay. I wanna wake up one day and know I am totally okay. And I know why because I’m fucking sure why. Because I finally know how it feels like.

I’m hoping for the day I’ll be okay. I’m still hoping for that day.

Maybe one day…

Life Like Seasons

“People come and go, in and out of each other’s lives like it’s nothing. So I don’t know how/why this should be a big deal.” – Lauren Barnholdt

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June 6, 2016 • 11:41pm

But that’s because people come and go.

“People come and go…”

Sounds so simple, isn’t it? But when you really think critically about it, it isn’t really. That. Simple. People seems to forget the drain and emptiness that you feel, and tend to say these kind of phrase to make it sound so simple… plain… and easy. People come and go. But, really? Is it really that simple? Or… easy? It almost sounds like it’s nothing. People come and go like it’s nothing. People love to make it sound like it’s nothing. Like, some kind of material thing that has a lower value than itself; or that it cost nothing . It sounds so cheap and petty. Because truth is, it’s just nothing, no big deal at all. They always make it sound like that. Same as “move on” or “let go” or… “Forget”. F^ck that.

And it’s times like these… where I’d think to myself, ‘these shallow folks do not really know pain. They don’t even understand a thing about it.’ And then my negative view, and cynical perception about them goes on… and on… and on. Again.

Wow. What a brilliant phrase it is that reminds us of how awfully destructed we became when left by the people that doesn’t even meant to last. Fantastic. Exquisite. I think I want to laugh… and cry. How pathetic it actually is that we hold on so tightly to them, and then one day… let go; move on, because people come and go. That’s all.

Unbelievable.

It drives me nuttier than ever.

So, what a waste it actually was that we spent most of our precious time with those people who were meant to be strangers one day. Who was meant to be yours for now, and then for somebody else’s on the next day. Or to be your life for now, and then, the causation of your destruction later. Or… the very source of your happiness today and then the emptiness of your whole existence, eventually. Or to be your world right now, and be the reason why you’d want to flee this very real world someday… What, Some people were meant to be by your side in your whole life… and then you’d wake up one day, and suddenly they weren’t there anymore, and never coming back? Because people come and go. That is all? I mean, just. Like. That? I don’t know what frustrates me more,– that people make it sound so facile and shallow, or the reality that it is, in fact, true. That I finally have to acknowledge to myself that it is one of truest thing of the few truths I ever have to know. That… it hurts to know it really sounds just like that. Simple and plain. When it’s not — when it’s really not.

That’s what life is about: People come and go.

We spend our times, — even the happiest ones, with them. And then we have to accept the fact one day, that they’re gone. That they’re off to somewhere we cannot go, let alone reach. That they have to leave us when the time comes, not because they want to, but because they needed to. That this life, isn’t meant to be lived forever. And that this, too, come and go to all of us. We are not meant to last to each other. At times, I’d think about how people come and go into my life. And then I’d think to myself, have I ever come to someone else’s life, or have I already go away? Am I already gone somewhere in their lives? I mean, how does that feel like to them, is it as painful as mine when people go and leave? But then I’d realize immediately that there’s in fact no one; there’s nobody, that I have ever involved my life with. No one.

“People come and go. BE PREPARED.”

People come and go but the mermories will last forever — even if you don’t want to. Even if you don’t prefer to. Sometimes I think it’s better when memories just die along with them when they leave, but they don’t. We carry those memories with us, until it kills us in the most unforgiving, yet subtle way than it may seem. Until we die, until we move on, until we learn to live again. Until we let go of them. We carry those memories along with us as we go through life. And so is pain. We bear those pain of the memories we had and pretend we don’t feel them. We hide and bury them within the deepest parts of us just so it won’t destroy us. But we can’t get rid of them. It’s borne within us and cannot be taken away, because even memories are part of who we are today. No matter how good, no matter how bad. We are who are today because of those memories and experiences.

We are who we are because of what makes us. And even though painful, that includes our past.

But people come and go. Just like days, just like time. Just like seasons, — just like life. Just like everything else. We cannot stop the inevitable from happening, we cannot stop changes. We can’t stop the world from spinning whenever we feel tired. We can only let ourselves go with the flow of everyday life. We can’t stop our wounds from hurting and bleeding, but we will learn to heal, somehow. We can’t forget the memories of us with them but we can always try to make new ones and hope that it will outgrow the first ones. We make new to replace the old. We can’t make those people come back to us but we can always try to meet new ones.

Welcoming what’s new.

Because people come and go. You have to know this painful truth about life even if you don’t want to; even if you ain’t ready. Even if you’re never prepared for it. To make new ones, and hope that it won’t go like a cycle… but it has no guarantee. Life comes to us very vaguely. And we have to continue living even if we don’t understand such a thing. And that’s the tragedy of living.

People come and go. We, come and and go. Everything is. And as much as it hurts to know the truth… Life, come  and go to each of us. And I think the bottom line is,

To never let your life be taken for granted.

“We are so important to some; but we are just… passing through.”

Inexplicable State

You can’t explain yourself to people. It’s either exhausting; or there’s no way out.

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June 5, 2016 • 1:43 am

It’s not strange when we hide our pain to ourselves. It’s strange when we don’t. It’s strange when we talk about it to others. It’s strange when we tell them. Because pain is a feeling, and is supposed to be felt. Just like love, just like passion, just like happiness or any other sensitivity we have inside us. And somehow, I find myself lost of words for it, I bet some of you too. I guess maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why we can’t ever explain it sometimes because it’s too hard for us to find a word to frame it when there’s no any. And it is because it’s a feeling inside, not a thing outside of us that can easily be seen, explained… or even describe.

Or maybe it’s hard because it’s hard to find someone who’ll actually listen, who will understand or who won’t judge. Or someone we can really trust, or who will feel the same way. Or someone who can relate, or who can connect with us. And sometimes it’s just hard. And I mean, it’s just plain hard — that is all. Sometimes when you feel all that, everything’s hard… But I guess maybe sometimes, you also need someone who can reach out to you and be there for you. And not because you want to. But because s/he can feel you.

I wonder how hard it was for us to bear all these hurt and harrowing pain inside us and not once have we ever tried to talk about it to anyone.

It must’ve been fcking real hard, I suppose…

I wonder if those pain would appear on our bodies one by one, and if we could walk around seeing those wounds or disease… Would we look at us? Or each other? What would we look like? A casualties? Like, a bloody wounded people that had just gone from a war? Or a people corrupted by a plague? Or maybe we’re people full of scars; we would never even recognize our faces anymore if we ever bumped into each other again.

I mean, pain is pain. No matter what kind of pain it is. We knew it. Whether a loss, heartbreak, agony, misery. — they all feel the same… regardless of the reason. Still tastes like pain. We’ll always recognize it when it comes; always felt familiar. It is what it is. I thought maybe if we could talk about it to others or even just someone, we would feel a little better; a little less alone. A little less miserable. But that was the point. It’s what making it stung even more. When you need one but there’s no one. Unfortunately, I’m not making any sense. I’m trying to make up a word for pain, but here I am saying it’s because you’re all alone? Sucks. But let’s just put it down lightly. Pain is what killing you inside — and it’s what will make you want to kill what’s on the outside.

I wonder how much we have endured just to desperately hide it.

We want someone who’ll gonna be there but there’s no one. Perhaps that’s what makes us feel that we are indeed alone. When we’re alone with our thoughts; alone with our feelings… and fears. It’s when the silence becomes painful, instead of peaceful. The chaos of isolation. The pang of oppression.

But we’re not that desperate. Or at least, we don’t want to appear to be. We don’t want to look like one. I know sometimes it’s because we’re just a little shy… or timid, let’s say. Or maybe because we’re afraid they would reject us. Or most of the time, we want to contain it to ourselves. We don’t want to burden them with loads of what we feel, when we know clearly, that it’s not going be so easy for them. To both bear and understand. You know exactly how that pain feels like and fear that if you share it with them, they’d feel the same way which is apparently,– not a good idea. Which is why you just keep it to yourself.

It’s not that easy to find a word. It’s not easy to find someone. It’s not easy to tell; not easy to talk about. It’s not easy to share. It’s not easy to watch them suffer for it; or with what’s supposed to be just yours. And it’s mostly not easy to keep it to yourself any longer either, when you know it’s already killing you. It’s. Not. Easy.

It’s not easy to cut yourself open and show them that you bleed. To open yourself up and expose your vulnerability… to show them every cracks..

Sometimes nothing’s easy.

But you choose the last choice — to keep it to yourself even if it’s killing you; even if it’s not easy. But to keep it inside you no matter what the cost seems to be a better option, than to cause harm when you share it to them and let them feel the same thing.

And If you’re a grenade and you’re gonna blow up at some point, I bet you’d never want to see anyone to pick you up and kill them, or let them die with you when it’s time for your inevitable explosion.

I bet you’d rather choose to be alone with it, as well. No matter how much it hurts anyway.

To be alone, that is.

But I wish I can tell you. I wish I can make you understand. I wish I can explain to you. But I can’t. I just can’t. I do not know how. Because how can you explain something you don’t even understand yourself? I cannot tell you not because I don’t want to; but because I just don’t really know how. I wish I can describe to you just how I feel… so that you may know, and that I may feel a little less alone, and a little bit free… So that you would get me, so that you will understand what’s going on inside me. But that’s the thing. I’m blowing up and I don’t know what to do. I do not know how to escape; I do not know where to go. I just do not really know how. I’m just simply lost…

And floating.

Sinking Deep

Abyssal thoughts… Abstracted mind.

June 3, 2016 • 11:50 pm

My thoughts are so distant. 

It’s so odd, so strange, and so peculiar… It’s taking me to places… — a space of nowhere. Into this unknown abyss. It’s doing me no good. It’s dragging me off the shore and pulling me down the deepest chasm. A place of the unknown. I am drifting away… Slowly sinking inside the huge gaping void; a gulf of solitude. It’s taking me in places I can’t be found; where I am so alone. A place where no one can reach me nor understand me… let alone why I’m here. These thoughts are locking me up into the isolation; and the solitary zone of emptiness… a world not my own. But the world I can own. A place I never knew existed; a place that hides inside me, a place where I came from. A place where I lost myself and still the place where I can find myself subsisting again. It was the flashback of who I used to be.

A place in me. A place for me.

A place that’s dark. So dark, I can’t see a part of me… a place for my sad, sad soul. A place where the chaos is coming from… and where serenity lies. The unfamiliar vast space that’s becoming a home. A home where I belong; a home I tried to run away from. A bastille where I’ve been locked up for aeon and the nirvana where I can find myself free. It’s the paradox of where my fear lurks and where all my dream lies… A place of the unknown where I know who I am and I can be; and where I become unknowable to others.

A place so fictitious…

A blank canvas. A place where I have the will to make it real. A land of my troubled disposition; and a cryptic mind. A house of my discontented soul, but a home for the coldest truth. There await the lies and the logic. The betrayal and the verity, the genuine and visionary. The place where I found nothing… and where I am nothing. The house for my nothingness. The space and the capacity of delusions and imagination. The place of reality, of my abstracted mind and subtle sanity.

A vacant space. An empty cosmos.

The home of my loathsome past and lamented heart. A wracked plans and obstructed aspirations. A place where I found my hope wasting away; rusting. The place where my declining life and broken dreams were buried long ago. A hollow; yet empty reservoir…

A memoir of my existence.

A vast hollowing mess… The abyss where I lost myself and the only place where I can be found.

A place so hideous yet the place where I’ve also found possibilities. A place so unknown, and yet the place where I can find the purpose and the deepest meaning. A place for chances, and peace… and hope. A place of ending and starting over again; a place for a great quest. A place of destruction and standing up and moving on… The journey of hurting, suffering, and learning. A place of hoping, and living, and surviving. A place for making things happen again. A place of changes and imperfections.

A place of realization.

A darkest space where I find the girl on the abyss.

A place so ugly, but remains the place where I’ve found myself free.