Emptiness, I guess…

We let go when we couldn’t take it anymore. We surrender to life; surrender to our own questions… issues, and doubts… We give in to life itself.

January 27, 2017 · 1:58am

Sometimes we seemed okay… and we look fine. And everything seems to be just fine…

Until at some point, something hits you and you feel incomplete. You don’t feel whole at all. It’s just that… you’re suddenly feeling empty, and it surely felt like something was missing. Something went missing. It’s so strange; everything doesn’t seem to feel the same anymore. It’s like something’s not right; something was gone. Like… there’s something wrong.

We learn to live a life full of changes. No, I mean… we learn to live and understand that everything change.– and that includes our Life.

We are left on our own. With so many questions that’s ever more baffling than before. We usually pass up, without even understanding a thing… and then eventually give up. We let go when we couldn’t take it anymore. We surrender to life… surrender to our own questions; surrender to all the issues, and doubts. We give in. We… inevitably let it all go for sure. Let it go when we couldn’t grasp our own reality anymore. When we couldn’t hold onto our dreams any longer because it just seems so… unreal. –Ideal. We let go when we can no longer make ourselves believe. Our dreams were perfect, but we’re not. We, by all means, learn that maybe dreaming was just for kids. Oh, the perks of growing up. Or, should I say “downside”?

We are waiting for the answers that will never come.

We continue to seek… and try to find these answers we badly needed to know. And then we consistently ask questions, after questions… That leads into yet another question we could never ever get an answers for. Not even a single one. And frustrating enough, we just can’t stop questioning everything. But answers don’t seem to come easily… while questions were pouring profusely down on us like a fire bullets. It doesn’t seemed to have a sort of cessation.

It’s just that, not everything is all about the answers. But answer is something that counts. It’s something that we need. It’s the only thing that will make our sense to the world. Or, the only thing that would make sense to us in this world. We need answers just as much as we need to live, and breathe. It is something that gives sense to us; it is something that gives us meaning. But it seems to me that… questions were more likely to be served upon us than it is the other way ’round…

Until we eventually doubt everything. We could no longer believe at anything anymore. Because we can’t forever hold onto questions; we can’t trust every sign. We need something more substantial. We need something… real. Something genuine. We need some proof.

But it’s as if life really gives you a proof.

We hadn’t even been given any reason. Not choices anyway. Hell, we hardly even had a little clue. But we cannot hold onto something that’s fleeting… We wanted certainty. But the world has no guarantee if…– everything about it is.. passing through. We cannot ask for it to give us a steadfast life; and a certain reason, when all it knows was changes…

We cannot demand such delusional mirage from something cryptic like Life.

And then we drift, and we roll… and tried everything we could just to get that only one answer we constantly long for. And yet, all we found was nothing. There is nothing. But why the hell does it still have to feel like there has to be something? That there is always something. Something between the lines… There’s something that we can find from behind the walls… from behind the bars… from behind the ruins… from behind the iron gates. From beyond our very own walls.

Because we always feel like there’s something. That there must be something. There is something here for us… Something we can find.. Something we can have… Even something we can own, eventually. There’s always this something…-an urge. An urge to know… The urge to believe. The urge to hope for more… for something. Something that we could never even figure out. And then we end up longing. Longing for something we do not even know… Something we’ve never had. Something we cannot have.

From behind, and beyond the unknown.

Why the hell does it have to feel like there is something to be found behind the unknown?– If you just gotta believe, and be courageous enough to go through it… Or to be eager enough; and be determined enough to want to know. To learn… That’s what I don’t understand about the human life. I don’t understand why everything has to appear so simple, when everything was nothing but complicated. Why does it have to look, and to sound so easy and simple?  Why does it have to pretend to be something it’s not? Why does it even have to fool us? Or, — is it really worth it?

It’ll make you feel like you have to be brave, and face everything… because there is something so precious that’s waiting for you on the other side. Just go, do it. Have courage and do something because life will surely guaranty you for it; for your act of bravery. Like it’ll reward you for striving really hard.

And then we, fool people that we are, of course follow the path. And in the end, there is nothing. It made us feel like there is something waiting for us at the end of the line… and then we held onto it. And we strongly believed that there has to be… there has something in there. That it was true,–there really is something, after all. Something so real… something so marvelous. Something brilliant. And then we get there, and there was nothing. It’s empty. Until we find ourselves on the very same void that we had created, and imagined… Quite similar to the only thing that we found. Empty.

We continue being victimized by our own life. We continue gathering the answers… that we never got. I guess there really is just one certain answer, after all.


A Pang of Epiphany

We are what we feel. We are what we hide away. We’re not what we appear to be; we are what we kept.

​May 13, 2016 • 11:47pm

And then I woke up to the cold truth that I can never go back to the way I was; and how I used to be anymore. I can never be the “me” I used to know…And I can never become the “old me” that I’ve always wanted back. It’s just that…we have to wake up to reality that life doesn’t always go for us…not always “with us”. Most of the time, it’s against us. And we can only continue leaving the things that were already behind us…including the old “us” because life goes on, and the world spins; everything change…it’s not all the same. 

We are not the same. We are not the same person we used to be. We are not the same person we used to know. We are not these people talking to each other, waving their hands and saying goodbye. Not anymore. We are who we are right now. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. We are who we are today. And we continue facing each other like the way we face the mirror everyday. Constantly seeing faces, knowing what to say, doing things we do… 

But on the parallel opposite things of what we do, what we say, and what we see…is the contrary of it all. We know exactly what we feel; but we are too mute to tell, and too dumb to speak and say it. Too weak to talk about it, and too deaf to be willing to hear it…even from our own. Too scared to hear about it even just on the inside; we are too scared to open up. We just simply dismiss it, before it even get started. We are afraid to talk about things that might destroy us. And all those feelings we put behind great walls that we built for ourselves, were left untouched, unseen, unheard of…

And unknown.

It remained unknown to us; to each other.. Especially ourselves. It remains unknown to ourselves that we come to a point where we don’t exactly know what it is. It becomes so hidden that we don’t know what it really is that we actually hide. What it is that we’re so afraid of. What it is that we do not want to appear.

Perhaps ourselves? The real you that’s been buried deep within you… In the deepest and darkest corners of your own being. Kept in the deepest chasm…Too far away, from the rest, and everyone of us where no one can see it. Buried, that it’s been enough for it to die. 

But it’s still not certain whether it’s “we” that we really hide, or “us” or the real “you” or “I”. Because I sure as hell know we shouldn’t be using “it” as a pronoun for it when we know exactly who it is. Nonetheless, whether it’s who, whom, or what, it’s not really much of a big deal, actually. It doesn’t really matter anymore. Because in the end, it’s still a mystery… That in the end, it remains a mystery; no matter how much we try to seek for answers. 

Unless we decide to go find it.

They were kept hidden and sealed off safe. But they were there. Undeniably there. And it would only become obvious when a tear finally falls down our cheek. We are what we feel. We are what we hide away. We’re not what we appear to be; we are what we kept.

And then we keep talking to each other like nothing’s wrong. Like everything’s normal and everything’s fine; and nothing’s changed. Like it’s just same way we also talk to ourselves when we’re alone. Like the way we smile to other people is the way we are when it comes to ourselves. Or, like how soft and warm we are to others is the same way we do to ourselves. We act like everything’s fine. But it’s not. Unfortunately, it’s not. 

We’re just trying to be nice to them because we know exactly how it feels like to be hard on ourselves. We keep trying. We keep on trying to be better, so we can continue to live. But in the end, it never satisfies. It will only cause more ache and pain to ourselves that what we are trying to do was just not enough. There’s always a need for something. Something else that we don’t quite understand. Something that we do not know if it would ever come… 

We smile, we laugh and we live like any other human beings. But when the night hits, and when the moment of truth finally comes around again…There you are, falling apart. Screaming inside. There’s always something strange inside of you that comes back alive. There’s this something that breaks, — or even dies. It’s something that automatically strikes you every night; and everytime the dark crepts in…as if by default. We don’t know how, we don’t know why. But it’s just there…coming along from the past…from behind us.. And it would be remembered when it’s time for them to be remembered.

It’s just that…we’re not really looking for answers. Not always. But we are looking for a reason. 
Perhaps a single reason would be enough? 

Perchance, even a single one would suffice our seeking soul, that’s been aching and dying of hunger for a food that won’t really come..

And it’s times like this, in the stillness of the night…where I realize that, it’s not actually “we” that I’m supposed to be using. Because, it was actually, utterly, and absolutely, just… “I”

It was just me, after all.

Not we, just I.