Reasons To Be Alive

Why do we have to look for something that’s already there? Why do we have to be so lost.. and so broken when we can just let it be, and live life, and that’s it.

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It’s 12:15am right now, 20th of January, Sunday. In the middle of the night. Or, is it… Morning? Okay, whatever.

Reasons to be alive. Wow. What a very bold, strong and brave title for me, if I can say so myself. Okay. How, and what had ever come to my mind for me to even write that shit? I have no idea. It just… came. Maybe while brushing my teeth, earlier. So officially, this is gonna be.. I repeat, this is gonna be my first ever post for this year 2019. Officially. Gotta write something sensible… I thought. You came to here thinking I write something that makes sense but I don’t, and you’re wrong. If you read till the end, you’ll know that I don’t.

I do not write something that makes sense. I write my thoughts down, in the hope that somehow it will, but it doesn’t. It never did.

The reason why that very thought had come to my mind is maybe because I’ve been writing… And while writing, I’ve read so much about life, life… The meaning of life, and so so. It says “why do you have to search for the meaning of life, when the very meaning of it is just that: to be alive. So obvious and so simple.” Something like that… And I’ve figured, yeah. Why do we, fools, always have to complicate such simple things? Why do we have to look for something that’s already there? Why do we have to be so lost.. and so broken when we can just let it be, and live life, and that’s it. But it always sounds easier said than done, I suppose. I know the point of life is to live. But why do we search so eagerly? Why do we need the meaning? Maybe, just maybe… we are still so lost that we still don’t know why. Or at least, I can use the word I for this, instead of saying we. But you know, I realized… While brushing my teeth back there, and while staring into darkness, I realized that maybe the point of life is really just that. To live. To wake up in the morning and sleep again at night. Practically. Because you’ll die anyway. You die, regardless. You live and then you die. That is life. That’s the meaning of life. In the end, you throw it all out in the abyss because nothing’s gonna be yours in the end. Everything’s ought to turn into nothing. In the big, black nothing.

But that, that particular random moment… I realized, that maybe life means the kittens waiting to be fed by you, waiting for you to feed them their milk because some people are just plain asshole who decided to throw them out on the street when they are still helpless little babies and you are lucky enough to adopt them, and take care of them. Maybe it means the round, big full moon outside, waiting to be seen. Maybe it’s about the pile of unread books you still haven’t gotten the time to read. Maybe it’s the strawberry salt scrub in the bathroom waiting to be used up. Or some random people waiting to hear a word from you again. Or maybe even just the the bed. Simply waiting for you to lie down again, for the night being. I realized that maybe life is just that. To simply exist. To merely exist. That we don’t necessarily have to find so much meaning; to dig so much deeper to get there. Because we’re already there. We’re alive, and we exist. There is not much to life. There’s not much to life apart from breathing.

It’s been the 20th day of the year. Already. And I can’t remember writing something much of a content… or let alone, a bit of a sense back in 2018. Haven’t written much. All I did was post all the goddamn old notes I had, from about three years back. Damn. I’m getting left behind and couldn’t keep up with the time. Couldn’t take account on chronology. A year went by so goddamn fast, and yet nothing ever happens. But it’s always been like that… It always felt like that. I’d think, almost nothing had ever happened, but really, so much have happened. In fact, many things had happened. It’s just that, when we say, and when we look back at the year that had passed by, maybe it was a week or two, that we look back to; Just about what we remember last. We don’t really look back from the start. But as I lay here, now… I realized… I realized, time is still the same. Almost hypnotic. Will surprise you by the start of the year… Smack you straight onto the face and say goodbye by the end of it just like that. As if nothing happened. As if nothing ever mattered. One day, it’s the first day of January, the next thing you know it’s almost gone, and it’s Christmas already. Wow. Time has gone by like this. So long and so quick…

It feels weird. Writing along… And just whatever comes to mind, I type it down. Basically everything here is just random. And pretty much spontaneous. I don’t really hold onto things so much that’s why I let the spontaneous things happen on their own. Tbh, I have this… This blog of mine, which all I ever do was to post something out of date, which is pretty much the very same reason why I started this. I created a blog, just so I have somewhere to put my notes on to. All my blabbering… My whining on how shitty life can be. Nothing more. I created this just so I have somewhere to put up all the nonsense. All my nonsensical random thoughts… But then things change, you know. Some random people had been able to read this, and are able to read even my previous blog posts… And I still cannot call myself a blogger. I post… Old notes, okay. And I cannot call myself a blogger. But… it feels strange, in a way. Writing this, this particular one. I’m finally talking as myself, referring to me, as “me” not writing as, or being you, or I. Err… Confusing? Alright, I know. All along, in the previous years back, all I do was post in a sequence.. of events, phenomenon. Of random theories and random conclusions. Random musings.. and all that. Just… typical me, being me. I guess.

But… looking back, from last year. I was able to… I think I’d been able to do stuff. Was able to meet people again after years of not seeing each other. Was able to walk with them in those months, and was able to be part of making memories together. Was able to witness happiness in them… Through their laughs, and through their eyes. Had been able to have wise talks, and exchange good conversations with just about a few amazing people. I was able to see it all. Was able to feel the friggin’ summer heat in the earlier months of the year. Also been able to be away from home for like, five long months. And, had also been able to meet people. Meet friends, actually. Hmm… Online, I guess? I was able to meet new people before the year ended inevitably. And reading back to it now, I realized there are a lot of things I’ve missed. Simple little things that if only I’ve read well, I would never have misunderstood… But as I say, I’m a freaking klutz and I always seem to miss something. Oh, I remember there’s this someone who asked me something, and when I answered it, said: “why answering it so dumb?” but I’ve always been dumb, btw. I still am, actually. But that particular moment… was strange. Strange because I do not know if I would laugh or get insulted. So I got stuck with both. But I had to ask myself, “dumb, because he thinks I did not answer it seriously, or dumb because I really just answered it dumbly, and I just haven’t realized it yet?” And so I asked him. And he said, “Because when I ask people this, they answer, this and that” And I thought, Ah… So he got a quite different answer this time, maybe even for the first time? Or maybe he expected me to answer the same damn scripted answer just like what he always got? Either way, I don’t have the answer because I did not ask him after that. Like, would I consider it good? Or bad? I never figured.

It’s funny tho, how someone can say you are dumb or someone who can think you are amazing, or someone else says you are smart. I mean, I don’t know but I just find it somewhat.. funny. These… these versions of myself they have made up in their minds. My point is, I do not care; I couldn’t care less what they think of me, what they have inside their minds the way they made me up… But it’s actually also fun, too, hearing it from them sometimes. (I realized that) You realize there are so many versions of you out there. I mean, I don’t know… And I still don’t. How someone would say I’m “interesting” and I’m meant to ask them, “interesting… you mean?” And while realizing that’s just being dumb again, I’ll think. Think for myself. Interesting is something that is worth knowing. And interesting and worth knowing for me is, the Voynich Manuscript. The Lines in Nazca. The existence of aliens. History. The mysteries behind it. Stuff like that… You know. And then I’ll look through myself, and ask, “am I interesting enough?” And the answer is no. And that brings me back to why I had to ask them in the first place. ‘Cause I don’t think I am, why would you? Why waste your time on me? I mean for me, I choose carefully where, how and whom to spend my time with. I understood the merit of time, so better spend it into learning, and searching for something worth knowing. (If not conversing with people worth talking to) and that, for me, is interesting. As for them, for people, I don’t know how they come up with the idea of their “interesting” when they say that. How they make up their mind and decide something is actually, interesting. But then again, Life, — a matter of perception so it’s up to me, and also up to them.

But still. When people talk about something, I do not know what really, is this “something” they’re talking about. I mean, it could be anything… But I’m just not the type of person to do the guessing. Like, “I think we have something, do you think/feel the same thing?” That something I do not know about. I mean, is it because of the things I’ve said? Things I did? Things I didn’t? Were you surprised? I mean, I could say the same things to others, those things I said to you. Please don’t be mistaken. But that’s just gonna be either rude, or just another dumb answer. (I know, I know. We both do not know where this fucking messy blog is heading but I’ll keep going anyway) And I, myself, also find it amazing when someone calls me “amazing” like, really? Me? Amazing? How so? I mean, dude. You don’t know me, you don’t see me, how do you just made up your mind to that conclusion? Except, sometimes I’m just not that interested to know either (also except on the very rare moments that I do. I give a small damn to ask) like, how someone can come up and appear to you saying “this is the first message I ever sent to someone” I mean, what does it even mean? To have someone’s first ever text appear on your chatbox? What does it take for someone… to decide to message someone, or to decide to tell them that, or is it even a big deal at all? (Now I’m finding this interesting, huh nice) or for someone, asking “are you a cat person or a dog person?” I mean, is it really that important? How did you come up with that so randomly? But.. Looking back I realized, it was maybe just their way of approaching because they do not know how to say Hi, and I understood. I understood now. How someone’s comment made sense now than the first time I’ve read it and mistaken it only because I actually misunderstood it. Or how my mistakes, and how I mistakenly read something can actually help someone a little. (I want to remember those… remember those small moments of happiness even in just a fleeting glimpses of time) I don’t understand how someone can get intimidated by the way I write when he, himself is a poet? And I am nothing; I’m not even a writer to begin with. I write, yes. But that doesn’t mean I write good stuff like a real writer does. Like how someone can say you’re cute, without even seeing you and all you ever did was have a conversation online. How someone can say you’re a good and amazing person because you came back while that’s really the right thing to do that time? How someone can say that you’re finally getting better at writing when that particular one wasn’t even what you consider one of the best. How someone, can say that you sorta do magic and you always write something meaningful when most of time all I do was fool around? How can someone, some random someone would actually listen to the songs he said I “suggested” just because of my random blabbing of the songs on some random comment section and he’d actually thank me for it? I mean, how randomly polite someone can be… And what it took for him, to search a word in your language? Or… what does it take for someone to think of random “who” random crazy, eccentric person to think that he screwed up somewhere that I had to leave. When really, it’s just me being me. How can someone appear like they left because you left? Because you somewhat left them broken? I mean, how? How can someone be attached to you, without you being near them? How can someone find you a “joyful soul” or a “depressed” one? I mean how, what’s their basis? How someone could ask me, “don’t you have hope in life?” I mean, what triggers them, to ask such? And how someone can ask me about life… And how all I can think about is death. Because it’s just that, — death. When I think about life, I’ll think the end of it and there’s death. I can think nothing but death. When will you die, where, how quick or how long and… How awful it will be. You could think I’m pessimist, but really. I’m merely just a realist. But it’s not death that gives me anxieties; it’s the state of being alive. Not knowing what will happen next… And I don’t know how much it takes for people to actually like or dislike you; or what it takes for people to give their number to someone who asked randomly just like that, or does it really have to be a big deal? or how could you impact someone’s life so randomly in a snap. What does it take for them? Is it because I can’t feel anymore… I’ve been so numb that I no longer find anything to be relatable? Maybe… Maybe yes. As I’ve said before, they thought they’re talking to me but they’re actually talking to the dead; to a ghost. They’d think they’re talking to me but they’re actually talking to a corpse. Or maybe no, because it’s just me. It’s only me, being me. And this is me. I’m like that not because I’m lost or anything… But because it’s just the way I really am. Always numb, always neglectful, always oblivious, always dumb. And this is the thing I know. I only know how to be the way I am, and I can never know theirs. I will never be them.

I used to think… And used to absorb, and carry it within my heart, and probably mind, what Whitman once said: “I never ask the wounded man, I, myself, become the wounded man” but it is only now, at this moment, while writing this that I realized… John Green was right. I mean, I always know he’s also right; but not just as much as Whitman is… But yeah. I can never know these things. Of what people have in their minds. What come into their minds, what made them think such; what made them decide and what it took for them to decide or to do such. It’s 2:29 am now and in the end, I can only conclude that, and I can only agree that… Yes.

I must ask the wounded man, because I cannot become the wounded man. The only wounded man I can be is me.

This made sense to me, I hope it did to you.

These… Maybe these are my reasons to be alive. I figured, I have a couple of reasons to live. Just some good, wise conversation with someone. A really good book. Hot chocolate on some cold weather days… A very cool documentary to watch in the midnight. A clear sight of the stars. Finding some breathing and living souls; finding some random kindred spirits spontaneously. Fresh bedsheets and pillowcases and good music to sleep at night. These… are what I live for. These are my reasons to be alive, for now.

False Hopes

Everything is just going into hell of a repetition and I couldn’t stand it anymore. Everything is going the same and I’m stuck on the same pattern.

11:54pm • Sept. 26, 2017

I hate this Life.

I hate this fucking life. I hate my life and everything in it. And I mean, everything. Everything that’s happening… everything that’s been going on. I hated this fucked up life of mine. And above all, I hate myself the most. Everything is just going into hell of a repetition and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I swear, I’d give up any moment with just one tap on the shoulder. Everything is just the same. Everything sucks.– To which one day felt exactly like another… Everything is repeating itself. Day after day, week after week, month after month… Damn, even year after year! I am losing my mind and I cannot escape this hell! I’m so tired of this shit. I can’t do this anymore. Everything is going the same and I’m stuck on the same pattern.

I hate this Life? –such a cliché line, I know. But believe me when I say that I know how “cliché” exactly feels like. How frustrating it is? Oh, dear! You have no idea.

I’m so… so tired giving up each day and then trying to be optimistic the next day, because who knows what might happen if I just get at least a little bit hopeful… Besides, it’s what they all say. Hope. “Just Hope”. –It is something they all believe in. And it’s something they all hold on to, — to convince themselves to never give up because there’s that. Yeah, that thing.

And I didn’t know it then. I didn’t know that hope can be lethal. Hope is fatal. Period. I didn’t know that hope will kill you. Hope can kill you, when there’s too much of it. And that Hope, will actually kill you in the end. That it’ll one day turn into this kind of poisonous potion eventually… And while everyday you keep drinking it; trying to fill up your heart and trying to convince your mind… Trying to keep that dream alive. We drank into it. Into the idea that hope was some kind of medicine; a cure, perhaps. To keep our sanity. Insisting that hope will save us.

But hope have saved us.

From ourselves, from our own negations. From our own doubts… and fears, and our own questions. Just so we would shut up, and just Hope, instead. Or maybe we use it as a form of escaping… because we do not have the courage to accept and face what happens but instead prefer to hope for the better, if not for the best. Knowing we, fool people that we are, would accept anything the world tells us to believe. The society could’ve put stones in our mouths and yet, we would’ve swallowed it in the blink of an eye. We believe everything that we hear and see… But in denial to our own feelings. Couldn’t accept what we already feel. Wouldn’t believe all of which we’ve really had experienced.

Hope. Motherfvcker

It had killed us in the most subtle way… In a way that we, ourselves, wouldn’t even recognize at all. Hell, hope is even more cunning than a wolf,– if I say so myself. It was pretty unrecognizable to the point that we couldn’t even understand what was happening. We are blinded by the thought that hope, and only hope would save us. Hope is something we hold onto when there is nothing else that we can do. We subconsciously think that hope will save us, but it won’t. Only Faith, will.

We hope and hope… Until we wake up one day, and realize we’re empty. We simply give up and cling unto the idea of hope because we can no longer do anything. We thought it was okay to hope, and that it’s a normal thing to do because everyone does it. Everyone always hope for the best. Hope for the better. Hope for more. You see, that is our mistake; we put it all into hope so much and forget to do something for ourselves. — In our own. Forgetting that hope can do nothing for you but to keep you positive. To give you something that will fire you up to always keep you warm inside. Maybe the fault is in ours, after all. And not to blame it all out to hope itself. We made ourselves believe. We made ourselves believe so much… in which we, ourselves, had made.

Maybe they were right when they say that everything that’s too much is bad. Because hope has been a drug, for us…– or for me, at least. I took too much of it and got so high. So high that I couldn’t even remember what I did next. Maybe I got into a deep slumber and forgot to move on my feet. Maybe I enjoyed partying so much and forgotten how to go back home. Maybe… maybe it was wrong to hope. Maybe it was wrong for me because I had gone this way; Maybe I should’ve never took dose of that toxic pill of hope each time I was down. Because I never knew it’d only turn out to be like this. I should’ve let myself succumb into doom and let myself burn instead. Maybe it would’ve gone better that way.

But then I hoped because there is nothing else that is left for me to do. I can’t do anything to change it; to reverse my life. And if there is anything else that I can do, that is to hope. To hope that things would get better, somehow.

I hope one day we never have to hope. We only have to believe and then it will happen. But then that’s the thing. Because nothing really happens.

Nameless and Deserted Little One

So Darling, when you take it please bury it deep within the gardens of weeds because maybe then, it’ll grow roots…Maybe then it’ll grow flower. And then you can think that it is still alive.

Jul. 12, 2018 • 6:50pm

Sometimes sadness is so enormous that you feel it everywhere; in everything you do… That it can swallow you anywhere you go. It follows you. It’s always there everywhere you go. I feel like I can no longer write anymore. Or do anything on my own. I feel like… I feel like it can get to me anytime and I can do nothing but give up. I feel like I can’t handle this anymore. It’s dragging me down… and little by little I sunk. I do not know what to do… I do not know what to do.

I realized sadness is not a place; nor it is a thing. It is a feeling. And yeah, maybe I’m the only one…– the only living human not to know about that. And I, too, am a fool. I try everything… try everything to flee. But I cannot. I just can’t. It feels so heavy… So heavy that I can barely breathe. I feel my chest tight; as if some huge rock was onto it. This… this pain is so very unrealistic. Unforgivable. I feel like I’m going to cry, but no tears would come out. One moment I wanted to scream, the next moment I want to vanish. I wanted to vanish into thin air.

And then I can’t.

But if only I can, I would.

I am exhausted. Exhausted living. Trying to know what this life is all about. Seeking… Searching meaning and answers. But not even one would show up. I am deserted. I wish… I wish I could just die without any trail. I wanted to go…. Somewhere far far away from here. I wanted to go to the stars if that is even possible. I wanted to die with them. Even though I’m not worthy. Or maybe go to the moon; ask her why she feels empty. Be at her side; try to understand her. I wanted to lay there… Just lay there. With no gravity; nor oxygen. I wanted to die there. With no one to see me, no one to be there. I wanted to be alone. To die alone. I want to let myself be.

And eventually this tired body of mine will rot, and I hope there is no worm there… For I am scared. Scared of them. Always scared of little things. Of petty little things… Even scared of myself sometimes. Of what I can, — and cannot do. See, I am crazy. Lost my sanity a long time ago… Been like this for a while now. And I hate this. I hate me. I so so hate…. Myself.

One moment I wanted to go back to sleep, the next moment wanted to scream. One moment I wanted to scream; the next moment I wanted to see the stars and go there. That’s just me… Me and my insanity. I do not know how to get hold of reality anymore and I can’t stand it.

I do not know where to start. I do not know where to go back to. There is nothing for me here… This place is not for me. I do not belong here. I am… I am… Lost. Always like this. I do not know what to do. I’m always alone but why I feel so alone? Right now. I feel like my heart is breaking into million pieces… and I can’t fix it. But I love fixing things. How the hell I wasn’t able to fix my own heart? My own soul? How do I start? What do I do? Please somebody tell me what to do. I can’t even dare pick up the broken pieces, I’m afraid I’ll bleed. I am numb, but I still bleed? But I’m not afraid of pain…. The pain is in me. I am pain. And I hate myself.

I should heal this broken heart of mine but I’m afraid I do not know how. I cannot go around wearing this. One’s heart should be whole. Not broken; not shattered. I hope I can wear mine even just a half. But how do I share mine when it’s not even whole to start with? How do I love when I, myself do not love who I am?

But I should know who I am.

And that’s the thing. That’s always the thing. I do not know who I am, nor whom I should be. I do not know.

I just don’t.

And you, if you are kind enough to tell me who I am… Then I should give my heart to you as a reward. This heart of mine should suffice as the prize, like a worthy one.– as though it isn’t shattered; as though it’s still beating. And when that time comes, I hope you’ll accept this cold heart of mine even though broken. Even though dead. I’m sorry, that’s all I have to offer… For an insane, and homeless creature like me, that’s all I’ve got. That’s all I have. And I’m giving you all of me. So Darling, when you take it please bury it deep within the gardens of weeds because maybe then, it’ll grow roots… Roots that looked like veins. And you shall water it. Water it…

Maybe then it’ll grow flower.

And then you can think that it is still alive.

Living in a Blur

I always find myself meandering between “what is” and “what was”… I have lost track of time; I do not know where to slip into.

Feb. 27, 2018 • 11:48pm

Its crazy, isn’t it?

Wow. I still can’t even get a hold of the year 2017, and yet here we are… Ending the second month of 2018. Wow. Just wow. I am speechless. I can’t even remember posting a blog dated on 2017… I have, yes maybe. But that was 1 to 3, I think? All I did was post all I wrote back in 2016… I can’t get a grip of time anymore, because all it does is elude me. Slip into my hands… Leave me. I am hopeless.

Do you even know how it feels like? To be left behind, –by time? It’s horrible. Everything’s happening around me, and yet all I feel is like being chained into the past; being trapped. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I want to say it’s not my fault, either. But I’m afraid it is. I’m so lost and so unsure. But I am certain I was here, I was present when and while everything happens. But where am I? Where am I in all these? Those questions again… I always find myself meandering between “what is” and “what was”… I have lost track of time, — I do not know where to slip into.

I envy the people who has their own success. My friends, my acquaintances… My contemporaries. Some have graduated, some had their jobs. Married, got their own families… Some even had their children. Even if it was too soon. (At least for me) I envy them not because they already have a child; nor do I envy them because they graduated and already have their own careers and are stable now. I do want to graduate. I do want to fulfill my duty as a person who values education. But I don’t envy them with those mentioned success, or happiness… Whatever that is. Although, I do sometimes wonder how they do that. I mean, being happy and being contented with it. With what they have, or already have. Contended with the routine and their so called “Life” and what that life should be. You graduate, and then you get a job, and then later on in life.. you’re gonna get married and have your own family and then wait for yourself to get old while working yourself to the bones for your children. And then when you get old, you wait for your grandchildren to be born. And then wait for your time to die. I guess that’s life. That is the normal life. Maybe because I just don’t like the idea of, or being “normal” that’s why I wouldn’t bite to it? That’s why I couldn’t get the idea of being and doing the “norm” or how or what the norm should be like? I don’t know. I just don’t get it. But I envy them. Being contented and being happy with it. Being happy. I miss being happy. I don’t know how to do it anymore. That’s why I envy them. — because of their happiness. Oh, wait. No. I don’t envy their happiness, because in the first place, their happiness is not the same thing that will make me happy too. People are different, I guess. But I envy them simply because their life is happening.

I couldn’t figure out when, or how my life will start. But it already has started. It’s happening. It is happening now. But I couldn’t understand. It’s as if I was underneath the dark clouds; as if darkness has covered me… I couldn’t see the light. I couldn’t see anything. I have no idea. Sometimes I feel like crying, just out of unknown nostalgia. I still can’t understand myself one bit. It’s so frustrating… I don’t know how; or what I want, I don’t even know what to do either. I don’t know how to want, I don’t know what to want. I’m just so lost. Still so lost… Years have passed… And yet, that’s how it’s always been for me. I just stare into the space and wait for the wind to slap me. But there is none. All I got was just a fog. Everything is still a blur. I do not know what happened. Sometimes I’ll spend the night awake; just trying to figure out where the hell did the time go. But that was a lie. It wasn’t only “sometimes”. It was every time. It was always. It is often. I hope I can tell you, and explain to you clearly what the fuck does this blog meant. But there was nothing. Nothing I could say to you that will explain all the things that’s happening to me. But I can’t. I can’t understand it myself.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if I wasted your time. I wasted your time by reading this crappy shit. That’s all I can think of. That’s all I can say for now. That’s just how my mind goes. It’s all messed up. I hope next time you come around I can say something that makes sense. Something… Maybe something that will help. Something that adds up good into this world. But I’m afraid, there is none. There’s nothing. There’s nothing I can think of that will make just a little bit of sense.

I’ll just leave it like that. And wait for something. Just something... And maybe then, I can figure this shit out. But that’s what I’m like; that’s what I always feel like. Always having a lot to say… But always feeling empty at the end of the day. I don’t know how to break this spell.

To Occult Oneself

To be saved; to shelter myself. To occult myself. To live. To be. To become free…

October 5, 2016 • 4:35pm

I wish to unlearn the things I didn’t want to know. To forget the things I didn’t want to see; and the feelings I didn’t intend to convey. I wanted to save my heart, (if that was even possible) in the first place. I didn’t intend to know the truth about life… And these, unlikely lessons I’ve learned… I wish to get off of my mind. But I know life doesn’t work that way. And I know… deep, beneath my dilapidated, and teneous soul… Reality will always come hovering to me; with its bitter sensation that even if I badly wanted to dream, I will wake up in its cold arms… Reminding me that I was once a Dreamer, but the world is a great mess that I had to become a Realist.

I wanted to… I wanted to shroud myself, if I was able to. To shelter my heart; and let it be. Even if it means being naive. I used to know what innocence was. I knew it the moment I realized I am no longer… It was like being a kid, accidentally witnessing the war in the battleground… with so much wound… and blood.. and casualties. It was like… it was like instantaneously taking away the humanity in you,– the humanity out of you; right in front of your very eyes. It was like stealing your very own freedom from you; stealing your chance to live a peaceful life. — Your one and only life… Taking away that chance to live in your own truth, — the truth you thought was true, instead of slapping reality to you. The life you chose to live… The truth you choose to believe. Let me believe a lie, instead. — I’d probably say. I wanted to conceal, to cover, and hide myself away from all of it… I’d protect myself from it — I really would. If only I could.

I… by all means, would really hide myself away from the world had I had the chance to. But it’s as if you could really hide away from Life. You cannot escape life, I’d known it by now, at least. No matter how much you run; or where you run to, it cannot leave you. And I know, deep in your heart… you are screaming, and crying out for help. Because I do, too. There are days when I do not know what to do… I do not know what happened; I do not know what will… I do not understand a thing. And I just keep sinking… and sinking… Until nobody can reach me. There are days like that… where I just keep on floating… and drifting away; I do not know how. But I just… — all I wanna do was stop. Breathing. And existing. I want to disappear. I want to go away. Far… far away… – where no one can reach me. No one can know me. No one can see me. — Because that’s me. That’s who I am. And I am alone. Sometimes I wish I’m not; but I am. I wanted to be gone, but I can’t.– I do not know how. 

And I know what’s next. I know just how it’s gonna be. I’d wish… and wish I hadn’t known a thing. About life… about the world… and everything in it… How fleeting life can be… How much pain you will bear… How many people will leave… How much everything can change; how much everything is… How much lie can sustain the truth… How much of yourself you will leave behind; how many pieces of you can you lost… How much everything can go wrong… And how much of it was your own fault. How much people can die from such unwanted tragedy; how much life can be wasted. Yeah, just things like that. I’d wish. And wish. But no amount of wishes can ever grant you the truth or the lie you wanted. Reality is here, and it’s what will stay. It’s what will remain at the end of the day.

And reality, no matter how much can suck, is what will be there for you… even if it’s not what you wanted. Even if all you wanted was to live your own fantasy and stay there; reality will wake you. And Life, no matter how cruel, is something you will have to live, and have to deal with the most. — it’s what will subsist. 

And even though painful, realization is what will last forever. Something that’s real…  Something we did not thought can be. Something that hurts… Something that will wound us profoundly; something… that will scar us forever. Something that’s epiphany. 

I wish I could go back… And unseen what I have happened to see… To turn back time… To turn everything back and become okay again. –To make everything okay again. — To finally be okay again. I wish to unfelt everything… I have ever felt; to take off all the feelings I had to bear but did not choose to. To unlearn those things I did not ever mean to know. To… to become unmindful, perhaps, — of this becoming of the world that I hadn’t even planned. To become free of all this grown-up shits.

To become innocent again. To become free of all this misery. To become unaware; instead of always trying to go back to the past and wishing things didn’t happened. To be saved; to shelter myself. To occult myself.

To live. To be. To become free…

Transient Memories

Transient moments. But so are memories. Catch the moments; and keep the memories. We should start living in “nows”.

August 4, 2016 • 1am

​As we take on the journey of going away… we take those memories with us. – Scraps of memory that makes it whole. Flashes of the places you’ve seen; the presence of the places you’ve been… The faces you’ve seen; the strangers you met… The people you had known along the way; and along the journey.

Our memories contain every little thing of what we know; and what we knew. Every little bits of what happened; every little significant moment. Flashes of smiles… sound of the voices… echoes of laughter… The atmosphere of the place..– the sight; the aura. And the smell. — specially the smell. Well I don’t know about you, or if it’s just me, but… I sometimes find a certain smell very significant at some very eloquent point. For me tho, the sense of smell is… very nostalgic.– Perhaps the most nostalgic next to sound. (Have you ever experienced that? — You smelled something, and suddenly it felt some sort of déjà vu? Suddenly it reminds you of something that smells like something else… and it brings back a thousand memories. Or… does that even make sense to you? Okay so maybe not, but for me it does tho. So…)

But then you won’t remember everything. You won’t remember everything you’ve seen; nor everything you heard. You can’t remember all of it. But you will remember what you felt. You’ll remember what you felt at that very moment. How amused you were… or how happy you had been that day. You’ll remember the rush you’ve felt… or even the anxiety you’ve had. 

But I guess our brains automatically throw away trashes that are never needed… It automatically washes away the junks and dirt that can clog the space for the nice and good ones. –Good memories that are yet to come; and yet to be kept. And I guess it’s a good thing, after all. Automatically leave the unwanted and replace by the good ones.

I don’t remember everything… But I do remember, indeed. I remember scenes on that precise moment.. that are now belong to the past. It’s crazy tho, trying to recall it all… It all seemed as though it happened only yesterday, it always felt like it. Things always turn out like that. It. Always. Does. You remember them one moment, and suddenly it’s pouring down on you like a goddamn waterfall. And it’s actually rather nostalgic, no matter how random. Not because you wanted to go back but because it’s just there; sucking the life out of you. You’ll remember how many things had happened from then on… how much has changed, how long it had actually been when it still feels like only yesterday. You’ll remember how fast things can happen… how fast things can change. And you’ll remember where you are. And it’s just crazy, but as long as it reminds you of some happy moments; no matter how seldom,– it somehow becomes ‘worth it’. Because it’s something to treasure, at the end of the day, — maybe even at the end of time. It is still worth remembering. You won’t remember everything but you get to keep some of those that are worth saving in your heart,– if not in mind.

Our life moves in a constant oscillation; and I sometimes get shocked with that, every time I think of it. Our life moves past our very eyes without us, –even noticing almost anything… but the moment we sit in silence; and in total darkness… we’d only then realize that everything has changed. Everything is happening and it feels like you’re not doing anything. Our lives move as much as our planet does; I sometimes wonder how we deal with that. With the fact that… one day feels exactly as another; but then you’ll look back and realize that a lot has changed. Everything is happening all at once and you can’t keep up with everything. We are dealing with life by keeping ourselves busy. — eagerly convincing ourselves that, we do really have a life. We keep ourselves sane by pushing our anxieties away and keeping our minds on track. Even when we’re most likely aware; but prefer to be just oblivious… Even when we know that we are in fact, on the verge of insanity. — Or better yet, we already are; but just hated to admit it. We don’t admit that we are crazy when the truth is, everything makes you crazy. — Everything – happening all at once. Everything – passing through. Everything – falling apart. Just that… Everything. Everything makes you crazy. And everything makes you wanna run away and leave this world. — Perhaps escaping this mundane world and live on another star.

But all we have is moments. And memories. And it’s all we’ll ever have.– One moment at a time. I’d love to say, — a beautiful life, and a fairy tale, and a beautiful story… but I’m afraid, it’s all we’ve got. Moments come with us in a very ephemeral way. In such a way that almost like a touch of a wind; a momentary chilling breeze… or like a falling leaves in the autumn season. And I think that we should catch some; if we get some. — Bring it home, and keep it within the pages of your favorite book, or perhaps your most precious journal.

Moments are worthwhile in itself, not because it’s fleeting but because it’s all just passing through; you can’t catch some, without letting go of some. You get to decide what to pick; you choose what to get.

We can’t take everything in us. We can’t keep everything in our memory. But we can always remember how we felt.

Our feelings never forget.

Constant Melancholia

You thought emptiness is safe, you thought emptiness means not having to feel anything at all. You thought emptiness is numbness. But it’s not.

July 14, 2017 • 1am

I don’t know why, but there really comes a time like this… where I just feel really empty. Not knowing why; nor how… My mind just takes me into this seemingly familiar, yet lonely state. Or perhaps my heart does. Or, my soul maybe? There goes that kind of time again where all of a sudden, I feel so lost in the middle of the night… While the rest of the world falls asleep; and where everything seems to be so calm… and peaceful. And where all I was supposed to do was to rest my mind, and ease my soul… but where my heart felt otherwise. There’s that feeling again, that I’m suddenly so lost. And wandering. In the middle of the night. Or that same toxic sensation where I strongly felt that I had just lost something..

Something so precious. Something very important.

And then it won’t cease. And until I’ve gone mad again… –it just wouldn’t stop. It’s ruthless. I felt so powerless– so powerless over it. Can’t even do anything when all I wanted to do was to scream. And not being able to just adds to yet another feeling of desperation. And helplessness. It’s so frustrating. It keeps on making you remember something that felt like happened a century ago… Happened a long time ago… Something, — something that’s already been forgotten, but hurts still when remembered. A pang of something that aches. Of something that lives inside you… and it rests right into your chest. And there, it resides very coolly. Something so nameless, yet so powerful… and painful. Something that’s hard to forget, but even harder to remember. 

There goes that feeling again where it’ll make you feel like you have to know the answer; you have to find something. That something you don’t even know the name. That something you do not even know what to call. But it just aches there; inside your chest. Something you can’t… comprehend. Something so far… far away, yet felt so near. Something that causes you too much nostalgia. Something that never really goes away and keep giving you constant melancholy. It’s just there. It never really goes away. Not after you cried your heart out. Not even after a river of tears. Yes, –not even after crying senselessly. Hopelessly. Helplessly. That pointless and nameless tears you don’t even have an idea what for. It’s just frustrating as hell. You’re crying for no reason. Crying for nothing. You’ve always been a fool like that. It’s so exhausting. Nights always seemed to gone by like this. Without any warning, without any further sign, suddenly you are being dragged in some kind of otherworlds. Where everything is all about sadness, pain, melancholia… nostalgia, and despair…. — Also known as memories

Everything is just… unclear. But you feel it all too well. – all too well. The emptiness? Oh, you’ll never know how much the emptiness hurt; Until you feel that lump in your throat suddenly choking you… Or that pain in the chest you feel when you swallowed the coffee suddenly, not knowing it’s still too hot. Or maybe you know that feeling of drowning? You keep on kicking; keep on trying to hold onto something but there is nothing to hold on to. And you just keep on sinking… and sinking. You thought emptiness is safe, you thought emptiness means not having to feel anything at all. You thought emptiness is numbness. But it’s not. I hope it is; I hope it was. I hope it was that easy to deal with it.– Hold your breath, this is going to be painless because you’ll no longer feel anything.

But the opposite always happens. It is always the contrary of it all… Ironic, just like life. Too cunning to even notice at first, but that is just the way it goes. You thought it’s going to be forgiving, going to be a little easier than it used to. Until you realize it was unbearable. Until you feel it, and know it all. Emptiness is the kind of pain you don’t even believe at first… But it will wreck your mind and kill your soul. It’ll burn you, destroy you in the most subtle way possible. — The kind that’ll take away your sanity. It will leave you nothing… but emptiness. The kind of pain where you just stare into space, not knowing what to do; let alone have an idea what’s going on. The kind where you just kind of drift… here and there; Floating in the middle of nowhere. It’s something like that. It’s as though you’re under a blackspell… where you can’t do anything but you feel it. You feel it all…

And all you can do was endure.

There’s that kind of awful feeling again where I’m faced with these unknown melancholy. Where I felt like searching… Searching for something that cannot be found. That same old frustrating sensation where it almost felt like grieving for something; for someone, that went away. Someone who left without a single word and without any trace. The kind of loneliness where you’re not necessarily sad, but you just felt dying inside. That unending pain you never understand where it’s coming from; or when it would stop. Or whether or not it would. It actually hurts like hell. Because you don’t understand a thing and you just keep dying and dying. You just keep feeling it all when all you wanna do was to stop feeling that way. Slowly, but surely… you are getting empty inside. That desperate moment where you just can’t help but wonder; trying to find an answer… but then there is nothing. And it hurts because you can’t make something out of nothing. And in the end… somewhere along the way, you just let the time decide and surrender it all in its own hands… And you let the night claim you because one way or the other; you still lose your mind in the process.

It’s always been like that for me. Just like tonight. Trying to write this, trying to make up what it is. Trying to make sense of what’s going on; what’s happening… But in the end, that feeling of loss, pain… and oppression of something that I’ve lost; something that I’ve left behind…

It always goes down to one thing.

One person. One subject.

— One girl.

I’ve lost myself.