Masterpiece

I write not because I want to write about something… I write because there is something to write about.

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Feb.28, 2017 • 12:26am

The pain never goes away; not really. It remains with us forever. But what we have to learn is that we can allow it to blossom into something beautiful– like a work of art. Into something that conforms; something that resonates. Something that will reach out to others and make them feel understood…–to help make them feel that they’re certainly not alone. That pain can also build a connection. We don’t always have to force ourselves to let it go because it doesn’t always work that way, –when the scars were already there. We can only accept it. Accept that these things happen. We cannot know happiness if we hadn’t known pain. And we have, but only one way to ease the pain and live with it: To use it.

We have to use it.

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.

The Throes of Letting go

We fight hard to hold on. And then we fight even harder to let go. It’s hard to forget. But it’s sometimes even harder to remember.

August 19, 2016 • 1:01am

 To remember what you’ve fought harder to forget…

I attach on everything and I’m not even a Velcro. Or you could say that… I’m like a glue that even when I don’t want to, things just inadvertently go my way and stick to me. Convincing? No? Okay, I’m the one who attach on everything. Well, God help me!

The girl who attach on everything. –(Well that would suit me, I guess…)

I’ve always had a hard time letting go of even just a simple things… Like– deleting a phone message, because there’s just a funny convo on it; throwing away some probably crappy notes that was from the past years… or even just deleting a saved pages from some blog article that slightly became special to me, or that means something to me. Deleting random screenshots… Hearty quotes… even those creepy photos that I downloaded just to scare myself at night, and so on. So yeah. The list is just endless. It was kinda hard for me to let go… I hold on to even just small things that’s almost— useless and petty. But the thing is, I give importance to almost…everything. And almost everything has a meaning. Silly me because I sort of believed that every little thing might, or should supposed to mean something. I’m an over thinker and I can’t let go when I must. I’m sort of afraid of letting go, and throwing them because I always feel like I’m losing something. That I was losing something especial. Something important. Like a memory, or the sentimental value of it. It was always a trouble for me. A hopeless game of giving in and keeping still. It has always been so hard for me when it comes to throwing away the things that I should’ve never even kept in the first place. It took me so long to throw away even my old school projects. They stayed in my cozy room for years before I finally decided to let them all go… (probably just last summer this year). And until now I still have those old notes of mine that I use back in highschool. Old little toys, stuffed toys, dolls and more. When things mean something to you it’s really hard to let them go. You couldn’t really just throw it away like that; you just wanna keep it. Perhaps forever. And I become too fond of… every little thing. I feel like something has always some kind of sentimental value for me and that I should keep it. And whenever I see it, there’s always a memory attached on it and I’ll remember it/them. But that’s the thing.

Holding on to them so much is doing me no good. It’s not that healthy when I keep holding onto things that were already gone or that already belong in the past. I can’t go on and it’s suffocating me. That’s when I know I had to let go… That’s when I realized– I can’t make it to the front and go forward when I keep on holding onto the past and keep on looking back. My mind carries pictures of an old friends, voices from a loved ones, familiar smells… and nostalgic music. The faces of the people I used to know… And the flashbacks of a random memory… It never really helped me. It’s depressing as hell. Because then I’d realize, and I would remember. Remember everything. Remember even those things that I should’ve already forgot about by now. 

I’ll remember what I fought hard to forget.

I realized I was the one that’s been holding on so much…

I realized we can’t take everything with us. We have to let go of some, to get some. How can we go on if we carry all those heavy baggages on our both hands? How can we take another chance and opportunity if we still have something in our hands? How can we grasp those chances if our hands are still full of– I hate to say this but,– crap? How can we grab the new if we still carry around us the old ones? How can we get, how can we take if we are still holding onto something else? Something that’s probably, already, been useless?  

We have to let them go. We have to take it all down and leave elsewhere.

I realized we have to let go some of our memories, too. We need to free ourselves but we have to free them as well. That we also have to let go of ourselves. Not just those material things. I learned that you can’t carry another pack of weight on you if you’re already carrying a heavy one. If you yourself, are still full of heavy loads. I realized even memory also has an awful lot of weight and you can’t keep on bearing everything within you. You can’t; you’re gonna blow up. You’ll fall apart. You’ll break down. I learned that even if we want to, we can’t remember everything we don’t want to forget. We can’t remember everything we wanna keep. Because there’s always going to be something new. There’s always something to come; something fresh. And that even if we don’t mean to; even if we don’t choose to, and even if we don’t want to… there’s gotta be some replacement to the old ones… and suddenly, even if you don’t want to, you just forget about it. There’s a pile of new ones to remember and it overlays the old ones. We can’t carry everything with us and our brain get to choose what to keep and what to remember.

Memories are infinite but our mind sure isn’t.

I learned that memories are like the heavy personal things you always carry around with you. And you get to decide what’s for keeps because you can’t take everything with you. Because it has a weight, too. And you cannot breathe well if you have a lot of weight on your chest. You have to understand that you can’t carry everything — even memories. You also have to let them go some time. Because even if you want to, you can’t. We are not invincible.

Our mind wears out, too.

And just like what they do at any airports, there are weight limits to your baggage. If you have an overloaded luggage, then you know what to do next. To discard some of them and put it on the trash can. And you choose what’s worth to keep and what to let go…

You can’t carry an excessive amount of belongings with you; as much as we wanted to keep every memory we have in us…