I just can’t seem to stop living because I’m strong. — so Strong so hard to die.
And I’m not even a cactus to begin with. Even cactus needs to be treated properly; it needs to be taken care of. And I’m also not even a wildflower. A wildflower is still a flower, no matter how wild. And a flower is always beautiful. No matter what it is.
But I’m like a weed. A grass of weed. Just leave me there and I’ll grow on my own. You can always try to cut me down,– but I’ll persist anyway. I always will. I live. I exist, no matter what. Even when I don’t want to. I just can’t seem to cease living because I’m too strong. –Strong. Too damn strong.
So strong so hard to die.
Life is strange. You remember what you badly want to forget and forget what’s meant to be remembered…
Oct. 15, 2018
Life is strange. You remember what you badly want to forget and forget what’s meant to be remembered. You always keep what you mean, and say what you don’t instead. We fill our lives with all the nonsense… all the meaningless things. Even if we meant well, we cannot do it.– nor say it. I wonder what hinders us,– what’s keeping us from doing what we really want to do, and what we really want to say.
But such is Life, and such is Irony.
“Everything that’s broke — leave it to the breeze. Let the ashes fall… Forget about me.”
Feb. 28, 2017 • 12:05am
And then everything is constantly changing… Suddenly, everything is slowly drifting away; gradually. We cannot brace them, tie them, or keep them as ours. We can always cry and complain, but none of these will ever make them return back to the way they used to be. Because this time, whether or not it’s what we really choose… we only have one choice:
To let them go, and let them be.
I write not because I want to write about something… I write because there is something to write about.
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.
I would always remember it all– the random barks of the dog from the neighborhood; even the silent, whirling sound of the wind, the plane, the crickets… And well, I hate to say this– but yes. The sound of my beating heart.
Oct. 19, 2016 • 1:22am
And in times of me, being alone; as I lay here on my bed, in the middle of the night. And while the sun is still deciding whether or not it’s going to come out soon, because technically it’s already dawn but then again, it’s not morning yet… But here I am and I would always remember…– Remember everything. Remember it all too well. Every little thing that had complemented my disoriented soul and utmost loneliness. I would remember the crickets chirping from the outside; The sound of the plane while penetrating through the clouds… and the stars splattered in the sky. And then the air; –my only companion. I’d remember what was there. I would always remember it all– the random barks of the dog from the neighborhood; even the silent, whirling sound of the wind, the plane, the crickets… And well, I hate to say this– but yes.
It’s just that we grew up and we grew tired…
Oct. 21, 2016 • 1:55am
It was perhaps what you feel towards me is quite understandable. — Bona fide, even. The way we’ve been so distant, it seemed. And you cannot go wrong concluding that change has took over me. Change is in fact inevitable; and there’s not much to figure out as to why I turned out to be this cold.. It’s just that we grew up and we grew tired. Probably of endless falseness, insolence and torment that is always served upon us by this vast orb we call world. It’s not my fault I live in a world that loathes over a flaw such as ours. And it will take you some time, or even a long while, to fathom what had really given me this notion and perception of a life I have just depicted. Maybe even a lifetime for you to know, that you’ve been just one of those who put me through this kind of frigid isolation; and you just haven’t seen it yet.
…But it’s either you break free from the mold; or live the rest of your life inside that jar.
Oct. 19, 2016 • 1:55am
Change is such a painful process of peeling away your mask and revealing your skin with some parts of it being torn away; lingered onto what has left it and leaving you broken. It is both heartbreakingly overwhelming… and extremely terrifying. But it’s either you break free from the mold or live the rest of your life inside that jar.