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.

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.

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.

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…