Not again.

There are things in this world that we have no control over, and we need to accept that. The world is not build on your whims and people do not exist based on your discretions. Sometimes, we are put into situations where we need to learn lessons we don’t want to know, or accept things we don’t want to happen, or worse, let go of people we thought we can’t live without. 

Still, you find yourself repeating questions after questions and still, you never find any satisfying answers.

You were given seemingly endless years, inifinite moments, a gazillion memories with one person who promised forever, so what are you supposed to do when you finally reached your crossroads and you have to go the other way? 

How are you supposed to feel? 

Sad? 

Happy? 

Proud? 

Grateful? That at least, somehow, you’ve spent all your infinities and it was worth it?

Or maybe, hurt?

Because at the end of the day, despite the storms you’ve conquered together, it was not enough?

Are we really meant to repeat goodbyes after goodbyes for the sake of growing?

How many goodbyes are you supposed to hear before you can get used to the fading footsteps?

One person once said that, maybe, sometimes, the hardest part is not letting go, rather, it’s learning to start over. 

Why the hell would it not be?

Because how are you supposed to just throw away everything you’ve invested your life in and start from scratch. Again. Where do all those memories go? Where does love? Where does trust? And where will you?

I know it’s hard. Believe me, I know. 

But, honey, trust me, goodbyes will always be an inevitable part of our lives. And you can either accept that or repeat your questions to every stranger you meet and find yourself alone in the dark room.

I know it’s hard to believe, but, sometimes, goodbyes can be good, too. Letting go can be relieving and starting over, refreshing. You just have to focus on the good of goodbye and not last syllable of that wretched compound word.

Altschmerz all over AGAIN

If everytime you hear the harsh sound of your alarm in the morning, you feel your heart quicken as your brain snap out of its blissful trance from last night’s dream and begin to think of plausible excuses as to why you cannot make it work, but you groan inside as you stood up and make your way to the bathroom anyway, is it a good enough excuse to leave a job that seems secure and enough to pay the bills?

If you go through the day while daydreaming about another place every single second, if it is not happiness or fullfilment you feel every after the day ends, instead you feel rather relief or emptiness, would it be considered brave for running away from something that makes you catatonic?

If everytime you imagine another year of doing the same things, having endless unpredictable days, your legs weaken, your eyes start to fill up with tears, and you feel your anxiety growing inside you, again,  are you being mature if  you believe in your heart that a hazy future is better than the endless cycle days?

I am asking because I have no idea when the right time to let your feelings rule over reason is. I am asking because I do not trust that my brain is mature enough to come up with a practical solution to heart that has already forgotten what it beats for. I am asking because the future looks scarier than they’ve ever been before.

Foreign Language

​For a person who only have her words to rely all her problems to, it is quite frustrating to find yourself in front of someone dumping out her brokenness to you and realize there is not one word in your dictionary that can find all the pieces and put them back together. 

There is not one word that would fill up a gaping hole dug by something you have not yet encountered. 

You flip through the pages, shake the book hoping that maybe, just maybe the perfect word would float to you and you would be able to bring back a piece of someone lost to pain and heartache.

But how can you speak a vocabulary fit for a language you have not mastered?

How can you find the words for a language you do not understand?

Because of all the million languages spoken in this world, it is the dialect of the heart that I have not found the courage to learn.

Ugly Things Nobody Talks About

It has long been understood that the world is always only half-lit
But why do we still cringe at the idea that all of us have dark parts left unseen?

I want to tell you what it feels like to lay awake in bed at three thirty five, with a wet pillow under your head, replaying stories of your past mistakes

I want to tell you what it feels like to wake up into the darkness of your room, your heart racing as your whole body shook while your hollowed eyes created rain with saltwater

I want to tell you that sometimes, when the sun is up, I pulled the covers over my head because I don’t want to open my eyes into the brightness, scared to death I might end up being blinded

I want to — no, I need to tell you what it’s like to not look at a knife or even just a needle without wondering what it feels like to prick, to cut your skin open just so you can figure out which part of your body ached the most as you play a game with death

Why are we so thrilled to romanticize depression but look at others sideways when they reek of emptiness?

I want to tell you what it feels like to have finished almost a quarter of your life but still feels like you are not doing anything right, anything significant, anything meaningful

Why can’t we stop talking about the weather, about last night’s news and yesterday’s lunch dates but shut up when we are confronted with questions about our demons?

Depression, man, it’s like driving in the dark at night. You hear sounds, you feel the coldness of the still air, but you can’t see anything. And you can’t stop driving, so you light your car’s lamp to guide you through the road, but even headlights are not enough. Nothing really ever is.

Insomniac Muser

I don’t know what’s more lonely, being apart from the people you love when you’re struggling, or being near them but can’t even reach for a hand for support when you need one.

Insomniac Muser

The Dark Friend

The first night you visited, you introduced yourself as a friend

For so long I have always been in love with the idea of being wanted

I didn’t know what special means til you showed it to me in full colors

I showed you the nightmares that make up my shadows

And you always seem to know how to vanish away my sorrows

By whispering the words I needed to hear, you made me feel like I existed

You never missed a visit, you were a drug and I got addicted

I began to be apprehensive, waiting for school to end so I can go home to your comfort

You embraced me with hands so cold, yet you always left a tingling warmth on my skin

And that was enough to get me through the night

You were the best friend I ever had, I became blinded to your sharp teeth and clawed fingers

Until you grabbed me by my throat and choked me

I told you I couldn’t breathe but you flung my words to thin air, I began to question your motives
You kept coming back, even on the nights when I felt direly tired
I started avoiding your visits by calling it a night too early but you saw that as leaving

So you brought a rope and tied me while I was sleeping

I didn’t know this part of you, you were always so gentle

I didn’t know violence runs through your veins and obssession pumps through your heart

I begged you to leave, that I couldn’t do this anymore

But you forced me to remember

And that was how I realized the nights of your visits were always the darkest

We started a battle, to see who can hold out the longest but you knew when I was weakest

I was terrified out of my wits because I wanted to LIVE

And you, you were so used to fighting to death you won’t care who gets burned in the process

It was then that I realized I wasn’t your only prisoner, in fact, we were many

But you’ve led me too far into the cave, left on the darkest corners, I became paralyzed with fear

I wasn’t taught to ask for help and you took that to your advantage

I was so sure I am losing, how do you escape from someone who is never consumed by fire?

But it rained, and it poured and you were caught off guard

I could never have guessed that you were terrified of storms and I have always loved hurricanes

Thunder drowned out the voices you deafened me with

The strong winds, oh, it blew away your little demons that clung on my back

And everybody knew forest fires, no matter how widespread, will always lose to a little rain

The moment the fire died out, it was only then that I was able to open my mouth and speak your name