Excerpt from my future diary on my first heartbreak

​I am tired of second guessing how much I exist in your life because that is one thing you never made clear. When we’re together or talk on the phone, everything is just so confusing. You keep telling me how you appreciate me and thank me for all those dark times when I became your light, but apparently, you never cared enough to think of me first, to dig deeper into my soul and know about the demons I sword-fight with everyday and the things that make up the cracks in my  darkness for the light to seep in. You keep telling me I know you too well but I’m not even sure if I can say the same thing about you.

I’m tired of being an afterthought all my life. Now there is someone who’s willing to put me first but damn me because I keep choosing you. I keep choosing you even when I know I will always be your other option. I keep choosing you even after how many times you’ve made clear that I’m never gonna be a priority in your life. I keep choosing you even after how many times I’ve taught myself to let you go. I just keep choosing you and fuck me, because I can’t even force myself not to..

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.

In the Moment Outburst

Sometimes I wake up with a question, ‘What have I been doing in my life?’ And everytime, I’m always at a loss for words at how hazy and endless the road I am taking have become. I was so sure that there was a point in my life that I know, that I am confident to where I want my life to be headed. Surely, I was not this scared, this hopeless and lethargic before. But suddenly everything seems to be black and white. Every mistakes seem to erase all the good that I have done. I don’t know where I belong and I definitely have no idea where I want to belong. I just know I want to belong somewhere

Lately, I have been losing my focus at work, wondering everytime I make a report or snip some shapes or mix some paints if this is what I want to be doing for the rest of my life. Wondering what I was thinking or what I was feeling when I signed up for this. 

I am not a good singer, nor a dancer. My walk has always been crooked, my fashion always a little outdated. I don’t want to be the center of attention. I am never good with numbers and it has long been established that a writing career is not a viable option. To add salt to the wound, I just found out that I am not good in teams. So, what? Where?

Where can I find sanctuary to a heart that have never learned to be sure?

September 26

How old do you have to be before you can finally say you understand the etiquette of life?

I am currently stuck between wanting to shout to the world that I deserve to be treated special too and keeping the pretense of being nonchalant to how other people value me.

I have turned a year older today and I thought  as soon as the clock struck 12, I would be given the wisdom and strength to finally make sense of the world. But I’m still as immature as fuck.

How big is the difference between growing up and growing old? Because I think I’ve been doing a lot of the latter but can’t even make progress with the former.

How old do you have to be before your youth expires? Before people or you start putting pressure on yourself to shape up and plan your life? People told me that maybe I’m too hard on myself sometimes, but where is the line between being happy-go-lucky with age and being serious about the future? Where am I in that line?

How does one sychronize growing up and growing old? How do you make tequila out of lemons when you were only taught to make lemonades? And lemonades can’t satisfy a body that is growing old. Not anymore. It needs a stronger booze but that also meant a mountainful of something to regret. When do we stop treating life as a party? 

When do I unlatch the hinges I placed between me and other people? When do I stop looking for approval and assurances from people ? When do I stop being disappointed at them for giving them too high expectations? When do I stop asking if I deserve someone who’ll throw away their life so I feel better? When do I stop being selfish?

When do I stop living with my nose stuck in a useless book, or being blinded to my own perfectly arranged piece of work?

I left my teenage year with a lot of hopeful questions, now I’m throwing myself into the unknown with questions I know I should stop seeking answers to.

Am I hopeless or just impossible?

Thoughts of an Unsocial Being

​For the rest of our lives, we are forever going to be slaves to the fact that we are social beings born with curse of always needing people to clean up our mess after we fall apart

Others may be lucky enough to find one willing to do just that for the rest of their life, but some, some are strong enough to defy that curse and live a life in a satisfying solitariness

Then there’s me.

I wonder how they did it, both the lucky and the strong ones, I mean. 

How the lucky ones could afford to invest so much of themselves to other people, that these people would be willing to be there for their shit. How they surpass their own insecurities and uncertainties to be also the kind of person who’d be willing to be there for others for the filthy parts.

And how the strong ones survived alone amidst all the lions and the bears ready to pounce on them when they turn a blind eye. How they manage to make it out of this dark, haunted forest, full of the unknown and the unseen, alive.

For a while there, I thought I was one of the strong ones, only I never managed to get out alive. I barely even made a step before I hear a fallen branch break, and I cowered back to my hole. 

Then people started appearing, and the dark forest was suddenly brighter. Too bright for me, in fact. I didn’t know how to handle a forest full of them so I started cutting trees. I was convinced I didn’t need them anymore because I’ve found better replacements. 

We started paving our way out of the woods, but halfway through they believed I was strong enough to brave the darkness, so one by one they left. I stood there, aghast, as it suddenly began raining. I hugged myself against the cold and started reminiscing about the trees I thoughtlessly cut when I was surrounded with impermanent beings. I moved forward, missed a step and gasped as I sprained my ankle.

Despite the fear and the broken feet, I cotinued the path we were taking before they left. I finally understood how the strong ones, weren’t really strong, they were just abandoned people left with no choice and an agonizing instinct for survival

People continued appearing, but they shortly also began leaving. I thought I’ve lost it in me to hold on, but some people are just too hard to let go than others. I’ve finally seen the light at the end, but I still wasn’t sure if I will be ever ready for that. Because I was still waiting to be one of those lucky few.

But the light is enticing and I suddenly felt the need to be urgent. Now, I’m left with a question, do I deserve to have someone clean up my shit or am I only meant to burn shrouds for the relationships that died along the way?

Typical Day of the Almost Lost

​Wake up at six thirty, sleep at eleven, and routine work in between.

My life was a running record until I accidentally pressed the replay button too hard. Now everything is in repeat and I can’t seem to get out of the vicious mindless cycle that really just gets me nowhere. 

Though, really, I am not one to conplain. Because how can I, when my mornings are repeatedly filled with innocent laughters, cries and mundane mishaps

How can I, when all my ears can hear are the happy chatters of small voices, talking about the world in their sunshine-y point of view

How can I, when the only pretend I do is taking on roles for the little ones’ amusement as they invite me into their world of good monsters, superheroes, and princesses with colorful wings. At least in the mornings.

It is indeed a happy world, where I’m at. I’m just not sure if my skin is thick enough to endure the sunshine before it seep through and contaminate my resting soul. 

Eversince I took a step into these gates, I’ve been filled with an overwhelming feeling that I have not yet come to terms with. Even now, a year later, I have yet to define this, this foreign thing that have uninvitedly settled into my bones. I’m not sure if I’ve become addicted to it, but I’m sure as hell isn’t fed up with this. Not yet. Just a little uncomfortable, I have to admit.

But this is the only place that makes me forget what ‘lonely’ feels like, the only place that makes ‘failure’ just a word in the dictionary. The only place, where, when I hear my name, I don’t tremble and cower in my awkwardness.

I may not know where I’ll be settling down in the real world, but I’m sure, this is one part of my chapter I will keep rereading for the rest of my life.

The place I never meant to go but thank God I ended up in anyway.