Writing you out of my system, one poem at a time

One day, I woke up with this mass of sadness stuck inside me..

And nothing was the same since.

Anxiety knocks

Please understand that there are days when my anxiety is sky high 

And though you say you’ll love me still

These are the days i just want to sleep and forget the world. Sometimes it also means forgetting you love me. 

She’s fine.

“I’m fine” she said.

Because how can she expect anyone to understand something she can’t explain herself.

So yeah, she’s fine.

When I Write, It Doesn’t Always Make Sense

I know, I’ve never been good at writing coherent stories or poems that make sense. But when I write, it’s always after a hurricane–of events, of thoughts, of emotions..

And I write as fast as I can because whatever comes out after the big explosion of emotions and life…whatever I write then, will be the rawest version of the story.

It’s the version that I may not understand at all. It’s the version I know came from heart and not from a pool of vocabulary to impress. It’s the version that is real.

The stories I write are incoherent. I know.

But how else do we ever fathom what happens in life than to write and write and write..

Until we see the constellations.

Some pain

I see why some people find it hard to trust. Why they seem to always be tied up with doubts, why they never really listen to words anymore.

You’ve got to understand. Some pains were never meant to last. Like that time when you were a child, they told you not to lay a finger on the burning surface of an iron. Yet you still did. The pain lasted a second, you cried for minutes. And you’ve spent your entire life not ever touching anything without hesitation.

See, the pain, the reflex action, the tears. They never meant to stay, but they certainly made scars.

I guess hurt is why some people readily give up their skin for sex, but never their heart for commitment.

I guess goodbyes are why some people leave before they get a chance to stay.

I guess tragedies are why some people read more than they live.

But somehow, some not so shitty day, we almost always thank ourselves for surviving these tidal waves, for bouncing back, for waking up again, hoping again, smiling again. We look in the mirror and put make up again, ready our masks, hide the cracks. And yes we are all a little hypocritical. And yes, we are all a little bit less, a little bit short of something, of someone, of a lot, but we rally through.

Remember, you are human, painted with words and labels, scarred with handshakes and kisses, taped with promises and ‘I love you’s. You are alive. And this sadness, this pain you feel.. it’s the very proof of it.

In between

I’m not sad. I’m not happy either. I guess I’m feeling in between.

I’m on that line between whether to quit or to keep fighting. And dear reader, it’s a never ending battle of regrets against possibilities.

I wanna be a doctor. I wanna get on a plane and never look back. I wanna dive oceans, one from each continent. I wanna make a living out of pressing keys and stitching up words. I wanna drink coffee while watching the snow pour down. I wanna learn to speak French. I wanna get drunk and kiss a stranger. I wanna go climb mountains where land meets sky, where all my unmuffled screams will matter to one, where my soul can wonder free, where all my worries are soaked up by nature’s beauty. I wanna be away. I wanna find myself.

But dear reader, this probably isn’t the first of many posts you have read about dreams and ambitions. Everyone dreams of alot of things. Most are impossible. And we almost always end up disappointed that this world we live in is a selfish bitch.

They say this world is full of happiness..that one just has to open themselves up and be who they are. I wish that was true. And damn it, I’m still wishing..

I have always been a fan of possibilities. I was a believer.

But now, after months of trying to find more to believe in, I’m as lost as I can be.

But I guess, part of me still believes that something good will happen tomorrow. or the next day..or the next year..maybe the next lifetime.

Empty kills.

What i feel right now is simple. I feel empty.

Actually its more complicated when you mix in a whole year of suppressed anger towards the people who did nothing wrong. Its more complicated when all the stress from school gets suck in. Its all complicated

But the word feels so simple.

Empty.

Its always wake up tired. Pull your shit together enough to get through 6 hours of class. Be all sad. Sleep. Then do it all over again.

This has been me for over a year now. Empty.

Just short term laughter, no real goals in life, no idea how to feel alive again.

You know, nothing kills you like how your mind does.

Wounds and internal bleeding are nothing compared to self sabotage by mind. Cuz while all those disease and injuries hurt, at least you know where to put your hands to ease the pain. The mind doesnt do that. Instead, it hurts your soul. And sometimes you try so hard to stick your hands inside your chest to calm your heart but you often end up sticking needles in you.

Empty. I wish there was a medical term for that. Because in reality, empty kills.

Choices.

Please fill in the needed answers…

I’m trying. I don’t know why its so hard.

Question: I entered BS Psychology because ________.

I know that the first Law of Thermodynamics states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. I know that the Trojan War began from the marriage of Peleus and Thetis. I know that basically the four phases of mitosis are prophase, metaphase, anaphase and telophase. I know that language shapes culture because when a language dies the culture dies with it.

I’ve been cramming so many information in my head to be able to answer the questions in my quizzes.

But to answer that question, I just don’t know how.

I thought majoring in Psychology would be easy. I thought words and logic would get me my diploma in a blink of an eye. I thought long nights with some coffee was all that it takes to ace every exam. 

I was wrong. 

It takes more than just knowledge. Memorizing bookish definitions and cramming all those scientific terms were just not enough. Because knowledge is useless without application and attitude. 

A cup of milk tea could probably get me through the day without falling asleep in class. But that doesn’t mean I get closer to my dreams by just merely surviving everyday college life. 

They say make your passion your profession. But I think some dreams are just too many lightyears out of reach. I can want as much as I can. I can keep wasting my coins on wishing wells whispering to the winds “Make me a doctor.” I can keep kneeling and praying until the skin on my knees turn purple. I can go on and waste all my birthday wishes on this wild ambition that I may one day be a doctor.

But then I realized, our choices in life define who we are. Our choices make us. Our choices are part of us. Yet sometimes, choices are our enemies.

typing….

I entered this program…

                                        because I don’t know where else to go.

Don’t kill yourself

I know, you think dying is easy and living is hard. 

You think everyone won’t even care. 

And if you go missing…

No one would probably look for you…or stay up all night trying to find you. 

But let me tell you what happens after you die. 

Those people that bullied you or hated you or hurt you–theyre gonna put on the best masks to show everyone how sorry they are for all the words they said and all the stuff they did. Bullshit, right?

But for those people who loved you, it’s never gonna be the same for them. Your mother, sisters, friends, boyfriend, girlfriend, teachers… they’re never gonna leave the daydream of saving you. Everyday, theyre gonna look back to the night you died and think about how if they were a better person, they couldve probably saved you. Theyre gonna endure everyone’s questions about why you died or how you died. (as if they care)

I had a friend who cried in front of me and told me he’s always thinking about suicide. 

I couldnt lie and tell him that life’s good. I couldn’t even talk. But I couldn’t leave him. I had to be a friend.

So to all of you who wants to do it, please don’t.  

Live for you dreams. Live for love. Live for the memories. Live for friends. 

Don’t kill yourself.