Make it stop

I awake to the mistakes that haunt me in my sleep. All the screwed-up do overs hold me hostage in bed as I clench the blankets close. I think, if I could suffocate myself in this darkness and never wake up, I’d thank the universe for the free pass.

I have never gotten a free pass on missing you. I had to savor the senseless ache of my of this cosmic joke that is me. I wish I could let you go. You are, after all, just a distant history. A vivid wish. A senseless longing for attention, an aching desperation for touch.

I have known all too well this kind of pain. The type that aches slowly, rises and falls, hits you again just when you think it’s gone.

I stop and look back, was it worth it?

Burning house

What hurts about it all is that I cannot muster the elegance to write about you.

No matter how hard I try I cannot stitch up the right words to describe what I feel

Somehow I always end up with the same cliche metaphors of drowning. Of being pulled down by the crushing weight of the ocean. It has always been the same sinking feeling.

And I have no other words to describe it. How i always think sunsets. How the warmth of your touch was always sunsets. Nothing remotely comes close to this feeling other than the trickling orange amidst the fading blue skies. How quick and how beautiful, how each passing day with you was always the home I longed for.

How is it that even homes are meant to be fragile. How easily it burns down, and all of a sudden we are left with bruises and burns. We tried, always tried to rebuild this home with promises and hand holds. Though it was never ideal, for a long time we managed. It kept us dry from the storms and kept us sheltered from the chaos. God, I miss running away from the world in your arms.

But I have yet to realize that promises make weak foundations. Soon enough we broke apart and you let go. As much as I wanted to do the same, I felt too stuck in this burning house. I still have to learn how to free myself from the mistakes of yesterday.

Now I bury myself in unquenched feeling of missing you. I miss you, every single day. From when you left til forever.

I am stuck in this burning house.

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

And nothing was the same since.

Hiding

You can try to be drunk and hide the lonely

But the world will always find you at your most vulnerable

And there’s no escape in that.

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.

From the girl who still writes you poems

You were the ocean that made drowning so inevitable

I push.. I kick.. I gasp..

It will never be enough

It will always be you

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.

Dear love…

Liking you from afar is so hard.

As if you were this magician. Everybody knew all of your tricks but me. You had me the moment you asked for a volunteer. I knew I saw the trapdoor. But I fell anyway. And it hurt. Like drowning… my feet were kicking everywhere because I thought that if kicked hard enough, the ground would rise and resurface my crooked heart.

Why can’t I get you off my mind?

You were never nice to me. You always left this damsel writing you a letter whenever you had the chance. You probably can’t even stand my weirdness. Yet if I could push you off a cliff only to run at the bottom and catch you, I would. Dear love, I don’t know why but I would.

I would carve stairs at the side of a mountain and save you the trouble of hurting your hands from the climb. Love, I would throw a rope and try to tame as many stars as I can to keep you believing that there is this girl who thinks of you every night before she falls asleep.

I would paint you rainbows and make sure they last even during the storms. I’ll keep molding poetry and pour my blood, sweat and tears in each page just to let you know how much I can’t stop thinking of you.

These words in my mouth they taste so bitter. How I wish I could tell you that fates have decided for us to cross paths and left me to fall in love with you.

Dear, this song you hear everyday is not just a song I sing to fill the silence, but its a song that tells you who you are to me. And who you are to me is someone I would write for til my fingers break from all the tenacity of when pen collides with paper. Who you are to me is someone I dream of at day.

You are the smile that keeps me enchanted…your dimples, they make me wonder what lies in such deepness.

Love, you are the book I keep trying to read. Every piece of you is a page turner but sometimes I feel like the next time I flip one, a tragedy awaits. But its okay because I will love still.

Dear, will you please love me back?

Beautiful things to remember

I’ve been reading a lot of my previous writings lately and I guess I realized that I write not because I want to be a famous author someday but because on the days I lose hope..on the days when nothings sounds better than the thump from the collision of my body with the bed..on the days when all i see becomes blurry from all the tears..on the days when the world somehow decided it hates me..on the days of pure sadness, at least I would have the  voice of my past reminding me what used to be good.

Before, the only pain I cried from was missing my favorite cartoon on TV, and getting tooth aches from the endless pot of sweets, and being left alone in the middle of the supermarket when mom has to go grab some cheese and milk. A decade ago, the only things I got in trouble for was running around too much and breaking the vase and being in places I should not be in and screaming too loud. The only thing I have to worry about before going to bed was not wanting to go to bed. Everyday was play day and every minute was sweetness and light and cookies and pancakes.

But times have changed. Im growing up because I have to..because the universe demands me to..because life wants me to…and because Im learning.

But dear reader, no matter how old you are, dont ever forget what used to be good. What used to break you down and keep you going. Always remember your roots but be careful not to live in them because life has a lot more to give. Remember the good times and also the bad times because we would never know the worth of such memories if not for all the bad. So be grateful for everything. Cuz you’ll never know what can happen next 😉