Petiks Blog Challenge

The Question She Asks

“I love you”, he said

“Still?”, she replied.

This can probably be annoying but please don’t feel that way. It can probably be because she knows she’s not the easiest person to be with. Or it can also be because, she does not feel that she is worthy of your love. 

You may not know but someone from the past had caused her to believe she’s worthless. No matter how she tried people will leave her anyway. Sure you’ll find her interesting at first, but that will be it. Slowly, you will realize that she’s nothing more than a girl who does not have her shit together. 

She knows she is impatient and you will hate her for that. So she tries to keep the anger in until she can. She will shrug it off and say “don’t sweat it”. She will pretend it did not matter when it did. And it will break her but she would not say a word. 

“Still?” 

In that one word resonates all the fears she kept inside. 

She’s lost and half of the time she does not know what she’s doing. So she keeps all these planners in an effort to make it seem like she has it all figured out. She wants to be that woman when all she is right now is a girl. A girl thrown out of in the crazy world of adult life. She’s afraid she’ll get left behind. 

She has the weirdest episodes of being clingy and distant, cold and sensitive. At times, she feels like she is made up of whirlwind of emotions that are too big for her heart and mind. From the outside she will appear collected but on the inside is a brewing storm of anger and anxiety.  

And she knows that just like everyone else you also have your own problems. And so she’s not telling you that there are times when she would feel sad out of the blue. Even out in the public while you are having a date, she’ll feel it creep up on her. She won’t tell because what could she answer when you ask her why. Nothing, this will be the best answer she got and she thinks that’s not worth mentioning. So she tries to flash you her brightest smile, the one you fell for.

But she’s not always happy and she won’t always have stories to tell. What will happen if one day she run out of smiles to show? Of stories to share? What then?

So she asks herself why you’re still there. It’s not that she wants you to leave. It’s because somehow she’s doing something right to make someone stay that long and she wants to figure out what that is so she can keep on doing it. 

To make you stay. 

“Still?”

The next time you hear this from her, please do her a favor and don’t roll your eyes. Just hug her, trust me, it will mean the world to her.  

Wishful thinking

I am telling you now, the only reason I still manage to get up in the morning is this: the world could end any minute.

So each day I go through the facade of going to work and pretending to still actively live; when in fact all I do is exist. I breathe in and out because my lungs compell me to do so. Without that urge, I doubt I would still keep on doing it. I breathe in and out because I am expected to.

I am expected to have the time of my life because I am still young. And I would be lying to myself when I say I am indeed having fun. All I do is manage and get by and I am proud of that. That is a craft I have carefully perfected.

Yet I still break.

There are times when I would stare at my computer, wondering what the hell I am doing with my life. Why am I not living?

It is during these moments that I would feel the last ounce of happiness leave my body. I’m still no one and I’m still nothing and my life ends each minute. Sucks.

So I try to elude the sickening feeling. I slowly slip back to my well-practiced composure. I slip my mask back on. Let me deal with you later, it says.

And I would wish for the gods to lash their fury on Earth. I silently wish for a wandering blackhole to pass by our sorry little planet and suck the life out of it, including mine.

Or maybe I could just be wishing for my own world to collapse. For my universe to explode so I could fade into nothingness.

Nothing sounds a lot better than this, anyway.

Oh, and look here comes another day I have to face.

A silent mantra before I get out of bed, “let the world end”.

Good riddance

Leaving that place was easy.

Almost as natural as a leaf

falling down to the ground,

as predictable as sunset

in each ending day.

 
I looked forward

to the day when I would walk out the door,

for good and never to return once more.

 
Alas, I was free!

So long to the chair I have sat on

for months-

only it felt like decades.

No more shackling keyboard

and eye-tearing monitor.

No more wasting my time,

with pointless and mundane tasks.

I don’t need the money,

No thanks, please keep it.

I need a purpose,

one that I would be proud of-

and I will never find it there

in a closed room with white walls.