It is because I love you

Love makes us do things we did not sign up for. That’s what love does to us and yet we do it wholeheartedly. 

It is because I love you that I had chosen to keep my demons at bay when I’m with you. I wanted to show you what I could be without them; how I used to be before them. I don’t want to scare you and so I choose to keep them all in. 

It is because I love you that I hid my tears under the covers where you couldn’t see them. I was the happy one, I was the giddy one. I was never the one to cry. I was all that to you. I saw how pleased you are that I am like that, so I did not show you the other side of the coin that was me.

It is because I love you that I chose to keep the most traumatic experience I had within me. You couldn’t know about them because it would be the end to eveything we have ever come to know. Why would I do that? How can I destroy what we have? I kept fighting the memory in my mind just so you could have your peace. I did that because I love you.

It is because I love you that I suppressed thoughts of death, of killing myself. I don’t want you to think I’m being melodramatic. I knew you so well. You would think I’m being ungrateful and petty. Then the fight comes. So instead, I try to distract myself when I feel the urge to end my life. Despite everything, I couldn’t hurt you by hurting me. It’s one of the few things that are stopping me. Believe me, you have no idea how many times I’ve come close.

It is because I love you that I played the role. You have this idea of me and assumed I was that. I pretended that was me and you were happy. 

It is because I love you that I’m willing to face every consequence on my own. I’m fighting a losing battle with no one on my side. All of these just to keep you happy.

But I’m not perfect. I slip and at times you are able to get a glimpse at my real, worn out self. You’d get mad at my attitude and I would apologize. I’m telling you I’m not proud of that, but I am proud that I am able to get by until now. 

It is because I love you that I can bear ripping myself apart inside just to keep you whole. 

Tomorrow, you wouldn’t even know, I just went through hell tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up thinking I just had a fit, or its because of my red days. It’s okay even if you won’t think they’re real, my pains, it’s the compromise I make. 

I lost my life when I lost my room 

To whoever thinks a room is just a four-walled space in the house, I wholeheartedly disagree.

To me it was always more than just a place to sleep. It was a place to pretend to sleep. There are nights when sleep won’t come and there are also nights when it is unwelcome, either way, my room served as the perfect hiding place. It was a place that knows no time. It doesn’t force me to do anything because it is what’s expected of me.

My room was the only one who saw the smile painted on my face vanish ever so quickly the moment I close the door. It was a silent witness to my stifled cries. It does not ask me to ‘stop’ and ‘move on’. It just lets me cry until I’m too tired. It welcomed the angry punches I throw in its walls until my fists bleed. It did not protest.

I can write peacefully in my room because it is where I can be completely alone in my thoughts. It is where I can be truly honest without feeling sorry about it.

It is the one who hears my sleep talks and quiet conversations with myself without receiving ‘the look’. I can dance or lie on the floor without being told to stop.

I can make songs and sing out of tune. It was the very first audience to my self-composed songs. I even think it feels proud that after all the procrastination and monotonous tunes, I am able to make one. I can almost hear it sigh or maybe just because it thinks the worst is finally over.

It is the one who welcomes me without asking too many questions that I don’t know the answer to. It does not judge me at all.

And now it is gone, due to unfortunate events. I feel like mourning for my long-time companion. I miss it. I miss its quiet presence. I almost think I took  it for granted.

Being alone in my room makes me feel like watching my life unfold in its self. Without pressure, without prejudice, without time limits and expectations, it just lets me unravel my life. It gives me freedom in its truest form. Sometimes I wish to expand it to Earth’s size so everyone  can feel it too. But just like most good things, it came to its end.

So when I lost it, I felt lost too. I lost my room and I am mourning for it and for myself. I want it back. I lost my life when I lost my room.

The sad

I don’t think anyone ever likes to feel sad. But there is a kind of sad I despise the most.  

It is the kind where I know no song can comfort or console me. Usually, I’d put on some music when I’m feeling the blues. For this, I can’t even remember just one song to calm my nerves. 

It is the kind where I cannot fall asleep to try and escape it but no it won’t let you. It will leave me staring into nothingness kissing sleep goodbye. 

It is the kind that makes you feel empty. 

It is the kind that lingers even while it has passed. The memory of it still strong on my mind. 

It is the kind that cannot be accurately described with words. 

It is the kind of sadness I most often feel.

‘It’s okay’ 

One day I woke up and realized I have lost interest in the things I used to love before. And that’s just it.

I thought of myself as a useless person who cannot, for the life of her, even be good in the so-called skills she has.  I despised myself for not living up to my own expectations. 

Even now, writing this took a lot of effort. I simply don’t have the urge to string together words to complete a sentence in my head, much more so to write it down. It’s like wringing a wrung out sponge, useless and pointless.

But no, I have to get my point across and tell you that finally, I can say it is okay.

It is okay if the things that hold your interest before seem to be dull today. It is okay to not be able to write a single line to a poem you’ve always wanted to started, but never got the inspiration to do so. It is okay if instead of clubbing you bail out and stay home and do nothing. It is okay to say ‘no’ inspite of you being a ‘yes’ person. It is okay to not wear a smile when you don’t feel like it.

I’m saying it is not a crime to start feeling and un-feeling things. 

Although it can be unsettling, we have to accept that we are not formulas. We are complicated . We are made up of ever-changing patterns of behaviors and emotions and choices. We are unpredictable and beautifully fragile. We can be alive today and turn up dead the next day. We are but a flicker, burning ever so brightly but easily blown away.

Don’t get me wrong, this frailty makes life even more beautiful.

So instead of beating yourself up because you used to effortlessly write stories and can’t even bear to look at your pen, let the feeling in. If today you hate the rain, then close the windows. Its about time you start being kind to yourself because if you won’t then who will? 

Probably we feel unloved and unsatisfied because we keep looking for validation from others. It does not have to be that way all the time. 

Maybe it is time to start telling yourself “it is okay” more. It’ll work wonders. 

Time

I just wish for more time. 

I wish I could spend hours on composing songs and playing the guitar. But time, tricky as it is, seems to speed up when I do the things I love.

I just wish for a few more days.

Can there be a third day on the weekends? Why does it have to be five working days and just two days for rest, if you could even call it that. Those rest days are spent preparing for the working days. We do laundry and fold our clothes and clean our house. We still do chores. 

I just wish for longer nights.

For more peaceful silence shared with me and my bed, not sleeping and just lying. While the rest of the world breathes softly, let me lie in here and take my life all in. 

I just wish for more time. 

How I even wish to freeze time when I’m talking to you. The hours aren’t enough to accomodate both of our stories. Yet it still ticks away rapidly. We get trapped in our desks typing for long hours, way past our working time. We rarely talk and it hurts. 

I just wish I would stop chasing time. I wish to be in tune with its ticking beat so I could wrap my head around its concept. Why does time go by so fast? Why is it that I have to bid you goodbye when it feels like I have just said hello a few minutes ago. Why do working hours feel awfully long? Why is it that I don’t have enough time? Why don’t you have enough time to spare? Why is time too slow?

I just wish for more time. 

I wish to learn how to bend it. For those who cannot bear another minute in a party, let me speed it up. For those who long for even just a few minutes in bed to delay the dreadful day, let me give you a few hours more. For those who want one more chance to say goodbye to a loved one, let me take you back there. For those who wish time to stop for a while just to savor a particular moment, let me hold the hands of time for you. 

But this is way beyond me and I am but just one of the dials in a clock. My life ticking away each second. 

I just wish for more time.

Yours

Out of all the missed hellos,

Yours was the one I took chance in. 

Out of all the unrequited affections,

Yours was the one I gambled with.

Out of all the craved attention,

Yours was the one I wanted the most.

Out of all the broken promises,

Yours were the ones I hold on to.

Out of all the dedicated love songs sang,

Yours was the one I penned myself.

Out of all the sleepless nights,

Yours was the one filled with waking dreams.

Out of all the heartbreaks,

Yours was the one I wouldn’t regret.

Out of all the goodbyes,

Yours is the one I wouldn’t bear to hear. 

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.  

Home

One of the worst emotions that any person can possibly experience is not feeling at home in your own home.  It is that nagging voice in your head that you simply does not belong there anymore.

Home can be any place or anyone for that matter. It is somewhere one can feel the most secure. It is also where one can be his true self without anticipating an unwelcome judgment. Home is the beat place to be in this cold world.

This is why it is truly heartbreaking to know that the key you hold no longer fit on the newly placed lock on your door. It is unsettling to be lost in the streets you have known so well  like the back of your hand. It is the most painful feeling of absence of the home you loved as it holds the same foundation but contains the most bizarre layout and furniture. It is no longer your home and your safe haven.

So you move out with all of your precious belongings. You stay on motels and inns just to get by each day. Until the days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months and eventually became years. The memory of your home still alive. You long for it but not in the way you did before. Now, finally, you’re ready to start laying your foundations again.

How many times have you built your home only to leave it because it no longer feels like one? How many times have you promised that this time will be the last time you will ever walk out your door? How many times have you longed to go back to the very first home you built? How many times have you stood up and planned your new home? Who cares anyway? You are your own person who are allowed to have as many home as you want until you find the last place you’d grow old in. No one is counting. Maybe it is just you that’s keeping track and it’s time to stop that. Keep the old pictures of your previous homes, turn them into decorations or keep it in old suitcase, it really does not matter.

You are your own home’s interior designer. Keep it exciting.

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”.