You’re a piece of me that I will never have.
I read somewhere that everything we write, we write for someone, directly or indirectly. So, what’s the hype? These “someones” impart something of themselves to people, to us, to the seemingly unnoticeable. I, for one, would think that I have given my all to the people I care most that none is left for me.
I am writing because I feel I have so much to give but none to give to. It seems that all my efforts are stagnant in keeping everyone happy that it ruins the very essence of it. Keeping myself happy, in the long run, isn’t reassuring. It’s like condemning myself of sadness – the inevitable hurt. And without it, we won’t experience true happiness. For every stone-cold sadness there is an equivocal, almost euphoric happiness.
But what the actual fuckity fuck.. too much of this melancholy kills.
I am writing to you, to the wanderers who never stop dreaming, never ceasing to defeat, always fighting. To those who still have strength waking up, doing what life tells us, and dodging its cruel blows. To the bellowing hearts who love unconditionally, though not always reciprocated, still do so.
And to that bit of happiness still left in me, may you flicker with life.
C’est la vie.
Lonely are the nights when silence and the cold are your only companions. You cling onto your blankets desperately breathing in its warmth until there’s none left and you feel cold again.
Living at the moment seems like yesterday and the future’s all we care of. Why don’t we play the Russian Roulette of life and focus at the moment the revolver’s on your temple. Because when the bullet hits your skull, nothing really matters anymore.
As the moonlight lit the night and the stars flurry along, one can only think of how beautiful it is. When the wind blows eerie leaves as they waft into sunset, one can only dream of drifting with them. And as you sulk on a bench thinking of how hard life is, you see people, movement, life and vigor, and they only move you forward.
“Live and let live.”
We all have a sense of wanting. The unintended chooses you, and you go for your “intention”. You wanted something sour; life gave you vinegar, but you really wanted lemon. You created the best vinaigrette there is and that’s what matters.
Life has it perks, it’s ups and downs, and maybe the rolling over and sliding. Give it a chug and let all loose to your comfort. Wanting more in life doesn’t make you less deserving of it. If you took a liking with the perverse , give none of your fucks to people who criticize you.
And if in dreams you find peace, dream on.
I never actually knew what I am capable of and now that I know, I am scared of myself.
All these feelings that I have no room for in real life are making its existence. Vague as they seem, they continually poison me inside.
The visions I see: the bloodbath, the anarchy, the seduction, and the lies are caving in and they’re eating me alive. They are as tangible as my hand pressing different keys on my pc.
I wish I were a fly on a wall so I could see them all lingering on me. As I call my name from the distance I would hear a cry for help but I would just buzz and suck some leftovers. And when I plead to take my life back as I put on the deadly circle, I would bang head to the window trying to elope with my filthy wings.
I will sing the song of my people but they would cry because of sheer terror. I will dance with the rhythm of life but as I sway into the deathly night, it swallows me whole. I will write a poem of love but all that I desire is too far gone.
I know how to swim yet I find myself sinking.
I had a rough time today. I felt dizzy, nauseous, and quite frankly, hot. Me and my friend finished our jogging at about 10 pm last night. It felt good – the sweat and worn out legs. I quite enjoy pain but I’m not a masochist. I just like casual jolts of endorphin. No, I love it!
I wasn’t feeling right beforehand but I thought the running would uplift it. It was a bad judgement though. I should have listened to my body and the signs it was showing. But I badly wanted to go out of my bed.
I was bedridden, not that I was sick or something but because I was too lazy to even stand. I started skipping my study time and I wasn’t feeling motivated at all. Something’s missing like a baby who lost his favorite toy. I needed a drive, a super-sized ignition that can wipe out a city!
I can only help myself if I let myself help itself. That’s a bit confusing. Anyway, I need not let myself just go with the flow and put everything that’s important aside. My health’s number one, and study’s next.
Back to my hurting. I wasn’t supposed to go to class today but I’ll miss important discussions, let alone I have upcoming exams. It was a hot, dry morning and nothing about it was really helping. My physics professor was talking about gravitational fields and I was just staring at him, not listening at all.
I didn’t notice I was taking nap. I missed half of the lecture and I regretted coming to class. It ended and my next one was chemistry. That’s when I started noticing that my temperature’s alarmingly high. My classmates weren’t really helping. They thought I was just acting my way out of class because I’m quite the rebel. I got tired listening to them.
The moral here is, don’t let yourself give in to peer pressure and hear out what your body’s trying to say. Health is not worth sacrificing. I failed that part but I know now. Weigh your odds: will going to class make me feel better? or should I rest instead?
It’s been several months since I had a fever. I’m wishing it’s not a big deal though but a little paranoia won’t hurt.