I know what we all want—to get out alive.
Infinitesimal pain molds infinite strength. When your heart is cracked open by the gruesome fractions of your entirety, remember that the crestfallen thoughts shall soon leave your skin; and the wounds it has left shall soon be parts of you—marks of the fleeting pain that has brought you to the correct trail towards composure and strength. I don’t know how to convince you that tough days may be to and fro but that doesn’t mean that it ends there—nothing ends there, actually. Sound waves are formed by vibration, and at the end of the wave, there is stillness—there is silence. And to get there, we must first experience the rapture caused by the thunderstorm.
So, close your eyes. Be still. Be gentle. This won’t end here.
In the alleys of the midnight street, we find shelter. In the broken bones hidden beneath the archipelago of our bodies, we find the growth we need to continuously gather our shattered pieces, collecting them one by one for remnants, when put together again, become signs of our complacency.
Turn on the lights. Just turn on the lights.
We aren’t made of rope-burns and scars. We are bodies with souls crafted to hold such pain; nothing should withhold your body from growing. We are made to grow, to let go of the things that anchor us down, to become better than the last “better” we have been.
It is winter. Grab a sweater. Heal some wounds. Cut laments off your paper-like heart. Heal more wounds. Jump off a cliff, but be sure that you have a parachute on your back waiting to bring you up again. Pull the blanket above your head. Warm yourself. Warm someone else. Let these words cause hailstorms in you, then watch spring take over your skin. Be good—be better; but never forget yourself.
Too much hope may be lethal, but what can we do? It is the only thing strong enough to put a cast around our constantly quaking hearts—it keeps our pieces, no matter how torn and shredded, intact and glued together.
The sky is crooked right now, but I trust you.
I guess I have to stop writing about you, even just for the mean time. Maybe as the snow stops falling, I should temporarily cease my feeling for you too. Maybe it’s time for me to realize that you have no chance to read my writings after all and that if you ever did, you wouldn’t even care. Maybe I should stop wasting my pen’s ink writing the words my mouth cannot say. Maybe I should stop wasting my journal’s pages just because I keep on repeating my poems for you because I am afraid you may not like it, though I know that you will not read those, still, there might be a very little chance that you will, despite of the fact that you won’t read my works. Just so you know, these works are all for you. Most of the time, I will write about how wonderful you are or how perfect you seemed to me but sometimes, I write about the pain you brought to my heart and how your apathy stabs me at my back leaving scars.
I guess I have to stop thinking about you, even just for a second. To be honest, you are always in my mind. I do not know what sorcery is this but no matter how hard I try, you will always be stuck on my mind. I guess I really have to divert my attention to other things knowing that you are nowhere to be found. Of course, you chose to be gone and not to be found. I guess I have to think about something else.
I guess I have to stop loving you. Of course, it pains me to be a victim of unrequited love, but do not worry, it is not your fault that you cannot fall in love with me. Just look at me, I am nothing compared to the highlights of the societies. Those perfect creatures. I am nothing compared to them. But if there may be a chance that you might change your mind (and choose me over those goddess), I’ll swear to you that I will love you more than they could ever do. I could not offer anything more. I only have my heart and a pen.
Things we should have done together.
We should have seen each other every morning, waking up to the rays of sunlight that passes through the translucent window of our small dainty room. I should have made you some coffee while you’re reading the news paper freshly delivered at the front of our door. We should have bought our grocery list together. We should have watched plays in the theater together. We should have criticized actors in a movie together. We should have drove a road trip from here to somewhere far, far away from home. We should have cuddled during rainy days. You should have brushed my hair while I should have fixed your necktie. We should have captured the memories we have together. We should have finished the bucket list we made together. There are still a lot of things we should have done together. Too bad, you passed my way in a speed of light.
When I was a kid, my mother used to tell me stories about the creatures of the dark. She then told me that they came from a different dimensions. She told me about how they look- they look really terrifying and scary. She told me that if I sleep late, someone would creep out from our window and scare me. That’s the reason why I was afraid of the dark. I am afraid that in the absence of light, there are these creatures that my mother tell me stories about. I never went into a pitch-black room alone. Maybe that is the reason why I am diatomic- I never go to a place without a companion. I am afraid of the things they can do to me.
Years have passed, and I am no longer scared of these figments of my imagination. I realized that I was the only one making those images inside my head. I became afraid of something real- I was so afraid to go outside every night. It’s because my mother told me that if I do so, there are some “bad” people who could do hideous things to me. At my age, my mother made me realize that the world is not really safe. Even in then comfort of your own home, you have no assurance that you’re going to be alright. I’ve read newspapers, watched televisions and I am aware that everyday, there are people who die because of the selfishness of others. Maybe that’s the reason why I am diatomic- I never really went out of our house or go to places alone. I am afraid of the things they can do to me.
But now, I realized that it’s not the monsters hiding in the thick sheets of darkness nor the people who has the ability to kill someone. I realized that if there is something I should be afraid of, it’s me- inside me are two personalities. The first one…is, I could say that this is the part of me who has this thing for sunsets. This part of me composed by cosmic dusts, cherry blossoms and other pleasant things. But the other half, is something unbearable. I could say that this is where the devil inside me hides. I am trying to hide it. I do all my best. But sometimes, it wanted to be free just like those dark crows flying across the vast sky. I am afraid I might not be able to control this other side of me. Maybe that’s the reason why I am diatomic- I always wanted to have a companion to comfort me when I feel like I am going to explode and change my demeanor to being an angel to a demon. I am afraid of the things I can do to me.
Save me from myself.
I am more than just tired. No amount of sleep could cure this physical and emotional exhaustion.
You were a thief.
The first thing you stole to me was my heart. You made me fall using your words. You know how much I love words specially if they are weaved into perfect sweatshirts that could protect me when it is freezing cold. You told me a lot of promises. I was a fool way back then so I readily believed in you. It was under the pitch-dark sky when you told how much you love me. You told me that the stars are the witness of the love you’re feeling for me, and that I would be the judge to tell you if I am feeling it or not. That moment, you’ve successfully stole my heart.
Another thing that you stole was my time. After a month of making me feel loved, you started being cold. From thirty missed calls down to no call at all. I spent hours and hours waiting for someone whom I thought loves me the way I love him. I was wrong. And then I realized that I was waiting for nothing. Like how I used to wait for Santa during Christmas when I was still a child. When we met, you we’re as joyful as summer. But now, you’re even colder than winter. I don’t know what happened.
Then I realized that you’re already the subject of my poems and writings. You did not just stole my heart. You’ve also preoccupied my mind. All I can think about is you. And how you stopped making me feel loved. You were the reason behind my bittersweet poems. You were the reason behind these cuts on my wrist. You were the reason why I wake up at three o’clock in the morning just to cry my feelings out. You were the reason why I became nyctophilic; why I became in love with darkness. It is because when you left me, you took all the light in my life with you. You left me with nothing but darkness.
So stop denying that you’re not a criminal.
Stop telling me that you’re innocent. Because you’re not. And stop telling me that you did not kill anybody. Because that night, when you told me that you did not love me- not even once and took back all the things you’ve said, you killed the entirety of me. I bleed but you were too blind to see it. You left me lying on the floor, like a broken glass. You hold me and brought me up in the sky. You made me feel like I am on cloud nine. Then all of a sudden, you dropped me and left me with my broken pieces.
Nobody said it was going to be easy.
But you fell. You gave your heart to someone whose love was never certain. The beginning was fine. It was never sweeter. Problems may pass but you always surpass it. You saw a glimpse of paradise in his eyes and you could never be thankful enough. Now, the downfall happens. He is giving your heart back- but in pieces. And you can’t help but to question entities and gods about your fate. You cried but nothing happened. You are still broken into tiny sharpened pieces.
It is really hard to say good bye. Because just when you thought that you were over him, the memories flash right before your eyes. Back to zero once again.
i. If something is a piece of cake for you, get more slices of it.
ii. Shove all your worries into your pocket, as if they’re loose coins you no longer need, but you still keep anyway.
iii. Collect every kind word you hear. Wrap them around yourself on nights you feel unloved, and in the morning give them back.
iv. Never belittle yourself for someone who miscalculates your worth. Remember, you are better than that.
v. Touch people without using your hands.
vi. When you decide to leave, do it as lightly as possible, with only a small suitcase and a heart full of nothing-to-lose. Then, never look back.
vii. There isn’t a devil or an angel when it comes to the head and the heart. Use them both to realize what you really want.
viii. Stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself one honest thing you are scared to admit. Do it everyday until even the most painful truths become easy to accept.
ix. Stop waiting. Stop thinking. Stop planning. Do things now, because tomorrow is never guaranteed.
x. The world is a cruel place to live in, but there is so much good amid all the suffering. Seek with persistence and you will ultimately find it.”
“There will come a time when you want to cut off all your hair. Do it. Realise that the thing you want rid of doesn’t lie in the long curls that frame your face so perfectly. Live with short hair for a while. It’ll grow.
You won’t always want to talk to people. That’s okay. When it’s late and you hear your friends talking in the next room, you don’t have to join them. You’re allowed your solitude. It makes company sweeter and it teaches you how to survive alone. You will need that skill.
In the winter, you’ll believe that nothing will ever grow again. You’re wrong. Every year, London looks like it’s on its last legs, wheezing through those last cold days in March. Every year, spring comes like an explosion and the city shakes off its sleep.
Mundane problems will get the better of you sometimes. Don’t worry. Try as you might, life cannot be an endless, beautiful, intense moment. Find comfort in money worries and late trains; they’re a welcome rest in between heartbreaks and breakdowns.
People will call you a cynic, a wry smile on their faces. Pay them no mind. You alone know that you are capable of a love greater than anything they can comprehend. You alone know that you are not willing to sell your identity and respect to the first smirking halfwit to pass by. It is not cynicism. It is reverence for your own vast and fathomless heart, and it makes sense only to love someone who understands that and is awed by it.
You will not always get what you want when you want it. Accept it. Your goals are not set in stone and you are not on a fixed trajectory. Sometimes, life will take its time and you will have to play the long, interminable game. Play it well and with as much grace as you can muster. Live at your own pace.
At night, you will occasionally wake up afraid, wanting to die. Don’t give in. Night plays its tricks, but you are not so easily fooled. Your mind will play its tricks, too. It will make you believe that you’re not who you are, but you must not give in. You take a breath and you tell yourself that you are here. That you always were.”
— Practical Advice for Difficult Women (#20 - 9th December)
I want to know how it feels like-
To feel so happy and contented. To be so optimistic about the things happening. To see rays of hope passing through my window, lighting my pitch dark room. I want to know how it feels like to look at the mirror and see myself smiling. Not just the fake smile. But the smile that only shows when you’re truly happy. I want to know how it feels like to wake up every morning feeling so alive and fulfilled. I want to know how it feels like to sleep every night without worrying about such things. I want to know how it feels like.
I want to know how it feels like-
To write because of happiness and not because of the loneliness I am feeling. I want to know how it feels like to have an inspiration that will give me happy thoughts. Honestly, I am so tired of writing about the pain that I am feeling. But what can I do? I can’t write a happy entry when all I have are these scars of pain. I want to know how it feels like to be able to say your feelings personally. As much as I want to write, I also want to deliver my feelings personally to the person involved. Just like what they said, words without actions are nothing.
I want to know how it feels like-
To be loved in return. To be appreciated because of the efforts I gave to a certain someone. I want to know how it feels like to be the first person you think of. To be the person you’re missing right now. To be the person you’d live for. To be one of your priorities. I’m so tired of being an option and second best.
I want to know how it feels like-
To live outside the box. To live beyond my comfort zone. To be a free bird flying in the vast sky. To take all the risks that life may bring. To walk pass through a damaged bridge and see a paradise at the end. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to live like a caged bird.