The things I wish for

There are a lot of things that I wish for. Mostly good, but sometimes I wish I could disappear. I wish I could just go away wordlessly, quietly, unknowingly, and permanently. Because it would be so easier that way. Easier for me. Easier for everyone.

I’ve stopped counting how many times I’ve felt useless or worthless because there’s no use counting things that happen on a regular basis. I wish I didn’t have to feel that way. I wish I could actually do something with my life. I wish I could be enough.

But all these wishing has got me hoping. Hoping it would be okay eventually. Some day I’ll be always happy. Thinking one day, I’ll be enough. Knowing I actually have a future.

Because right now, I can’t see myself ten years from now. I don’t know where I’ll be living because I don’t even know if I’ll make it to five.

And that’s all I wish for. To see and have a future. Because lately I’ve been making plans. It hurts every time that I lose sight of that plan. It hurts when I can’t believe it’s possible.

Because I want it so bad.

I’m wishing and crying my heart out just to believe that it’s possible for me.

So I wish and I wish for all these things.

And maybe someday I’ll get my future or my quick end.

A Gift

They told me quick thinking was a gift. It was a skill that was desired by most, and acquired by few. They say being able to come up with a response at any given time and any given situation was a talent. Thinking on your toes is an advantage.

I’m lucky I know.

Racing thoughts does sound ideal, being able to pull out a response out of thin air. Knowing what to say and never running out of words is a dream. Barely stuttering, always fluent, and all the while looking effortless.

I’m lucky, they say.

I’m lucky that when I’m alone at 4 a.m. with no one to talk to I have my thoughts to whisper ideas into my ear. I should be thankful that I am never without thought and there’s always this noise going inside my head. Even when those ideas turn into poison that seeps into my blood it doesn’t leave me. Not even when I’m deafened by the noise of twenty to thirty reasons of why I should just jump from my window. It doesn’t go away.

I’m lucky, I think.

I’m lucky that people respond to me. I’m lucky that they somehow care enough to actually reply even I have stupid stories or questions. I’m lucky because when other people stopped replying, I decided to throw away that handful of pills. I’m lucky because even if there thousands of voices telling me to kill myself because “i think fast” I was able to slow down what was going on inside my head. I’m lucky because I didn’t jump.

Let me tell you something about quick thinking.

I’m not just a step ahead. I’m twenty steps head, and I don’t even know how I got there. Thinking quick on my feet cuts me from reality and isolates me from what is real. When people reply coldly to my message, I end up in a conclusion that I’m worthless and it’s my fault.

Loose ends are the death of me. Anything abstract or anything that allows my imagination to flow kills me every second because I’m forcing myself to make sense of things that I don’t have control of. While emotions take a grip on my heart and ideas, I grip my head harder. Thinking that maybe if I pull hard enough, I’ll pull out the plug that powers my thoughts.

It doesn’t work.

So I lie in bed, regretting this special skill that you have. Wishing that sleep would grace me tonight – it rarely does. Asking what I ever did to deserve this kind of pain that I brought upon myself. This pain that I alone caused. It is my fault

I get up from bed, looking, searching for anything that can stop the noise. Night after night I crash on my tear stained pillows, exhausted. Realizing it’s hard to look for anything when tears are in your way.

The last thought racing through my head before darkness takes me in is how this was completely avoidable,

Only if you believe in me.

It’s A Rational World

It’s funny how we can reduce the complexity of our lives into numbers and dates. From the day that we were born and to how long we will live. It’s funny because we’re so busy creating these wonderful and heart stopping memories when in the end, they can be reduced into how many times it happened and what date it was.

In the end, we don’t remember what we were wearing, what made us laugh that day, what made us cry. All we remember is that we were happy. In the end, we try to count how many times have we been happy? Does it outnumber the times we were frustrated? When we were angry or mad? Is that what tells us whether we’ve lived a good life or not?

But if my life right now can be reduced into numbers and dates here’s what I have:

Feb 26 – where it all began

March 19 – where this is going

March 26 – the first among the many

April 2 – I saw you succeed

April 9 – I saw you gave your best || maybe the first and last time you’ll see me debate in a competition

May 3 – you met my friends

May 6 – when we patch things up, by reassuring each other

May 23 – my day

June 5 – the day

27 days – until the day

Oct 10 – your day

It’s easy to look back at your calendar and messages and see the messages that made you stop for a second and think “what did I ever do to deserve this?” but there’s something I want to prove; life cannot be reduced into numbers.

I don’t know how many times you’ve made me happy

How many times you’ve stopped me from crying

How many messages we’ve sent to each other

How many times we’ve walked the same streets on our way home

How many hugs and kisses we’ve shared

How many times we’ve said I love you

I don’t know when we started going home together

When exactly I started liking you

When we started telling people we liked each other

When you told your parents you we’re courting someone

When I realized I love you

Some of the things here, I’m sure if I look hard enough, I can find the answer to. The reason why I can’t answer most of these is simply because I lost count. I’m sure if somewhere I kept a notebook and kept track of all the times I was happy, I can answer my own questions. But that idea in itself is impossible. What does this tell us?

Life is not meant to be reduced into numbers and dates.

It’s not meant to be reduced at all.

We’re supposed to take in whatever life can offer us. We try to immortalize every event, every scenery, every moment because we cannot fully capture the exactness of it with only human capability. We could only hope our memories are good enough, and viruses aren’t strong enough to corrupt virtual memories.

But this whole message is a contradiction itself. A half baked and half made message not meant for the world. But meant for one. I guess that’s what happens, when you’re finally in love.

Hi, you were waiting for this?

Twisted Dreams

When I was a child I wanted to be a historian. I longed for towers of books surrounding me and my small table. I craved the smell of old leather bound books in the air. I desired nothing more than to be able to sit in a chair with a book in my hand, and the countless of lives that are retold at my palms.

Who would’ve known that I’d grow up to be a trophy instead?

I wanted to be trapped in a tower filled with memories that are not mine, but instead I’m placed on pedestal with a glass case. I imagined my weekends spent in my room and becoming the the ruler of a civilization lost long ago, but now I spend my weekends in places I don’t even know and becoming a picture that carries a smile that never fails, never fades. I wanted to learn what happened in every dynasty, instead I learned how to smile big in front of a camera for how many hours without breaking a sweat. I drowned in foreign faces and voices instead of the Japanese haiku that I longed for. There were a lot of things that I wanted to do, but none of them were what I needed – or so they say.

I don’t have the right to complain. Or so they say.

Not everyone is treated like royalty or importance. Others dreamed of going to events, smiling to guests, laughter mixing with the soft spirits of wine, and I am able to have those. So what right do I have to complain?

It’s because I dream as well. I dream of being able to break this glass case that protects me from the dust of this world. I want to feel the harsh air that would rust my skin and dull my shine. I want to feel the cold hard ground that could break me apart. I dream to become a normal teenager.

I no longer wished to become a historian. I only wish to be able to climb down this pedestal and tear off this fake smile on my face.

So tell me does it stop? Being a trophy, I mean.

My Eternal Damnation

Nobody grows up saying “I want to go to hell”. When we were younger, we all aspired for heaven. We dreamed of blue skies, the heavenly voices of angels, the faces of loved ones. Nobody gave a second thought to hell because only the worst belong there, and we weren’t those people. Nobody wanted the fiery flames of hell, nobody wanted to be punished. We only wanted to be rewarded. Heaven will always be the ideal place. Heaven should be the goal of people, and I used to aim to be welcomed on the gates of heaven. So tell me, please tell me, why in the world am I knocking on the doors of hell?

Do Something About It

We only know the people we’ve lost when we lose them. When they are there, you don’t imagine ever losing them. I mean, how could you? We always assume that they will never leave us. I mean, how could they? After everything that has happened, and that’s when we don’t see them slowly slipping away from our grip. We think we can keep them forever like handwritten letters, but soon enough even the pages of a letter start to brown, letters fade away – only if you fail to take care them. Yes, the browning of page, scent of an old letter, the texture of a worn out paper is indeed beautiful, but it seems that we have lost the value of that letter. Same with how we treat people, we never thought they’d leave so why bother making them stay? They will stay on their own, they have their reason stay. We tell this to ourselves over and over again, trying to comfort ourselves when they stop replying to our messages, or when they start saying that they’re tired.

We only realize that they mean business when it’s already too late. When they’ve already packed their bags, and booked their ticket somewhere. The pain is unbearable believe me, you will try to grapple for anything that will make them stay. You will cry your heart out, and realize that they don’t care if you do.You will wake up everyday with a pang in your heart, and it won’t ever go away until they come back or until your heart forgets them.

But if you’re a fool like me, always remember that even if it’s too late, you can always try. If you’re like me who has been surrounded by pride all of their lives, give it up. Risk it all, just to make them stay because you know it will never be the same without them. Give up your high pedestal if you know you can’t imagine life without them.

Sometime back then, I heard a quote saying “…when you find someone you want to keep around, you do something about it.” So do something about it, and give it all you’ve got because once they leave forever, you can’t ever have them back. That’s the last thing that you want to happen – to never have them back.

I almost lost someone who I never really told how much he meant to me, but never again. I refuse to make the same mistake. I refuse to lose anymore people. Life teaches you that people come and go, but it hurts every fucking time that they do, and I’m tired of hurting that way. That’s why when I find someone I want to keep around, I will always do something about it.

Leave and Return

I have to go. Whether I want to leave, is a matter of question. Do I leave for the best? Who am I leaving? But I want to leave. I want to move away from the place I do not and cannot belong. I refuse to fall into a hole I cannot call home. I am the the kind of person who battles for attention. I do not squeeze myself into anything because doing that is too painful. They are not the people I need, but they are the people I want and that makes it worse.

So I have to go. I need to leave. I can’t keep hurting myself because I want to try being better. You are my first, but you are not the best. Good bye, good bye, to my home I must return. Until our paths cross once more and separate again.

This time

I love them more, and I love the others less. I gave them almost everything and gave the others nothing. My world revolves around them and the others are just a dwarf planet revolving into the abyss. I have known these things for the past year. It never changes. It is one of the constants of my world. But a new year has arrived. Many have changed. But I still love them, but I have longed for the presence of others. Others have given me a reason to break away from this orbit I follow. I do not revolve around others, but I have begun learning how to align with them. As I revolve around them I try to align myself with others.

In so many instances I have given my time and effort to them. This time, I pick the others. This time, I give myself up to the people I have chose to stay away from. This time, I choose my course. This time, I choose the people who I’m supposed to be stuck with. This time, I don’t think about being stuck with them, I think about the fact that I have them. This time, I hope I made the right choice.

Mind and Cages

Our brain is inside a cage made out of bone, but our mind and our thoughts run free like the children who play in the playground. Yet we forget this by caging ourselves inside our head. We yearn to express ourselves yet we let judgement cloud our opinions. We deny our freedom when we see that we’ll be judged. We want freedom but we bind our thoughts with insecurities. We want to expose the truth yet we fear that our words are too sensitive or raw. In short, we want a lot of things, but we hinder ourselves from getting it. Why? Why do we hide our ideas from the eyes of society? Why do we cower in our seats when we are asked for our opinions on sensitive topics? Why do we deny the release that our mind needs?

But who am I to talk?

When I cage my own thoughts in blog that I share with no one?

You don’t say that

You just don’t say that out of the blue.

You don’t say it like it’s common between me and you

because it’s not.

It’s not for us.

What is not for us

Will never be

For us.

So I love you

But that’s a lie.