Mine.

Lately I’ve been throwing myself at people’s attentions too often. Enough to lose myself into their demands without stopping to see what’s right for me.

Despite being the preacher of “I’ll always put myself first” motto, I somehow forgot what it truly meant for me to do so. I’ve let things slide so far off that I’ve redefined my comfort to “If I’m making them happy, it makes me happy”, while giving more power to their priorities than my own.

So I’m standing here seeing all that I’ve lost and all that I’ll need to regain to retain what once was mine.

Another Episode.

She said you’re only human when you’re not alone

Not daydreaming about jumping of the side of a road

Running over your thoughts to find the solution to attain peace

Piecing together any words you can access to sound coherent

For here there ain’t much to soothe the loud loud… the train that you want is lost amongst the hundreds of others

Rush hours on end by end, broken backs, sunken eyes and trying to not try

Try to be

Try to be.

She said you feel more human when you’re alone

When the station’s empty, blanketed by the warmth of darkness close to your own.

What To Do?

I can’t get my head straight.

I can’t fail again but I feel no motivation to work harder either.

I can’t understand what’s wrong with me but I feel like I’m begging myself to be that person I think I am. Or at least used to be. I’m begging myself to be smart, perceptive and confident. To be as capable as every other person in my batch.

But the grades show that I’m not. I convinced everyone around me including myself that I could do it and I didn’t do it.

It’s a nasty burn and I don’t know how to elevate from here.

Listen…

Do other people… do normal people…

Hate the sound of their voice after a long day and can’t get it out of their head

Wish that they would stop talking in their head

Wish they couldn’t hear their own voice in their head

But also has so much more to say

Also has so much to tell from thoughts and ideas in their head

So much to show, to express, to picture it into someone else’s mind

But can’t

People are people-ing

Life is moving and changing and making and working

Faster than they can conjure the courage to speak their mind

As if it, the sound of their voice will create a scene outside of this reality

And absorb the other person’s attention like this moment is the entire world and everything else cease to exist

The conversation holds possibilities to create something magical, something worthwhile and authentic, genuine, honest, original, real

But

I could speak and speak and speak until the waterfalls runs dry

And I’ll never feel satisfied because

I’ve said enough for today, more than enough, but less than normal

To people who couldn’t encourage the spell I whisked up to pull us out this slavery.

I have so much… so much to give, it could overflow out of my chest

But I can’t sleep because I can’t get my voice out of my head telling me all it wants to tell to someone who’ll listen.

Compensation.

Forgive me for doing what I do to get through the day.

There’s this strange phenomenon that occurs with my mind, it slows down and everything around me goes on faster.

People can sound like they’re talking faster, and they cross out their checklists like seconds while I’m considering whether I want to do the third on the list today or tomorrow.

And now I’ve found a compensation. A mechanism, designed to push me ahead of my mind and body.

And it feels strange to be on time with people and not catching their thoughts after they left. It catches me off guard because now I have to participate in the making of the scene.

Am I fast enough to be real now? How much longer can I keep this up?

I slow down for one second and I’ll lose that pace and some of my sanity.

It may be wrong, but what does it matter? I’m picking up, jumping through herdles without breaking a sweat. Almost close to being that I should be, as you wanted me to be.

So is it still wrong? When two wrongs cancels out and makes a normal.

I can’t have it all and I can’t have it all right.

If it’s a sin, forgive me anyway.

Diaspora.

I’m afraid and so we’re running.

I’m afraid and it’s pointless.

I’m afraid and so I’m chasing

Behind pig tails, hyenas and lost trails.

It’s pathetic but I’m somewhere else.

I can be a wreck but that’s somebody else.

Trying to convince myself that I’m sane and everyone else is otherwise

Trying to widen my eyes by believing everyone else’s are restricted.

And I can’t be the blind one here, because look around…

Look at all of these little things that are constantly overlooked.

I would give my entire life for their magic but sadly I’m overbooked.

And fuck love-love love,

I don’t require it.

I just need someone who sees the magic as I do.

Walking on the same planet, in the same frequency and we see… the same.

I need another person on this planet.

I don’t need an entire planet of people.

I need another person on this planet with me.

Entranced.

His skin was dark, like late night December’s winter touched by moonlit villages.

His cheekbones were gentle, reminiscing of a mother’s handicraft.

His lips were soft, temperate from reading under his breathe.

His eyes were dawning, deepening with genuine curiosity of night owls.

Pulling me, drawing me in towards him.

My eyes can’t help gravitating towards him.

My hands are aching to draw him and capture that something.

That something that has entranced me into his lines, tracing his peaks and valleys.