I am…
A painting.
Hung up on the wall.
For those to admire.
Feel my secrets with each brushstroke.
Read my story in each changing shade of colour.
See my imperfections as perfections.
Fall in love with me.
Buy me.
Take me home.
And admire me.
I am a creation.
Peaceful?
I am a peaceful man.
But I get angry sometimes.
I mean a lot.
And it’s not so much that I don’t get angry, but it’s how I take out my anger.
I don’t take it out on anyone.
I don’t take it out physically or verbally, only mentally.
I take away all of my weapons.
Even words.
So when you ask why I don’t swear, even though it is so called normal, it’s because I distance myself from the comfort of that weapon.
And when the time comes, and I want to hurt someone badly, then I’ll be too uncomfortable to even handle that weapon, let alone think about it.
I won’t hurt anyone.
I won’t damage anyone.
It takes years of practice to control the anger and internalise it.
And if it’s too much…
It’ll be redirected from the person who started it… to me.
I don’t plan on damaging anyone in my wake.
I taught myself not to.
But it has to be channelled somewhere.
So I’d prefer it was taken out on myself.
If I were… to try and redirect the anger from myself, I fear it would hurt someone else in the process.
I’m damaged.
But I’m peaceful.
I’m kind.
But I’m not weak.
I do not need to prove my strength.
No one is worth my anger.
Look Up.
Look up.
I’m here.
With you.
Don’t fear.
At arms length.
Face to face.
No running away.
No chase.
My love.
In your reach.
Open for you.
No leash.
No chains.
You’re free.
To choose
To be with me.
Look up.
The answer.
Unnecessary to call.
Enough to whisper.
You’ve been looking.
Searching for someone.
Maybe, just maybe,
I could be The One.
Look up.
I’m here.
Behind all the noise
In front of your fears.
The rain.
For your desert.
Right here.
Healing your hurt.
Look up.
I’m here.
For you.
Forever.
From the deepest pit of my heart, I want to be here for you.
And I wonder if that’s what you want for yourself too.
One-Way Mirror.
Daily thoughts…
Don’t.
Don’t look at me.
I have so much to hide and nothing to show. The safer I am, the less you know. The less you know, the safer I am.
I am brilliant. I am very intelligent. I am… asking for you to stop praising me. Stop asking things from me I can provide but wasn’t willing to provide in the first place. Stop asking me favors in which you won’t return knowing I’ll do them anyway. I am warm hearted. I am loving. I am… worn out.
If I keep my head down, reduce eye contact then that means I’m not really there. All those people around me won’t acknowledge me because they don’t care for me. I know.
I don’t understand why I still believe that people around me know me. I don’t even know what they know of me. Or how they view me.
Today’s not the greatest day to think. Then stop.
Some days I’m open. It’s easy. I’m walking on clouds. I never understood that phrase but in any way I’m light. Don’t even notice the weight on my shoulders. Easy. Happy? Maybe.
Like the leaves of a tree, withering and not comprehending what’s going on, then falling away from stability. That’s me. I think. It’s a gentle fall, and sometimes the fear of how hard I’ll hit the floor overcomes the fear of hitting it. If I’ll recover or not is not of my main concerns because I always bounce back but what I’m bouncing back to is not what I want to face again. If that made sense, then you’ve fallen like I have, enough to know. If that didn’t make sense, I’m not going to say you’re luckier than I am… it’s the way it is.
It is what it is. Acceptance.
Yet, my acceptance wavers at times.
Don’t.
Don’t look at me.
I’m afraid if you look at me, then you’ll be able to see right through me and into my thoughts. Though I prefer if when you do see through me, you make no effort in seeing in me. It’s bad enough that I can see you seeing me.
I’m afraid if you look at me, you’ll be able to see what I’m hiding inside. My outward appearance is just a scrap of who I really am. And who I am trying to hide away from your judgemental eyes. I’m not ready to open up yet.
I’m afraid that I’m a two-way mirror. Where all my secrets and desires are on display. But really I’m a one-way mirror. I’m dark on the inside to hide them all in my shadow. And, simultaneously, see people. I know people enough to understand certain behaviour however I can’t see their motives. I can only guess.
Speaking about mirrors, if I’m one-way it means that you really don’t know who I possibly am on the other side of the mirror. I prefer it that way.
Falling…
If I were to fall,
I’d fall alone.
Damage nothing in my wake.
Internalise the break.
If I were to fall,
I’d fall awake.
Watch the ground rise.
And never close my eyes.
If I were to fall,
I’d fall alive.
If there’s a chance I might survive,
I’ll force my spirit to revive.
If I were to fall,
I’d fall honestly.
It’s my mistake in whole.
I’m responsible for my fall.
If I were to fall…
Don’t save me.
I’m falling.
Please, save me.
Don’t save me.
The Will to Live.
-
1.Welcome Home.
2.Seconds Ticking Away.
3.The Will to Live.
These all occurred a month ago. But I wasn’t in the right place of mind to find the will to write these. Although, I wasn’t in the right place of mind when I finally chose to write these but I guess I needed some form of output to… maintain my sanity. Maintain? Regain. I don’t even know if it worked. Anyway… let’s get to it.
Where do I start?
I never questioned this thought, because I never had the strong urge to question it. But lately…
Remember This Is How I’m Going to Lose? How I was saying that I was giving up Hope, Faith, Belief in my Dreams and Patience? And that I was going to University, study the subject I never wanted and live the life that’s not my own? Well, sadly it has all come true. Then I said that I’ll hold on to Fate to see if it’s in my favor or not? 5 months later, I still can’t see how it is. Of all the 5 months, why did I suddenly decide to talk about this? Well, I abandoned Hope, Faith, Belief in my Dreams and Patience, and my faith in Fate is weakening to the point of questioning whether or not I should still hold on to it. Overall, these six things kept me sane and steady but now that they’re crumbling in my hands… I’m about to talk about the will to live.
In those 5 months it tested my character. And, sadly, I have failed. I have failed myself in ways I can’t find in myself to forgive.
Forgiveness, to me, is giving someone a second chance to set things right. It’s easier to put faith in someone else, someone you have little control over and hope for the best in them than to yourself. To forgive is to look past their flaws and see the goodness in them, to find their heart and highly rank it. It’s hard for me to hold a grudge on someone because it’s a lot of effort to actively maintain a negative place in mind for someone who “supposedly” deserves it. I either forgive the person so we could be on good terms again or forget it completely.
So it is rather difficult for me to figure out how to deal with myself in my current situation. I abandoned myself for the good intention of making my parents proud. But failed to realize that destroying my mentality in the process wouldn’t make them proud of me at all. And my “best solution” to my problem was to pretend as if it wasn’t a problem by hiding it. Secretly destroy my mentality, they’ll never know therefore they won’t be disappointed in me and I’ll become what they wanted of me. It’s a win-win, except I lose. Well, the way I dealt with myself was the way I destroyed my mentality. I couldn’t forgive myself because I just failed at trying to get my second chance to set things right. I tried to forget except it wasn’t easy because you can’t forget a life that you have to live with. So that left me with something I couldn’t fight. I held a grudge on myself. I deserve it anyway. What kind of daughter wished she was dead after everything her parents went through to secure the best possible future for her?
The will to live for me is to find the strength to forgive myself for what I have done, to see past my flaws and weakness and to believe that I could do some good again. I can’t find it. I can’t. I can’t find it. I didn’t believe in the future because it would never be smooth sailing from where you set off, but this… this start that I’ve given myself wasn’t right. It was wrong. All wrong. There’s no way I can do this. This is not me doubting my ability, this is me knowing I’m better at something else than this.
Pause.
“To believe that I could do some good again.” What good? The kind of good that’ll make my parents proud, yes. But the kind of good that’ll make me feel proud of myself. So the kind that we could both live with. And that’s the fault in my stars which I’ve caused. They’ll be proud but I wouldn’t. Because, this decision I made for myself – go to Uni and study the unwanted course – wasn’t an achievement I was aiming for, or something that I could be proud of.
Resume.
Unable to forgive myself and unable to move forward without this issue being dealt with, I chose to fix this before it could get worse. So I came back home with an intention to make a decision that would fix my mentality and find my will to live again. And to do that I had to be reunified with Hope, Faith in Fate, Belief in my Dreams and Patience once again even though it’s painful to think that I’d lose them all again.
It. Was. The. Most. Painful. Thing. That. Happened. In. All. My. Years. Of. Existence.
I took down my walls and put everything up! I put my hope, faith, fate, belief, dreams, patience, my words, my secrets, my spirit, my heart and soul! Then watched them either fall and shatter or wither into ashes with each passing second as the torture of “the talk” dragged on. It took all my strength not to allow my tears to fall in front of my parents, pretend that everything I said was nothing, and that things could be okay again. As they were trying to reassure me, I kept mentally screaming at them to stop it. Stop it! Shut up! You don’t understand! That’s enough! Because walking out of the room upset would’ve confirmed that their daughter became mentally unstable and disrespectful. And irresponsible. I had to rely on my façade of a very responsible person in order for them to take me seriously. But then again, they never trusted me that well and it just proved that they couldn’t. I was willing to take a leap of faith for my future but they didn’t trust me enough to allow it. Or for me to fail on my own terms so that I could personally earn these lessons about the world. No. It was heartbreak after heartbreak with each talk/lecture, like I could feel my heart contracting, pulling away from the reality of this, and trying to shrink itself small enough to hide deeper, in between my lungs. But I had to smile. Say it was okay with my throat that’s burning with tears.
I sat in the bathroom, unable to cry. I just felt betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed. Stripped. Torn. Worn. Betrayed. I betrayed my parents. I betrayed my past self for putting her in this path. I betrayed my present self when I told her that I could fix it. I betrayed my standards. And morality. And courage. Ripped open. Emptied out. Cold inside. I betrayed everything I ever stood for, unforgivable.
So I lost my will to live the second time. And haven’t been able to find it ever since, because I came back to the University for Semester 2.
Seconds Ticking Away
- 1.Welcome Home.
2.Seconds Ticking Away.
3.The Will to Live.
These all occurred a month ago. But I wasn’t in the right place of mind to find the will to write these. Although, I wasn’t in the right place of mind when I finally chose to write these but I guess I needed some form of output to… maintain my sanity. Maintain? Regain. I don’t even know if it worked. Anyway… let’s get to it.
Am I going crazy?
Am I?
I think I am.
You have no idea. No idea. And you won’t know it because I’ve never told you this. But I’m writing it here, today. I need to make sense out of all this insanity. It’s all insanity to me because I can no longer understand what’s important when all of my priorities are deprioritized.
Am I going crazy?
It’s been happening lately. At night, ironically. 3 times.
The first time, it happened after I had some form of paranoia. I thought it was the end of me. Thought? No, believed it was the end of me. It shook me to the very core. So on that night, as I laid down to sleep, I heard it. The ticking of a clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock in the room didn’t make that sound, because the second hand doesn’t move for every second, it glided through every second.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
I couldn’t shake it off. Just something about it felt… eerie to me. Of all the sounds, the AC, the TV in the other room or even the constant electric hum that vibrates the entire house, I could only distinguish the ticking. I tried to tune it out. Tried to fall asleep. But after my paranoia, the ticking was, in some way, testing the strength of my sanity that I tried to regain. Within seconds, my paranoia stirred again and so I went to look for the source.
It was just a watch. 2 meters away and it still sounded like it was right beside my ear. I took the watch and placed it inside the bathroom so I couldn’t hear it. Then I forced myself to sleep.
The second time, it was back in the room. I knew it was the watch. But I didn’t know why. Why the ticking was so loud, I didn’t question it. I was less concerned on why it was loud, and more concerned on why I had to hear it. I didn’t believe it’s a random variable, I believed it’s a coincidence. A message. Something symbolic. All these ticking are the seconds passing me by, wasted.
My time was running out. Time for what? I wasn’t sure. In that period of time, I believed that the watch was telling me that my life span was coming to an end soon. My time was running out.
Of course, paranoia intensified, I didn’t take the watch out the room but I pulled out the mechanism to stop its function. I had trouble sleeping that night.
On the third time, I freaked out. The constant electric hum that vibrates the entire house took over me to the point where it disconnected my rationality from myself. Where did the sound come from? I didn’t know. But it didn’t feel safe. And I didn’t ever believe it was there when I grew up in that house, otherwise, I would’ve been used to it. Except, it’s shaking my bones and I can’t stop my heart from racing. Airplanes. I dream of crashing planes, though I have no fear of planes. Well, not completely. But, in addition, I don’t remember planes flying closer to the ground of my hometown. To the point where you could hear them fly by even inside the house. My University is right next to an airport, which is saying one hell of a something if I fear planes in the sky rather than planes landing close by. But every time I heard a plane flew by, I would run to the window just to make sure the plane wasn’t crashing right into my window. Everyone was asleep, they all had school or work to go to the next morning. Me, on my holiday, spent it in paranoia and other things that were negative. Once, the plane has passed and the hum of electricity took its random break, I sat in the living room trying to regain a grasp of my sanity.
Wondering why I went to the living room in the first place?
It was because the watch ticked again. I did not know who or how the mechanism was put back in place, but the watch decided to function right before I wanted to sleep. No coincidence.
I sat there, unable to rationalize my thoughts. I am afraid. That’s the one thing that conquered my thoughts. My end was coming closer than I believed and I needed an awakening to see that.
At that time, that was what I believed. But looking back at it now, I think I misread the signs. My paranoia of death was supposed to be a wakeup call, but not in the sense of how really real death was but to remind myself that I am very much alive. That had Death knocked on my door, I wouldn’t be proud of who he was about to take. I’ve twisted myself to a person I no longer recognize. This is not adulthood; this is something else. If I were to grow by my decisions, I would have developed into a better version of myself, one that would like to pursue in what she believed she was born for. Or in some way, she’ll become the woman she wants to be. Unfortunately, I have fell far behind that. I no longer care, therefore I am no longer who I once was or wanted to be.
That explained the paranoia, but the ticking. It was a countdown to my biggest decision. That’s what it should’ve meant, not death. My decision to make; take the courage to set things right, become the woman I was meant to be and change my life course blindly or to throw it all away to make the ones I love happy. As the seconds were ticking away, my paranoia grew, my heart was being wrenched into a horrific mess, my sanity committed suicide along with my rationality and I died over and over again… I failed myself and chose the latter.
