huhumm.. :-/

Here you are

– hurting, waiting, wanting for something to change. You ask yourself about a hundred times, is it something you said? Maybe. And then you ask yourself a thousand more times, is it something you did? Possibly.

But in the end – yes. It’s always your fault, never ever his.

‘Cause you are settling with this mentality – it’s not you, it’s me. And you are willing to swallow your pride, than hurt his ego. And you choose not to break your silence, even though you know you are free to call him out on the bullshit he’s blatantly putting you through. But yet, you can’t find the courage in your heart and the wisdom in every fiber of your mind to simply – walk away. Why?

Here you are – this question must have crossed your mind more than a million times. ‘Cause for the seventh or eighth or maybe even the ninth time, you toss and turn in the middle of the dark night, in a dark silent room, listening to the rhythm of your own breath. You inhale, then exhale. You feel your heartbeat pulsating – in your wrist & on the tip of your fingers. Then the question once again arises in your mind that longs to rest. Why? Why can’t I let go?

Oftentimes we hold on to things that make us the happiest, give us the most bliss, things that makes our heart feel at ease. In contrary, the other times we hold on to things that does not always reciprocate us with something good. Gives us nothing but false hope and a cycle of reoccurring bullshit.

But even though that may be the standpoint, we continue believing one day, some day, somehow our patience, our willingness to endure and our days of hurting, of waiting, of wanting, we wake up to an end for all of those & a beginning of something better, something more.

And when that day comes, walking away and letting go would not once again cross our minds.


note to self:

By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.

Franz Kafka

By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.

crossing fingers

I wish I can foresee the future.

Sometimes, I can’t understand the concept of time. I just know that it’s there, it’s here, and it will forever be here. And in our lifetime, I have always been reminded to value it (but I tend to disregard it). Maybe it comes with my constant anxiety, my interminable need to know conclusions and resolutions; to get to the destination as fast as things are articulated.

But most of the time, I am at peace with the recognition that we can’t control time, but what we make of it is our call. Thing is, we can’t fast-forward time to know if our decision’s worth it. So we trust our hearts and hope it turns out right.

But it doesn’t hurt if I become clairvoyant even for just today.

the thing is..

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, how can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

Ellen Bass, The Human Line

i will love you

Let me carry you back to
Where love awaits to understand you
in the hopes of saving you from your paralyzed truth
that bound you to this near-destruction of your humane existence
Heed not the warning of a loving heart
that cares for the resolution of your self-worth, your unaccountable worth
Know that I will love you with your flaws
Know that I will love you more than you’re able to love yourself
When the world would conspire to clip the wings that carry your ideals
I’ll be there to nurse them until they heal
Until the world comes to your understanding
that you have the power to become a part
of the whole that rejects your perspicacity
Not necessarily through your ideals
but through your intention to do well for others
In the meantime, I’ll be the absorbent of your thoughts
your audience for the conveyance of your wisdom,
the vessel to echo your  conviction
Soon enough, time will only be a fragment of an obsolete space
Everyone will eventually accept you
and your voice will have their eternal truth.

the last tear | michael jackson

Your words stabbed my heart, and I cried tears of pain. “Get out!” I shouted, “These are the last tears I’ll ever cry for you.” So you left.

I waited hours, but you didn’t return. That night by myself I cried tears of frustration.

I waited weeks but you had nothing to say. Thinking of your voice, I cried tears of loneliness.

I waited months, but you left no sign for me. In the depths of my heart, I cried tears of despair.

How strange that all these tears could not wash away the hurt! Then one thought of love pierced my bitterness. I remembered you in the sunlight, with a smile as sweet as May wine. A tear of gratitude started to fall and miraculously, you were back.  Soft fingers touched my cheek, and you bent over for a kiss.

“Why have you come?” I whispered.

“To wipe away your last tear,” you replied. “It was the last one you saved for me.”

– taken from “Dancing the Dream

by myself

I am lonely. Alone. People related to me tend to overlook that part of me. I stay quiet. Wallow silently. Appear like I have a life worth going. Act like the daughter, granddaughter, or niece everyone expected me to be. It’s the scrutiny of being under everyone’s utopia that breaks me. And sometimes, a minute miscalculated choice can sometimes condemn me for the rest of my life. And they’ll make sure I don’t forget it. Every day of my life.

Sometimes, when I sit in a corner and watch how freely my siblings can take charge of their choices and do whatever they please, I am envious. I desire how unrestricted they are on things that  when I was younger I often got in trouble for and occasionally being reminded of it.

It’s hard accepting to wise up, act mature. It’s harder deciding to be responsible for other people other than myself. Owning something that you were unprepared for. Being drawn into a glass house and feeling like a stranger in the inside looking out. Losing what you want for what they want.

Somewhat a spotlight has been lit over my head and I interrogate myself. Why I have never taught myself to be selfish? Why I’ve always put what others’ want before I want? Why do I feel like I’m still failing everybody else’s expectations? Why I’m stalling the dreams I had when I was younger? Why I’m so much yet so chained to the worst circumstances?

And then I end up with no answers. Just this echoing song in my head to endure what is fact: just one more day it says and all will be okay. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn’t. Then I live life all over again.