twenty fifth.

Frantically searching for a reason to go on and the inability to find it. Maybe having no reason to stay is a good enough reason to go. All the optimism I have gathered throughout my damn existence has jumped overboard and I am left with the thoughts that I’ve been trying to hide behind what I imagined was a dark, ambiguous oblivion. They’ve been lurking, waiting and have now found the perfect time to come out. And with a passionate vengeance they came. I can no longer keep them away. I can no longer push them further into the shadows of my manufactured cage. I am simply too tired to do anything. So I let them come. I hold out the key and let them consume me. 

Maybe 25 is the best idea that I’ve ever had. It’s a good number to end with. They say it’s selfish and stupid to do what I’m planning to do. Well, maybe at some point but nothing is as selfish and as stupid as living when you have absolutely nothing to live for. Selfish is forcing me to take every gooddamn pain and expecting me to deal with it with a godforsaken smile plastered on my face. Selfish is letting me hurt myself over and over again with the images of my ruined past, undefined future and unbearably horrible present. How could anyone let me be haunted by those flickering memories in my head each and every day? How could anyone let me cry myself to sleep each night just so I could keep those disturbing monsters out? How could they let me go through all shit without even having to question if I could still do it? Now, tell me: WHO’S SELFISH?

 “Child, are you okay?” 

 “Dear, do you want me to drive those monsters out?” 

 “Are you having nightmares again? It will be alright. I promise, okay?” 

“No one’s going to hurt you anymore. He’s not going to ever again, okay?” 

“Mama’s just sad. She doesn’t mean to leave. Those are just pills for sleep, okay?” 

No one asked. Nobody did. I never held that against them. I figured everyone is fighting their own battles and my constant rebellion with myself is too petty for them to even bother. Not once did I try to wince from my bleeding wounds. Not once did I close my eyes from our burning home. You think I couldn’t have scarred? You think I could try to forget? I tried my best to not scar, to forget but hey, time’s up. Game over. I was too young to see all that, to feel all that. But you see, I tried to grow. I tried to deal with it. I eventually got over my “angry phase”. I even convinced myself to be annoyingly positive about all things. And I was stellar! Exemplary! I was almost like a warrior killing monsters for a living. But guess what? You all sent me away. I had to make higher barriers and bigger distractions. I wanted to prove that there could be so much good in the world so I went for the less destructive option to destroy what’s destroying me: Friends, pens, notebooks, books, photographs, poetry, music, religion and delusional dreams. All too soon, they fade. They no longer pin me away from my predators.

They’re catching up with me now. And I have no intention of running away again. I am simply exhausted. Exhausted of everything; exhausted of being me. I thought I had something going for me. I thought I was someone; someone that mattered. Lo and behold! 
I AM NOTHING.  Silly girl. I've been alone in my journey and the world would never stop when I go.

The thing is though, I never understood how I could be up so high in the sky at one point and then suddenly feel drastically drowning on my own fears. The night has always frightened me. My thoughts are dangerous on late hours. I can't seem to hold a stable thought and emotion so I tried writing and reading more. Feverishly, I read and write. With so much intensity that I suffocate from my words. It helps at times but on other times, I think what I'm doing only worsens me. I can never seem to talk to anybody about what's happening to me so I grabbed tight of my pen and never let go of words that console me. Is there something wrong with me? I've wondered. And more often than not, I’ve wondered how it was like to feel genuinely happy. I’ve always wondered how it was like to wake up not wishing you didn’t. Always wondered how it was like not cursing yourself for thinking such and begrudgingly tell yourself to get over it. I guess I’ll never be able to find out because I’m going away with those invisible monsters. 

See you in hell, everybody. I’m done.

what the water gave me.

There is so much pain that I can hardly breathe. But I do not want air to do the favor of taking itself away. I want water to do that.
The ocean will consume me. Entirely and serenely. Just 8 days more.

brighter.

It gets better. 

Not because things are easier but because we get better at dealing. There are those who choose to stay and fight and deal. They deserve honor. They are the heroes of their soul. There are, however, those who are too exhausted to even think, let alone deal. No, they’re not looking for the easy way out. There is never an easy way out. They merely paved a different path where fire shines brighter. This is the warmth they seek. They’ve been fighting long enough. They deserve glory. They are the heroes of their world.

still.

It is difficult to find peace in these troubled times. The heart trembles, shivers, falters. It cannot be still. It attempts to be consoled by words and whispers. It longs the comfort of a touch and warmth. But it fails and wavers. The heart does not understand. It is baffled by the immense noise which is hauntingly silent. It struggles, struggles, struggles. It pursues to grasp a tangible stillness. The fight is futile.

how?

How do you just stop? How do you just forget? How do you just leave? How could you even dare? How could you even try? How do you just conquer? How do you strip off your fear? How do you go? When in every setting sun there is a rising heartache. When in every glimmer of hope there is a deafening shatter of an unfulfilled dream.

Maybe.

Maybe today you get to curl inside your darkness. Maybe today you can talk back to those voices. Maybe today you are allowed not to bite your tongue to keep yourself from screaming. Maybe today you get a chance to rip, throw and smash things around. Maybe today you could cut your hopes instead of your hair. Maybe today you can be miserable. Maybe today you get to shiver and be afraid. Maybe today you could stop pretending that you’re okay. Maybe.

tick tock.

We’re always trying to find ways to kill time even though time is slowly killing us. We are missing the value of a second and a tick. We forget to grab it by the neck and run it over with our speeding feet. We fail to recall that it is only an illusion made to count our solid heartbeat and heartbreak.

today

Today I broke a record in how many days I’ve gone without dying. Today is the oldest I've ever been. Today I breathe without thinking, without knowing, without caring. Today I go about fearing, struggling, trying, failing, succeeding. Today marks a life and a possible end of it. Today started with light and may end up with nothing, not even darkness. Today is an evidence of the footsteps made without making a dent in this existence. Today is a reminder of a fragile heart and a thin sheer fabric of an unsure courage. Today is a start and an end.

wreckage.

I do not stand a chance against these four walls. They are too loud, they scream the truth, they ignite fear, they manifest monsters, they leave scars. And here, just here, with them staring, them waiting, I lay.

A useless wreckage.

not here.

joke.

Maybe that’s how it is. To want something you could never have. To lose the sides of your circles. The mad irony of your joke of a life. To be stuck in a dry, acidic landscape of pure disaster where your only sustenance is your almost laughable need to breathe and survive so you can once again prove your madness.

jump.

Sometimes I get so scared that I may not be able to hold myself together any longer. It's dangerous to be on the very edge of a cliff every ticking second. Sometimes I can't fight it anymore and the tip of my foot slips so that my heart scrambles and struggles to catch up with the unbearably fast beating of drums. Sometimes I forget to look forward and look down instead and I falter, my stomach sinks. Most of the time, I want to jump off just so I could end it all. I'm just so tired. So tired. Extremely tired. Everyone forgets and it frightens me that I'm starting to forget myself too.

weep.

And you stand alone in your fear of not knowing where to go and what to do. To be wrapped by the pain of losing your thoughts and heart. When self-preservation is not an instinct but a hindrance towards clarity. When the bondage of insecurity and doubt and insignificance turn you into a pulp so easily beaten and thrown away. You can’t help but weep and wail. Weep and wail.

 

day night after.

Day after day, night after night. Lost in the elegant madness. Not wanting to stop, not wanting to go. Stuck in a whirlwind of confusion after confusion. Enveloped by the indifference of the world towards her existence, not even the dust illuminated by sunlight recognizes her heaving. Does she falter when she’s already fallen? Does she grieve when her eyes have already drowned?

 

today.

Today doesn’t feel like anything new. It is though. It’s different from yesterday and will be a lot more different tomorrow. You wake up and you feel like crap, the same crap you felt yesterday, but at least you are given something new to mess your life with. Doesn’t make you feel any better than the days before but still a bit of looking forward to eases a part of your madness and that is somehow good. All hope seems lost but seemingly lost things never are. They’re just a tad bit difficult to find.

 

nothing.

There is always that shy awareness that you’re just a miniscule speck of palpable dust in the extremely vast body of the universe. You never address it most of the time; you never give it even a second of thought; you fend it off like a silent noise in the background. However, the day you let the thought linger, the day you welcome it, will be the day of massive heartbreak. That awareness will knock you with the heaviest reality hammer. It will whisper with wild reverie, “You are nothing. You came from nothing and nothing you shall become.” And unless you fight back, unless you grab it with intensity and equally knock it off, unless you make a dent, you will not win over it and into a slump you will go.

guilt trip

Fear, more than guilt, has the power to break you into pieces. Unless you are more powerful, more persistent and more stubborn than it, you will never put those pieces back together. You will never be whole.

drown.

The feeling of being lost is much stronger today. This needs to be drowned in a pile of books and liters of coffee.

remember.

Because I need to remember what happiness feels like. I keep forgetting. It is distant. It is a memory difficult to recall, to refabricate.

deep.

There’s a certain pain that cannot be healed; a hole that cannot be filled.It’s here. Here. Here. It’s buried deep. Deep where no one reaches; where no one seeks.