Month: September 2017

see you,

when I see you again;

we make no promises to meet

it’s a better way than saying

goodbye.

•

i had dinner alone at night

in the east, far away

from home, both

physically, and

emotionally. something

stings.

•

at night, I am guilty again—

the objective consequentialist

screaming at me: this is partially

your fault we lost it, and I don’t

fight the accusation.

because I am guilty for not realising,

I spilled the beans. And

it haunts me; I can’t sleep.

•

maybe i am too naive

I always come off as

inexperienced, immature

but I am trying

but I keep failing

like a kid.

•

i didn’t really need dinner

i was hungry

but it was not physical hunger.

rather, I consumed my emotions

cuz I was too weak to fight them

too weak to hold them close.

too afraid to brace the collision

of the truth.

•

see you,

when I see you again;

I wish there’d be a date

but this is with what I will

temporarily settle.

the rain destroys my hair

wipes away my smile like

acetone on nail polish.

•

she smiles. I smile back,

but I didn’t want to. I am

too tired to function.

•

I constantly am at a loss

of seemingly everything;

words, faith, hope, love,

I don’t know why it is

so tiring, except that

it just is. Lethargic.

•

she is graceful and calm

i am erratic and dumb

my legs won’t move when

I want it to, I fall.

•

my wrist hurts.

•

and I know that this tiredness

is incurable with sleep

like raindrops against my skin

it starts off soft and grows into

a thunderstorm; and it consumes me

together with it.

don’t forget to remind yourself to forget about the things that hurt

to forget about the things that you’d be better off not to feel

•

the type of hunger that can’t be foreseeably satisfied;

I wonder if it’s better to never try to fulfill, instead of

stupidly wishing upon dead stars in the sky

clinging onto wistful memories of hope from the past.

the stars are long dead.

•

you’ll need to work hard for the things you want

but there are certain things you’ll just never get

I wonder where it is to draw this line; I am always

crossing onto the other side I don’t want.

•

I am afraid to go to sleep because I know I’ll see you

radiant and vibrant in my dreams—how effortlessly

you make me feel at ease and I am utterly terrified but

nature determines everything; I am the moon and

inevitably I rise and fall completely for you

in the wee hours of the silent night

all the way until your sunshine

renders me invisible at morning light.

•

I was not aware that euphoria can be crippling

drunk on high hopes with zero foundation

in the middle of the night I was screaming your name

but my roommate was fast asleep

so I screamed your name in my heart and into my dreams

in the morning I woke up like death, I overslept.

my heartstrings jumbled up in a complete mess and you

swung on them until it was too painful to sleep.

•

it is ironic because I wanted to write this post

to forget about you but I know I have only just

risen even higher above ground only to

fall even harder than I ever did at the start.

please have mercy on my heart.

When I tell you goodnight

I mean it in a way, not just

rest tight, but may your soul

be calm and gentle to you

•

it’s midnight and I am

anything but rested and

I wonder if you are sleeping

or wide awake just like me

my incoherent 2am poems

they are not poems

they are the cries of my

heart and soul because

I do think about you

you know nothing.

and it’s fine.

• •

goodnight.

sometimes the same wounds can hurt in entirely different ways. an injured wrist, a gnawing sense of incompatibility, mountains of work to clear (just to have an entire new load the very next day) and memories of the past that you don’t want to remember.

sometimes i like to remind myself that every once in a while, everyone feels this way. my feeling of this way is normal, so there’s no reason why i should be hurting this way. but it doesn’t help that the pain is still as vivid as ever, just as excruciating. and just because every one else too, is capable of feeling this way, doesn’t cushion the dull impact of an insensitive blow.

lately i have been rather overwhelmed by the series of events. for the first time in my life, i catch myself not hungry during after-training supper even though i just had a tough training. my wrist screams internally as i struggle to hold my chopsticks. physical pain is so excruciating but i shut up and move on hoping that it’ll recover the next day. the next day i could barely write because my wrist hurt so god damn much.

i hate how i can’t write fiction. all my writings are too personal. all my writings stem from the very fact that somewhere hurts. it’s like a remedy. writing is supposed to be a happy thing. you’re supposed to feel happy at reading your own work. i get compliments telling me that i can write, but sometimes reading my own work just hurts. why?

you know, this is a crap post. one can say that my entire blog is crap. it’s 6 years of accumulated bullcrap. my archives contain crappy reflections of my past, my blatant naïveté, solid evidence that remind me that i don’t ever move past from feeling this dull crappy ache. if i stopped aching i wouldn’t write. but i’m always writing because somewhere is always aching. it’s like pain constitutes 99.9% of my life. i might have become good at writing sad posts. but nobody wants to read sad posts. i am incapable of coming up with a piece of happy fiction. oh, no.

unfortunately, writing to me feels like the way my soul bleeds. this cripples the entire purpose of ‘keeping a leisure blog’. cuz it doesn’t work that way. i didn’t create this blog intending for it to be an accumulation of all my hurt. but this is what it is. a dump site of all my negativity. and with much, much, more to come in the (near) future.

how ironic, though, that i have come to enjoy writing. it comes quite effortlessly. like turning on a tap somewhere in my brain and all the words just come out naturally. does this mean that i am now a masochist who takes pleasure in experiencing this pain? then where’s this ‘good’ that philosophers preach? philosophers disagree over virtually everything but pain being bad is the one thing that most of them agree upon. where can i find this ‘good’ that isn’t all this pain?

stay happy.

my friend

•

you and i, we have sailed the oceans

depending on each other

our mutual source of company

my only form of solace

•

we have had battles together

both with and against each other

but regardless of the outcome

we have stood the test of time

•

i have seen your naked past

just as you have seen mine

i have seen your ugly scars

heal over a period of time

•

tonight we are alone

under the starry night sky

you raise your glass to me and

something made me want to cry

•

you are a familiar face

and once a familiar soul but

tonight i may be falling for you

a secret you’ll never know.