Now leave your voicemail after the beep.

"Hello,
I'm sorry I didn't come to the phone.
My chest feels like a thousand storms,
they are raging with hurricanes that go on for stories,
they had sunk every bit of peace and rest that voyaged from a good day.
A whirlpool in the middle had sucked in the overboarded sailors, normal sleeping hours, good appetite and the remaining fairy dust that I had saved for a rainy day.
And I,
I feel like the illustrated cow that is always drawn in the middle of a cartoon hurricane.
The higher and smaller the cow is,
the higher it is on the hurricane classification category.
In short, I am the dot in this weather.

I am constantly falling but also, suspended in mid air
Also, I'm being flung in circles and circles of loneliness with depression acting as a centripetal force of this never ending hurricane of sadness.
The speed of circling for 200 km/hr feels like slow motion after days.
Then, it's like I am in water
Except that,
I am submerged in the constant dread of not living my life to the fullest.
Then, I discover that I can breathe underwater
but I can't swim.
So, in that moment,
I am stuck in the mindset of wanting to to live my life and knowing that I have all the power to do exactly that,
but what is the point?

Sometimes when I am lucky,
I end up in the eye of the storm, like now.
It allows me to get enough of my shit together to construct a poem using metaphors and fancy sailing words like "voyaged".
I have sat here for a few days now.
All I hear are waves crashing against each other and the wind howling my name.
These storms feel too angry for them to be over any time soon.
I don't have a plan yet because getting out seems to be impossible at the moment.
I can't hear myself think over the destruction.
I'll send a message in a bottle when the storms calm down."

I mean,

"Hello,
I'm sorry, my phone died."

Why do I want to live?

Every time I want to kill myself, I'd look for five reasons to not do it. I didn't want my reason to be friends, family and a bright future. I was stubborn. I wanted good reasons, reasons that will only impact my life to show that there is something to live for. For those who wonders, I try. Everything on my list is never repeated.

Once, the taste of a good juicy burger was among the five. Another time, being able to breathe in fresh air and taste the molecules at six in the morning was one. Some days I stop at three, after "I get to feel the texture of flower petals". There were not enough reasons left. Then, I let myself fall into the trap of a bad habit, which is a story for another day. Some days, I couldn't get past two. I didn't know if getting out of bed counted as one reason. I wanted to give up. I was tired.

Then, you turned up, all smiles and green contact lenses. Five months later, I asked myself, "why do I want to live?" One, you. You are everything. You are sunsets and sunrises, morning dew and night mists. You are the cold side of a pillow and a hot bowl of soup on a rainy day. You are the smell of grass after the rain and the song I sing in the shower. You are the heart that I draw on foggy windows and the red dragonfly I saw once outside a church. You are everything at once.

I still want to kill myself sometimes but since then, my list has never changed.

Still wants.

I would like to think that I could be happy.
I would like to believe, to see, to be,
To be happy.

I would love to think that pain does not hold me hostage
but every time,
I try to take a step forward with happiness,
Pain shuts the barred windows and doors,
Trapping me in this vortex of what is eventually called depression.

I am trying, I swear.
For you, I'd try to scale the Empire State Building, despite my fear of heights.
No one explains how hard it is for you to explain yourself to others
Especially when you're in situations that they have yet to experienced.
I don't know how to explain my depression to you.
I don't know how to explain my pain.
I guess I cannot blame you for asking.
Like the others, I think you cared.

I still want to think that I can be happy.
I still want to believe that I'll wake up to a day with clear skies.
I don't know how to do all of this life thing
but I promise you,
I would want to be happy.

I still do.

Birthdays.

There's a reason why I love birthdays. It is another beginning, another point of life where you are reminded that you have another chance. I will celebrate your birthdays, I will be happy for you that you have another chance at everything in life. I will be happy that you are still alive, even if there are days where you wish you weren't.

For someone who suffers from depression, I am sure optimistic about having hope especially when it is about someone else.

Atlas and His Punishment.

When the Titans lost their war against the Olympians,
Atlas was condemned by Zeus to bear heaven's weight on his shoulders.
His punishment was a series of cramping wrists and stuttering kneecaps,
shaking arms and shoulders that bent over like all the apologies in the world.
No amount of suffering or prayers will ever earn him
the forgiveness of the supreme ruler of the gods.
I guess it's understandable that he suffers.
It is retribution for going against the most powerful god of all.

When I am curled up in my own bed, I often ask myself
if any of my wrongdoings has resulted in this form of punishment.
The weight of the day greeted my waking body like the aftermath of a hurricane.
My shoulders mirror the act of Atlas balancing the heavens,
except the heavens replaced by my anxiety and my desperate need to be good enough.
My arms cramped from the way I wrapped them around myself.
I bite my teeth down so hard that I was made believe that
my voice was never meant to be heard.
I broke and crumbled, without falling down.

Perhaps I am the daughter of Atlas, reincarnated
over the centuries to share the burden of what was once my father's punishment.
Perhaps my pain will act as the head of a decapitated prisoner, stuck on a pole
high up, as a warning to those who might stray.

Then,
Perhaps I am Atlas himself, wiped clean off all memories of the past,
with only the loud echos of never ending pain,
as a faint reminder of doing what I thought was right.

To those who un-intelligently refuse to understand depression.

The most frustrating part about having depression is when everything is going right, like absolutely everything is in your favor, you still feel your chest caving, you still want to die. When you explain it to other people who don't understand depression, they will tell you to stop thinking so much or to do something to take your mind off it.

They don't understand it. I am not thinking about anything. It could just be the beginning of the day. I would have literally just opened my eyes at the sound of my alarm. The feeling of a black hole in my chest will be there. There is no reason for it. Depression has triggers but at most times, they don't have a reason to be there. It's there and there's really nothing to do about it.

Then, to the "do something to take your mind off it", I can't. Like I've said, it's there. I could be sitting in bed, playing Pokemon or eating my lunch at a five star restaurant. I will still feel that cyclone of weariness and hopeless. It is there without needing you to acknowledging its presence. You just wake up with the hollow emptiness in your chest and the dread of the possibilities of the rest of the day.

I have woken up at times, unable to get out of bed because my body hurts. It is not the physical pain that immobilized me. I want to slit my wrists and bleed to death. I want to jump in front of a moving car and get run over. I want to feel pills going down my throat. I genuinely want to die. Now imagine someone's fist being shoved into your chest, then they continue to squirm around, twisting and turning. The place where your heart is supposed to be is replaced with a hurricane of pain, hopelessness and emptiness. You feel the blood draining from your face, your fingers, basically your whole body. You are left there, numb. You can hear the hum of silence in the air echoing in your room. You can almost hear the rise of fall of your chest as you breathe. With that, your brain just amplifies the feeling of sadness and hopelessness. You basically lose whenever you try fight with this.

So, to those who dismisses depression as an excuse for anything, fuck you. I woke up, got out of bed and went through life with ALL OF THOSE going on with me. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. You can go fuck yourselves.

We are fighters. We fight for our own lives. We fight to be alive.

Stuck Pt 1.

Have you ever been stuck?

Stuck? A couple of times. 

In potholes. 

In my car. 

Outside my house. 

Yeah, plenty.

So, to you,

being stuck is being physically restrained,

confined in a space that you can't get out of?

Being stopped from going where you are meant to be heading?

Well, that's one definition of being stuck.

What about you?

What is your experience of being stuck?

I have times where I try to stop thinking about something,

somehow it looped itself in my head 

and it ends up being the only thing I think about.

Then, there were days where I would drive aimlessly around the city.

Somehow, I would end up in odd places that still has fragments of what used to be.

Sometimes I would convince myself that I was okay.

I'll explore new places, new adventures, a whole different routine.

Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard I try because

it only takes something simple like the way someone's thumb looks like,

a phrase that was used,

It only takes very little for me to feel like 

I was back to the place that I try very hard to leave.

I think it's good that you try.

It means you stand a chance of getting out.

Getting out of anywhere is a hard thing to do.

So, I think it matters that you try very hard.

You know what is the worst part?

Being stuck feels infinite.

It's like you are blindfolded

and you are shortsighted.

All you can see are glimpses of what's in front of you

through the thin fabric of the blindfold.

And with your shortsightedness,

you are unable to even see what is before you,

let alone anything else beyond that.

And because of that, 

you're unable to get out

or get to anywhere else for that matter.

Reasons to get out of bed.

I haven't written in a while, which explains why I feel like I am going crazy. Since my days recently, have been bad or worse, I feel like I need to remind myself why I get out of bed. Hence, this list happened.

1. There's lunch somewhere out there.
2. You paid 9K this semester so you need to go to class.
3. You get to go to Muay Thai if it's the weekend and you enjoy it.
4. They make you happy, even if it's a little while.
5. It hurts less when you go out.
6. There is a possibility of fried chicken and cheesecake.
7. That person.
8. You get to laugh at other people.
9. Because you have to.
10. You can always come back to your bed when it's really that bad out there.

Waking up empty, again.

It was raining, a downright storm,
everywhere was dark, gloomy,
you feel like you never knew what happiness was.

I woke from my nap, expecting to be refreshed or at least not as tired
but no, that ever familiar sinking feeling is back.
I felt like I really forgot how to smile, it was as if
I forgot what anything good feels like.
Getting up hurts, just like I remember it.
Talking or making attempts at communication drains you.
It's definitely back because
suddenly, I was desperate to feel anything that was bad for me.

I crave cigarettes and the way they feel when I smoke it.
I love counting how many years they are taking off my life
but literally, not caring about it.
I crave alcohol, I crave the burn it gives when it goes down my throat.
I want to feel my face numb up from too many shots,
I want to feel how peaceful everything seemed to be, drunk.
I crave pain, they tighten up all the loose screws
and I can appear as fine, as well.
I love how they stop me from feeling the black hole in my chest,
at least for a while.
You only need to function for a while, it works.
I crave the sense of danger,
I would walk outside late of the night, and hoping
that somehow I would fall victim to a horrible tragedy.
I love how I know that I have 70% chance of dying
and I wouldn't really care.

Despite having the desperate need, the want to destroy myself,
I am still alive because I refuse to die.

I remind myself that every day.

Day 6 of 30 Day Poem Challenge: Write a poem of any length incorporating every word from your latest Facebook status

I'll cheat by using the latest thing posted on my wall. It was a check-in made by Zara and she tagged me into it. Mainly because my last status was me being in the hospital and I really don't want to write that. So,

Latest status: Sit back, relax.

Sit back, relax.

Tell me how are you, this is a safe place,

nothing you say will be judged or told to another individual.

It's okay, how are you?

Say you're fine, you've been doing well
I'm okay, as okay as I can be.
Now nod and smile, 
no, not like that, wider, bigger
you need to convince them, and me
Things are good and I am good.
Good, now look down,
don't hold eye contact, they'll know..

Are you sure? Were there any bad days?

Days where you cannot control your anxiety?

Yes.

No, I have complete control over them.

Look away, no, not so fast.

Look at them, now smile.

Things have never been better,

everything hurts less.

Bullshit.

I think I'm overcoming this.

Bullshit.

I think I might be better.

Bullshit, you're way worse than before.

Did you hurt yourself?

No, don't freeze, too late.

Why did you glance at her?

Cover it up, no, don't touch your wrist.

Shit, she saw that.

How do you lie out of this?

Folding your arms together does not help.

Whatever you do, don't tell he-

Yes.

You are a fucker.

You could have kept it together.

You don't need help.

You can do this on your own.

No, don't look at her like that.

Don't admit you are weak, you don't need her.

Come on, say something,

defend yourself.

Tell her that it's fine,

tell her that you're used to it

SAY SOMETHING.

Yes.

I felt like I was going to die,

and I didn't want to die.

It's okay, you're still here,

that should count for something.

No, I don't need help.

I am going to help you get better.

Really? You mean I can be better?

Sit back, relax.

It's okay, you'll be okay.

....

Moments.

I crave the nights where it's just me and a bottle, or in some cases, bottles. I love how the bitterness of beer silenced the loud voices in my head, shocking me into the moment of then. I love how the cold surface of beer bottles cause water droplets to condense. My fingers will trace the patterns etched on the glass bottle and I will feel the temperature difference between the cold glass and the warm breeze. Sometimes I'd wipe the bottles dry, sometimes I'd just let them be. It'd be bottle after bottle after bottle, a private competition with myself. How many till my brain gives out?

I crave the nights where I am able to breathe out the pain along with cigarette smoke. There is something calming about having a cigarette between my left forefinger and middle finger. I'd be able to feel the heat emitting from the lit cigarette bud. I'd flick off the burnt ends of the bud, exposing the still-burning tobacco insides. I would just sit there and watch it burn sometimes. There is some comfort in the smell of cigarette smoke when I am down. Watching the cigarette turn into ash and watching the smoke disintegrating into the air instilled a kind of serenity in me.  It's a familiar sense of pain and a comfortable kind of numbness.

I crave the nights where it's quiet. Quiet, in a sense where it's peaceful, silent, simply quiet. The only sounds in that moment are either cars speeding past or the wind. I'd usually be leaning on the wall or hunched down by the steps on the sidewalk. I'd do nothing else but breathe. It is only in times like these that I let my desperation to survive take over. I would inhale long drags of cigarettes, chug down half a bottle of beer to fill up the void that I feel somewhere to the left side of my chest. I would feel the complete weight of my depression. However, I know that I wouldn't want company. All I would want to do is to close my eyes and exhale.

In moments like these, I would feel completely and utterly alone. But then again, I would be lying if I said that I didn't want to feel like that.

Greatest achievement of the day: 20/6/14

I am sitting here, listening to "This is What It Feels Like", W&W's remix of Armin's song while eating a quart of yogurt.

It's weird how painful breathing is. Everything just feels heavy. Even though it's painful, I also feel numb. My heart hurts but somehow my mutilated wrist didn't contribute to that. I can't remember half the things I've said or done. It sucks, it really does.

Greatest achievement of the day: I got up from bed, walked out of my dorm and went to get a drink and yogurt for dinner. It's pathetic as dinner but it's something because if I didn't force myself to get up, I'll just stay there till the next day.

Seeing that I can barely type out a proper sentence without zoning out after every word, I'll leave it until next time.

I have absolutely no hope left in me. A car would hit me and I wouldn't care but because of this, I am still here.

Late night Confessions: 19/6/14, 1.03AM

I cannot see someone being in love with me. I mean, how could they? I'm all fats and stretch marks, frizzy hair and big arms. If they give ratings for puberty, I would say puberty gets a 3, only because it gave me boobs. I grew up thinking that I didn't need love. I grew up thinking that love is equivalent to pain and that to love is to be in pain.

Then, I learn that love is gentle and soft but what would they say when they reach out to stroke my arm? What would they look like when they realized that all they can feel beneath their fingertips are never ending bumps? I cannot see them hugging me tighter or holding me closer when I cry.

I cannot see anyone missing me so much that they cry. I cannot see anyone crying and asking me not to leave. I have never felt wanted or needed. I don't understand why anyone would want me or need me. There are better people around, so yeah, I get it. I was always second, always.

Slowly, you just get used to it. You get thankful when someone remembers your name. You thanked people when they pay a little attention to you and you'd say to yourself, "At least someone noticed me this time." The saddest thing about this is that when someone is genuinely nice to you, you have no idea how to react to it.

Simply, I believe that I am not supposed to be loved or to ever feel love because when I feel it, all it brings is pain. I'd rather be without it.

Day 15 of 30 challenge: What’s something you wish you could say to that someone?

Depending on what and who someone. I have so many things that I would like to say to a lot of people but there's always one. She caused me so much pain. Too much and I practically died from it. I'm a very very different person now. No, I don't need people telling me, I feel it, which is sad.

Dear you,

You fucked me up. Do you know that you completely fucked me up? All you said, this entire time, was "get over it", "try harder" and "what do you want me to do?" What do I want you to do? Tell me we are still friends. Tell me that you still need me in your life even though we don't hang out anymore. Tell me that you don't want to see me anymore. Tell me I am dead to you and you were using me all along. Fucker, do something about it. I did everything I could and it's up to you. You fucker, what do I want you to do? I want you to fucking suffer as I watch on.

I can't look through my phone's photo album because you are in 60% of all the photos. I can't listen to songs because there are so many songs that are associated with you. I remember the movies that you liked and realized even though I also liked them, I can never see them as MY movies because YOU liked them. My favorite songs are desecrated by the memories of you. Fuck you.

I can list out all the random things about you. I don't know how much about you has changed but I don't think I care now. You have been the biggest mistake that I have ever made. You were the one that made me hit rock bottom by just telling me to do so. The worst thing is that I'd do it because you said so, just like how a siren makes a sailor meet his death. You were a fucked person from the beginning. I should have seen that. I know that I refused to because I honestly loved you.

I remember the day that you didn't come to school because you got your stomach pumped. I remember the day where you fainted outside the classroom. I remember the morning you called when you got into an accident. I remember the night that you called when you were in Spain. I remember the day when you surprised me with you already back from Spain. I remember travelling to the Philippines with you. I remember tucking you into bed when you were so drunk. I remember acting as a look out whenever you wanted to smoke at home. I remember waking up at 1am to drive you to get your car which died earlier that day on a hill. I remember wrapping my arms around you while you cried and feeling completely helpless. I remember crying, telling you that I couldn't stop bleeding and all you could do is scream at me. I remember crying again, telling you how I feel and you frowning, telling me to try harder. I remember sitting in front of you, begging you to see that I am trying my best and you just coldly telling me to try harder again. You're a fucker.

You are a bitch, a fucked up asshole that threw me aside but kept me close enough so that it's be easier for you when you needed me. Now that you have a new group of friends, you completely ignored me. I never received any phone calls or messages from you anymore. Everything you said about loving me and me being someone that you trusted was a lie. If I was so important to you, why was it so easy to kick me out of your life? It's like you never existed now.

I don't remember what your laugh sounds like. I forgot what you sound like when you're happy. I forgot what your different smiles mean, or maybe all of them are just different depths of lies. I don't remember how you'd react when you're stressed. I don't remember if you like sushi or not. I don't remember your shoe size or the prescription of your eyesight. I don't remember what you look like when you're happy. I don't remember if you hated spinach or not. I don't remember the kind of pen that you use or your Starbucks order or your favorite book or if you ever loved me.

You broke me. Do you understand that, you broke me? Just like he broke you back in July 2011. The only difference is that I was holding you in your car while you were crying during a thunderstorm. I'm here now, feeling every ounce of this pain but I'm alone. I gave you everything, my time, my energy, my whole being. You said, "Not everyone will screw you over. I won't." Fuck you, I still remember that. It was in your study room. You were wearing that grey jumper from Philippines with your hair in a bun. You looked me in the eye when you said that. I honestly believed you then. Oh god, I really loved you.

You were the last person that I would ever hurt. Clearly, it's not the same with you. Do you even understand the thing with me now? I cannot feel anything more than a glimpse of pain. I cannot cry, nothing. When I was writing the paragraph above, I was so so close to tears and then, poof, gone. It's like my mind blocked it completely. It is a good thing for me though sometimes because I'd imagine beating you up and I'd just hit you over and over and over and over again. It doesn't even bother me that I might kill you. Or I'd just bludgeon him and make you watch.

I have no mercy for you now. I won't mind doing something that will cause you pain. I'd make sure to be a witness to it. Just like Regina from Once Upon A Time, your suffering will be my happy ending. I don't understand what you did, I don't think I'll ever understand it. You're a fucker. You're a fucked up person. I pity everyone who loves you because you'd just throw them away just like you did with everyone else. I know so much about you, and now I see it. You have no one close because you throw all of them away when they served their purpose.

Fuck you, F. I really loved you but now, fuck you. You'd never understand and I don't expect you to anymore.

Greatest achievement of the day.

My greatest achievement of the day is getting out of bed.

Depression has found its way back to me again. I woke up feeling the full weight of it. As what someone once said, "How can emptiness feel so heavy?" Exactly. Waking up has never been so numbing and painful, at least it hasn't been like that in a while. It was nice while it lasted.

I just wanted to stay in bed. I want to go back to daydreaming my fantasies of when things were good, when I can finally be happy, when someone finally loved me. One person can fuck you up, bad. Even if they, THEY, don't matter to you anymore, you still feel the pain, without them. I thought that I won't feel it when I'm over them. No, still woke up with the familiar but sad realization that I'm still alive.

I forced myself to get out of bed, to go to Muay Thai class. Even when I was halfway walking there, everything in my body was screaming at me to turn back and go back to bed. Weirdly, I still went and I managed to put on that mask.

After three weeks of leaving, I realized that I have not given myself the time to settle down or to feel. I don't feel. I haven't been feeling or I feel like I have been ignoring everything I want to feel. I am just numb.

Day 12 of 30 challenge: What would you say your biggest fear is when it comes to relationships?

Obviously from the last post, you'd know that when I love, I really love. My biggest fear when it comes to relationships is that when they leave me, I wouldn't be able to put myself back together.

It happened to me though. No, it's not a relationship, I didn't date that person but we had a real relationship, as in connection. That person was the first person that I really truly loved and that person was one of the most important person of my life. it happened to me because I didn't think that they would leave.

I trusted that person, I love that person. When they left, I felt like I was dropped on my butt. I thought that I had felt the worst of pains when something similar happened to me when I was 15 but I was wrong. I was devastated. I was at a sense of loss that I didn't understand, I felt like a compass that forgot where North is. I was completely useless to everyone because all I wanted to do was to go back to that person, or at least to that person I once knew.

There were days where I couldn't breathe, as if holding my breath was easier because every breath was just as painful as a stab to the chest. Actually, I would take that stab to the chest, thank you very much. Everyday felt like I was drowning but I couldn't die. I was in so much pain that I didn't know how to function without wanting to scream every single time I took a step. then, this numbness took over and I thought numbness was suppose to make you numb. No, it burned and the pain intensified, screaming just does nothing to help. I don't understand how I could still be alive right now.

I still feel it everyday. Every god damn day. You don't just get over this kind of pain, you feel it everyday, the after effects, everything. It doesn't leave you. The pain and burning and panic comes once in a while, and when I see that person, everything that I felt would come back, it'd be like it never left. I paid so dearly with that one time when I let my guard, my whole guard down. I was destroyed and I couldn't pick myself up after.

That person tells me to open up because I needed to and they were the last person that I opened up to. Fuck you, letting you in was the biggest mistake of my life. You destroyed me, completely utterly destroyed me. You left me there in pieces and you expect me to be okay just because you said I would be? You gave me pain, pain that I didn't understand and I didn't know human beings are supposed to feel this kind of pain. Congratulations, you have rendered me completely useless and broken me beyond repair, my repair.

Are you proud of yourself? Will this be added to your lists of accomplishments? Will you do this to other people too? BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT, I STILL LOVE YOU. I still want you to be happy, I want you to smile, I still want the best for you.

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, AFTER EVERYTHING YOU PUT ME THROUGH, I STILL LOVE YOU. God, help me, I still love you so much and I don't know what to do.

how is it that one is able to feel the same pain, over and over again, until a point where numbness also becomes a pain?

How does it not end?

Day 9 of 30 challenge: What do you like the most about yourself? (physically and emotionally)

Physically, I like my calves, my collarbones and my eyes.

My calves and my shoulders are what makes me look less fat. My calves are very very firm and muscular, it's not big but it's very toned due to 11 years of ballet and now, Muay Thai. I look good in skinny jeans because of my calves.

My collarbones because they are noticeable. I have always been a very big kid after hitting puberty. I was too skinny growing up and now everyone says that I am too fat. It's very frustrating because people, make up your minds. They compliment my shoulders, making me look like an athlete when I am not.

My eyes are nice, I guess. I like them because I not only have double eyelids, mine is like three and four layers. ON BOTH EYES. I don't have to put a lot of make up, just a little eyeliner and mascara and I am good to go which is nice. I have covered my mouth and everything in the mirror, leaving only my eyes and played with it. I changed emotions and everything and it's super cool to watch yourself transform even if it's only your eyes. I understand why acting is hard. To convey the right emotion, you need to be able to communicate with your eyes.

Emotionally, I know this is going to sound weird but I like that feeling of slight hope that I feel when I get really really depressed.

Wait wait, let me explain.

Depression happens to me very very often. It sucks and I cannot tell you to what extend of suck-ness it can be unless you have experienced it yourself. It's so bad that I couldn't, yes, COULDN'T do my dishes or my laundry or get out of bed properly without wanting to die.

It's horrible. And then, there's this little voice in my head that tells me, "Breathe, one minute at a time. Come on, get up, love." That's hope. It helps me stop crying. It keeps me alive. It makes me understand that I will be okay.

And again, unless you've been through depression, you will not understand how much a little hope can help a person when you feel like there is absolutely nothing to live for in this world

I get it.

I get it. I understand what he means. 

I have a little brother who is turning 9 this year and he is "full of love and joy, kissing every person he meets because everyone is good and will do him no harm". He loves so unconditionally and he has such a kind and pure soul. I love him to bits and the thought of harm coming his way makes me cringe. I would dive in head first if I should ever need to save him.

The idea of people breaking him in to little pieces and hardening him into someone like me..

Me.

I don't let people love me, I push everyone away. I put up walls so high that no one else could ever get it. I had to force myself out of bed, force myself to open my eyes, to stop crying, to not die. The concept of me being happy, being loved is completely extincted. I no longer dream, no longer hope, no longer live.

He, "who reminds me too much of what I used to be", has so much dreams, hope and life,  and is capable of conquering the world in his sleep. He is so happy, so full of laughter, so loving. I love him so much.

If anyone should ever hurt him, I will rip them into shreds. The idea of him not being him anymore in the future, "terrifies me to the point where I can barely function".

I get it.

Never home.

I didn't know what was wrong actually,
like, I was fine but I was sad?
I spend the whole afternoon, busying myself,
trying to avoid something, feeling something.
Then again, the whole afternoon was spent on "damn feels" short films.
I didn't know what was going on
or rather, I didn't want to know what was going on.

That was until no one was free to hang out with me,
then I realize that I felt lonely.
The people I asked to hang out weren't free,
so, I just sat in my room, trying to find something to do.
The urge to edit family photos that were long overdue were strong,
so that's what I did.

Being lonely has never felt this painful in a long time.
What struck a nerve was a picture of my little brother.
I didn't realize how much I missed him because I told myself that I don't.
Scrolling through all of the photos is really not a good idea,
I end up breaking down and yeah, crying.
I've always wanted to go home,
I just didn't realize that until now.

I still say, "I'm going back," whenever I say goodbye to my friends.
Never the word "home".
I only used it when I was flying back, to home.
I guess, I was never home after all,
I was only back in my room
but never home.