You don't have to love me back.

I know it's exhausting for you, to deal with someone's love for you, especially when you don't want it or can't return it. I understand. You watch your words to keep how you feel unknown. You keep your wall up so you don't feel too much. You have always been a master at changing the topic to another completely different train of thought.

When I said I love you, you didn't say it back.I said it six times more on different occasions. Not once. Not once you acknowledged it. I'm sorry if it's unwanted. I didn't know. Well, I guess I did. I just didn't want to believe it. You've always said that we should be better off as friends. I don't think I know if I can be your friend. I love you. I have trouble finding the right way to explain what I feel. Then, I concluded that no combination of 26 alphabets can summed up to the way I feel about you.

I can't explain why I feel sad because "because I love you" would be a weird answer. I guess, "you can't be mine" would suffice. I'll remember the way you look at me. I remember how your lips curl up in response when we kiss. I'll remember how your skin feels. I promise I won't forget you. I understand now. I love you. You don't have to love me back.I won't force you to reciprocate what you can't.

\

Who was ever lucky enough to be loved in exactly the way they wanted? - Carmilla Karnstein

I love you.

Those three words are said too much,
they're not enough.
They became merely words,
with no promises, no hope, empty.

Then,
there was you.
I'd regret it if I didn't tell you that enough.

A letter to a man who will never ever read this letter.

Dear you,

I went to your wedding last week.
I was sitting in the 5th row from the front, on the bride's side.
I was seated between a woman in red who smells strongly and solely of expensive perfume
and an old man who smells of baby powder and hazy summers.
I was in dark blue dress because I was hoping not to stand out so much.
I think it worked because I don't think anyone knew me there.

I saw the way you looked when the wedding march came on.
Your shoulders tensed when you heard people gasping at her.
You pursed your lips in hopes of calming your nerves.
I get it, it's your big day.
She looked so beautiful.
I promise you, you looked good, don't worry.
You couldn't see the way she gripped on her father's arm.
She was nervous too. She looked like she would fall if
her father wasn't holding her up
but her eyes never left you.

When you turned around to look at her,
I was happy for you.
Your eyes were soft and you smiled a smile that was only meant for her.
I saw the way you held her hand like
it was the most fragile, most precious thing you've ever held.
Your eyes never left hers, hers never left yours either.
For a moment there, you were in your own world,
you forgot we were there.
Then, you were brought back to reality
when that photographer with the big flash tried to take a picture.

She had this face when you were exchanging vows.
I've seen that a few times.
The first time I saw that face was on the night when she first came to visit me.
I don't remember the last time she was that happy,
I guess that would be when she got married to you.
I hope you get to see her like that a lot.

You might be wondering why I am writing you this letter,
this letter that you will never read.
I am writing this because I hope you'll love her.
I hope you'll love her in every possible way a person can be loved.

I hope you fall in love with her eyes.
because they say the eyes are the only things that don't age.
I hope you fall in love with the way her skin feels,
the way she curls up against you when she sleeps.
I hope you fall in love with her laugh,
the way she smells without perfume.
I hope you fall in love with the way her arms wrap around you,
I hope that you'll always hug her back.

I hope your love for her consumes you.
I hope it scares you and it makes you wonder if you are ever good enough.
I hope you'll want to change for the better, for her.
I hope you'll want her to be proud of you.
I hope you'll take care of her.

You were given a chance to live your life with her.
I hope you cherish it because the only difference between you and me right now
is that she didn't choose me.

I can't say I'm in love with you.

I can't say that I'm in love with you
but when I close my eyes,
I imagine you lying next to me,
smelling of fresh laundry and sleep.
The monsters under my bed left me alone when you're there.
They know that you'll save me from
what scares me the most
and why bother, they said.
I wasn't the most superstitious person but after that night,
I called you my dreamcatcher.
If my prayers for miracles could not save me at night,
surely it could not be a coincidence
that your presence chases away what make me stop breathing at night.

Then,
those eyes, god, those eyes.
I forget my own name when I stare into them.
Sometimes, I even forget to breathe,
I wasn't "conscious" when you demanded for my attention.
I snapped back into reality in such a hurry,
suddenly aware of the clanging trays and impatient finger snapping from customers.
You said something about what to do next,
then I lost track of what you were saying
because, those eyes, your eyes..

I really can't say that I'm in love with you
but the idea of someone else holding you hand
makes me feel like the world is going to end.

I can't say that I'm in love with you
but I refuse, refuse...
It had to be you,
I want it to be you.

Bathrooms.

At 14, I was sitting in showers crying my eyes out while rivers of red were pouring from my wrists.

At 18, I was in the same spot in the bathroom. This time, passed out in a pool of my own tears and blood, from the same stream of red.

At 21, I remember how to take showers and sing. The walls no longer represent solitude.

At a week before I turn 22, these walls are no longer cages for secrets. 

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.