I saw my life, slow motion, and red-blue filters
Slow kisses and slow dances
Crashing beach waves and salty wind that tangles your hair
I went from walking next to you at the beach
to trying to follow your footprints
Then, my world turned grey as the skies darkened
I hear the wind howling, waves trying to drag me into the sea
You were on the shore, body facing me but head turned away
The storm drowned out me shouting for you, I wished it drowned me
Then the storm went away, left me choking on seawater on the shore
I knew you were long gone, the waves have washed away your footprints
So, I wandered in the same direction where you left
I still looked for you, sometimes in the beach houses or under a tree
I learned to build my own sandcastles or try to enjoy being at the beach
I looked at every face that resembled yours
I got a different filter now, everything is tinted orange
The beach looks brighter, the sun even brighter
I don't know if I am happy, it's hard to tell with this color
One day, I saw footprints again, exactly what yours were like
It took everything in me to not sit there and just miss you
How it felt miserable and wonderful to do so
I can't say I am happy, I no longer feel a purpose
I wait to hear your voice every year, that's why I allow myself to miss you
I realized when I did, I can see in that red-blue filter again
Sunday, July 12, 2020
Tuesday, May 5, 2020
First post for 2020: All my words are still yours.
It's been about 10 years or more since I started this blog.
This place, where I take it upon myself to make it a safe place, contains stories and poems of painful heartbreaks and fears that I may have never told anyone about. Some were scenarios I created to mirror how I was feeling, some were a cry or a prayer to beg for either the pain to end or for the worst to make sense.
If I was not marking myself to function, I was here hoping that my pain would turn into some sort of art that I would later appreciate when I am older. I am glad that I wrote about it here because where would I be if I didn't write it hoping that someone in the world, somewhere would read it.
Since I started working in 2016, I know I have written less and less with almost every post starting with "I know I haven't written in a long time...". Somehow I have found my way back here again. I feel like a different person compared to the hopeless romantic that poured her heart out on the keyboard. I can't say for sure if this is a better version of myself because I don't believe I feel things to its highest intensity anymore. There is definitely a romantic side of being so emotionally in tune with happenings. I don't dislike being as dismissive as I am now but I do miss being able to fall in love with everything generally.
I have suffered a few more heartbreaks that I didn't document here. I don't know if I wish I did or not. Even though I don't admit it but I still remember what that felt like. It was the last one that broke me. I wrote a few poems about it but I didn't dedicate anything to them. I usually dedicate out of love but for her, I excluded, out of spite.
I was so broken by the end of the two months.I genuinely just think that I was not ready to talk about it. I was also dealing with a situation at work and needed to focus on that while being broken about it. I remember having a panic attack that was so severe that I couldn't feel my hands and feet. I went and paid for an online therapist because I felt like I was toxic and going insane. My heartbreak with Cassandra was soul crushing with a gut wrenching scream and tight fists and elbows around your head. The kind that rips your heart right out of your chest and you feel like you can cry forever. This heartbreak, it left me hollow and empty. The hole in my chest feels like miles and miles of highway with only silence that seems to echo louder and louder. This one made me just sit on my bed in the dark and free fall all the way down to my stomach.
After that, everything in me just became different. Aside from rage and anger, I don't think my brain allows me to feel emotional pain anymore. Even just now, as I was trying to describe what I was feeling, half way freefalling, my brain stopped it. My feet feels like its on solid ground even though I know I am only standing on a platform above a never ending hole.
I know I approach relationships differently now. I approach friendships differently. I even approach the topics of my own emotions with myself differently. In the past year and a half of this, I learn how to be my own disruptive thoughts especially when I am pining for her. It made me really good at being in control of my own misery. Now I know how to allow or disallow wallowing. I mean, I had to figure out how to function. I had no one else.
With that being said, I miss being in love. I miss how my walls crumble when I am in love. Right now, I am too practical, too pragmatic. I keep to myself now after that heartbreak. I was never the type to be terrified of letting people in but now it seems that I may have developed the fear and this times the walls are concrete and steel. I know the vulnerability is still there because I still feel it when I think of Cassandra. I feel it when I remember what it felt like to fall in love with her. I don't think I have ever been this terrified to fall in love or to feel anything as intense as love.
I also believe that when I lock that part of myself up, I lose that sense of creativity. I no longer have poems or stories in me. The last time I felt it come back for a while was after close to two months of that breakup. I called Cassandra to wish her happy birthday after 2 years of not hearing her voice. I think I can write a story about that because when she said hello, I feel all the poems and stories I have ever wanted to write spill out of me. And I felt my heart go "There you are, I've been looking for you in everyone that I meet and everywhere that I go."
I hope this place remains to be a space where I am not judged. The reason I think that I don't share anymore is that I don't feel safe. The last time I tried to share that heartbreak, I was broken down even more. After that, I couldn't bring myself to be emotional with someone anymore. I don't talk about me being sad anymore, or depressed or heartbroken. I only talk about being angry because this was the only emotion that people somehow want to relate to either one way or another.
I am in the mood to slow dance with her. I think it always goes back to Cassandra because she was the only person I felt truly safe with. Or maybe it's because she was the first person I gave my entire heart to. Sometimes when I reply her messages, I would write out what I wanted to write to her before deleting it all and writing an appropriate response. Most of these messages were just different paraphrases of "Come back to me. I love you." Though a huge part of me has accepted that she is gone, it doesn't stop that 22 year old girl that fell in love from sitting on the front porch and waiting for her love to come back. Sometimes I would wait on the porch with her because I would miss holding her hand and having her asleep at the nook of my neck. Maybe if I wait long enough, she might actually come back to me.
This place, where I take it upon myself to make it a safe place, contains stories and poems of painful heartbreaks and fears that I may have never told anyone about. Some were scenarios I created to mirror how I was feeling, some were a cry or a prayer to beg for either the pain to end or for the worst to make sense.
If I was not marking myself to function, I was here hoping that my pain would turn into some sort of art that I would later appreciate when I am older. I am glad that I wrote about it here because where would I be if I didn't write it hoping that someone in the world, somewhere would read it.
Since I started working in 2016, I know I have written less and less with almost every post starting with "I know I haven't written in a long time...". Somehow I have found my way back here again. I feel like a different person compared to the hopeless romantic that poured her heart out on the keyboard. I can't say for sure if this is a better version of myself because I don't believe I feel things to its highest intensity anymore. There is definitely a romantic side of being so emotionally in tune with happenings. I don't dislike being as dismissive as I am now but I do miss being able to fall in love with everything generally.
I have suffered a few more heartbreaks that I didn't document here. I don't know if I wish I did or not. Even though I don't admit it but I still remember what that felt like. It was the last one that broke me. I wrote a few poems about it but I didn't dedicate anything to them. I usually dedicate out of love but for her, I excluded, out of spite.
I was so broken by the end of the two months.I genuinely just think that I was not ready to talk about it. I was also dealing with a situation at work and needed to focus on that while being broken about it. I remember having a panic attack that was so severe that I couldn't feel my hands and feet. I went and paid for an online therapist because I felt like I was toxic and going insane. My heartbreak with Cassandra was soul crushing with a gut wrenching scream and tight fists and elbows around your head. The kind that rips your heart right out of your chest and you feel like you can cry forever. This heartbreak, it left me hollow and empty. The hole in my chest feels like miles and miles of highway with only silence that seems to echo louder and louder. This one made me just sit on my bed in the dark and free fall all the way down to my stomach.
After that, everything in me just became different. Aside from rage and anger, I don't think my brain allows me to feel emotional pain anymore. Even just now, as I was trying to describe what I was feeling, half way freefalling, my brain stopped it. My feet feels like its on solid ground even though I know I am only standing on a platform above a never ending hole.
I know I approach relationships differently now. I approach friendships differently. I even approach the topics of my own emotions with myself differently. In the past year and a half of this, I learn how to be my own disruptive thoughts especially when I am pining for her. It made me really good at being in control of my own misery. Now I know how to allow or disallow wallowing. I mean, I had to figure out how to function. I had no one else.
With that being said, I miss being in love. I miss how my walls crumble when I am in love. Right now, I am too practical, too pragmatic. I keep to myself now after that heartbreak. I was never the type to be terrified of letting people in but now it seems that I may have developed the fear and this times the walls are concrete and steel. I know the vulnerability is still there because I still feel it when I think of Cassandra. I feel it when I remember what it felt like to fall in love with her. I don't think I have ever been this terrified to fall in love or to feel anything as intense as love.
I also believe that when I lock that part of myself up, I lose that sense of creativity. I no longer have poems or stories in me. The last time I felt it come back for a while was after close to two months of that breakup. I called Cassandra to wish her happy birthday after 2 years of not hearing her voice. I think I can write a story about that because when she said hello, I feel all the poems and stories I have ever wanted to write spill out of me. And I felt my heart go "There you are, I've been looking for you in everyone that I meet and everywhere that I go."
I hope this place remains to be a space where I am not judged. The reason I think that I don't share anymore is that I don't feel safe. The last time I tried to share that heartbreak, I was broken down even more. After that, I couldn't bring myself to be emotional with someone anymore. I don't talk about me being sad anymore, or depressed or heartbroken. I only talk about being angry because this was the only emotion that people somehow want to relate to either one way or another.
I am in the mood to slow dance with her. I think it always goes back to Cassandra because she was the only person I felt truly safe with. Or maybe it's because she was the first person I gave my entire heart to. Sometimes when I reply her messages, I would write out what I wanted to write to her before deleting it all and writing an appropriate response. Most of these messages were just different paraphrases of "Come back to me. I love you." Though a huge part of me has accepted that she is gone, it doesn't stop that 22 year old girl that fell in love from sitting on the front porch and waiting for her love to come back. Sometimes I would wait on the porch with her because I would miss holding her hand and having her asleep at the nook of my neck. Maybe if I wait long enough, she might actually come back to me.
2 months till the end of 2019.
1. I am home. I like being home.
2. This blog is one of the most consistent thing I have in my life that is entirely my own.
3. I have done quite a bit of part time editing gigs. Now, I am writing articles about food. Exactly what I would have wanted as a kid after saying that I want to be a "cooker" at about 5.
2. This blog is one of the most consistent thing I have in my life that is entirely my own.
3. I have done quite a bit of part time editing gigs. Now, I am writing articles about food. Exactly what I would have wanted as a kid after saying that I want to be a "cooker" at about 5.
Friday, November 8, 2019
Starting over
I remember writing about not wanting to feel any sort of emotion.
I remember that being the reason why I don't write anymore.
That reluctance to feel raw emotion stopped me from creating
stories because strong emotions were my muse.
In hindsight, I have muted myself by suppressing the weight of every emotion I have felt.
There were stories in my head as emotions arise.
I still remember telling myself that these would be good stories.
To my current dismay,
I don't recall any of them.
It should be time to give myself that allowance to feel again.
I leaned on writing for a reason and I knew I would want to read all of these someday.
I know it's not too late to continue writing
because I did write the important feelings on here.
It's okay if I didn't write daily.
I need to rededicate writing to myself again.
Without writing,
I'd probably have lost my mind and implode.
Honestly,
if anyone were to ever read this blog,
they would know almost everything about me.
This blog has my thoughts that I have not shared with anyone,
or thoughts that were shared to people who no longer want to be a part of my life.
It has my desires, pain, wants and hopes.
It also contains my darkest thoughts on death, my own death and my desperate attempts to keep myself alive.
I think internally, I enjoy being that 16 year old that talks to their diary.
At least, I have somewhere to go.
This blog comforts me.
It has for the last decade.
I intend to keep this blog up and running for me.
Who know what will happen.
If I ever publish a short story book,
some will definitely be from here.
I know I have dedicated a lot of words to other people
but I know they will never read it.
So, it's okay, I still wrote it for me.
I remember that being the reason why I don't write anymore.
That reluctance to feel raw emotion stopped me from creating
stories because strong emotions were my muse.
In hindsight, I have muted myself by suppressing the weight of every emotion I have felt.
There were stories in my head as emotions arise.
I still remember telling myself that these would be good stories.
To my current dismay,
I don't recall any of them.
It should be time to give myself that allowance to feel again.
I leaned on writing for a reason and I knew I would want to read all of these someday.
I know it's not too late to continue writing
because I did write the important feelings on here.
It's okay if I didn't write daily.
I need to rededicate writing to myself again.
Without writing,
I'd probably have lost my mind and implode.
Honestly,
if anyone were to ever read this blog,
they would know almost everything about me.
This blog has my thoughts that I have not shared with anyone,
or thoughts that were shared to people who no longer want to be a part of my life.
It has my desires, pain, wants and hopes.
It also contains my darkest thoughts on death, my own death and my desperate attempts to keep myself alive.
I think internally, I enjoy being that 16 year old that talks to their diary.
At least, I have somewhere to go.
This blog comforts me.
It has for the last decade.
I intend to keep this blog up and running for me.
Who know what will happen.
If I ever publish a short story book,
some will definitely be from here.
I know I have dedicated a lot of words to other people
but I know they will never read it.
So, it's okay, I still wrote it for me.
3 days after turning 26.
I took a little time off to be busy, to "reclaim myself". I'd like to think that I did it well. I have made a few changes in my life and I would also like to think that it was changes that I needed and an attempt to make myself feel save again. To top it off, I believe it gave me great confidence and made me even more determined to be who I am and not feel that pressure to change it.
1. I moved. I love my room now. I have always enjoyed the idea of compartmentalizing areas of my room to specific needs that I have. For example, I have always wanted a big study table and basically make it my own space to do work and play games on. Now I have it. Kao Kao gave it to me for free because his office was throwing it away. This is an executive table with another smaller side table on it. Basically everything I have ever wanted as a kid. I have only started cleaning up my table because I finally have time and I am also procrastinating.
2. I started bullet-journaling. I am not great with design and templates and all that but I found great joy in lists, diagrams and charts to process all the information that I currently have in my life. It is a very new way for me to record down my life and frankly I don't know if I would be keeping up with it or not. I am enjoying it so far but the only thing is that I don't really have time? I will try to make time. I have a bad habit of just lying in bed and not doing anything. Now that I am sitting here in front of my computer, I am very productive. I really just enjoy having a computer.
3. I have a computer now. I basically looked up the specs I want and researched and scouted for everything with the help and opinions of other people. It was definitely something exciting that happened in October because I made this decision on the spot and got the PC in a week. So it was just a week of intense research and ordering and BAM, computer! Still very proud of myself. I don't remember too much of my specs because I didn't really understand everything since I only researched for what I wanted only. Still very proud of myself. I didn't think I will ever understand it and buy my own PC but I did it! I think it's something impressive for me to keep celebrating.
4. I became very private. Even more private than before. I made this choice because I didn't see a point to keep entertaining my need to be heard? After the whole thing, I fought very hard with myself to really understand "People will not listen if they are not ready to listen. It is irregardless of your feelings most of the time" and "You can love someone but sometimes it will not make a difference". I think it was a very huge lesson. I think it was a lesson that I was always trying to learn. Now that I have learn it. It has made a huge difference. It allowed me to be selfish if I need to be. With that, I am very private with what I share because I now get it when people say "Not everyone you share things with, cares about you". Basically no one knows anything about me unless I tell you. I think mainly it's cause I got the idea from Sonia. She is quite private but I see the power in that decision.
5. I tried FD. I put a small amount of money in it to try and basically to see if it will really stop me from taking the money out and using it. It works so I will continue to keep that amount in the bank. I don't really care about the interest really, I just want somewhere that I can put my money in and not allow it to be taken out.
6. I started to get part time video editing gigs. I really need to work on it. Been procrastinating the whole day. I'll edit first and write when I am done.
1. I moved. I love my room now. I have always enjoyed the idea of compartmentalizing areas of my room to specific needs that I have. For example, I have always wanted a big study table and basically make it my own space to do work and play games on. Now I have it. Kao Kao gave it to me for free because his office was throwing it away. This is an executive table with another smaller side table on it. Basically everything I have ever wanted as a kid. I have only started cleaning up my table because I finally have time and I am also procrastinating.
2. I started bullet-journaling. I am not great with design and templates and all that but I found great joy in lists, diagrams and charts to process all the information that I currently have in my life. It is a very new way for me to record down my life and frankly I don't know if I would be keeping up with it or not. I am enjoying it so far but the only thing is that I don't really have time? I will try to make time. I have a bad habit of just lying in bed and not doing anything. Now that I am sitting here in front of my computer, I am very productive. I really just enjoy having a computer.
3. I have a computer now. I basically looked up the specs I want and researched and scouted for everything with the help and opinions of other people. It was definitely something exciting that happened in October because I made this decision on the spot and got the PC in a week. So it was just a week of intense research and ordering and BAM, computer! Still very proud of myself. I don't remember too much of my specs because I didn't really understand everything since I only researched for what I wanted only. Still very proud of myself. I didn't think I will ever understand it and buy my own PC but I did it! I think it's something impressive for me to keep celebrating.
4. I became very private. Even more private than before. I made this choice because I didn't see a point to keep entertaining my need to be heard? After the whole thing, I fought very hard with myself to really understand "People will not listen if they are not ready to listen. It is irregardless of your feelings most of the time" and "You can love someone but sometimes it will not make a difference". I think it was a very huge lesson. I think it was a lesson that I was always trying to learn. Now that I have learn it. It has made a huge difference. It allowed me to be selfish if I need to be. With that, I am very private with what I share because I now get it when people say "Not everyone you share things with, cares about you". Basically no one knows anything about me unless I tell you. I think mainly it's cause I got the idea from Sonia. She is quite private but I see the power in that decision.
5. I tried FD. I put a small amount of money in it to try and basically to see if it will really stop me from taking the money out and using it. It works so I will continue to keep that amount in the bank. I don't really care about the interest really, I just want somewhere that I can put my money in and not allow it to be taken out.
6. I started to get part time video editing gigs. I really need to work on it. Been procrastinating the whole day. I'll edit first and write when I am done.
Saturday, May 18, 2019
1/1/19
I started going to the gym 3 months ago.
I tried to reclaim what little of myself that I had left.
I tried to reclaim what little of myself that I had left.
Monday, October 22, 2018
16/8/18
I fell in love.
Her name is Julie.
She has big eyes,
eyes that squint into a straight line when she smiles.
Her voice, her words smooth as jazz on a Tuesday night.
I love sleeping next to her.
She smells like flowers,
smells like the best dream ever.
We spoke different languages when things were tough
Emotions were bottled up and spilling
on every surface, every experience, every wound.
She screamed into eternal abyss with her silence
while I hurled words into nothingness like broken plates that shattered on old walls.
I take it back.
She did not speak at all.
She only spoke at the end.
Her words, caked with an underlying anger that only came with years of unresolved rage.
Pointed all her fingers at me and deemed me the culprit,
Said I was the one that stomped on the flowers that she planted
Said I was the one, the smudge in the printer that ruined the pretty photos
22/10/18
It's been more than two months.
I stopped staring at the grey head that once held your picture in my phone.
My thoughts are no longer for you, no longer you.
Dreams are just dreams, no longer a looping film of losing you.
Got a heart, ready to have your name on it.
Now all that's left is a plaque, missing the rest of your name after J.
Still got that knife wound in my chest.
You missed, got a piece of my heart but not all of it.
My poem was unfinished because I was hurt.
I didn't know how to finish it.
I think I don't think I want to finish it.
She has all my words, and you get none.
I fell in love.
Her name is Julie.
She has big eyes,
eyes that squint into a straight line when she smiles.
Her voice, her words smooth as jazz on a Tuesday night.
I love sleeping next to her.
She smells like flowers,
smells like the best dream ever.
We spoke different languages when things were tough
Emotions were bottled up and spilling
on every surface, every experience, every wound.
She screamed into eternal abyss with her silence
while I hurled words into nothingness like broken plates that shattered on old walls.
I take it back.
She did not speak at all.
She only spoke at the end.
Her words, caked with an underlying anger that only came with years of unresolved rage.
Pointed all her fingers at me and deemed me the culprit,
Said I was the one that stomped on the flowers that she planted
Said I was the one, the smudge in the printer that ruined the pretty photos
22/10/18
It's been more than two months.
I stopped staring at the grey head that once held your picture in my phone.
My thoughts are no longer for you, no longer you.
Dreams are just dreams, no longer a looping film of losing you.
Got a heart, ready to have your name on it.
Now all that's left is a plaque, missing the rest of your name after J.
Still got that knife wound in my chest.
You missed, got a piece of my heart but not all of it.
My poem was unfinished because I was hurt.
I didn't know how to finish it.
I think I don't think I want to finish it.
She has all my words, and you get none.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
Loss.
I think when you lose someone, you never really stop losing someone. You lose them again when you think of them because who you remember is sure to be a different reflection of who they are now. You lose them again when you miss them. You lose them every time you imagine their reflection next to yours in the mirror, when you try to remember how their body fits into you. I feel that the more you see the change, the more you lose them. I can’t pin point it.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
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