You know the feeling when you’re trying to avoid a certain memory?
How your brain Fs everything up and gives you more of it?
But really it’s not the outside world that creates this madness?
It’s really just inside your head.
The inexplicable coincidences
The random surge of the same car unit in the entire city
Suddenly, all parents gave their kids the same name in the 90s
Sometimes it puts a silly grin, other times, it makes you want to scream
The mere coincidence that wherever you go
Wherever you enter, you’ll hear the name
As if the Universe is mocking you
And the more you try to ignore, the more it persists
You cry for help, you tap out
But it’s there
Pushing you to remember
Teasing you more about your once upon a never
As if telling you to get used to it
Or maybe it’s helping you realize that a person, a place, or an event are all over
It’s all over – can be repeated
Can be replaced
Until we don’t realize how OK it is to reach game over, we will continue to have these strange encounters.
I’m super exhausted from work today but it is scary cos it’s my favorite kind of high.
The fulfillment I get…like an andrenaline rush.
I wonder if people feel the same way?
I wonder what version others have?
I’m struggling to find other facets in life that can give me such vibe. I know there’s more to life than this.
There are tiny versions like helping others or coffee picking or wandering but it is not as “makes-me-oblivious” kind.
I’m struggling to find ways to heal the hurt.
I’m struggling to find means to forget.
The days filled with bruises outlived the bliss
Each waking day turns into nostalgia
Reliving the unfinished “IT”
Regrouping all my false belief
Opening and closing each day become the hardest
They remind me so much of my defeat
Even as I recreate my days and crack in laughter
Thoughts suddenly seep and quickly, I just go back in bleak
I smile and smile right in front of the people who love me
The people who wishes to make me happy, but the sadness haunts me
I see you in every car, in every city
Your ghost won’t just leave
My mind has decided it is not worth it,
I know I should have long taken a flight
It’s clear you arent my knight
My mind’s made up but my heart…
My heart is still crawling from the dark alley now branded with fright.
It was a mistake to pour your soul to someone you barely know
It was a mistake to assign your happiness in someone else’s hand
To expect other people to remove your worries and fears
It is a mistake to turn to,cling during moments of confusion and grief
To forget that you yourself is your number one hero
So wrong to let emotions run through a fragile vessel
So wrong to allow yourself to be open after a short chase
But is it really wrong to trust?
Is it wrong to think that people are kind and amazing and giving?
Well it is never wrong to feel
It is never wrong to ache, to experience whirlwind of emotions
It isn’t wrong to purely see the goodness of other people’s heart
A bagfull of wishful thinking.
A night sky for dreaming.
There are no wrong emotions
Just wrong people
Not that we are right, they are just not the one
People arent custom built for us
Their capacity do not include holding our truths
Our type of energy, our strength or even our frailty
Hence, it is wrong to build home on a shaky ground
You may reach an almost but it will break the moment wind blows in a different direction.
It is wrong to get stuck in this kind of mud when you can pick your pieces and remember you already have your most solid ground
Yourself minus all the doubts.
It is in our most emotional, vulnerable state that we pen our best or worst love letters.
But through this we find healing.
When our mind’s in constant battle with our heart and the forces beyond our control, writing becomes the safest option.
It is when we forget about those who might read our sighs and be judged are overpowered by our need to release all the pain.
Likes sketches, like half-finished drafts
We write and write until the world becomes different.
We will write and write in pain
Until the words turn into better emotions
We drop each bitterness bomb
Until we’re visited again by life-changing inspirations.
There’s a glasshouse on a hill.
People pass by and appreciate its beauty.
They wonder though why it remains empty.
Some visit the space from time to time.
Checking what’s inside.
They come along but they always realise the glasshouse seems so cold to stay overnight.
Until one time a young man with a lamp barged in.
The glasshouse was used to gentle knocks but not by visitors with flames within.
Surprised the glasshouse opened all of its doors.
Defying the flames that melt the icy corridors.
Warmth and light illuminated the walls, ceiling and floor.
The village rejoiced.
Alas the glasshouse turned from shades of white and blue to a spectrum of hues.
Everyone noticed, everyone cheered.
But the lamp he brought wasn’t meant for a long term thing.
Like some who tried to reached the top of the hill, they turn their back once the fire needs a little more effort to sustain its constant heating.
Despite the glasshouse’s yearning, it cannot force anyone to stay on top of the hill.
The glasshouse was left with nothing but cracks out of collission of fire and ice.
The seasson will change and snow will fill the cracks or hope to find a way to let all the ice go.
Until then this glasshouse will mourn on top.
Awaiting for a strong hunter to roam.
Hoping the next will be more than just a pit stop.
Until the day this glasshouse turns into someone’s home.
Oh how I wanted to scream and cry in pain.
I want to deny and allow myself to die a little inside.
That’s where I am
But there’s this calm waters that’s telling me it will not be over.
It’s not going to be over.
That I have to trust.
That I must be willing to take risks.
Finally to completely and wholeheartedly surrender.