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.
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.
I can give you all the Kutcher quotes but it won’t change a thing.
We will constantly get in touch.
Forever looking after each other.
But still won’t end up together.
Picking up the crumbs
Taking off the laurels
Pulling all the remaining leaves
I wish my mind would just let me sleep
There are days that surprise
And the nights we despise
Tossing and turning
Hoping from ashes we rise
Rare are the moments when I have to ask
Or seek for care
Rare are the times when I want to soak on the grief
And check who cares
But today isn’t my day
Today, I wish someone will choose to stay
Today, I wish someone will take away the pain
Someone who will remind me that this isn’t my life
This is just a bad day.
Hey, it’s telltale Monday.
Received work email as early as 5am.
Got seven inquiries from the owner of the company.
Arrived with questions here and there.
But here I am writing my nothings.
And have already spent 48minutes checking old posts of Tirso Cruz.
Not Tito Third.
Not the star.
My very own Tirso Cruz with a splash of Vietnamese coffee.
Today, let me be Nora.
I hope I never forget the beauty of full moon and the night sky,
of watching milk make galaxies even in my darkest cup of coffee,
the warm ray of sunshine that keeps my cheeks rosy
or seeing plants grow despite my scarce caring capacity.
Most specially, the kind strangers and the music that vibrates around that make life easy.
I hope I never forget to count these bits of heaven whether the cup’s half full or half empty.