My 6:20 in a Friday Afternoon

Is he really the one if he binds you in the relationship, locking you with a ring and a simple phrase of “I do” in a chapel in front of someone powerful?

The one should be someone who will not leave through thick and thin  after flowering you in mesmerizing words.

The one should be someone who understands you in every way that you blink, speak, think and moves.

And the one should be someone who will not detach the self in time of darkness.

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It’s not that easy

Some people will tell you that you could’ve done something in that certain situation to prevent the bad things to happen. They thought’s easy, but what they do not realize is that it’s very traumatic for that person, because not all person are as brave as the other.
So here is how my story goes.

Of course, as a kid, and too young to be specific, we have no ideas about things like politics, religion, academics, extra classes and stuffs. No, we are just enjoying life by playing with people.

But I am somehow blaming myself as I grew older and realized what really happened before. I didn’t know back then, like I was 4 or 5 years old. What do you know about touching someone, right?

It’s a playhouse. Some cousins and I would play, building walls through blankets and sleeping when we get tired. I always end up with my boy cousins, and I mean, nothings gonna go wrong because we were all too young, right?

Wrong. I was touched, in certain places, and I do not have any idea what he’s doing. I was half awake, and too scared to move, because practically, my whole body went numb. I can’t feel my body, like when you had too much to drink. I tried my best to shift position, just so he could stop.

He did stop, but whenever we would play, I would always end up with him. And it’s scary. Who would I tell? Who would believe? A kid or someone older? 

Years passed, and somehow I had forgotten that traumatic experience. But I was reminded by it again, last saturday, when I drank my life to waste.

I know it’s not like that. But still, it keeps haunting me. It’s more light, somehow with affection. Hell, it was better than before. It was only a hug, but still, hands travelling your body is not the best feeling at all.

I wish people could understand, that not everyone could do something. Not everyone could make a move, especially when you’re so wasted your whole body does not respond to the thinks your brain commands it.

It took like 4-5 repititions in my mind before my body could respond. It was very slow, but it was worth it. But somehow, I am afraid. 

Afraid that those might happen again, and I know it’s my fault for getting wasted. But he could’ve atleast made some limitations for himself.
And I think everytime I experienced these bad events, my soul tears to pieces little by little. 

Eleven-Eleven in my 11:12PM

So here it goes.

This is the part when I would tell myself to keep my head up, stand tall and walk with grace. But that is not my reality.

My reality is that I despise myself. I have hated myself for things that I am not, what they brand me and it gets to me.  Sometimes I want to forget just who I am, and live for a little while.

Honey, my mind is in chaos. I can’t focus with my studies right now, I breakdown every night, I think of things when I’m alone and I divert my attention to several people.
I was happy before, or maybe happy our first year. But things have changed, you have changed. I see the efforts, yes, but how well do you use it in your actions? I’m not the typical give her flowers, chocolates and stuffed bears kind-of-girl. I want written love letters, museum dates, coffee breaks, a silly peek-a-boo from my back, a random day for giving out a single flower, and many other things. Is that so hard to do?

We used to have late night calls, what happened? Sometimes I would wait even though I know it wont happen. Just to be sure, maybe a little surprise call is what I’m expecting.

Where to find you?

When I tell you that I’m tired, it’s not physical. It’s my soul speaking to you that I want you to be my safe haven, to understand that I want to feel something. Joy, pain, or whatever it takes just so you can tell me that Im still sane, still me, still the girl you know. But you never really know me, do you? I just want a tight hug, and someone who’ll tell me that everything will be fine, not someone who’ll tell me that I’m strong and I can make it on my own. No. I don’t want that. Why would I lie to myself? When everythings seems to be falling already for me. A broken heart is not always the topic, sometimes a broken soul, a broken being needs someone and not just herself. Someone, just someone who’ll understand what she’s going through. Can you give her that someone?

Cold and Heat of 3AM

I am a broken soul and for years I have been fighting.

I have been fighting the feeling that I am not supposed to feel at a very young age.

Whenever I reminisce my childhood, all I see was me crying.

I was crying because I felt the fear of being left, crying because when I woke up I was alone and darkness’been looming over me.

I am still a broken soul. I can talk to someone, but I cannot pour it all out so I keep it to myself and I know that i’ll be the one suffering but that’s what make me sane.

Sunny days is an illusion

A sunny day like this could not cheer up the falling pieces and memories you bounded yourself through time.

A sunny day like this could not help you get better when you’re still drowning in the thoughts of all the sorrow.

A sunny day like this could not mask the feelings of fear and falling apart.

Do not indulge in the illusion of a sunny day, because sunny days are seen before the heavy rain drops, and sooner you’ll feel the blues rushing towards the insides of you.

Canvas of Storm

The power was out, and everything was cold. The sky was crying so loudly that it hurt everyones ears, but not mine.

I love it. I love the sound of cracking light, the bluish-dark scenery filled with trees waiting to be thrown off. I love the drawings, of how it made the sky a big piece of canvas waiting to be painted on.

And I would watch, for hours, because the sky never stopped crying until night time. 

That’s how my life really works, filled with things that destroys you, but you love it anyway, because you see beauty in broken things.

The Before and After

It was such an obligation to stay happy.

That night was calm.
And I was calm.
And I thought that I am somehow accepting,
breaking down the walls that I built for myself.
I let you in, too deep.
You saw me, but you never really know me.
I tried to introduce myself,
gave you chances to see through me.
I was disappointed, for you only want to see
what you wanted, but not me.
I gave you everything, but why does it feel
like I’m still unhappy…
Why does it feel, like something is definitely wrong
Not you, but me.
It is I, the one to blame for all this mishaps.
And I thought I was curing myself in the process
but I only got worse.
Manageable, but worse.
And I’m so good at hiding,
that you do not realize that
I
was dying
inside.
Everyday
is a torture
for my soul
that’s begging
for
mercy.

Epitome.

It was that look in your face that made me realize what I really want
I thought I was a happy human being, making advances and beating my own monsters
but it turned dark, once more
that I filled my life with colors
But I am still a black and white
and as the water falls down my eyes,
as you hold meĀ and hugged me,
I never felt so alone than what I felt before
and I was a flower that wilted through the years
and I was a bone that cracked for tears.