Not the type to log in to Facebook.
Hates seeing dramas.
Recently,
The reason was only one.
And until then,
I don't know.
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Sunday, 23 February 2014
Wednesday, 19 February 2014
I Killed Her.
When I entered the room,
I realized the mask I've been wearing,
Is starting to break,
The edges become fragile,
The colors fading away,
And the little girl I've desperately trying to protect,
Is slipping away.
When I leave the room,
I wear that mask again,
Again and again,
Because I am afraid,
If people will hurt that shadow I've been protecting.
Sometimes I see her,
Crying and screaming,
Bruising and scarred,
Shivering in fear,
Cradling a dead heart beat,
Eyes fluttering,
Hands calloused,
A soul dying.
I turn away,
I wanted to be the one to bury her,
And wear this mask for the rest of my life,
This way,
I'll save her,
From everyone,
From everything,
Because she can no longer feel anything.
But as days passed by,
The doubts creeping by,
I was choking her,
Killing her,
And trying to resuscitate her back,
But she's limping,
Limbs flailing,
Almost gone.
I realized the mask I've been wearing,
Is starting to break,
The edges become fragile,
The colors fading away,
And the little girl I've desperately trying to protect,
Is slipping away.
When I leave the room,
I wear that mask again,
Again and again,
Because I am afraid,
If people will hurt that shadow I've been protecting.
Sometimes I see her,
Crying and screaming,
Bruising and scarred,
Shivering in fear,
Cradling a dead heart beat,
Eyes fluttering,
Hands calloused,
A soul dying.
I turn away,
I wanted to be the one to bury her,
And wear this mask for the rest of my life,
This way,
I'll save her,
From everyone,
From everything,
Because she can no longer feel anything.
But as days passed by,
The doubts creeping by,
I was choking her,
Killing her,
And trying to resuscitate her back,
But she's limping,
Limbs flailing,
Almost gone.
Monday, 17 February 2014
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
If It's About Survival
If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?
"There's something wrong here. Something wrong with the way you bring yourself."
"Yeah, it's the evident of insanity."
Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it? What is it?
I DON'T KNOW!!!
"A shadow, Vet."
Lately I've been waking up and forgetting who I am.
Sometimes I forgot to eat,
And it escalates to the point where sleep is also forgotten.
If you look too close you'll see my hallways are full of caution signs.
I'd be good at drowning.
I used to think that the worst feeling in the world was losing someone you loved,
But I was wrong.
The worst feeling is the moment that you realize,
You've lost yourself.
Am I losing the war?
Have I gone deep beneath the abyss?
If you're drowning,
And you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment,
What if you choose to not open your mouth?
More time to fight your way to the surface?
More time to be rescued?
More time to be in agonizing pain.
You'd do it anyway, it's gag reflex.
WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP, ANA...
"There's something wrong here. Something wrong with the way you bring yourself."
"Yeah, it's the evident of insanity."
Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it? What is it?
I DON'T KNOW!!!
"A shadow, Vet."
Lately I've been waking up and forgetting who I am.
Sometimes I forgot to eat,
And it escalates to the point where sleep is also forgotten.
If you look too close you'll see my hallways are full of caution signs.
I'd be good at drowning.
I used to think that the worst feeling in the world was losing someone you loved,
But I was wrong.
The worst feeling is the moment that you realize,
You've lost yourself.
Am I losing the war?
Have I gone deep beneath the abyss?
If you're drowning,
And you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment,
What if you choose to not open your mouth?
More time to fight your way to the surface?
More time to be rescued?
More time to be in agonizing pain.
You'd do it anyway, it's gag reflex.
WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP, ANA...
Drabble (No, Not Actually)
He walks toward the little girl playing with her twin, both unaware of his presence.
She is giggling beautifully while pulling her brother's hands in circles.
She has his eyes, deep lush green that penetrates the deep of the forest.
Small upturned nose and thick lips that for sure will break many men's hearts in the future.
Dark hair passing through her shoulders in series of wavy locks,
Clearly from the mother.
He could see himself in her,
The mini-him, female version.
She is so beautiful.
The boy has dark, brown eyes and straight dark hair, like his.
But his features are softer than his sister,
And the man's heart hitched a little when he hears the boy's laughter.
He laughs like his mother.
He is perfect.
They both are.
He unconsciously held out his hands,
Itching to feel that they are real, not a figment of his imagination.
"Don't."
A cold voice from behind startles him. He was used to silence for a long time, but her voice jolted him out from his trance. He turns around and see her, after 4 years and age has been kind to her.
She still looks the same.
Except that she is a mother now.
A mother to his children.
"You left." His voice is calm, but there are no accusation in it. Just a statement. There is no small, awkward greetings, they never did that before, why start now? It is better to get this over with. But she doesn't look guilty or even flinched from his words.
"I had to leave. To protect them." She stares at him, eye level. She is different from the girl he'd known 4 years ago, motherhood changes her.
"They are mine." He knows this, he sensed it when he first saw them playing by the meadow. But he needs to hear it from her, to finalize the feelings that has been tingling within him.
She took a deep breath, glancing towards her children, oblivious of their mother and the stranger.
"Yes."
He sighed internally, this is a lot harder than he had ever imagined it to be, and he had caused this.
"I want to know everything. Tell me everything."
"No, because even if they're yours biologically, they are mine. Mine alone. You cannot barge in demanding like this. Don't come when everything is good when the time I was suffering you weren't there." Her voice is low, but sharp and meant to hurt.
"Please," he pleads.
She stills, her features freeze and he sees her rubbing the back of her hair absentmindedly. It is one of her gestures when she is anxious or seconds from having panic attacks. He knows that too well to memorize all her body languages. But the girl, woman standing in front of him has better self-possession than the girl he knew. She tries to inhale and somehow calms herself up.
"They were pre-mature babies. At 36th week, the placenta has detached. The babies weren't getting any oxygen and stuck. They cut me open so that they won't asphyxiate and die. And I was badly hemorrhaging, it took 18 hours to end it all. " She calmly states, as if telling him the weather. He flinches slightly at the information, knowing that she almost die, they almost die, all of them.
"You're okay?" He whispers, voice trembling. She looks at him sheepishly, with a subtle hint of annoyance.
"Do I look dead to you?" She retorts with a small sarcasm in her voice. She has always been like that. Too straightforward and honest, it annoys people. He chuckles lightly, relieved to see there is some parts of her still there, even after all these years.
"Ibu!"
Their conversation is cut from the toddlers, running toward their mother in series of giggles and laughter. Her features quickly softens as she opens up her arms to squish two laughing kids and blows raspberry in their cheeks. His heart drops to a thud, seeing them, Seeing what should have been his.
He knows she won't let him in easily, knows that she has been broken before him, and all he ever did was adding a new scar to her old ones. But no matter how, he is determined not to fuck things up again.
She held her babies, nicknaming them from her favorite novel and glancing briefly at the man watching her and the kids. Of course, she could be selfish. Shutting him out again and never letting him come close to the children, but she knows they need their father, despite having a handful of uncles and aunts to smother them with love, every single day. She would let him in, step by step, into the kids' lives. But not hers. Her heart is frozen to anyone except for Widget and Poppet, as everyone calls them.
She is giggling beautifully while pulling her brother's hands in circles.
She has his eyes, deep lush green that penetrates the deep of the forest.
Small upturned nose and thick lips that for sure will break many men's hearts in the future.
Dark hair passing through her shoulders in series of wavy locks,
Clearly from the mother.
He could see himself in her,
The mini-him, female version.
She is so beautiful.
The boy has dark, brown eyes and straight dark hair, like his.
But his features are softer than his sister,
And the man's heart hitched a little when he hears the boy's laughter.
He laughs like his mother.
He is perfect.
They both are.
He unconsciously held out his hands,
Itching to feel that they are real, not a figment of his imagination.
"Don't."
A cold voice from behind startles him. He was used to silence for a long time, but her voice jolted him out from his trance. He turns around and see her, after 4 years and age has been kind to her.
She still looks the same.
Except that she is a mother now.
A mother to his children.
"You left." His voice is calm, but there are no accusation in it. Just a statement. There is no small, awkward greetings, they never did that before, why start now? It is better to get this over with. But she doesn't look guilty or even flinched from his words.
"I had to leave. To protect them." She stares at him, eye level. She is different from the girl he'd known 4 years ago, motherhood changes her.
"They are mine." He knows this, he sensed it when he first saw them playing by the meadow. But he needs to hear it from her, to finalize the feelings that has been tingling within him.
She took a deep breath, glancing towards her children, oblivious of their mother and the stranger.
"Yes."
He sighed internally, this is a lot harder than he had ever imagined it to be, and he had caused this.
"I want to know everything. Tell me everything."
"No, because even if they're yours biologically, they are mine. Mine alone. You cannot barge in demanding like this. Don't come when everything is good when the time I was suffering you weren't there." Her voice is low, but sharp and meant to hurt.
"Please," he pleads.
She stills, her features freeze and he sees her rubbing the back of her hair absentmindedly. It is one of her gestures when she is anxious or seconds from having panic attacks. He knows that too well to memorize all her body languages. But the girl, woman standing in front of him has better self-possession than the girl he knew. She tries to inhale and somehow calms herself up.
"They were pre-mature babies. At 36th week, the placenta has detached. The babies weren't getting any oxygen and stuck. They cut me open so that they won't asphyxiate and die. And I was badly hemorrhaging, it took 18 hours to end it all. " She calmly states, as if telling him the weather. He flinches slightly at the information, knowing that she almost die, they almost die, all of them.
"You're okay?" He whispers, voice trembling. She looks at him sheepishly, with a subtle hint of annoyance.
"Do I look dead to you?" She retorts with a small sarcasm in her voice. She has always been like that. Too straightforward and honest, it annoys people. He chuckles lightly, relieved to see there is some parts of her still there, even after all these years.
"Ibu!"
Their conversation is cut from the toddlers, running toward their mother in series of giggles and laughter. Her features quickly softens as she opens up her arms to squish two laughing kids and blows raspberry in their cheeks. His heart drops to a thud, seeing them, Seeing what should have been his.
He knows she won't let him in easily, knows that she has been broken before him, and all he ever did was adding a new scar to her old ones. But no matter how, he is determined not to fuck things up again.
She held her babies, nicknaming them from her favorite novel and glancing briefly at the man watching her and the kids. Of course, she could be selfish. Shutting him out again and never letting him come close to the children, but she knows they need their father, despite having a handful of uncles and aunts to smother them with love, every single day. She would let him in, step by step, into the kids' lives. But not hers. Her heart is frozen to anyone except for Widget and Poppet, as everyone calls them.
Monday, 10 February 2014
Different Worlds
We live in separate worlds
Me and you
We can never be together
We are opposites of one another
One is dark the other light
One filled with grief
One filled with laughter
One is dark the other light
You love the sun
Its ray spread joy
I love the moon
It is the root of many nightmares
Out separate worlds
Will collide from time to time
They will never be one
Forever be two
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