The Morning After

How quiet are the mornings – when the weight has left the sheets but everything else feels heavy. There is a silhouette of regret hanging by the edge of my bed. Even in the dark of the night with only the dim glow from the moon, I know it is you. I could lie to myself, imagine it to be something else, but with sunlight invading the spaces of my room now, clearing the air of hopeful doubting, there is no escape. You still sit at the edge of my bed.

I Am Dumbass

I only ever set foot in this place to post an update when 1: I'm being drowned by overpowering waves of sadness or 2: I'm being washed away by overwhelming waves of joy. Tonight, it's neither. Tonight, my mind is flooded with worry. My forehead, a wrinkled mess. My chest, beating to a rhythm of anxiety. I am worried about Dania.

Her parents were previously painted as the winning couple. A pair of adults that stay happy with each other through the hard years of job-switching, house-moving, child-bearing and child-caring. Now, they just sound like selfish, failed parents. My heart aches as I think about what the love of my life had to through living her life as a child in the care of negligent and unfair parents. My fist clenches as I remember the look on her face and the sound of her voice when she told me how much she wished her parents could feel a quarter of their love for her brother for her. This is not fair.

She needed me tonight, but bad timing and unorganized thoughts made me decide on careless words and thoughtless answers to her calls of need. I am the worse. I had one job, a job I spent years wishing for. And I just threw it out the window because of  "strict family rules" and "school work". Why is it that my brain only functions when I reflect on the mistakes I made, instead of working during the time of the mistake being made? Why am I brainless? Inconsiderate? Selfish? Why must I let down someone who's never let me down?

I am stranded on my horrible island of inconsideration, having nothing that could assist me in assisting Dania in her time of need. Knowing that I am to blame for excluding myself from helping my love. I am helpless and I am guilty. I have nothing to offer but this pathetic piece of reflection.

I should've made time that night
When you said you wanted to 
Take a leap off a bridge

I should've called you right up
And told you all the sweet things
About this life, how things can still go right

I should've held you so tight
Rocked you steady, hummed quietly
Till you closed your eyes, and lived through the night

My sweet angel
Nothing I say will make you feel okay
But that's okay
I'll be here till it ends
I'll show you I'm here to stay
My arms, outstretched
They're yours to take...

Haiku

  I attended this poetry first reading thing a month back where i was reminded of the simple and beautiful existence of haiku, a variation of Japanese poetry. On good days, I manage to get a few words in before hitting writer's block. And on bad days, there is only ever writer's block. I did write a few haiku's last night. Some of them are ridiculously silly. There's one that could be good. I don't know, but here's them.

I want company
Your never-ending questions
Your breathing,  your eyes

///

The taste of your lips

A flavor yet discovered

But I know I'll love

///

Picture her voice

As it rings and echoes through

Spaces so hollow

You feel a movement

It starts from your chest, then ends

As your noses touch

You will start to pray

For what you feel to reach her

Hoping for a smile

///

You said you like plants

You had flowers but they died

A short-lived beauty

Went to the florists

Told them I need something strong

One tough little bitch

Here's a small cactus

Prickly and so resilient

I paid straight away

Same Suit, Different Tie

  Let me kick off this update with thanks to The Maine for bringing American Candy and Lovely, Little, Lonely into my sad life. They're a real life-saver at times, and a mood-lifter at all times. Yes, thank you for writing such profound and relatable lyrics, and matching them with a beat that matches the brain waves in my head. 

  I changed my tie! By that, I mean I finally got over her and now there's sort of a new "her" in my life. I don't mean to compare the loves of my life to a clothing accessory, but both are something I wish I could have with me for the rest of my life. Wow, did I just indirectly say I love her? The new "her"? I need to be put on a leash because god knows what kind of shit i'll get myself into this time. I need to fucking chill. She's always telling me to chill and i should really listen to her. It's actually crazy how much i want to listen to her. And I haven't even met her yet.

  I'm meeting her for the first time in four more days. Our first date, after almost three weeks of conversing non-stop on Tinder then WhatsApp. This is the kind of plot development i live for. Since settling on a date for the date, my chest never stopped reminding me of the fear circulating from organ to organ. I'm scared to meet her. I'm terrified about seeing her face and realizing i'll want to see it everyday. I'm worried about wanting to hold her hand when I haven't even shaken it yet. This fear of getting ahead of myself, it keeps me up on most nights. I think about her eyes when they fall on me for the first time. The disappointment in them will have me scarred for life. I think about the silence we might share, how it suffocates her and makes her wish she hadn't come to meet me, makes her wish she never replied my hellooo!

  The past couple of weeks brought more joy into my life than the year before it did. Amidst the rush of excitement, fear and happiness, I start to see myself as someone likable. Someone another person would enjoy being around. Bad days are gradually becoming occasional and during short moments of self-destruction and hatred, I find it easier to to pull myself back up. I probably owe it all to her. You could say that she came into my life at the most optimum time. She walked right in as I was wedging myself out of the space i spent 8 months calling home, between a worthwhile mistake and an open door. Her name is Dania.

  Dania whom I haven't met, but has perfectly drawn eyebrows and wears a pair of round-rimmed glasses on days she doesn't have black contacts on. Dania who likes sunsets and sunshine days. Dania who is anti-potato unless they're skinny McDonald's fries. Dania who can't take naps because they make her cranky and steal sleep away from her at night. Dania who loves traveling and has been to many beautiful places like Bangkok where she would like to make a home out of. Dania who smokes because it used to be her crutch on days when she was broken, but is now only a continued habit due to addiction. Dania who likes durian, and cakes and all things sweet. Dania who has a younger brother who misses her. Dania who has parents that cherish each other very much and continue to prove that true love does exist and is achievable, maybe not for all but for some of the lucky ones. Dania who makes my heart race when she tells me she misses me at 3 in the morning while i'm fast asleep. Dania who makes me laugh out loud because she's a sarcastic little shit. Dania who makes me smile like I'm proud of my teeth when she tells me things about herself, her life. Dania who makes me happy.

  And it's only been a little over two weeks.

  She hasn't even heard my voice. I haven't even seen her face. Yet somehow, I feel like everything will be okay. Pieces will fall into place, stars will align the way they do and my pulse will show me how i feel about her. I wish i knew how she felt about me.

Heading to No. 8

She's gone. I've gone through almost eight months without her. Will I ever forget the date 4.1.17? I can't exactly say that I didn't see this coming. I saw the break-up coming even though I wouldn't have known, ever, that I'd be the one to cut final ties with her. I wouldn't have known either, about the amount of hurt, sadness, torment that came with ending us. Nothing that detailed can ever be predicted. Pain isn't something we can predict.

Let me make one thing clear. Although I was the one who left, I was in no way, the one who broke us up. No, that one's completely on her. Just because I was the one who left in the end, it doesn't mean I was the one who let go. She let go of me long before. Even if she doesn't see it, doesn't believe it, I see everything for what they are now. She let me go.

It's fine. We didn't have a future together anyways. How could we? Something so poisonous....it cannot sustain life. It cannot and will not sustain us. This is for the best.

I believe she may be happy now, what with a new boyfriend and all while I sit here struggling to find love for myself. Love that I so easily and generously offered her, but couldn't do the same for myself. Funny way to go about things, eh? I'll keep trying. I don't know if she's capable of love. True love at least. But I do wish her well...on one condition.

She learns to treat people the way they deserve to be treated. She learns to see her flaws. She learns to accept another person's differences. She learns to love the way she is loved. If she still can't do this, then by all means, go ahead and fuck yourself.

Memories Are Moving Pictures In Your Head

It hurts to think of you. I thought that because I've been through this before, it shouldn't be all that bad this time around. I was wrong. It's worse. Far worse than anything I felt before. I think this might be the worst of the worst. Yeah, this really takes the cake. Anything I thought I knew before, anything I thought I felt before, they were nothing like this; not even close. There are no words I can find to communicate the pain I feel, the longing I feel, the guilt I feel. Pain, longing, guilt --such general words with such broad meaning. Pain, the king of generality. Pain, what is pain?

This is pain. Being able to think is pain. Being able to feel is pain. Being able to exist is pain. Being anywhere without you, is pain. It hurts everywhere because there is no place within me in which you have not touched. My skin, already used to being frequented as a garden your fingers took strolls at; my hair, now a bushy mess but not because of your long, delicate fingers tussling through them; my lips...my lips. This part of me might be the hardest for me to talk about. My lips, touching yours. My lips, pressed so tightly against yours. My lips, enticing yours to open. My lips, your lips, the perfect collision. You have touched me in so many places, and these are just the physical ones. Those that are intangible -- my heart, soul and mind -- they exist now, imbued with you. They exist now, in the shadow of a life before. A life before the non-existence of our relationship.

I chose to leave that life. It was me who made the ultimate decision to pull the plug on us, to cut the anchor loose, to extinguish a fire burning so bright, it had blinded all in its path. It had us blinded, didn't it? And I had to be the one to put it out, because I knew you would never be able to do it. It's odd. Sometimes, I feel that I know you better than I think I do, better than you think I do. But other times, it's like I don't know you at all. Other times, I found myself afraid of the stranger with the face of someone I thought I knew so well. Who are you really? Don't you find it interesting, how I let someone I barely knew into the core of my existence? How I let someone I thought I understood but didn't really, make a home in my heart? Maybe I do know you, maybe I do understand you, but why is there doubt? What's making me doubt myself?

I'm lost. I am, so lost.

This Could Be It And I'm So Afraid

We've fought before. A lot of times before. We had fallout's just like this happen more than the number of fingers I have on one hand. What's different now is how the fallout spiraled out of control and how the spiraling point, was me. Our fights never lasted long because she'd get worried or missed me too much so she'd call me up and talk to me about what I did wrong. It was always about what I did wrong. I'd fight back. I'd retaliated, to which she'd yelled arguments back at. Then I'd calm down and see the wrong in my actions and apologize. That's what she's good at. Making you see something that was there before. She could make the most illogical thing sound like it was the most practical thing in the whole world and everything else trying to prove that it isn't, is completely wrong and totally playing out of key. We'd usually fight because she did something that hurt my feelings and I'd take it too far by making sure she knew that she had hurt my feelings with any means necessary. This time was no different. The spiraling point was the moment I texted her, "Leave."

It was about support. Her lack of support towards me, towards the things that interest me but not her, towards her never muttering a single positive, encouraging, congratulatory thing to me despite me doing well in something. It's something that's been bothering me lately. Just eating away at me whenever I achieved something. So, when she refused to watch this video I was trying to show her, it wasn't even an important video or anything, but I just wanted to show her all 5 seconds of it, I asked her why couldn't she just do this one, little thing for me. She said that she just didn't want to. She didn't want to bend over backwards, or in this case, turn her fucking head, for me. That's when I told her, "then leave." And, she did.

What's different this time, is that I suggested for her to leave. I've never done that before. She has always been the one hellbent on saying it whenever we fight but I never did. This was the first time I had done that. So, she left. I continued to text her about what she did that hurt me and how I was hurt and how she could've fixed shit if she wanted to. She replied a few times until idk maybe she got tired or something, then the replies stopped. My attempts to get through to her stopped too.

We didn't keep in touch at all. Today's the second day and she just texted an hour ago, telling me that I had to pass something to a friend of ours once her stuff arrives, to which I replied as formally as how her text came. I then proceeded to send her another text, apologizing about how our fight had to happen so near finals and how I hope she was doing okay and focusing enough on her studies. She replied "thank you". The end. There wasn't anything left to say after that.

This time's different because there's actually a really high possibility that things will never be the same between us ever again. Because I don't want to get back together with her, unless she changes her ways. I'm not saying I did no wrong or that I've been a flawless boyfriend, but I honestly think that all the bad stuff she did to me completely outweigh all the bad stuff I've ever done to her. And I just can't take it anymore. I have to decide whether this is the kind of life I want to keep living. I have to decide whether this is the person I want to keep loving. I have to decided whether this is the best option for me.

No. No to all of them. Of course, there's no telling whether my feelings for her will always be this strong as time passes although I do know for a fact that I'll always have a soft spot for her. Her own permanent space in my heart. I just, I cannot do this anymore. I am no longer happy because the sad, troubled times leave a deeper impression than the happy ones. I'm not happy because of I think and have always thought that she could do better. She could do better at making me feel better. She could do better in treating me better. I think I've been deeply wronged in this aspect. Wronged by her and her actions.

But as much as she makes me want to strangle her until maturity finally seeps into that stupid, thick head of hers, I'm so scared of losing her. Because at the end of the day, no one can change the fact that I love her as much as she loves me. Our love is there. Our love is in existence. Our love is equal. The way I've been treated is not. Sigh. I'm so scared that this would turn out to be a mistake, that it was all me, all out of my head. I'm so scared that I did this to the both of us. Although I know it's both of our fault that we've become so destructive and toxic, I can't help but think that, we still had a chance. And by doing all this, I've fucked up that chance. I've sent it on a a train, with a one-way ticket to the shredding machine.

I'm so afraid of losing her.