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.