me, expounding.

why is it sometimes so hard to be understood? and why do i have to care so much?

i thought i’d stopped caring.

i remember the words ju-kun said to me once, a long time ago. “don’t close your doors.” but, ju-kun, i haven’t closed my doors. they’re open, they’re standing open. all one has to do is take a few steps and enter.

in much the same way, i once said that i am not open book. however, i am not a sealed book either. all you have to do is flip the cover and turn the pages to discover me.

how can you know what’s on the other side of the door if you don’t cross the threshold and go inside? how can you find out what the book is all about if you don’t turn the pages and read through?

i’m not saying that i’m extra special, so much that you have to make the effort to dig under the layers. but i cannot be so open, i am not that kind of person. that is not who i am. and i hate it when people try to change me, for their own ends, or to fit their own concepts of what’s right and wrong. i will change when i want to, because it is something that will make me happy.

change for yourself, not for others.

mare-chan, too…she said once, “you’re always there for me when i need to unload my problems, but you don’t share much of what you really feel deep inside.”

for years i’ve had to bottle up a lot of emotions, because i had to be strong, i couldn’t let others see how weak i am. that’s got a really long backstory which i don’t care to explain here at all. i guess the habit has become so ingratiated i could no longer get rid of it, and it’s so much a part of who i am that it would feel absolutely alien if it were to change. it’s not that i don’t want to share my thoughts or my feelings, it’s just that i don’t know how. i have never been able to express myself well verbally, because my words would fall over each other, and there would be long pauses in between where i tend to think too much and mull over my words before speaking. i also need to be in a comfortable place for a serious talk, i cannot just have a discussion anywhere - my brain would freeze if i am uncomfortable and you will not get anything out of me.

that is the reason why i always go out to somewhere quiet when i want to have a serious conversation with friends, hence our coffee nights.

writing has always been easier for me, because i find that my thoughts just flow freely from my mind to my fingers, and i can express myself better. thus i kept a diary for more than 10 years, which has now transformed into journals and blogs, to rant in, to take refuge in, to let out the words that i otherwise couldn’t say.

had enough? if you’re still reading up to here, thank you. if you’ve given up, then you’re probably not worth keeping.

thoughts

I have begun to think that the very name (it was then “lamentations”) of this blog might have limited me to writing purely rants and serious thoughts of late. Still, I did create this space as an asylum, my own refuge of sorts where I can simply let my thoughts run free while I let go of bottled-up stress.

But when I drop by my older blog and read through the posts I have there, sometimes I see a different me… a more carefree one, a happier me. And I guess I miss that. I miss blogging that something made my day… I miss writing about the little things, the simple things that brought a smile to my face on that particular day.

As I grew older, have I really grown more cynical? It’s like… I used to look at the world in soft, pastel hues, but now everything is borderline bleak and dreary. I need to throw in a splash of color in my now monochrome world. *sigh*

I know that life is not always fair, and I think that love is treacherous, but I want to look straight into the face of fate and say, “Bring it on, I am NOT going to back down, and you are NOT going to bring me down.”

I do NOT want to give in to pressure. When it comes to those abstract things in life that people so love to make a big deal out of, I would like to be doing something because I choose to do it and I want to do it, and not because other people think I should. What is the point in living your life always in the shadow of other people’s thoughts? Make up your own mind, I say. It doesn’t matter if you take your time doing it, as long as it is your choice. And when once you’ve made that choice, live for it and embrace the consequences for as long as they don’t become a hindrance to your happiness and your self-worth.

haunted~

tonight i am haunted
by the sharp stab of a half-forgotten memory
remnants of days long gone
when innnocence could be grasped
in hopeful mortal fingers
and fiery passion burned
within staunch yet questioning hearts.

my heart fills with melancholy.

in the shadowed crannies of my weakened mind
i can still hear the lost echoes
of strangled cries
lamenting a world ruled by oblivion.

i mourn my vanished days of youth
when thoughts flourished and words flowed
from minds aflame with lust…

lust for knowledge.
for truth.
for love.
for life.

—

i have no idea if i ended this right. ^_^

hesitant~

i don’t know where to go from here.
i like it here very much.
i shan’t deny that.
but some things can only last so long.
…right?
i don’t know how long this can go on.
i don’t know where this is going.
it can transform into something beautiful…
or dwindle into a bittersweet memory.
either way…
i promise myself…
i’ll keep making happy moments
no matter what.

faces~

Too many faces have swept past me tonight.
Strangers. Fleeting glimpses of unknown lives.
Happy faces widely smiling.
I wonder what caused
those smiles.
Love?
Friendship?
Some top-secret deadly virus?
Stark, heavily made-up faces looking for…
whatever it is they’re looking for.
Pretty faces with eyes that look down their noses
at the rest of the world.
What a laugh.
Please, the rest of the world couldn’t care less about you!
Sad faces lamenting bitter thoughts.
Faces that have paled in confusion,
lost in a crowd of bodies who are too busy to take notice.
Innocent faces. Naughty faces.
All of them strangers, all of them locked
in their own tiny worlds.
There is no room for me out here.
And yet…
there are other faces, too…
ones with eyes that look at the world
from a different standpoint,
who marvel at the wonders of the unexpected…
impassive and yet not,
curious but strangely distant,
silent but questioning,
hiding among the maelstrom of indifferent
bodies.
It may be that there is hope yet
for this oblivious society.
And what of me?
No, let that be another story.
For now, this piece
ends here.

—–

May 30-31, 2009

dark longings, revisited

No one knows the dreams I have.
No one hears the voiceless screams I make
in the silence of the night.
No one sees me through the subtle mask
I wear.

Where my tears fall in solitude, and
pain echoes in my heart, I am alone.
I cannot be whole.

It tires me.
This fruitless need to be understood,
when from unseeing eyes I hide.
What is the point?
Sometimes I am a stranger to myself,
yet no one will ever know me
like I do.

Is there a single soul out there who mirrors
the longings in my heart?
Imperfect, but still able to fill the emptiness
of my existence.
Not one has surfaced. Perhaps no one
is destined for me.

Perhaps not until I truly reveal myself.
But that in its entirety is a most fearsome thought.

For when all is bared and barriers
come crashing down, will you
still know me?

I fear the answer. No one knows, no one hears,
no one sees the secrets I keep inside of me.
Will you be there if I truly bare
the darkness in my soul?

October 25, 2006

—–

I wrote this piece some 2 years ago, during a depressing day, at a time when I was still too afraid to show the darker side of me. So I hid behind smiles and a happy face, drowning out the sadness that I felt then.  Until my soul cried out for release. After writing this and posting it up on deviantart, a few people dropped by to comment, total strangers who felt the same pain I did… and I realized then that I wasn’t truly alone… that there were other souls out there just like me. So now I figured, what the hell, I am going to be ME. All the sides, all the mood shifts, all the love and hate and anger and pain and joy and wonder… I shall express them all, here, for all the world to see, whether they judge me or not, I no longer want to care, because I want to be the ME that I am.

I may not be making sense to you, but I’m making a whole lot of sense to me.

I’m trying not to close my doors, so you’re welcome to come in and explore.

I can’t promise to tell you everything or answer all your questions, but I’ll talk if you’ll listen.

I’ll try to stop the cynic in me from protesting too much.

tonight i ask myself…

what happened to me?

i used to never run out of things to say. and damn it, i hate repeating myself but it seems that’s all i do. i can’t be stuck. i can’t be stagnant. i can’t be… losing my words.

what happened to me? where did i go? why is that precious part of me so difficult to hold on to now?

it’s funny that i can only write well when i’m sad, depressed, or pissed off. am i supposed to keep hurting so i can express myself? so much hurt… i wish i hadn’t gone through broken trust and false friends. they say these things only serve to make you stronger, to mold you into a better person… but… they also make you wary, hesitant, afraid.

despite the fact that i seem sociable on the outside, i don’t really share too much of the self i have inside with just anyone, because i have had enough of pretense and lies. it’s difficult to trust, and although sometimes i go by my instincts, how can i really know? i’ve been betrayed by an angelic face, so don’t be surprised if i automatically tiptoe around angels. a person who shows he or she can be an asshole or a bitch is so much better than one who hides behind a mask of sweetness.

i don’t trust pretty innocent faces. who knows what fiendish thoughts lie behind them?

how are you, my little one?

Hello, my lonely little asylum. How have you been? Did you miss me? Please don’t say you didn’t. Oh, well. Anyway. Are you ready for a slew of new rants? I’ve got several up my sleeve.

The world has started to become oblivious again.

Or is it me who refuses to walk with the world?

I don’t know. Either way, I don’t think I want to be told, again, that I’m closing my doors. I’m tired of trying to figure things out. Just what the hell is required of me? I’ve been saying, time and again, that I want to love and be loved without losing myself. I wonder if that is too much to ask?

Sometimes I am torn between wanting to conform and going off on my own. 

I wish fate didn’t have to be so picky.

storm

She was calm. So calm.
A master at hiding her true feelings, huh.

Perched on the edge of her bed, she wept.

beyond the rain~