Letters

It’s not everyday you’d read love letters of a past lover of your partner.

“I’m throwing them away.”

I didn’t even think twice — I held back his hand, pleading for those letters.

“That’s odd”, he chuckled, “of course you can read them, it’s just unusual you’d want to keep them.”

It was the handwriting of a young girl desperate for love. It was small with meticulous curves — she mentioned your name a lot.

Her daytime dreams poured into words; those were the only thing she could depend on to bring you back.

She’d reminisced about the past, when you two were still together, before she wrote those letters that were simply the results of a broken heart, still unwilling to accept your farewell.

This girl who loved you, whom I’ve never even met, taught me a lesson that day.

And every time I read those letters, I’m reminded of a girl who I’d never want to be.

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It’s 11:11 PM. (An Excerpt from My Life #1)

I have 32 minutes until the laundry is done, but I guess it’s alright–because to me, time is the water that runs through the spaces of my fingers. And realistically, a waiting that “feels like forever” is downright absurd.

I’m not depressed, but it’s depressing knowing that I’ll be having an important test tomorrow yet I’m completely over it already. And no, it’s definitely not because I was arguing with my loved one through an online messenger and he fell asleep midway an hour ago. Not that it’s killing my cells and nerves that we have yet to arrive at a conclusion, but I suppose he needed the sleep more. But then again, this small room where I live in has so much void ironically, it’s starting to feel depressing.

What’s a good topic to write? Writing isn’t even my occupation, but rather helps me sort the things in my mind. Speaking and voicing the words out don’t work well enough in my case, actually, I think words are a weird communication tool. Their meaning becomes different once I speak them. Thus, I write. And eventually I seek consolation through the searching for synonyms and spelling correction.

I remember my friends back in junior high making wishes at 11:11 AM at school. They claimed it’s a magical time, and your wish will come true. I think it was baloney, but I’d still remember this idea every now and then. Honestly I’d wish for something that could settle my upset stomach right now. On top of it all, sleeping is out of the question tonight–not that it’s a problem, but wishing that my body could cope with this sort of habit works too.

It’s more quiet now. I’m talking about the voices in my head, though, this room has always been silent, which I appreciate aside from not judging my occasional neglect to social or basic humane responsibilities. What am I saying? Oh dear, I wish I could laugh at my pathetic attempt to sound like poetry.

I should check my laundry now.

untitled fairy tale

I want to be fascinated
And cherished as the flowers bloom
Into feelings I have yet felt
A start to an endless story
An end to all distress.

I wanted to be fascinated
And taken away from this sugarless,
Colorless thought from the past
But what have you become, my prince
Drowned in the sea’s embrace.

I have come to realize, this chase
Of your warmth and the collision of your kiss
Is a mockery to my inferiority
I refuse to take it, I try to shout
The magic words, to no avail.

Do I really need this miracle?
My limbs weakened, trying to save
My only hope, my only wish
I dare to stop, for all its worth
Yet I can already see myself disappearing.

Hiding in a foam of bubbles,
An imperfect getaway, but I digress
Even if it was all just a lie
My dream of seeing you again
Has already come true…

Drifting Off

Imagine if we can have what we want
Will you put me away?
The destructive kind of thought at 3am

As the night quickly falls
I say goodbye to the darkness
A familiar voice heard elsewhere
“I’ll wake you up in the morning”
Your 10pm is just my beginning

Imagine if we can have what we want
Will I still wake up tomorrow?
I’ll leave at 12am without leaving anything behind

It should be safe here
You’re crying but I should be safe here
Forgetting that 1am confession
“I need someone to understand me”
Nobody is awake at this hour.

Imagine if we can have what we want
Will you wish for a good night’s sleep?
Even the person next to you is somewhere else

Imagine if we can have what we want
Will you turn the clock backwards?
The side effect of staying up until 3am

Is enough to make me wish for what I can’t have.

Supposedly it’s about being stuck with a thought of something in the past, but you can interpret it the way you want.

3D Complex

I see that everything else is better than me
That I’m starting to avoid the world existing within mirrors
Even if they’re broken, even if they’re wronged
They’re in perfect form.

It’s beginning to sicken me, turning my stomach as a whole
I wanna throw it all up but it’s no use.
I wanna scream it out of my system, but it’ll just show
How ugly it is to have this biological instinct.

Please, please
Just make it disappear from my senses.
I don’t need you to remind me.

They’re still better than me.
We are both lonely, used, wasted, monopolized
And being cheated and forced to live in such a messed up world of yours
Yet they’re in perfect form.

The rainbow-colored scene, with its unrealistic ideals
Isn’t it better? If it’s made slightly different from our world
But didn’t you say it’s even better? The more it differs, the reflection
How ugly it would’ve been if it’s realistic.

Please, please
It’s impossible for me to disappear from this world
Don’t remind me that I can never be them.

Your choice of pixels over cells
Imaginative indulgence
The satisfying satisfaction it brings

Please, please
My flawed form of dissolving warmth
Don’t let it go, even if it’s just a memory.

Note: It’s still a WIP, and well I’ll just give a short insight of the meaning; it’s about a person with inferiority complex! Against who? Or what? Let’s leave it at that!

Random thoughts of a lonely person.

I’m not afraid to walk alone.
I’m just afraid that wherever I go,
people won’t understand me.

I’m not afraid of dying alone.
But I’m afraid that people will forget me,
when I’m finally gone.

I’m not afraid to shut myself in.
I’m afraid nobody will dare to find me,
even if I leave the door slightly open.

I never said I’m afraid to open up,
But I’m afraid people will prefer it if I don’t.