I write, for I am a hopeless romantic.
Because my mind lives in a factory of fantasy. I romanticize things as mundane as handshake in introduction. I recreate little scenes in my mind, showered by flower petals and stardust.
And I read between the lines. I seek sentimental meanings over straightforward words and I record them all. I play those again and again, as I lay my head down stack of pillows, as lullaby.
Because despite my cold shoulders and sharp tongues, despite my unfriendly stares and absence of smiles on lips with constant pout,
I am a hopeless romantic after all.
And this world is not for the hopeless romantics. So I invent another sets of ears and eyes for me to share these things with.
“I’m sick of all the noise from the storm in here. I need a little quiet to get things clear
But tell me something true, or a lie I know and show me that you’re there, and I’m not alone now”
I thought I’ve had enough with living in limbo.
I thought I’d finally freed myself up from that kind of state. But apparently it comes within several aspect. It’s only been few months, yet I feel lost already. Not knowing which way to choose and how this will end. Do I have power to change it? Do I still have the grasp over things I’ve planned and I’ve dreamed of. If not.. how can I keep living as person I don’t want to be.
I rarely plan for life really likes to fuck with me. Every plans I made are only made to be its joke. Because later in the end, it would only be ruined, one hundred and eighty degree. Leaves me stunned and can do nothing but stay still and questioning everything, everyone, trying to figure something out. I have stopped making plans for years. But then, I still have a finish line. I still have a limit that I should pass. Now, where’s the finish line? What limit should I pass? Death itself?
I have no idea what’s been through my mind lately. I refuse to think, I refuse to figure out what to do next. I refuse to see the reality as it is. Even if I can, I’d lock up myself in my room for the time being until I finally know when to step and what should I do. When I finally have a grasp over some motivation that says I could go well as I’ve planned. But these exhausting responsibilities force me to do otherwise. So once again, I’m living my limbo, aimless, have no idea whose life I’m living and what has became of me.
I don’t know what’s happening in my head. I refuse to name it as it will only sink me deeper into it and by the time I realize it’s wrong, I’d be deeply depending on some help to reduce or increase chemical reaction in my brain.
It is so easy just to keep it for myself instead of having another responsibilities to explain. Because after I’ve blabbering this long, I still don’t know what is it that made me this way, how long will this keep going, and how do I escape this. Everything becomes pointless day after day. Nothing excites me like how things used to. Day after day, it gets more and more exhausting. Everything haunts my mind, day and night. The only time I can truly rest is only when I sleep. If you can’t even have control over your own mind, what else can you do?
Never before I feel this powerless.
“Honeymoon phase is over, darling. Get on with it. It cannot be all delightful. It cannot be all highlighted. It cannot always be like that”. She talks to herself
She wanders around,
Through the muddy swamps, clawing her legs, weighing down her steps.
Through flower field, but she’s walking inside a glass tunnel, disabling her from savouring touches of beauty. Or is all that real? Not only digital vision?
Towards the sun, as it sets steered away by the dusk, followed by the night as it owns the stage.
All those places, all those views, all those steps she took,
All she’s looking for is a finish line. A fine line which defines where she should go and how long should it take.
Because never before she feels freedom so suffocating.
How fortunate is fortunate enough?
Some measure it by the food they have on their plate tonight, some measure it by how varied the menu for tonight’s dinner.
Another measures it by the roof above their head enough to provide them warmth for the night, and the others measure it by the luxury of their marble flooring for their new home.
Blessed are those who know what they could have and have it anyway. The pleasure it brings surely is great but it will only last for awhile. Until there comes another thing to be aimed for. The pleasure will gradually fades, replaced by greater hunger, desire, ambition, and sometimes even.. lust. Only if they have it, they will feel the pleasure exceeds the previous.
But what comes after that?
Greater things to be aimed for, for human is a creature with no limit for satisfaction. So the cycle continues, repeatedly. How much is too much? How many is too many? I guess we just don’t understand such concept.
Among all, blessed are those who don’t have the slightest idea of what lies out there in the world that they could possibly have. For they will always feel enough and for them greater things that would tempt their hunger are nonexistent.
But is it okay to put yourself in certain limit? To ignore other things that may exist beyond one’s logic or state of mind. Does ignorance really do you a favor by wiping out what may become of oneself?
Between knowledge or ignorance, neither could exactly be a blissful thing.
What’s the worst thing someone ever said to you, beside ‘I don’t love you’ ?
“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I do, but seeing you, being with you is like being reminded constantly how I fucked things up. You are a constant reminder of what I could’ve had If I didn’t screw up”.