Let me live
Let me be alive
For only when my mind works, I feel the purpose of breathing
Only if I wonder, I’d be grateful of my consciousness
But what good wonders and thoughts are for, if it can’t be shared
If no one sees, no one listens
What will it become than to just vanish
Into the back of one’s mind, as it’s left unshared
Into thin air, as it’s left unheard
Into abyss, as it’s long forgotten
What else can I offer?
For escaping dullness of each day
For my own sense of living
For my own sanity
Do let me wonder and wander
For I want to disengage from dullness of daily life nonsense in a while
Do not just let me
Set sail and come wander with me
Get lost in thoughts, ideas, and wonders of each others’ mind
Come away and disengage together with me.
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.