Empty.

Two years had passed since the last time I wrote here. I feel weird getting back here, yet I feel at home. Well, of course, it’s home because I built this place for me to rest whenever I’m tired of the fast pace flowing life that happens in front of my eyes. In those two years, a lot happened, I’ve gone to new places, achieved small things, and drew a bunch. Then I realized the only thing I didn’t do in those two long years was to meet a new person to connect with. It’s either I’m too closed off for the world to force its way into my core, or I’m too stubborn to let others in, afraid that I would get abandoned again. Whichever it is, here I am two years after leaving home and back feeling empty.

I crave a real connection with others. You know, like soul-to-soul connection kind of thing. I’d be lying if I didn’t try or gave multiple chances for others to connect with me, but they’re all just tiring me out with hollow talks and whatnot. You know that feeling too, I believe. That feeling when you have to try to match with others’ frequency. Like you need to hold back a few notches so you could talk properly with them. Why has the universe made it hard for me to meet someone on the same wavelength? Or is it just me?

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Empty.

Wondering Soul

It has been a while hasn’t it? Through ups and downs last year (mostly downers) I am still around. I wonder why.

It has been tough. All of it!

A rollercoaster straight to hell. The breakup, my job, family, the pandemic, well basically everything hasn’t been easy. Somehow, I am still here, wondering what made me stay.

Many nights and days I stayed awake to figure out why am I not dead yet when all I ever wants to do is disappear? Last year, the universe had set the perfect scene for my disappearance as everything dawned on me that life is meaningless. I made my mind one night, took the knife and ready to finish my book, yet somehow the universe decided it wasn’t my time. I never got the chance to slice me open. I failed three times already, if I fail another one, death might not taken me seriously. So maybe one day I’ll try harder and get through.

When I began to accept that I have no purpose whatsoever in this world, everyone suddenly turned gazes on me and tried to help, pushing me to move on with life or making me feel better. Where were they, all of these years?

There were times when I think I am still here because it’s only human instinct to preserve life even one no longer desired for it. Somehow there stand this invisible wall stopping me to commit suicide. Other times I tried to comfort myself when no one did, that there are some mysterious plans ahead of me to be fulfilled; which big chunk of me think it’s a bullshit. But hey, maybe it is also in our system to comfort ourselves. I don’t know. I am lost and I don’t know how to come back home. But where is home?

You know, everyone has been asking about my wish/plan this year, and I have yet to answer them. I just chuckled and wonder the same question with them.

In the midst of wondering about everything, she often strolls on my beach and drags along regrets in her shadow. She’s the biggest pain I could not handle. Each time I thought of her, I pray that I still have another chance somehow somewhere in this life to reconnect with her. I’d do it properly next time. Maybe I am holding on for that chance to come? Not sure.

Now I am an empty shell. At least that’s how I feel. I stopped drawing, I stopped writing until this point. I have given up everything and wait for some disaster to hit me. I don’t know. Maybe one day I would get hit by a truck or something so suddenly that I wouldn’t leave a single bread crumb of my existence in this world. But memories exist! Oh, memories fade! Sooner or later once that I’m gone, people that brushed path with me will forget me. Don’t we all got someone we’ve forgotten? I’ll be next in line.

Oh, dear God, if you exist, please kindly end this miserable soul for it is such a waste of blessings.

Wondering Soul

The Interview with The Minds

A: So I would like to congratulate you for your exhibition.

B: Thank you! How do you like it?

A: They are amazing! I couldn’t imagine how did you came up with those color combinations.

B: That’s why you are here right?

A: True. [pause] Shall we begin?

B: Haven’t we started?

A: Ah right! Allow me to start over and ask it properly; how did you come up with the ideas?

B: Well I took a bit of everything into it. From nature, people, seasons, books.. the universe! So it is not all mine when I have it from everywhere. Especially him.

A: Right! This is your eighteenth exhibition. There you have both of your names in it. But I wonder to what extent did he put himself in the projects; knowing it was you that do all the painting, right?

B: You must’ve new here?

A: Honestly I am.

B: Where were you on our first? [she meant her exhibition]

A: I just got transferred to this town yesterday and I know a bit of what’s happening. I did the research on ..

B: Then you lack of it. I mean aren’t you working in media?

A: My apologies. I have no other excuse.

B: Well I am not expecting any. So next question please.

A: Okay. I heard that the president is a huge fan of your art.
Continue reading “The Interview with The Minds”

The Interview with The Minds

Infatuation.

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It all happened in a blink of an eye. As fast as it hits, it dissolves within my doubt, unwilling to resign to a common pattern of destiny. For instant, I never thought such thing exist, yet it did and happened to me when somebody else out there prayed for it every single day. A prayer for a slight chance to encounter love. “Such a waste of mythical event on me; a heavy thinker,” I initially thought. Slowly it all changed due to a persistent force of the universe that came to my way. I began to melt, merged with the beautiful unknown. I wished to go further and beckoning the darkness stood before me. I am being pulled in the black hole even to this very second. From curiosity of mankind that driven all the great adventures, it all shifts into necessity to know more, to have more of the mystery. It thrilled me. I want more of it. I need to get everything. I became a prayer amongst many in the middle of the night, prayed that this isn’t just another temporary mean game from God that breaks too many hearts already.

 

Like a small asteroid drifting indefinitely in space, I let my life go without a purpose. I was a bigger asteroid before and had a purpose, until I got hit by reality and failed to keep myself together. So now I am living for the moment and let the universe guide me to anywhere it pleased. Without me knowing, it leads me here, being pulled in this bright star’s gravitational force. It is warm when my orbit closest to her. The other time it’s damn cold like the space between here and there. I began to wonder, could it possibly because I’ve been exposed to her warmth that I feel the cold? Maybe. I don’t really mind the pain.

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Infatuation.

a kind of love letter.

Here is the the thing, you always see me as your greatest enemy; your nemesis. Roughly I know when it began. Maybe it all started when I slapped you for the first time. But when I think of it lately with a clear head, the guilt wasn’t totally on me. Of course I am terribly sorry and regret that I did that. But it was because you slapped me too many times simply because ‘to make you feel better ’.

You always asked me to prove you about my love. I knew (as you told me zillion times too) that I hurt you. But with you slapped me just because I deserved them or because it was the only way to make you feel better, I was asking inside me, ‘so with this you, trying to telling me that you lovedme?’ It was wrong. But I let it happened a lot of times. I should’ve stopped you, but I preferred those slaps rather than losing you. And without me ever realized what was happening inside of me because we both were focusing on you, slowly it scarred my pride.

Oh yes, my pride. The pride you loathed the most. But lemme tell you, love, my pride is something I could never dismiss no matter how I hate myself for being filthy. I believe we all born with that. Even a son of a serial killer has a pride. As we both know, I would get a slap every time I raised my voice. I agreed on it. So every time I did and you slapped me, no pride involved there. But when you, all of a sudden decided to slap me just to make you feel better, that reached deep inside me that held my pride dearly. It got angry. Slowly. Unnoticed. Until I exploded and I slapped you in reply for all the silence I gave you when you slapped me for your own amusement. To make it clear, everything was on us both. On me for saying nothing when it all happened, and on you just because you slapped me to make you feel better. But did you? I doubt that, even now. The prove? You were still grudging for everything. So I saw all those slaps I received was for nothing.

Continue reading “a kind of love letter.”

a kind of love letter.

Gratitude 

  
I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I will get over you and I will be accepting whoever I really am instead of keep believing in your ideas of me. I am not everything you said and I refuse to be those. I will be happy by then. I certainly won’t cry when I think of whatever happened to us. And when that happens, I won’t be there for you to blame, or to keep blaming myself. I will be long gone to somewhere far from the past. I will grow each day, i will learn and accepting everything that had happened as lessons, not things to caged me or put me down. I won’t be there where you thought i’d be living my life miserably. I will not die without you. I will keep on living as a better person. I will be better for myself not for anyone else, not even you. And I will not allow myself to go back to where I am now. We shall meet again that day when I am all better. I will smile to you and hug you. For I will not go there if you didn’t push me to my deepest despair and enable me to use my own strength to climb up.  

Gratitude 

The Session – part six. final –

I wake up, sweating from a nightmare I can’t remember. My heartbeat is racing with my breath. I need the time to figure out where I am. I sit, look around and find out that I am in my room. I check the time; it is two in the morning. My girlfriend is sleeping soundlessly next to me. None of us is wearing a thing underneath the blanket. I stay there trying to get a grip on myself. Getting my breathing right again. Somehow everything is stagnant. I feel the time stops for me. I look around and everything seems stop for me. No sound to be heard. Maybe I need to change the clock into an analog one. It ticks to prove the passage of time instead the digital one. The only thing moving is her chest going up and down to prove me that the time is still flowing in this room. I look at her peaceful face. Oh how I love her with all I have. I want her to know that. I want to be this peaceful when I am around her. But the longer I look at her, the angrier I get. The angry-me is coming closer. I can hear him running towards me. I have to move from here, away from her.

Continue reading “The Session – part six. final –”

The Session – part six. final –

The Session – part five –

Usually when I dream, I could recall everything happened vividly to the emotion I had when I was in it. Most of them were lucid dreams where I could lead the plot where I want it according to my desire. But last night I had a normal dream where I went with the flow, unable to alter the story. A lot more like a spectator than a director and the main character. I watched everything that happened in front of me. And when woke up, I couldn’t remember details about my dream. It is something new to me. Only the after taste and confusion remained. If I’m going to have this kind of dream from now on, I need to adjust things. Maybe I need to stop trying to recall my dream. Or maybe it is only because I slept at ease last night, that I didn’t pay attention to my dream.

Continue reading “The Session – part five –”

The Session – part five –

The Session – part four – 

I open my eyes slowly as Rose suggests. My body feels tired and stiff as I’ve been sitting unmoving for a long time. How long have I been here? I look at my watch. It’s seven in the night. I couldn’t tell the night has fallen since there is no window inside this massive room. I have been here for four hours but it doesn’t feel like it. It was more like thirty minutes for me inside my head. But my aching body tells the reality. Time distorted as I gone under the session. What a great power. I wish I could do that in a boring meeting. Go inside the meeting room, sit down, and the meeting ends in a blink. I could only wish for that.

I have a lot of things to ask, but that’s for later. As I regain my consciousness, Rose throws her beautiful smile at me. I am blushing somehow because of that with my head feeling a little bit fuzzy and my mouth feels so dry. I need to drink.

“How do you feel now?” It takes a while to get my voice back. I have to swallow my saliva to soak my throat. She waits with her smile like she’s trained to do. Then I tell her that I feel weird. I also tell her that I see a lot of me and ask whether it is normal or not to have imagination.

“First of all, it is not imagination,” she begins, “they all are your egos. They built who you are now through everything happened in your life,” one of my question answered, “they all protect you from any kind of harm,” she’s looking at me as if she’s trying to measure my reaction. I give her none. My mind is trying to remember what just happened. What about gloomy? He was the last one I see before I open my eyes.

Continue reading “The Session – part four – “

The Session – part four – 

The Session – part three –

Rose doesn’t ask what I see or what kind of condition I am in now, so I am not describing a thing about the water filled every inch of the imaginative space I create or I’ve becoming a merman – I prefer merman because I have gills on both of my neck, like Harry Potter. Since she doesn’t say a word, I swim around, swiftly and aimlessly, testing my new skill to the limit. I pretty much swim very fast like Aquaman. I wonder what should I call myself. I also breathe at ease. I can sense the oxygen extracted from the water in my gills to my lungs. I feel great.

“Now I need you to call everyone inside you.” Suddenly I hear her voice next to my ear. Had she moved from her seat? Or have I lost my perception of distance? But before I realize, the merman-me – lets end the merman/Aquaman thing and call myself merman – stops swimming and just floating there in the water like a dead fish. As if his power source was cut just like that. He doesn’t look like he’s breathing or any sign that’s indicating he is alive. He looks like a normal drowned man to me. Lost and alone in the water, he is facing the most tragic death a man could ever imagine. I begin to panic. Would it be okay? What is she talking about? Without knowing a thing, I look around for help and slowly from the darkness of the sea, I can see image of someone emerging into view.

“Nod to me if someone else is there,” she says and I nod immediately.

“So can I speak to the wise one, please,” she continues. As if nothing happened, merman-me has regained his swift moves and begin to swim towards the silhouette. Slowly as I get closer, I can see another me standing there – yes, standing inside the water! -. His face is calm and he holds his hands behind his back like an old man. Probably that might suggest as a wise gesture? Or since it is in my imagination, maybe it is my idea of a wise man? I have to look it again in the body language dictionary. But even if it’s not, I believe he is since Rose asked me to go to the wise one inside me.

“Hello,” she begins to talk, “have you found the wise one?” I nod to answer that. The wise one turns his head looking into the darkness. Slowly I hear a clacking shoes like you heard from a girl’s high heels. I wonder what might happen now. Soon enough Rose appears from the edge of the the dark, walking closer to the wise one. She stops five feet away from him. They are staring at each other without saying a thing. My heartbeat is racing. What now?

Continue reading “The Session – part three –”

The Session – part three –