White abyss

A day unnoticed. Again. Every day passes unnoticed.

Sadness, unreasonable sadness. I am enveloped within a childish kind of sadness. I am weak, oversensitive, and hyperaware of everything. I crumble at every failure made. I curl up at every mistake committed. I always try to get myself back up by reminding me that happy people focus on what they have.

But the gap, the void, the space, the hollowness, they’re glaring at me yet again. I am okay. I am okay to an extent that can be called happy, but depression peeked over my shoulders feeling left out.

Why do I feel lost again
Why am I so obsessed with being sad

I always manage to get my life together and somehow, I always manage to flip it a day after. I am already contented. I am satisfied with how things are working out. It wasn’t perfect –-– there are many areas for improvement, but I no longer feel that bad about being like this.

I do not know how it’s called. How this is called.

An imagery. A garden where everything and everyone is elated. Colors everywhere; Humor ran around while Serenity rest content seated on the grasses, feeling the cool breeze. Happiness, of course, was the most prominent feeling in the garden. It radiated cheerfulness as bright as the sun. But, looking disquieted, he stood at a corner gazing at the direction where Sadness hid–––as if an older sibling concerned about the insecure and ignored little brother. And, as if stricken with guilt, he stepped out of the garden––-now leaving me seated at the center of this white abyss, across Sadness.

It skipped and hummed while it drew shadows, satisfied that he finally had the garden’s attention. The garden which he now bleached colorless. Both Humor and Serenity have gone out of sight–––but came Sarcasm and Emptiness to keep us company. Emptiness is peaceful like Serenity, he whispered, and that Sarcasm can replace Humor’s entertainment. It smiled, as if to assure me;

and though a faint one,

I responded likewise

with eyes cast down.

Thinking how disappointing it was

to have let it become selfish



Somehow at this point, I’ve finally found my resolve.

Over the course of about a lifetime, I’ve never been really happy about the romantic aspect of my life. At least not absolute. I’ve never entered a relationship, and I’ve never actually discussed my status with someone. Perhaps it was partly because I’m too egotistic to be the one to bring that sort of thing up, and partly because I’m afraid that would immediately put an end on a seemingly beginning of something unknown. Or unsure. So I guess I’m stopping here. Not that I was looking for The One all my life (seriously that’s stupid and delusional), it’s just that I’ve been endlessly hoping that things would work out. That things could work themselves out. Because if things would be, they’d be. Let the chips fall where they may they say. And similar cliched crap.

That was a dumb thing to believe in.

I know, I know. I don’t know what lies ahead but it’s all in my hands. I decide my fate. And if I won’t do anything nothing would come out of this. But I’m a fool. I don’t know what to do. Initially I thought I did. I believed I did. And people believed me too and listened to my advices. Ironically things worked out on their end, though it wasn’t guaranteed it’ll be well long enough. But in my case it didn’t.

Well after all I always gave myself the opposite advice.

And should I vindicate that, I only know that still, I’m afraid. I am a coward. A big coward. I’m stuck in my past and I chose to be there. I chose to be there because in the past, albeit the pain and sufferings, I was happy. Not to mention temporarily happy. It was the lone thing that worked. She was the lone person who openly and genuinely returned my feelings, the lone person who made me feel requited.

I shouldn’t have included her case. But anyway, I figured that any kind of romantic relationship isn’t for me. I mean that commitment thing. What a joke.

And maybe I’m happier without a partner. With just, being thisjust like this. Enjoying my own company and my friends. Being fruitful in different fields.

I’d shun anything that provokes feelings. God forbid I engage into any friendship with someone I’d end up liking.

Not again.

I will never become a fool again.

I’m not happy but I hope you are

I have nothing else to write.
I’m dying and I don’t know how to romanticize that.

I lost myself, just as predicted.
And I don’t know how I could afford to write when tears are blinding my sight.

The room is in pitch darkness.
I lay helplessly like a corpse, staring at the abyss.

All I could see is my pain.
All I could hear is my pain.
All I could feel is my pain.

It happened again.

I don’t have anything left inside me but tears.



Actually I ended up with a lot of drafts before coming up with that. That was by far the most… decent. I mean the one with the better organization. The others were lost-in-my-head poems and letters (they were more authentic though because organization of thoughts could diminish the genuineness of what I wrote). I was so immersed in my pain and grief awhile ago that I came up with tons of writing, and my eyes are actually hurting a lot right now, feels like cockroaches bit ’em.

Anyway, I somehow got a grip on a perspective now.

Looking at everything from a wider view, upon realization I will have to admit that he’s not at fault at all. Just as I wrote yesterday, indeed it all happened in my head. I’ve caused my own pain. And in a sense, I was the one who ruined me (should I cite Murakami here haha). Yeah… he’s innocent. And odds could be that he doesn’t know anything at all. Because come on, guys are so dumb they don’t assume. Except for Tsuyoshi.

But just because I know that doesn’t mean I’m not sad. I AM. And very much. Because in retrospect history kind of repeated itself. Hahahaha (yeah, that’s a pity). And if I remember, I wrote on my tumblr about it. I predicted it. And yeah, there I go, I was right. And the last thing I needed to finally give up was for him to get a girlfriend. That was the last thing that blew me up in the past. And I think that’s in the near future now. Haha (again, that’s a pity)

But somehow, I feel better. Just a while ago I think I was at my most irrational self. I was drowning in my tears. I literally lay on my bed like a dead person and there was no light (the person in the other room switched off the one outside) so I was in total darkness. With my earphones on my ears, Sober by Kelly Clarkson playing, and my iPod on its max volume, you probably knew what happened. I managed to write nonetheless. Haha but a little while before that, after finishing my take home exam I sat at the corner of my bed and cried. And then laughed because I’m ridiculous. And then I cried again. I think I’m going blind. The sad thing there I guess was that amid my thoughts of him I’ve thought of killing myself. Not because I love him so much or something, but because I’m so tired of this cycle. And obviously I have no idea if I would ever have the chance to escape. It’s a goddamn curse.

Looking back at my post during his special day, I said I will never love again. Nope it’s not that cliched it’s-so-painful-I-think-I-can-never-love-again sort of feeling. I meant it in every sense of the word. I WILL NEVER LOVE AGAIN. It was the first time in a long time I said it. Perhaps because this whole requital thing has taken its toll on me. Requital is not a word invented for me. A word that won’t ever apply to me. At least in this aspect of my life. None of them ever worked out. And I’m beginning to think that’s it’s not for me.  That I’m actually better off alone. I mean without a partner or something like that.

I should be posting this thing on Tumblr instead, I know, but I kinda feel (more) liberated when I know it’s in the open.

And my point? I’m not happy, but I’m okay. I’m not happy but I hope he is.

And I know he is.

False hopes

I’m in great agony. And a hundred percent chance could be that you don’t know. Because you don’t care.

I’m crying again. Every time a thought of you comes creeping up on me I curl up and sob. Last night I told myself that the suffocating knot in my chest did not stem at all from the realization that nothing had and ever transpired between us;

that everything I knew and thought had happened were merely in my head;
that I was nothing and no one.

There wasn’t anything there to begin with. 
My feelings alone created the illusion that I alone was seeing.
And I don’t matter. I don’t matter. I don’t matter. I don’t matter.

I convinced myself that these tears were primarily due to my damaged pride. Due to a tainted dignity.

But what do I do when you’re the lone thing my stupid heart aches for?

It really is pathetic.
It really is pathetic how I continue to unrequitedly care about you.
It really is pathetic how tears still continue to stream down my face despite this familiar encounter—this cyclical encounter with pain and the pang of realizing that this was once again one-sided.

This pain is killing me. And I’m practically dying.

I wish I could disappear and run away.


I will never love again


It really is pitiful
how much I think about you.

There are many possibilities, possibilities that you are laughing at me; that you think I’m pathetic for swimming in my idiosyncrasies; that so much to my own ridicule you find it stupid that I had the audacity to assume that there was something happening between us.

But this labyrinth was void of any feelings belonging to you.
This was all mine.

And none of it was ever real.

Nothing real ever happened
Everything was an illusion

Everything merely happened in my head

You are the moon

I’m having this stupid crisis because of you, you don’t know that, do you? It feels as fucking ironic as it sounds okay, and it was all because of you.

I don’t exactly know when it started, but God, it just did. And the last thing I knew is that you could sweep me off my feet whenever you want. You always could, notwithstanding the circumstances.

But I feel cold and terrible. Because I know for a fact that I can’t, and would NEVER, have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you. I can’t have you.

It keeps ringing in my head and I don’t need an evidence to confirm that to myself. You just won’t be. I just can’t.

I’ll never have you.

Because I’m a mess. I’m emotionally and psychologically fucked up. I’m going to ruin everything.

And I always foretell the ending. And then go create the cause. And then go save myself. And then cry and wonder why I ended up alone.

I’ve came up with tons of reasons to stop, but I just won’t. And it’s stifling. And it’s fucking suffocating. All I do is cry when I think of you. Cry. Cry. Cry. And cry.

I always cry and sob, curled up at the corner of my bed, with my back facing the dim light coming from my laptop in which a photo of you with your childish smile is displayed…

And I don’t know when I could stop.

This isn’t going to stop.

You were the reason why I finally doubted what I am. Escapee instinct, perhaps. I needed to get out of the picture before you even confirm to yourself you screwed me over. I needed an escape. I needed to save myself. So I deluded myself that I wasn’t straight. Because I know in the long run, I’ll be left in ruins; hating someone who knew nothing; hating you for loving you too much. And I wanted to assure myself that I won’t appear like the moron in the picture; I needed to save my ego on the brink of a dead loss, before I even get an answer I didn’t ask.

I wanted to make sure I won’t come out as the idiot. I have to delude myself I have backups so I don’t feel pathetic. Numerous backups. Endless and sure alternatives. So I feel indemnified.

This sure sounds like a contest. Only it’s not. Because you’ve already won.

And I’ll never win.

Because I’m the one going nuts. I’m the one obsessing. I’m the one hoping. I’m the one crying. I’m the one wishing you knew. I’m the one wishing this thing between us would work out because the rest didn’t.

Because I’m the one who’s pathetically inloved with you. 

It’s you. You. You.
As long as there’s you.

You fucked me up

What did you do to me

What did you do