what is even the point of breathing anymore

like seriously i’m not being sad/depressed/frustrated i’m totally in the okay mood i’m just really wondering

life is a repetition

and i’m bored already

(Source: teasocials)

Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock

Why am I here? Why am I staring hopelessly and blankly at this very screen right now? What am I doing?

It’s a cold night, tonight. The wind is stronger than it has been for the last few days. I’m freezing, but I don’t want to put on any extra clothes. I don’t know why. Maybe I’ve been too fond of coldness to even try to get warm, or maybe I was just secretly hoping I’d get frozen somehow. The latter is just a hopeful thinking, I guess. An old song was playing, and I can’t help but get all nostalgic. About my past, about what’s happening to me right now, about my future. Funny thing though, every single thing I tried to remember was a blur. I thought the past should always be as clear as crystal— guess I was wrong.

People always say that if you try to take away a writer from their typewriter, all that’s left is the sickness that made them type in the first place. Hah. But what if the writer didn’t have any sickness to start with? What if he’s just empty, and desperately trying to feel by tangling pretty words and grammar rules sentence after sentence? What happens when you take him away? Would they be just like they were before? Or would they feel even emptier? How do you measure emptiness anyway?

My phone rang all of a sudden. My mum.

“Yes, mum?”
“How are you? What are you doing right now?”
“Ah, I’m fine. I’m doing nothing.”
“It’s really late, don’t you have class tomorrow?”
“I do. I will sleep soon, don’t worry.”

Huh, what sleep. I haven’t slept in nearly 3 days. I haven’t been doing anything else as well. I tell myself that this is normal, that I would return to my daily schedule once I’m done collecting my thoughts. What a good liar I am, even to my own self. What thoughts? I can’t even find a single word to tell everyone how I feel, even though I’ve been sitting in front of this netbook for days. And I call myself a writer, hah. What a joke. Writers have worthy things to say, writers have beautiful imaginations to share. I’m just an empty soul who tries to cope with sanity using words.

“Take care of yourself there, will you? I can’t watch you 24/7 anymore, dear.” my mum said to me.

“I know,” I said.
“I will hang up now, I love you.”
“I love you too.”

Click. 

Silence, again. So comforting, yet nerve-wracking. So simple, so quiet, yet it seems like it’s made from gigantic amount of noise. I took a look at the clock. It’s midnight already. I sighed, and turned back to my netbook, trying to find a keyword that will let out all the vomit within my heart. Trying to untangle the mess within my head. Another long night, this will be. A freezing, long night. I wish I’d really get frozen this time.

Tick
 

Tock
 

Tick
 

Tock 

ethaney:

“This photograph is my proof. There was that afternoon, when things were still good between us, and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen. She did love me. Look for yourself.” 

This is my proof, Duane Michals, 1974

your heart is empty
your voice is empty
your eyes shine no glow, they’re empty
and no pretty words or charming smile can cover it up
you’re still empty
empty
empty
empty
but don’t worry
I’m empty too

They say that when there’s a will, there will be a way.

So I tried to trace your voice to find out your whereabouts. I tried to find you while you were singing but instead I was lost in a complete chaos, and became deaf from hearing too much noises on my journey. And then I tried to follow your scent. I closed my eyes and tried to bring myself to the most comforting place I know— your side. But the world has became too stinky, too smelly that I couldn’t find anything that has slightly decent smell. It’s horrible, and my whole body just refused to continue anymore. They say that we should love bravely, love loudly, love in the most courageous way you have. So I tried to run and yell out your name, hoping you will come out somehow. I tried to jump and scream out for your presence, hoping that you’d catch me. But I ended up with broken bones and bruises and heartaches.

And then I thought to myself, ah, maybe I should just stay still, stay silent, stay quiet. Maybe this kind of love will suit me. Maybe Hope will help Destiny to bring you back to me, or bring me back to you. So I sit, I wait, I pray. I pray to your god, to my god, to the stars, to the earth, to the rain, to the whole universe to somehow help me shoo this loneliness away. Because it consumes me and it hurts me and it’s like I’m under a curse where everything is killing me but I can’t be dead. It’s the worst curse ever— to live with misery.

They say that I bring all this upon myself.

So I tried to prove that it was actually a choice. I tried to crawl out of this long road of darkness and find sunshine, only to find myself walking in a darker dark and hopeless tunnel. They say it’s normal when you want to hurt yourself from the outside because you’re trying to kill the pain that’s inside, but they don’t let you do it. So I tried to stop, and I ended up wanting to vanish even more. I want to die die die die and just die, because I feel like there’s no way I can jump out and escape this very soul, this very life. I should just end it.

People teach me that it’s not okay to be alone. That I should share what I feel and what I think and they persistently assure me that it’s going to make everything easier. So I tried to cry shamelessly in front of those who proclaimed themselves as friends. I’ve shed my tear, written my words, and yelled out the rotten noise in my heart. But again I’m left all alone, because they still don’t get me. And then they accused me of pretending to be like this. Like anyone would want to feel like this every single day. People always tell me this and that and this and that as if they know everything. And I tried to follow their words. I tried, I swear I did.

But here I am, still.

With nothing.

It’s been really windy lately and I wish I was small and light enough to fly away with the wind.

an old friend called
asked how I’d been
we used to be so close
bonded by razor and pills

as I grew older
somehow we drifted apart
but I still remember
he tasted like blood
felt like freezing water
and cold floor
smelt like hopelessness

it’s been a long time
what do you want
I said

he chuckled
and said
sleep well tonight, sweetheart

i’ll see you
tomorrow