Untitled no. 5

Let me drown you in my sea of misery. I'll adorn you with beautiful and pretentious words with definitions I myself am not aware of. Then I will wrap you up in the tightest way possible with my selfish love and drain all that I have, all that I am for you.

More About the Things I Hate

I hate this kind of conversations where you're supposed to laugh at something someone else thinks is funny, where they're forced to say I'm pretty in all the pictures I send.

I hate how easy it is to just drop an emoticon to fill these gaps of silence. I hate how the words aren't poetry anymore. I hate how my words have evaded me. I hate seeing life just pass by.

I hate that we all have to wake up the next day and take that much required bath and let the droplets of water fall on our skin. (Sure, let's make believe that it's enough to wash away and clear away everything.)

I hate how life is ruthless, how it just goes on regardless of what happens to you. I hate that days have to end and you have to move on just like that. I hate how you can't go on looking for that rush all the time, because it just isn't always there. I hate how you can be there for people but it's not enough in reality.

I hate how people think they know you so well when you don't even know yourself. I hate how I've lost the passion to fight and stick for what I believe in. I hate how I can't sleep in the evenings. I hate how warmth is temporary. I hate how happiness never stays. I hate how much I need loneliness. I hate that I feel so stupid and empty. I hate how going out and reading and talking still do not fill the void. I hate how people leave and just drop you like that.

I hate how people stop trying to peel your layers when all you're waiting is for someone to ask. I hate how people force their way inside your mind and your emotions when you need it the least. I hate how people always think something has happened when you're sad. (Sure, life happened).

I hate how trying doesn't always make the cut. I hate how I'll never be enough. I hate how I lack the strength to just end this. I hate how I just can't dig a hole and bury myself there. I hate how despite all these, I still don't want to miss out on life. I hate how I still want to be something. I hate how hard it is to be something. No, this is not to fish for sympathy.

I hate how people just goes for it in a group activity without even considering what I think. I hate how I'm always cornered by these friends because I'm the youngest. I hate how I live on guilt and gratitude. I hate how people look down on you and trivialize what you're going through. I hate that I don't understand things. I hate that everything is a mess.

An Ode to the Memory of a Friend

I don't know where things started to go wrong or maybe they were never really right from the beginning.

Maybe I was only a means of entertainment, reluctant as you were, because you were down in the dumps and I was the only one around. You settled for me at your worst, because you knew I think so low of myself that you were certain I'd take your shit for gold. Who am I after all, right?

Maybe I was a mere outlet because you know I would always yield to you, because the world has been unkind and you always need to have the upper hand.

You loved me in your misery, but now you're in a better place. Misery sure loves company, and we had our times, but I guess I'll always be a lowly being in your eyes, a nobody.

But you know what? I wish you well.

There will be more stray cans to kick on the streets, more quiet wishes that we cross paths again one of these days. I will accept one day that starting now, I can only toast to you in whispers on my lonesome, drunken evenings. Someday, my mind will come to terms that I may be the only one left smiling at our jokes.

Maybe. . .

Just maybe. . .

Good night to us, dear friend, and may you sleep tight.

Untitled no. 4

But this is not prose or poetry.

This is for when I lose to sadness,
When my heart twists,
And I just want to whimper the whole night through,
Or curl up on my bed.

This is for when breathing becomes a chore,
and the tears start to form.
Deep breaths, deep breaths, I try
And it does help
But only for a moment
Because in the brief second my head clears
Something leads me back to where I was

Deep breaths, deep breaths...
Please...

Just--