Thank you for holding on

Oh Love,

I could not sleep at night lately, and sleeplessness is ordinary.
And mine eyes are blurred by such exhaustion: blinded, slowly.
But you are my beacon of hope, and hope is more than scarce to me.
And it’s nothing else but scars I see, a pattern that decorates my body.
The pain that I feel, so plenty, it fades away when you come close to me.
And when mine eyes and yours finally meet; two souls leaving their bodies.
Intertwined by fate and neglected by time. Far too much pain, yet we never cry.
And what is it that could stop our plight? For the heavens is the very thing we deny.
And even though how hard we try, we could not, would not, accept that time still flies.
But what is more to life then to lie and wait? For everything goes away, and that’s okay.

Oh Love,

I could not sleep at night, without wishing that you’re here by my side.
Two very small blots of Chinese ink, travelling at the speed of dark light.
You come forward with no promises, nothing else matters and that’s alright.
Each and every kiss is an heirloom we pass down to every blacks that has life.
And our nights are far more lonely than what it used to be. It’s nothing to me.
You and me, we were never here and we would never hear the screams of our fears.
We would love, and loving is too short. So if we would love: it’s either that or mort.
And our stories are not at all short, we build them up just to see them get destroyed.
But without love, joyful hatred appears. And that too would one day cease to appear.
So what is it that we hold on so tight too? What else is there, for us, to even hold dear?
It’s nothing more than our complete and utter failure in comprehending all the lost tears.

Love,
We have no where else to turn.
And we would, probably, never learn.

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17.19

let’s talk again about our past

and how everything didn’t make sense

and how we almost lost our minds

because growing up was a pain

and the truths we learned hurts

and how our imbalanced hormones

made us stay up all night

wondering why life is so bad

of course it isn’t bad now

but it used to, or it just felt

bad.

 

let’s talk again like we used to,

though I don’t know you like I used to

because we both changed a lot

and still we change, day to day

Separation and Midnight Thoughts

           Knowing that this separation would probably be forever kills me. In my mind, a naïve one, I thought that I’ve found a safe haven for my thoughts; yet I was wrong. To whom do I owe the honor of this awakening? Her, I owe it to her, and I owe her a lot for each and every enlightenment I’ve had.

            Separation is a hard thing to say, yet separating seems to be a harder thing to do. Imagining something that tastes as bitter as this is easy, but when a concept realizes itself into true hard fact, that’s even harder to swallow. But the truth isn’t too bad for a writer. It fuels his mind with ideas, albeit living with the truth hurts more than writing about it; although it makes him melancholic.

            Melancholy is a beautiful word, or at least my definition of melancholy is. A feeling of depression so deep, it encourages you to think more than feel, to create beautiful lines of poetry instead of breaking the first thing you see in front of you; but most of all it keeps you sane in the wake of being left alone to fight your sorrows.

            But I’ve won most battles now, I feel stronger than ever. A young woman made me this way. She could build so much in such a small duration of time, I sometimes think that she was too good to be true. But she was real, her love was real, her caring was real, all those beautiful feelings I felt were real; it felt more real than God. But that is life, like a Stephen King novel, we never know what’s going to happen next. She and all the life she brought into my life were real, so were the differences we have that forbid us to stay together.

            Being happy alive is hard for people who don’t have many earthly desires, much like me. I’ve had a few in the past, a few really strong ones, but now they’re gone; disappeared. Being realistic would be the death of me, it clouds my mind with pessimistic thoughts, but it also confuses me because it makes me strive to fight those thoughts; is confusion really that bad then? I don’t think so. Confusion needs to be taken care of, and clearing your mind from confusion would take effort. Maximizing your potential to do so would then remind you of how strong you really are in the face of confusion. Then does that make confusion good? No. It doesn’t make it good or bad. It only shows that any obstacle you’ll face is nothing frightening when you realize how powerful you are.

            But is being powerful enough for someone to completely rid one’s self from the hopes that they have? Hopes that would never come true, one that would make even the strongest man on earth fall low to the ground, sob, and feel like the sky itself is falling on of him? No. It takes more than strength. It takes compassion; something seen as being the only weapon that the weak and ignorant have against the hardships of life. Yet something seemingly weak and useless is more powerful than any army that once made empires crumble. A thousand armies of war hardened men could make you the new king of Rome, but could not make you forget the tender hold of the hands you could no longer hold. But realize compassion and it could make you smile, while she gazes a familiar gaze you once were sure was only for you, towards another pair of eyes. Beauty that you could only see when you’ve let lust and desire go.

            Am I able to see that kind of beauty? No. I still have high hopes that I could not rid of. It’s harder to practice than to preach. It’s hard for me to let go. I am a person that holds on to something a little too hard, then thinks too much of it when its gone. If so, is being realistic or is it over thinking that would be the death of me? Maybe one of the two, maybe both; for now let’s just leave it at that. All I know for now is that life is beautiful and that I’m stronger than before. I don’t need to worry too much. And she’s happier now, and that makes me happy too.

12:34

I realize that I am guilty of being boastful when I talk. Sometimes when I don’t watch what I talk about, I could create the wrong impression of myself in other people. Now I’ve realized that.

Maybe it comes from the shy little kid who’s not used to attention. And when he gets it he needs, or feels like he needs, that attention to stay. I guess that’s it. I need to tone that down a bit.

Not only being overly confident, I also sometimes talk so arrogant people see me as an arrogant asshole. I don’t blame them. I really need to watch a lot of things that come out of my mouth. It’s a weakness I’ve had since I was a wee little elementary student. And old habits die hard.

But lately I’ve felt a change started inside of me. I don’t know why or how it started, but I am very happy that it happened. I want to live long. I want to be useful. I want to make a lot of friends. I want to be happy. I’ve become someone I thought I’d never be. I’m grateful about this small but positive change.

I’ve really felt a positive change inside of myself. I know how to keep my composure, know how to stay calm, remember to be rational, be more disciplined, etc. I really feel a positive vibe coming out of myself — I feel wonderful.

So I give thanks to everyone in my life who’s always been there to support me. You guys just made this pessimistic walking chunk of meat have a more optimist outlook on life. Thank you.

Imperfection

Humans have to live with a sense of imperfection.

Sometimes we think that our eyes are too big, our jaw line too low, our noses too small, or our hair is too curly to comb. But those things we consider imperfect are what makes us, ‘us’. Usually only we complain about such small details that we see as huge flaws, and not other people who directly look at us in everyday life.

We also sometimes think that we always fail in finding love, or we our cooking tastes just a tad too salty, or our paintings couldn’t capture the mood we aim to encapsulate. We are too quick in concluding our failure as flaws. Driven by the thought that there are people out there that do the same things, but with better outcomes, we fall into desperation.

As the insecure beings we are, we sometimes over think about such small problems and create large ones inside our heads instead. These fears of being imperfect would slowly become larger and larger, and we would never be brave in the face of it. When we lose to it, we lose ourselves. Slowly our grip on reality loosens and we start to question. ‘Why?’.

If, unlike me, you’ve never felt a strong feeling of desperation because of sleepless nights filled with over thinking and long empty stares at the ceiling, then congratulations. You’ve not lost your self to the pressure of perfection, of meeting your own expectations of yourselves. If you have, do know that the source of that desperation is you.

All the wants of being spotless, perfect, and without flaw, they all come from inside of you. The concept of an improved reality developed inside of your mind. And I don’t blame you for that.

At the start of humanity, early humans had to have an ambition to have a shelter from rain or a will to hunt to survive. We needed to imagine good scenarios to have the will to bring it into reality. That imagination of good outcomes were both good and necessary.

But  the thing is our world right now is in fact far different than their world around them, and we face far more complex problems than they ever did, but our minds and theirs are not that different. We still do conjure up scenarios with good outcomes, but what we conjure up are more of a satisfying thought than a necessary element of survival. We often think of things working out well, for example in pursuing love, but without the awareness of our capabilities. As we fail to realize what we thought of, we also start to become frustrated. Our ancestors were frustrated because it would mean the chances of them surviving would become smaller, but we are frustrated because of our failure to achieve something satisfying.

Knowing ourselves would greatly relieve ourselves from such improbable thoughts. By taking a step back from reality and reflecting on our life, we would discover an awareness of the self. And when we are aware of who and what we are, we start to see the extent of our capabilities. We could then start to realize what we could and could not do, at least for now. The future holds many more things, as we grow and improve as humans.

Going back to the feeling of imperfection, I feel that we do need to realize one thing. We humans are not perfect, and never will be. But understanding what we could do, and what we could not (for the time being), would greatly benefit us. It saves us from the pain of depression because we think we’re failures, and at the same time strengthens our concepts of reality. By being aware of who we are, we are less likely to fall into a false sense of consciousness of what we could and couldn’t achieve. Finally, making peace with imperfection would make us realize one thing: we are only human, we have our boundaries, and we could learn to overcome them.