Words I Never Said

Have you ever had that particular day when nothing seems to be right? Well, mine just happen to be my favourite holiday ever - Christmas. I can't even find comfort in the crook of words, the warmth of writing, or even the satisfaction of piecing words to form a sentence. Its like I've lost it. A few setbacks have dampened my passion for words, a feral hunger to communicate a story. I want to throw my hands in abject surrender and utter the taboo words, "I give up." But this small portly imp inside me is determined to milk my dark moments. I can't say those words.

No one believes in my writing anymore. Not even myself. Then why I can't give it up? Maybe it's because I held on for so long. That even through the "I don't know if your english is just that bad or you didn't see that obvious grammatical mistake" and that one real writing job, and they never got back, I held on.

But it feels like a warzone in me. Messing up my education. My relationships. It seems to be an in thing for me, a season, or a lifetime, maybe. To be in front of a battle, nothing but the clothes on my back, chin up, bravely standing there refusing to dodge. Perhaps I knew it all along. Mayhaps I was asking for it. But I can't back down. Not with my pride on the line. Not when the people who shot the first few arrows were my friends or teachers.

It's stupid. You might say. It's useless, choobs, just give it up. Why fight when you know you are only gonna get hurt? You might ask.

Why do I bother when I have God on my side?

I might have lost all motivation to do well. But motivation can be revved up again. Till then, God be my vindication and my sword.

Delirious

Delirious. Usually associated to joy, laughter, excitement, positive factors in life. But my definition of delirious is in a trance, a dazed state from the chaos and pain outside the shell I call my life.

I'm in a state of delirium. I see things, see through them, I don't really see. Went through the whole day with such heavy thoughts, weighed me down like an iron. But I hide behind the laughter and the smiles. I feel much safer then. Much less vulnerable. Many times my eyes glazed over, I realized then, how good of an actress I've became. I keep thinking to myself. Inside my room, alone, I could break down and cry myself a good time.

That kept me going for awhile. Then I learnt to compartmentalize the pain, the questions. I would deal with it later when I'm alone. Not in front of these people I call friends. Some time in the whole episode, someone came up to me and confided. The one person I was not ready to lose, but I had to let go. She was crying. That was pushing my breaking point, I wanted to cry along with her. I wanted to, so badly.

But I had to suck it up. Always operate from a position of strength. I couldn't cry in front of her. I was her leader, her mentor. What does it make me? In that moment of weakness, I found strength. And I just  stared at her unseeing, nodding empathically.

Snippets of the compartmentalize pain got through the wall I built through the day. But I managed all the same. It's ironic, I wanted, no needed someone to talk to. But funnily enough, I had no one. Or believed it so. Maybe I wanted myself to believe I had no one. It's not because I don't have, but because I just wanted to be alone.

Came home, bracing myself for a floodgates of emotions to hit me like a brickwall and the waterworks to start. It didn't come. It never did. It diminished into something called apathy. I decided to put down all I felt in words. However, whatever I felt, no matter how manipulative I am with words, couldn't explain.

This is my best explanation. Of the words I couldn't say. Relationships. Friendships. Leadership. Bullshit. Cop out bullshit. No fairytale ending for all of them.

Too proud to admit that I need help. Been lashed to this freight train all my life, too stubborn to untie myself. Too stubborn.

Linear

Many things run through my mind. Morbid thoughts, thoughts banished to the furthest corners of the world, never hoping to see light again. Moved from the clubbing song phase to the Norah Jones phase. Need some jazzy feminine feel instead of pumping nigga music to quiet my mind.

I asked myself why I refuse to let go of the grief, and slowly straining the grief through when feeling downright miserable and helpless. I'm like a small amount butter being spread across the loaves of bread. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I just turn back to the darkness because there I find comfort. I'm running scared and I know it. Because there in the darkness I can still feel hurt, grief, loss and pain. It's not that I don't want to move on, it's that I'm timorous that I won't miss you again, that without some emotional distress, I can't feel you.

I sound like a nutcase. Trust me, if I read this through I would think myself as one. So I'm not gonna read it through. Norah Jones, here I come again.

The world will still be here tomorrow.

In life, be it cheering or jeering you, there'll always be people calling out your name. You either tune those voices to be the one that motivate or get crush by the might of the audience.

"What do they know?"

I hear myself repeating that question.

What do I know?

As much as I say I'll be there, the whole load of bullshit even sounded weak to my ears. When I see my friends, hell, close friends crying, my first knee jerk reflex is to walk away. Out of all the times I walked away, I never came back. It's not right, I know. As if squashing the ant wasn't enough, I had to squish it harder, decapitating the body further.

I never understood my coping mechanism. The sense of escapism when aware of danger. Isn't it a survival instinct? Except that the crisis wasn't one of danger, but of a hurting friend in need of comfort. I can't give that. I don't admonish myself because I tried. Till then, if I find a way to cope with my rather unconventional coping mechanism, I'll let you know.

Ambivalent

I don't know how or what should I feel. I think it is the state of ambivalence and sometimes words are just not enough to explain it all. Many people tell you to follow and chase your dream down with a hunting knife and a good pair of converse shoes. Chase them down, they said, it would be worth it, they said. I wonder, sometimes, all those big celebrities like Johnny Cash, or Marilyn Monroe, or Charlie Chaplain, I wonder what was it like to be giving their all for the dream, and to wait. What is it like for them to wait?

Mayhaps they sit at the post office, waiting day in and out for an acceptance letter. Funny how ink and paper can make your spirit soar or crush it within a matter of minutes. Oh the irony. Or perhaps they would hound the postman then, or if it was modern day in year 2012, it would be in a constant checking of the email.

I tell myself, no news is good news. But having no news is like feeding the wolves whom I have known to be fear. Each and everyday I start questioning my dream, my capabilities, my worth. It's not that I'm insecure, I'm just scared of underachieving, of letting them down, of letting myself down. It's a never ending competition. The survival of the fittest. The hunger damn-ing games. And God help me, I'm so tired of coming in second.

It's so loud in my head. Everything is looking up, but why do I feel so down?

I messed it up. My spiritual life, my friendships, my relationships. I don't bother anymore. It's not giving up. It's I just, I don't know.

Words I Never Said

Always in a rushNever stay on the phone long enoughWhy am I so self-important?Said I'd see you soonBut that was, oh, maybe a year agoDidn't know time was of the essence
So many questionsBut I'm talking to myselfI know that you can't hear me any moreNot anymoreSo much to tell youAnd most of all goodbyeBut I know that you can't hear me any more
It's so loud inside my headWith words that I should have saidAnd as I drown in my regretsI can't take back the words I never saidI never saidI can't take back the words I never said
Always talking shitTook your advice and did the oppositeJust being young and stupidI haven't been all that you could've hoped forBut if you'd held on a little longerYou'd have had more reasons to be proud
So many questionsBut I'm talking to myselfI know that you can't hear me any moreNot anymoreSo much to tell youAnd most of all goodbyeBut I know that you can't hear me any more
It's so loud inside my headWith words that I should have saidAnd as I drown in my regretsI can't take back the words
The longer I stand hereThe louder the silenceI know that you're gone but sometimes I swear I hearYour voice when the wind blowsSo I talk to the shadowsHoping you might be listening 'cos I want you to know
It's so loud inside my headWith words that I should have saidAnd as I drown in my regretsI can't take back the words I never saidI never saidI can't take back the words I never saidNever saidI can't take back the words I never said

A Day In My Life

Realized the lack of photos in my Godforsaken blog. The advertisement says "3 reasons to get out of bed." You bet we are the reason. Look at what we're holding.

For too long I've been struggling with things. And just today I received a message that took a low blow to my pride. It cut a radiating throb dread from my throat to my belly. It was then I felt like giving up. It was as if all these while my presence was insignificant. 

I do not have the perfect life. Hell, my social life takes a sky diving plunge from the statue of liberty when my work starts. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my life as it is. No matter how ugly the struggles are, all the pain stains of my past. Or the flaws I battle inwardly, or the scars I hide constantly. I wouldn't have it any other way.

We would sing in the middle of Orchard street, loudly and proudly mind you. We'll go to different hotels and use their toilets, kind of like "The Bourne Identity," but without the changing of clothes and the mass destruction. We'll play the hotel piano and get recognised by the event coordination, giving us a thumbs up. Or walking barefooted down Chinatown. Or fighting each other, screaming "Bitch" in a crowded place. Why aren't my friends and I stomped yet? Haha.

I don't want to grow up. It's too fast. 2012 is coming to an end. I feel empty. I just want to leave, but I don't have the guts to. I want to speak my mind, but they would consider it as insubordination or sensitive. I'm tired of listening to you. What makes you think you know what's the best for me? I'm tired.

I feel these four walls closin' in 
My face up against the glass 
Im looking out, hmm 
Is this my life I'm wonderin' 
It happened so fast 
How do I turn this thing around 
Is this the bed I chose to make 
Its greener pastures i'm thinkin' about, hmm 
Wide open spaces far away 

All I want is the wind in my hair 
To face the fear but not feel scared 

Wild horses I wanna be like you 
Throwing caution to the wind 
I'll run free too 
Wish I could recklessly love 
Like I'm longing too 
I wanna run with the wild horses 
Run with the wild horses, oh 
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/n/natasha+bedingfield/wild+horses_10189973.html ] 
I see the girl I wanna be 
Riding bareback, carefree along the shore 
If only that someone was me 
Jumpin' head first headlong with out a fall 
To act and damn the consequence 
How I wish it could be that easy 
But fear surrounds me like a fence 
I wanna break free 

All I want is the wind in my hair 
To face the fear but not feel scared 

Recklessly abandoning myself before you 
I wanna open up my heart, tell him how I feel 
Run with the wild horses 
I wanna run with the wild horses