bad days

How come they keep getting worse? And more frequent?

Each time you declare a “bad day”, it’s worse than your last.
After surviving that day you feel better knowing you’re stronger
And you have the feeling that you can face anything.
Or so you think.

Because your next “bad day” is worse and it keeps getting worse.
Sometimes you wonder, whatever did I do to deserve this?
It’s as if everything and everyone ganged up to ruin your day
or worse, your week and perhaps [God unwilling] your hell month.

Who keeps tab anyway?
There’s too many.
This summer I’ve lost count.
Or perhaps, I was just too tired to do the arithmetic anymore.
Too busy? Nah, see, I can still squeeze in writing.

And then it hits you, when will I have my worst day?
When will I ever have that one last “bad day”?
Never can figure that one out.
If you have figured it out, I beg you
Do enlighten me.

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twisted

Feeling warm
and then a sudden shiver as if cold
this is me in the earlier stage of being sick.

I’ve been having chills since December last year.
I do not know if i am sick – perhaps I am.
But at this point, being sick is not an option
– resting for a day leaves a pile of work on top of your table.

I kinda wondered why I let myself work like this
and then a quick answer – “because you’d still be sick with guilt and worry if you rested.”
Might as well do the work and be sick rather than rest and still be sick.

Twisted, I know.

nerves

Change – something that always takes time to adjust to especially when it catches you off guard.

When someone leaves, you miss them. Your mind plays back stored memories of people when they were still with you –  a faint version of these people walking along corridors or working away late hours. Only, they disappear once you start conversing with them realizing you’re talking with memories unable to respond.

You then find yourself shaking your head back into reality.

When people return, it’s just never the same. I grapple with words in attempting to start conversations tiptoeing on topics one can discuss.

I can always sense the need for conversations.
I just have difficulty starting one.

Nerves
Yeah, that’s basically it.

Was trying to think of other excuses.
Nerves – still trying to overcome them.

One of my greatest hopes is to be able to start a conversation with random people
not fearing I might suck at it .

Only one way to find out.

five minutes

This is one of the days when no matter how hard or long you stare at your screen, nadah!
The brain cells must have taken a break. Nothing seems to make sense.
I cannot make myself function the way I did before.

I find it depressing to write the same tasks in my to-do list for the past weeks.
How unproductive can one be?!! It’s not like I spend my time doing entirely nothing.
I have been keeping myself busy with work. The only break I get is when I get to eat lunch
and during my walks to and from stores where I need to do an errand.

My break is that few minutes I get to arrange my things in my table – a habit I do everyday
which makes me wonder why the table remains cluttered in the latter part of the day.
It’s just never empty. I doubt it will ever be.

Ever had a day like this?
Make that a week?
Now maybe?

Take a five-minute break,
have seat,
share it with me,
I wish I can offer you coffee,
a space in this blog maybe?
Feel free to share your day.

Whatever did you do to get out of this hole?

on waiting

[Originally posted at the author’s Multiply blog page on March 31, 2008.]

When does one stop waiting?
When must we?
A month? A year? A decade perhaps?
One may have waited for so long
May have forgotten how NOT to.

Why wait?
Why hope?
Still after half a decade, unchanged
Tired of waiting
Yet a fool, still one hopes.

Maybe’s, perhaps’, if only’s
What can one do?
Stop, just stop and think
Of what they might have done
If for you, feelings they have some.

The world’s far bigger
Than what you’ve caged yourself in
People far better
Lessons way harder
Memories more bitter.

Stop living through memories
Live in the NOW
Do not wait
If they want you hard enough
To wait, they certainly will not.

If they love you strong enough
They’ll come whether you wait or not
Waiting is time wasted,
Living deferred, happiness postponed,
Stop waiting. LIVE.

letter

[Originally posted at the author’s Multiply blog page on March 26, 2008]

Nothing gives me more pleasure than you being held by me. You are my therapy. Nothing comforts me better than your presence. When I am with you, I find serenity. You never fail to accompany me during those few minutes that I’d allow myself to let my thoughts wander. You help me free my mind from thoughts that never seem to be at peace.

I cannot thank you enough for helping me realize how much I have grown and how much I have changed. You helped me prove than I can do better – that I can be better. If not for you, I won’t be me.

Whenever I find myself lost, I hold on to you and I am home.

You have always been there – a witness to all that I have been through. In all my writings, you are part of. I guess that’ll never change – I don’t want it too.

And for that my gratitude is yours to keep.

-Writer to the Pen

in the wait

[Originally posted at the author’s Multiply blog page on March 25, 2008]

I have spent the last four years of my life thinking about you – daydreaming – hoping that one day maybe I’ll get the chance to have that one conversation where I can have the closure I have longed for so long… or perhaps I can start believing that happiness does exist – for a change.

I may love you but do not have to have you if it means having you against your will. You being with me yet not wanting it.

Sometimes I find myself staring into nothingness seeing nothing but you.

What pains me is when I wake up from a dream… a thought shaken by the fact that you are not anywhere near me – and recognizing as a fact that you’ll never be.

I have learned to love being in pain. It’s better than feeling nothing at all.
Bleeding is better than feeling hollow – one of the lessons I’ve learned from loving you.

Waiting is such a painful process. Waiting for someone who you know would not come is agonizing – a fool’s task. I top the list of those fools.

All those years, you were the reason I got up every morning to live – every time I woke up I tell myself this might be the day I’ll bump into you or even catch even just a glimpse of you. And at the end of each day of failure, I make myself believe that maybe tomorrow will be the day I get to see you. I know I’m tired of believing in those tomorrows – but I seem to have forgotten how to stop believing. Or maybe I am simply afraid that in ceasing to hope I’d see you one of these days, I’ll never let myself wake up – for I have lost the very reason to.

Did you, even just for a second, stopped and thought of me? Just one frame of me in your mind? Remembered what I wore that night? Remembered me laugh, giggle, or talk in slow motion? Do you have any bit of memory about me?

Am I that part of your life that even when deleted, nothing – everything’s unchanged?

When you kissed me, was it for the kiss or was it for me?

I have written a thousand poems about loving you, yet nothing seemed to express everything I felt about you. I am starting to doubt nothing will ever be.

I wrote thousands of messages for you – none of them reaching you. It’s just me and cowardice. It’s me not having the nerve to say I love you.

Is this a game to you? Do you have that guide that tells you to contact me after six months? A year perhaps? Just every time I start believing I can get over you?

How come you can live without wanting to hear from me? And I, a slow death every day I don’t hear from you?

Where does one draw the line between loving and being pathetic?

When I have said I’m over you, why can’t I bring myself to take that as a fact?

I’m with him but I’m seeing you.