agave

my online diary-- just a place for me to post my halfbaked writings, spilled thoughts, and letters i never had the nerve to send that im too lazy to proofread .. //sporadic updates//

[agaverambles]

“in time you too will learn, that the things you ask for will be given only when you can pay in sufferings of equal amount never less never more”

laws of the ancient universe

[agaverambles]

“The old gods are everywhere,” she says. “They swim in the river, and grow in the field, and sing in the woods. They are in the sunlight on the wheat, and under the saplings in spring, and in the vines that grow up the side of that stone church. They gather at the edges of the day, at dawn, and at dusk.”

Excerpt From

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

V. E. Schwab

[agaverambles]

That pinch of color

I went back there today, to the small sanctuary I had during my darkest hours. The walls were the same, the rooms were the same, even the porch with its mismatched set of furniture was the same... yet, nothing inside it felt right.

There was something so unsettling about the bareness of it all, that despite the fullness of the things inside it there was something missing. The sofa where we used to sit so closely, lounging about doing our own things were covered with clothes and random knick-knacks, with no where left to sit, the table we used to crowd while having meals, laughing in glee, basking in the warmth of each other was dead—there was nothing warm about that table anymore. It felt so wrong, to be there, in that house devoid of love and care. This is what is to be expected, I try to argue, but it didn’t make the sinking in my stomach any better.

My greedy heart still yearns for its comfort. I still peer inside its room, taking in the packed-up sheets on the bed, untouched by any living soul, hoping that somehow it would spring back to life. That somehow, I would find people inside, that somehow this wasn’t the reality of it all. I still stare longingly to the empty darkness of the backyard where a cloud of smoke would pool every time we lit a fire for us to cook with, wishing that the echo of music would fill those space with happy cheers once more. But it didn’t matter, no matter how hard I looked at the corners of this house, at the tatami that laid flat under the sofa, nothing changed and everything was still dull. Muddy, muted colors, tainted every inch of the once vibrant rooms. Such a stark contrast, so unbefitting. My heart twisted.

We used to say that that place is magical, that it brought us together and provided a shelter for us, gave us a way to connect and really be ourselves. It’s our second home, and we loved it as such. But I’m starting to think, that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t just those walls that were magical. Sure, that house may have the ability to pulls us together but I won’t deny that the missing piece probably was the key of it all. That pinch of color in the midst of this harsh black and white world we live in.

[stay-close]

What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[agaverambles]

“Or maybe I was trying to run from the mundanity of it all, how my life felt completely boring and scheduled, living the same days over and over again.”

- ripe age of 21

[agaverambles]

[agaverambles]

[agaverambles]

[agaverambles]

[agaverambles]

saksi bisu // silent witness

[leonardospoetry]

It amazes me how much I can get caught up in my own circumstances.

From time to time I find myself with so much wanting, cravings and an urge to make things more than what they really are. And it all makes me so tired, like I have been desperately running for a long time, escaping from forgotten nightmares, searching for made-up dreams.

Does life really has to feel this way?

[agaverambles]

extra context is needed to understand this very complex poem by me and emjle

[agaverambles]

“It wasn’t that we didn’t want to, of course not. The problem lies in the fact that even if we did, nothing would feel the same. We wont get that peace of mind we normally took for granted, we wont get that ease in atmosphere, not even the mild discomfort we had when we knew time was racing against us. Something would always feel missing. The center of it all.”

-people don’t go there anymore

[agaverambles]

sayang1/sa·yang/ a feeling of great fondness or enthusiasm for a person or thing, a person or thing that is thought of with (great) fondness (used also as a term of affection)

i think it’s pretty funny that the word “sayang” both means “beloved” and “what a shame”

[agaverambles]

“But we long to comeback. Long to lose ourselves in the spaces between those walls, listen to the howls of the wind, indulge in the smell of sap and smoke once more. perhaps, that time will come—no, of course it will, That time will come and when it does we will wholeheartedly crowd those rooms and fill it with unending love all over again. Until then, I hope it stands strong, rooted in place, waiting patiently”

- people don't go there anymore.

[agaverambles]

“you'd think that there are no strings attached. except there is. it's just very thin and knotted and invisible and it's not supposed to be there. so we just pretend.”

[agaverambles]