AM Wordism

rani | these're the ramblings that speak better than me | insta | wix | wordpress | haiku sideblog: amhaikus

[amwordism]

my head hurts

my head hurts; the world is too loud; I want to hide away from all these crowds.

my head hurts; people keep talking; I wish I could leave and never stop walking.

my head hurts; pain fills my heart; I'd like to erase myself and press restart.

- AM Wordism

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“It is a chill blue December day; gloomy, icy, transparent. I am still resting. I am resting and resting–and sit about reading and relaxing,”

— Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Aurelia Plath written c. December 1960

[amwordism]

Why I Write

Sometimes, people ask me why I write. 

They ask me why I spend and they mean waste my time on mere words, words that can be erased and backspaced and so easily forgotten or ignored.

I usually answer with just a smile.

It can be a difficult question to answer because it’s a difficult concept to explain and even I struggle to understand on some days.

But then come the times where there’s too much to do and the world is confusing and clocks seem to tick increasingly faster and deadlines creep closer and all kinds of relationships strain to survive and nothing really makes sense anymore and everything becomes so much that it becomes nothing, nothing -

- nothing, except the sound of my fingers pressing the keys of a keyboard. 

Only then can I smile and say, it’s fun.

Even though what I mean to say is, in a world where everyone and everything expects something of you, words will rarely let you down. 

Because words have no expectations.

Words don’t exist until we type them out and forge them with our emotions and craft them with our passions and use our experiences to bring them to life until they become life and they come alive. 

There’s something comforting about the fact that, no matter how unhappy you are with what you’ve written, the words themselves will never think any less of you because you are their creator, their entire world. 

No matter what is happening around me, releasing the sentences inside my head opens a door that society would have us believe is an impenetrable wall.

It’s a door to peace and excitement and solace and expression. 

It's a door that reveals the beauty of doing something you love purely because you want to do it, rather than because someone is making you do it in order to deem your worth. 

It’s my favourite door. 

So when I smile softly say it’s fun, I don’t mean that words are breathtaking or writing is adrenaline-fuelled, I mean, the other things I have to do aren’t even remotely fun anymore.

I write because I can write and just write. 

I don’t need to impress anyone and I don’t need to meet any standards and I can just let it flow and flow and –

- flow until it doesn’t.

And then I can stop and nobody can tell me I shouldn’t have because this is my domain and I am in control and anything I say goes because writing is personal, individual, too subjective to be wrong.

The words are me and I am the words and that means I don’t need to worry about making impressions and changing myself or my writing because I am my only judge and somehow, just somehow, that makes everything a little easier, a little more bearable. 

I write because it feels right.

~ AM Wordism

[cosmicconvos]

November…another month to bloom in ways you never thought you could.

n.s. (via cosmicconvos)

[amwordism]

I Want to Slow Down

I want to slow down.  I want to stop and breathe.  I want to pause and think and plan. 

But the world doesn't work like that. 

There are jobs to be done and tasks to be completed and goals to be achieved. 

It's rare that I find a day when there's nothing left to do and time is in excess. 

Take it easy, they say. Don’t rush things, they say. Give yourself a break, they say.

They talk and they talk and they talk but they don’t listen in return.

If they did, they’d hear my targets and my ambitions and my aims and then maybe they’d understand that not everybody has enough time to simply amble through life. 

Ease is something I have to work to achieve. 

I want to stay still. I want to slow down. I want to take my time.

But I just keep going because otherwise, I’d disappoint myself and anyone I’ve promised I won’t ever let down. 

I keep going because if I don’t, my guilt would eat me up and drag me down until I slowed to a complete stop. 

I keep going and going and going because, contrary to popular belief, I don’t have any other choice. 

There’s nothing you can say. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no way you can help.

I just wish and need and want to slow down. 

~ AM Wordism

[amwordism]

falling to pieces

nothing seems to work anymore and I don’t know what to do; there’s a void inside my head that sends my thoughts askew.

I can’t achieve anything because I can’t seem to find whatever it is that caused this dysfunction in my mind.

everything feels so difficult and I’m struggling to cope but I don’t see any reason to force myself to hope. 

I know I should keep going and never let myself fall but it’s hard to keep smiling  when my heart feels so small.

things are falling to pieces right in front of my eyes and all I can do is watch as my ambition slowly dies.

~ AM Wordism

[poetbitesback]

October is forgetful  in the way we wish we could be, leaving behind September and her hardship without a second glance. when did this month become so callous? how did we allow for October  to become a time for shedding people and feelings and the difficult things to say  like leaves from branches that have grown weary- oh, aren’t we weary, too.  October is for all the girls who still love the dark despite the way it swallows them and for the boys who cut out their own hearts not yet believing in witches. October is a spell of a poem: a pinch of personification  a smidge of sadness and a dash  of daring to be something harder than yourself. maybe then all of us who are entering October with an air of forgetfulness  will actually be able to part with those memories  that ache in the night.

- for softer Octobers || O.L.

[amwordism]

Tired of Caring

I am tired of caring.

I am tired of feeling everything and feeling everything so deeply.

I am tired of wasting my time worrying about others until I realise I’ve left myself behind, again and again and again.

I am tired of shattering my heart into dozens of fragments so that everyone else can use those shards to cut away their problems before leaving me to pick up my own pieces.

I have had enough.

I no longer wish to constantly empathise with people who would never consider sparing me even the slightest sympathy.

I no longer wish to simply be seen as nothing more than the nice one, the kind one, the selfless one.

I no longer wish to care.

I want to undo the impressions I have made and erase the branding I have gained until I can once more accept everything at face value and refuse to give it all a second, third, tenth thought.

If only it were so easy.

They see me as simple and soft and caring, and they will never see me as anything more.

I am tired of being seen as simple and soft and caring for I yearn to be more: more complex, more interesting, more unique, more.

These people that claim to know me but cannot assign me anything more than empty adjectives that benefit only themselves will never see the real me.

And I fear that one day, I will cease to know the real me.

I feel myself sinking into this facade, this persona, this routine of caring.

I hate it.

I am tired of it.

I want it to end.

Maybe one day I will find those who allow me to bloom and embrace the peace that comes with casual carelessness.

Maybe one day I will fulfil my heart’s desire to be angry and selfish and take more than I give, I always give, I can’t help giving.

Maybe one day I will be myself.

But right now, I am just tired.

I am tired of caring.

~ AM Wordism

[blooming-anna-rose]

“There is something sweet in this September air. Something familiar but new. Something light and easy. Something good.”

n.c. // september sweetness

[amwordism]

One Year of Wordism

Wordism.

Not officially a recognised word for most people but it can be unofficially defined as the art of deriving words from seemingly nowhere.

Which is, strictly speaking, not entirely accurate.

People who write – like authors, poets, bloggers, and many more – don’t create words from nowhere. They use words to create poems and sentences and paragraphs but also ideas, moments, feelings, and beautifully phrased ways to express themselves.

And that’s what I started to do a year ago.

Not perfectly, mind you, but I started to do it. Just over a year ago now, I created a blog and decided to share some of the writing I created with the void of the internet.

It’s not that it’s been a whirlwind of a year or anything, but it’s been a year and I’ve learned so many different things, I’ve experimented with things I never thought I’d have the courage to do, and, most importantly, I’ve made it through.

I didn’t achieve anything particularly life-changing but life has changed over the past year and I’m still trying so that’s enough of an achievement in my opinion.

I haven’t made a massive impact on people – I’m not even sure if anyone reads anything I share – but I’m happy with knowing that I had an impact on myself: I pushed myself to try new things and gave myself something to do without the pressure of having to do it all the time.

Because wordism doesn’t always work, it takes breaks and becomes radio silence and creates chaos as it pleases. But the most important part is that it doesn’t fade entirely, it can be renewed and rekindled if you have patience and let yourself breathe.

Which is what I’ve done over the past year, with varying degrees of success but with an uninterrupted flow of passion.

And that’s what I want to focus on right now.

Time passes and that’s natural but that doesn’t mean passion needs to be rushed or forced or half-heartedly filled in.

It ebbs and flows and rises and falls and all we can do is stick around and let the words spill when the time is right so we can appreciate the beauty of what they can convey – what we can convey.

Time can change nothing or it can change everything, and we are the only variable. 

Sometimes the passage of time can be overwhelming and drag us down with guilt but sometimes it can be enlightening, a measure of growth and commitment and exploration.

Time won’t always change your life but your life will change over time and the best thing we can do is smile as we embrace or change what comes our way.

So, it’s been (just over) a year of wordism for me, and overall, I’ve really appreciated it.

Here’s to the next year of wordism…

~ AM Wordism

[amwordism]

glow up to celebrate the first anniversary of sharing my writings as amwordism ^.^

[luthienne]

“And we speak of everything / that does not come true, which is to say: it was August. / August! the light in the trees, full of fury. August / filled hands with language that tastes like smoke.”

— Ilya Kaminsky, from Dancing in Odessa; “Musica Humana”

[amwordism]

I Want to Go Back

I want to go back.

Back to when I was only eight years old and my grandfather had just gifted me my first camera.

Back to when I spent days taking far too many pictures, asking anyone and everyone in my family to smile when they were in the vicinity so I could take even more.

Back to when I didn’t care for impressing anyone except myself - although I did also want to impress my family because their approval was enough to fuel my crazy passion.

I want to jump back into the photos I took and relive that childish innocence, relive the way I could spend my time fooling around and laughing at nothing until I got too tired and collapsed on my bed - or on a parent’s lap - at the end of the day. 

I want to sink back into the way I did whatever I wanted without overthinking it to the point of quitting because I crave the freedom to experiment and make mistakes and grow through messing up rather than seeking perfection until it physically hurts.

I want to fall back into how I had no fear of failure and no qualms about asking for help because I was young and dumb but, as all children are, smart enough to venture away from comfort zones and dabble with things not even remotely understandable.

When I look back at the photos I took, I crave the simplicity of childhood.

Of a time where judgement rolled off my shoulders like the coats I always refused to wear during winter, much to the exasperation of my mother. 

Of a time where unfamiliar challenges were just as enjoyable as familiar routines because there was nothing to lose and something, anything, everything to gain.

Of a time where having fun and passing time was just as normal as stress and pressure are now and when there was no such thing as having wasted time.

I’d rather be small and young and still in the process of learning because reminiscing and regretting is no fun and it turns out growing up is the furthest thing from the childish comfort of simplicity. 

I crave that simplicity.

On days like today, I want and wish to go back.

I wish so hard that my skin trembles and my heart aches and my soul feel like its been wildly tossed out of place.

I wish with all the strength I have in my tired and growing bones that I could somehow dissolve into those photos, those memories, those carefree times. 

I wish and I wish and I do everything but seek out a well to throw a coin into, every moment of my day filled with a melancholy desire to reverse the clock and experience my childhood all over again. 

I want to go back. 

Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

~ AM Wordism

[amwordism]

monsters

There are monsters in my brain and I can’t think beyond them.

They always cause me pain but I call them  my best friends.

Even if there's heavy rain, I can find them next to me. 

No matter what the game,  they're on my side,  helping me. 

So no, I won't refrain  from loving them,  I am them.

~ AM Wordism

[poetbitesback]

“July, I’ve decided, is for forgetting already half over we could say that something is missing, that something as endless as Time has been wasted but instead, I hold a broken wrist watch, let the tick-tocking of my memories fade to white noise there is nothing I want more than to be a clean slate, and what the rain cannot wash away I will not hold onto I will wait for a stronger storm to come, because July is for forgetting and I have so much time to let go of”

— as the hands of the clock pass by || O.L.

[juansendizon]

“In spite of your flaws, may you always have that perception in which you see yourself as your own meaning of beautiful.”

— juansen dizon 

[i-see-yellow]

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