The clock ticks at three o'clock
Everybody's on their way to see her
But she's dead.
No more life.
No more suffering.
No more pain.
They questioned why she did what she did
Nobody knows the real reasons.
No one. Not even one.
They never blame each other,
For to them, suicide is never an option
She was weak. She was dumb.
And now, she's dead.
She cried for help
But nobody's there to help her.
Nobody sees her worth.
No one. Not even one.
You must be feeling down now miserable. I know you had encountered lots of sleepless nights in your empty room; in the dark room - where you stand in silence all day. Your heart is longing for more and at the same time, fearing for what you are going to hear- going to hear from anyone everyone. You’ll probably hate my reasons for talking to you and hate me more when I pay you a visit. But, that’s okay. There are many people more than you can ever count that feel the same way that you do. I assure you. They have no one to talk to, no one to lean on and probably always ask themselves what they will do if there’s nothing left for them: the world, the people, their family and their friends. And you, you are perhaps thinking that everyone must’ve left you by now. Well, hear me out. You should not worry because everyone might leave you except me. Trust me, I won’t. I will never leave you alone. And in case, when the time comes that you want to see me again, you just have to let me get into your head.
If we were the stars,
that shine so high on the skies,
then why did you say goodbye--
at the time that I forgot to cry?
You said tragedies are not a tragedy,
when someone accepted it fully,
that no other person can be truly happy,
if he does not accept everything wholeheartedly.
You often say that things would go on my way,
if I only managed to stay calm and let myself be at bay,
where no waves can hurt me, no monsters can feed on me,
since I am close to safety, since you are with me.
But, how could you be so cruel?
How can you do this to me?
You promised me that we would shine,
and we would take the sun's crown,
we would be the center of the universe,
and by that, we'd know, we already won.
Yet, how can you make me believe,
if you would just leave?
Say, if we really are the stars,
then how could you make a black hole out of me?
stars & black holes & and all of the universes yet you still had the power to leave me alone ; mist
The thing about control is that you thought you have it. But at the end, you’ll realize that it is just an illusion.
- and you’ll never get used to it.
We were teenagers and
we’re too young for a drink
in any bars.
Miguel, the skinny tall one,
Peter, the openhearted innocent one,
Harold, the corpulent funny guy
and me, the little dark guy.
All of us were totally different,
except for one thing,
we’re bastards,
the real kind.
We hung out not because of that,
but we just clicked to each other.
One Thanksgiving,
we got drunk in Miggy’s place.
His horrible family left him
again to take care of Rex,
their ugly dog.
They yearly went to Michigan
and used the dying-Grandma alibi
to Miggy for thirteen years.
A Grandma whom Miggy never met
because he was either left
in charge to their house or
to the lucky animal, Rex.
Peter -
He loved his family so much.
For several years we planned
having a night out,
he always used his family
as his excuse.
Which is not cool
but an acceptable reason.
He’s the good guy among us.
But not this time,
he was the one
who bought our beers
and cigars.
He’s now cool, I thought.
Harold and I would go
to any night out of ours.
We only have,
or should I say
considered, our friends
as our only family.
Harold’s father died when he was four
and his mother, a year after that,
left him wandering
alone into the woods.
As if saying, “Get lost!”
Since then, he had no idea
where his mother and siblings were.
He had lost his real family
together with his feelings for them.
The night started
with some chips and sodas.
Then, beers and lots of cigars.
My friends and I.
It was fun.
Or so I thought.
As the night got deeper
so was our conversation,
we got to talk about our own problems.
Peter –
He accidentally
impregnated his girlfriend,
and his family opposed to that.
They wanted him to drop the girl
and the baby.
And he didn’t know what to do.
Miggy –
He showed his slit wrists.
He said he was exhausted to his life,
And he wanted to die.
He felt unloved.
Harold –
He was gay,
had no stable relationship
for the past 3 years
And has HIV.
And I –
I was alone.
For years of my survival,
I’ve seen this world.
It’s better without me.
They don’t need me.
They don’t need a bastard
like me.
…
We came up with some weed.
I came up with the idea rather.
The weed. Packs of it.
Smoke here. Smoke there.
The room was filled with smoke.
We became high.
It was their first time.
Not mine.
Then, laughters.
Laughters that were bouncing
to the corners of the living room.
Chips were already on the floor.
Sodas were spilled
on the couch and carpet.
And tears.
Tears started to fall.
Sobbing.
I could still remember.
I wasn’t that high not to remember.
We were happy for a moment.
But, we were really sad.
We were hugging.
And crying.
For the first time
in our lives,
we realized
we’re sad.
And happy at the same time.
It was Thanksgiving
but we couldn’t find
the will to thank Him.
For everything that took place
for the past years,
nothing went right.
No, not even one.
This makes me question
my life.
If He will continue
to let these things happen,
death will be our greatest choice.
Nah, not our choice.
My choice.
Miguel –
No matter how many times
his family would leave him,
having the same alibi
And leaving him with the ugly dog,
Still have the reasons to live.
Peter, the family guy
who, in no time,
will be having his own
can runaway with his girl
And live the life
they dreamed of.
Harold –
He can go,
live his life to the fullest
And forget all the limits
of having HIV.
And then there’s this guy
whom I called I,
drowning himself with alcohol
And darkness,
asking what’s left for him.
They have a chance
to make their lives better.
And me.
I don’t know.
This could be my last night.
And I was thankful.
‘Twas the first time we met,
An event we didn’t anticipate,
A future for you and me,
The feelings we never foresee.
Your charming eyes, I’ve seen.
They are dark but they glow.
It was your smile, so sweet
Made me want to be your beau.
As we spoke for the first time,
I didn’t know what we’re talking.
It was in your voice I paid attention.
It was a love at first sight, no pretension.
As I stared into your eyes,
I already knew you were for me.
I had no idea if you felt the same.
But, my feelings were real for thee.
People were all around.
Their noise was our background.
My ears were into you only,
Same with my other body parts.
You were the one I dreamed of.
You were the one I hoped for.
And no, it was no myth.
You are the one I wanted to be with.
I wouldn’t let this moment to pass
without you having by my side.
With a wedding, I look forward
and you as my better half
You’re used to be called a coward. You chose not to push through nor to fight back the problems life had thrown at you.
You’re used to be called a wallflower. You stayed on the sidelines, watching at the events which transpired, idle. You were contented to be the audience, breathing in the thrill without getting involved.
You’re used to be called a loser. You did things to win in mind but life had other plans for you. You felt defeated most of the time. You were tired of being tired.
You’re used to them.
You used to be...until you finally took a stand.
The once coward became a brave soul, taking head on the rocks thrown at you by life, breaking them piece by piece, not minding the bruises inflicted. A goal was all on your mind, breaking the barriers.
The once wallflower became an active person, engaging in the complexities of society. Lessons were learned through hard ways, for the basic principle thought was that there’s no easy thing in the world. You’ve got to persevere and dig in the bottomless pit of introspection for self-awareness was a principle you leaned on.
The once loser became a winner, a modest entity who shove all the mockery and embraced the criticisms. Perfection was a far-fetched dream yet it remained the dream you wanted to attain someday despite being impossible.
Life is like a rollercoaster ride, as they say. It may be a bit bumpy and exciting but it may also be startling. How do I say this? The first time I rode a rollercoaster, I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there, go with the flow, blended with the crowd and acted like it’s just a normal ride. But the moment it moved, I was terrified. Different images went through my mind which didn’t help me overcome my fear but still, I tried to stay calm and put in mind that it’s only in the start and later on, I’ll enjoy the ride. As the rollercoaster ride went up slowly but surely, the pang in my chest went away with it. The beauty of the place was enough to defeat the fear left in me. For a second, I thought about life. How I complained about the things happening around me and how I hate it when things don’t go the way I want it to be. But then, like riding a rollercoaster, we have to see life in a different perspective— in a bird’s eye view, where we can see clearly the whole picture and know that there’s more of it other than the things we’re experiencing. We shouldn’t be stuck in the moment, drown in it and wait ‘til all that’s left are the memoirs we’ve created. The moment I finished the ride, I knew I didn’t just overcome my fear for I also learned something. We shouldn’t just live with the fact that we’re here— we have to keep going. We have to keep learning. I know for sure, life would test us and there would be times we wanted to give up but should giving up be our last resort? Of course not. After all, it’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey; how you learned from it and how you applied what you’ve learned. Set your failures as your stepping stone towards achieving your goal and thus, making success sweeter.
Is it my fault? That instead of clinging onto anything that's left of what we used to be, I let go and try to just love myself instead?
Is it selfishness? That instead of dealing with the what ifs and could have beens, I focused on how to move forward and try to better myself?
Is it cowardice? That instead of fighting for the love we have shared for years, I pick the guarantee of being able to have a grip of the remnants of my well-being than staying with you?
Because I have no regrets, just self-love. I'm letting go, not because I got tired of loving. I'm moving on, not because I don't want to have a future with you. I'm doing this because I have learned, that above all else, self-identity and self-worth should be my priority.
