Silent sagas

[deeposts88]

.....

Sometimes your reality feels like the framework

of your mind,

Sometimes your thoughts feel like the fragments

of your reality,

Yet, when you sit with both what exists for you,

You feel this discomfort with everything.

The world feels somehow stranger than it already is,

Your thoughts feel as if they are constantly betraying.

[deeposts88]

Growing up is kind of disappointing when you have lived your childhood dissolved in imaginary magic, and your teenage years in absolute hatred of the world. There was this ache inside me, the urge, the question, that attacks the purpose of our life. I wanted to know why we are here, how we are here, I still do. But back then, It felt the absolute necessity, the whole lives around me felt meaningless. I was left with only the ambition to know answers, nothing else. Every possibility of my growing and learning turned into nothingless. I wanted nothing more than an answer to our existence.

However, life took a turn in the early twenties. I still want to know the answers to our mysterious existence, but I don't force it anymore. I try not to indulge myself more than necessary, and surprisingly, I am collecting ambition to somehow live my time here. It's like I have no choice but to live in peace. And it hits now, how once the hollowness took a toll on me, now I am finding the threads to weave a life. Sometimes, I feel it's too late, it's over. But life is too long to be ended over fear-fueled thoughts of mine. I now worry how I have wasted what I could be, but could I be what I am now if I wasn't her?

[deeposts88]

I hope he carries the same black hole inside him as I, the hole that tends to consume everything around it.

I hope that when he sees me, he experience our familarity, like looking at the mirror.

I hope he carries the same undying worry inside him as I, I hope he carries the same guilt of our living.

I hope he...

[deeposts88]

It just won't stop growing inside,

No matter how much I resist it, it won't go away.

One day, I am bidding you goodbye, the next I am yearning.

[deeposts88]

Sure does your silence speaks a lot.

Yet I can't hear you, I can't hear your voice.

Perhaps what you are saying is not what I yearn to hear,

Perhaps what I want to listen to isn't what you want to talk about,

And, I am dissecting the silence like it's the only thing to do, again and again.

[deeposts88]

Are we seeing the same things in front of us?

Is your vision blurred out like mine, so ignorant of what's in front of me?

Do you see me isolating? Do you see me suffering?

As I do it constantly, do you see me being unhappy?

[deeposts88]

Often, when I come across the beautiful scenes in the movies, I imagine being there. For instance, in an ancient Taiwanese movie, where the houses are structured in Japanese style, I sit by the door waiting for you. The slow breeze is making the trees move, and somehow, life is fast-paced and direct there. One moment, I am waiting for you, another we are being held by each other. And we cry together, just how Japanese do, leaning into each other, making noises. We talk about philosophy and life, and you say, "What if you change someday?" and I reply, "What if you change first?" And we stare at each other in absolute silence, with hearts so heavy, I place my head into your lap, wishing you to play with my hair. But you stand up instantly, muttering how it's so hot, and you want to take a shower. Then, you left for the bathroom, where the water waits for you starting then. And I sit by that door a little longer, so that I can wait for you once again.

[deeposts88]

Cruel Nostalgia

We often suffer because we talk about the days that have gone, 

thinking about them, laughing about them, spending new days to reminisce them, 

while the tomorrow comes for us, which is expected, but unexpectedly, 

we forget how days will always arrive, never return, 

we often suffer because we talk about the days that have been spent. 

[deeposts88]

Some days, I want to remove you from my head.

Some days, I want to you in my poetry.

[deeposts88]

“I want to disappear,” but where will you go? 

I write bullshit

As I stand in the corner of my roof, face to my north, there’s a view of faraway hills, and I stare at those for a few minutes. Innocent as my watch intended to be, there comes a feeling of absolute hopelessness, and despair blows out from my legs. I take a chair, sit down, breathe. The thought of being stuck in one place forever consumes my gut, yet I feel no hope of movement. Days go by, so do months, yet I continue to view the same hills with the same urgency. 

“I want to disappear,” and it’s just me who is done with how the air feels around. I wonder how the air must feel a few miles away. I wonder how life must feel a few hills away. No particular destination in my mind, yet I am sure of “I want to disappear”. I wonder where I would enjoy, I think, I think, and think. Only the place with no people around fills my imagination. I see myself, dressed in a flowy dress, carrying nothing, swinging my hands, just walking around. Not a single trace of a living being, only the existence of plants and trees, I walk alone. 

Yet, when I try to see how happy I look, I look the same. The lines under my eyes feel sharper; I have gotten older, and I have spent my youth away. My imagination scares me; the place turns into hell now. As I instantly pull myself back, I let out a sigh. I realize I absolutely hate that place. “Where will I go?” I wonder again. 

Is there any place where I won’t feel the same? Does the place exist? Beyond the hills, the mountains, I am ready to even go through the oceans. But does the place exist? It must exist. 

I pressure myself to choose, where would I enjoy? Where would I feel at peace? 

The hills stay silent.

The air stays the same.

And I’m left wondering if the place I’m looking for

isn’t somewhere out there at all…

[deeposts88]

I occasionally go back inside me, somewhere you still exist.

And I cherish it through the hurt, cherish it through the betrayal.

Both of them, by myself, I cherish you every single day.

[deeposts88]

Now, I think of you in a quiet way; your thoughts don't make any noise,

They come slowly, at a gradual pace, and I bid them goodbye before I give myself to welcoming them.

[deeposts88]

The silence between you and me speaks more words than we ever did,

What we had feels so strange now. I often ask myself, "Was it real?",

Was it real? Or should I just dissect the silence again and again?

[deeposts88]

Growing up is so fucking weird. Why am I so bothered with my dried out skin, lines under my eyes, hanging breasts, and many more? Every growth is a reminder of how I am not the same anymore, mind you, I don't want to be either. But I don't want to be overwhelmed with my body too now. It's annoying how I exist already, I don't want to assess my body parts, I don't want to have that feeling to overcoming changes again and again, I am tired.

[deeposts88]

Stupid Life

Okay, am I only one who have this deep sense of hopelessness embedded inside me. No matter how much fun I have, no matter how many goals and aspirations I carry, at the end of the day, I am always surrounded by this hollowness, giving me a sense that I will never ever be truly happy. Is this a life am I suffering for?

[minterrlude]

a mess, a muse, a moon

[deeposts88]

It's horrible