2:59 AM

Just another lost soul searching for a permanent home.This is the home of my Night Owl Thoughts.

[dyllandelectable]

There's something nostalgic about being here and writing. It's a place where I felt the safest, where I felt the most seen, and where I could be the most vulnerable. It's odd. Writing was a way for me to escape, and now that it's become a means to make a living, I haven't written for myself in a long while. And I think that's where my downfall lies. I write so much about other people and their own lives that I haven't stopped to write about my own. I forgot how satisfying it is to document my thoughts and to visualize it through a blog post. I essentially forgot a part of myself and it had been gone for so long that when I tried to look for whatever it was that I was missing, I just couldn't find out what it was.

[dyllandelectable]

It feels so odd coming back here after so long. Like I’ve bumped into an old friend somewhere on the street. On the outside, it seems like nothing has changed. But once we sit down and start talking, I find that nothing I once knew remains. There are additional layers that stick out way too much. From newly bought clothes to changes in speech, everything is so different. But when I scroll through, the nostalgia flares up and all of a sudden I’m consumed by it. Set abalze by its magnificent light. I’ve missed this place, so very much.

[dyllandelectable]

I look in the mirror and think to myself, ‘What happened?’ Where did the wide-eyed wanderer go, unafraid of the vast unknown. They would actively search every nook and cranny for the next best thing, for an adventure waiting to be embarked on. I can vividly recall the brave knight, brandishing their sword in front of the crowd, daring any evildoer to try and knock them down. They puffed out their chest, big and proud, while onlookers stared in admiration, jealously, and amusement. Courage was the only thing they needed to face the mounting opposition. To them, courage acted as a well inflated life jacket, its buoyancy enough to carry them miles over an unforgiving sea. Once upon a time they were hopeful, their entire body covered in rays of light that broke through every nightmare and the darkest of nights. I remember that adolescence, the raging flame that continuously burned in their heart. I remember who I once was and wonder, “What happened?” How could I turn out like this.

[poems-and-word]

“It makes a difference, doesn’t it, whether we fence ourselves in, or whether we are fenced out by the barriers of others?” - E.M. Forster, A Room with a View

[mohtz]

[dyllandelectable]

I forgot how to breathe multiple times throughout these past two days.

It is not something that happens often, nor was I expecting it. But I guess things like this are never expected. It took me a few seconds before I realized that my nose and lips were not inhaling any oxygen. Although I must have been, even so slightly, since I did not pass out. 

However, what I did feel was a feeling of dread. I felt as if the sky cracked open above me, drowning me in an ocean of doubt and anxiety. The distance from the surface never-ending, stretching farther from me the more time passed. And I could not even shout for help—I’m supposed to be the strong. The one that has it all together, the pillar of strength that the family can lean on.

But this pillar has noticed that there are indeed cracks. Some are subtle, unnoticeable by an untrained eye. And of course, there are the cracks that are blatant and loud, portraying its brokenness for the world to see. But perhaps the world has always seen it, these cracks on my mask and has never bothered to tell me. They merely looked at my face while clicking their tongue, saying, “What a horrible disguise — I can see right through it! He should have done better at covering up those blemishes, all these tell-tale signs of wear and tear. But alas, I better not tell him. The embarrassment will be too much. No, at least I won’t be the one to tell him. Tsk tsk tsk.”

I suppose this is but one of many inner monologues that are had when looking at my cracks. These past two days may have been an underlying signal that finally, after trying to keep everything together for so long, that I am about to burst. That despite my outer appearance, there is something twisted inside of me. A knot of some sort, begging to be undone. But no matter how many times I pull at it, no matter how many different methods I attempt, it only grows tighter, squeezing my chest until I once again, forget how to breathe.

[poems-and-word]

“It’s fascinating. You know all these words, and they’re all English, but when you string them together into sentences, they just don’t make any sense.” - Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels

[dyllandelectable]

It’s as if I’ve traveled back in time and have now come face to face with a past version of me. A worse version, a version that is outwardly perfect and happy, but the inside is cracked and rotting. Perhaps it has been this year, perhaps it is because of all the opportunities that fell through, perhaps it is all in my head and I am too stubborn to get out of it. Whatever the case, it seems that after every passing day, I become more and more suffocated. My chest stops moving for seconds at a time, my body immobilized by the fear of mediocracy, a silly reason to some, but Goliath-sized to me. And I am no David, no courage or slingshot or God rooting me on from the heavens above. Just a scared, little man waiting to be crushed by a seemingly unreasonable fear. These days I sit and wonder, how did I get back here?

[dyllandelectable]

It’s funny how life works and how it doesn’t sometimes. But whether things work out or don’t, all we can is move forward. For the better part of the year, I’ve just been floating along, pretending that things didn’t bother me. Not starting my job right away because of the pandemic, not being able to move out on my own, not being able to start a new chapter I was dying to move onto. I thought with my faith and understanding, all these setbacks wouldn’t bother me; I truly believed that. But for such a long time, I was in denial. I packaged my anger and sadness and stuffed away into a tiny little box. The thing is, this box was overflowing with such intense emotions. Trying to work through them by saying I didn’t have them probably wasn’t the best approach, but it was the only method I knew. And somehow, I arrived back at 2018 with poor mental health, constant lethargy, and just a loss of motivation for anything.

There’s no greater grief than mourning the things you were most passionate about, mourning the things that you love, whether it’s an idea, a person, or even yourself. I felt like I was in a constant state of mourning and there were these God-shaped holes that not even God himself could fill. It was suffocating.

But humans have a funny way of overcoming things. They can drag along for months, barely alive, and then one revelation happens to bring everything around. A declaration of sorts that goes something like: “From today onward, I will be happy.” This declaration sounds easy when said, but difficult to follow through. It starts with waking up ten minutes earlier, then doing something you love for five minutes, and then suddenly you’ve established a workout routine  that you adhere to week after week. Getting better doesn’t happen all at once, it’s a arduous and gradual process that is tackled one day at a time. Day by day, we get better—day by day, I got better.

Some days feel much more bearable than others but regardless, I need to make a choice. Today, I will be happy. I keep saying this like a secret prayer not even God knows the words to. Today, I will be happy. Even if it’s only one day out of the week, I will this to become true.

[silkportfolio]

https://www.instagram.com/p/CAbdMWaHAlj/

[lofeel]

[dyllandelectable]

There is a tree in my front yard. From what I remember, it barely reached the top of my head, but now it’s three times taller than me. I couldn’t even grab onto a leaf if I jumped. I think, since when did this happen? How long did it take to reach that height? Did it grow without me knowing? No. It grew in front of my eyes. It grew in plain sight, I just didn’t choose to look. I didn’t pay attention to it, only focusing on my life. And here I am, in my late 20′s, begging time to slow down. I look at tree, amazed at how much it’s grown. I wonder if people look at me the same or if they’re looking at me at all.

[dyllandelectable]

I hope that seven-year-old me would be proud of the person I am today.

[dyllandelectable]

At the age of thirteen, I thought I knew what love was. It was staying up every night, talking on the phone until the two of us fell asleep. Love was waiting outside of class just to catch one glimpse right before our parents picked us up. Love was walking to the nearest McDonald’s to have a date over french fries and a vanilla ice cream cone. At the age of fifteen, what I believed to be love changed. I believed that love was being in contact with each other every single day, even if we ran out of words to say. Love was going on picnic dates in the middle of March, as if Valentine’s was not last month. Love was holding hands on the bus while one of us slept the whole ride home. Love meant that I’d never feel alone. 

But somewhere in between eighteen and twenty-five, loved drastically changed. Somehow, love became the reflection I see in the mirror whenever I wake up. Love became the acne scars and eye bags that were visible on my face. Love became every fault I could find in myself that I desperately wanted to change. Love became so much more than the presence of another person—I somehow became love. I was filled with it, lathered in it, smelt like love, but for so long I didn’t believe that to be true. I did not believe that I could find love within myself and that somehow, my search would never end until I found the right person. But sometimes, that right person, the place where we are to find love, is much closer than we’d like to believe. So at the age of twenty-seven, I no longer have any idea what love actually is, but love is present and visible and alive, especially inside of me.

[dyllandelectable]

Sometimes I wonder, if fifteen year old me could see who he’d become, would he be proud? Or would he shrink away in shame, figure out what went wrong, and try something different or go along a different path? Then again, maybe this is just how my life was planned out, that no matter what variable changed, it would always lead me to right here, right to this moment. But then maybe he’d wonder, if all adults turn out this way. Just short of their dreams or making it big, swimming in luxury, in whatever capacity of that word. Whether it’s materialistic or figurative. But it does no good to think of the perhaps. To remain fixated of the possibilities that could have unraveled if—and only if—another decision was made at a certain time in the past. If fifteen year old me could see who he’d become and shrank away in fear, I’d like to believe I would simply smile and wave. A smile so reassuring that it resonates the words “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.” So don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.

[dyllandelectable]

Is this what cold feet feels like? I didn't think I'd ever feel it, being so sure that this is something I've wanted for years, but now that it's finally within my grasp, I'm hesitant. My heart is filled with complications and I'm so unsure of whether or not leaving will be the right decision. Perhaps I'm scared. Perhaps I've grown comfortable. Perhaps this is just a feeling that will pass once I make the proverbial leap of faith. Maybe it's all of the above. In these last few moments I'm starting to realize something—I'm going to dearly miss this place I call home.

[dyllandelectable]

Being a Kpop fan since 2005-2006, the recent deaths hit me so hard. Jonghyun, Sulli, now Hara. These are celebrities around my age and it’s crazy to think they can no longer perform, sing, be normal people anymore. It’s the unknown battles that hit the hardest. It’s the things that we hide, that fester, that rear it’s ugly head and no one notices until it’s too late. I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, at least not anymore. But I hope I can help someone, even if I may not be able to help myself at times. I really do.