a fiction prompt, please?
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@elicielle
a fiction prompt, please?
I missed seeing your blood dripping on my dashboard, their absence affects me so. (Love, anonym)
Anonym, I missed you. Are you doing well? Are you happy?
I hope you’re enjoying the sea breeze whilst drinking your favorite fruit shake. I hope you’re somewhere you like, mimicking beauty and fondling with the earth as if the horizon is within your reach. I hope you’re embracing the universe through kissing back the rays of the sun. Be calm, be warm. Be outrageous, and be fiery. Be all you want, because you are a creation of everything.Â
Oh Elicielle. I just read every entry you have for an hour. Within those hours, I thought, where have you been all my life? You are the voice I've been dying to hear from my own mouth. I'm crying now because I feel so many things that even a word can't express. You inspire me, Elicielle. I wish I could have known you but through your poetry, you bring me to your life… to your world. I'm glad I met you through here. And I thank you for introducing yourself to us all. -A
You wrote this to me a few years back, but I never had the courage to respond. Thank you for sending me this, love. Thank you for this light you sent me.
Kasaysayan: Saysay ng Kasawian
Madalas kong isipin noon, para saan ang pagaaral ng kasaysayan? Bakit kailangang balik-balikan ang sakit at pighati na pinagdaanan ng ating bayan? Hindi ba dapat nang ibaon ang nakaraan dahil sa bawat paglingon natin, ay mas nadadagdagan ang ang peklat na dapat alagaan?
Dahil, mahal, pagod na pagod na akong lumingon ng balik balik at pabalik balik at pabalik-balik. Sabi nila, sa bawat paglingon mo ay mas magiging matatag ka. Ngunit pakisabi sa akin kung bakit sa bawat pagpaltik ng orasan tuwing lumilingon ako, ay bawat pagalala ko rin sa sakit at pighati ng malaman kong wala palang tayo?
Alam mo, upang manalo ka raw sa larong ito ay dapat una pa lamang ay ibinubura mo na ang salitang pagsuko.
Noong nginitian mo ako, at sinabing 'nais kong sakupin ang mundo' na may kasamang pagkinang ng iyong mata, noon ko lang din nalaman ang totoong kahulugan ng salitang pagsuko.
Ang daming beses kong sinubukang burahin ang salitang iyon. Burahin gamit ang eraser, gamit ang correction tape. Sinubukan kong tapalan ng iba pang mga salita, sinubukan kong lunurin ang salitang 'yon gamit ang ilang bote ng alak. Ilang bote ng alak, araw araw akong nagpapakalasing. Ninanais na ng aking mga kaibigan na ako'y tumigil ngunit kinaumagahan, imbis na sakit sa ulo ay, sakit parin sa puso ang aking idinadamdam. Sinubukan kong takpan gamit ang ngiti ng iba, at nakakagago dahil wala akong ibang magawa kundi sumuko sa salitang pagsuko.
Alam mo, sabi nila, ang dalawang bato kapag nagkabanggaan at patuloy na ipinagdidikit at ikinikiskis sa isa’t isa ay lilikha ang mga ito ng init na sa kalauna’y magiging apoy. Na sa tulong ng ihip ng hangin ay lalaki ito at sasakop ng higit pa sa espasyong nakalaan dito.
Sana alam mo ring tuwing ang balat mo ay hahaplos sa balat ko ay nagkakaroon ng apoy ang kaluluwa ko. At sana, sana alam mo rin na wala nang natitira sa akin kundi abo.
At ang sakit sakit balikan, kung paano tayo nagsimula sa ngitian, sa pasulyap sulyap hanggang gabi-gabi ay nagpapalitan na tayo ng mga kwento.
Ang sakit balik-balikan, na sayo ko natutunan na maaari ko rin palang mahalin ang mundo. Na sa bawat usapan natin ay minamahal ito, at higit pa roon, sa bawat usapan natin ay mas nahuhulog ako sa'yo.
Bakit nga ba binabalik-balikan ang nakaraan? Bakit paulit-ulit iniisip ang kung paano tayo nasaktan?
Sa tuwing madadaanan kita, at ang mga mata mo'y nakatuon na sa iba. Lubos akong nasasaktan. Ang mga mata mong saakin din nakatingin dati ay kailanman’y hindi ko magiging pag-aari.Â
Sabi nila, para manalo ka raw sa larong ito ay dapat una pa lamang ay ibinubura mo na ang salitang pagsuko.
Siguro una pa lamang ay wala na akong pagasang manalo, dahil nang isinama mo ang bala sa iyong mga ngiti patungo sa aking puso ay wala na akong nagawa kundi ang sumuko. Isinusuko ko na ang pagibig ko sa'yo. Isinusuko ko na ang pagkatao ko, at ang mga salita ko ay iaalay ko na sa'yo. Haharap ako, at hahayaan kong saktan mo ako hanggang maibaon ko na ang lahat ng sakit nito. At babalik balikan ko ito, hindi upang ipaalala sa sarili ang sakit at pighati. Babalik ako tanda na ang balang naitanim dito, ang balang dati-rati’y bumuwag ng tindig ko’y nakayanan ko nang hukayin.
hello
I wish I saw the expiry date inked on your skin so I'd have known that this will end soon. Too soon. If I had known better, I would have kissed it and erased it with my lips until you no longer remember that you and I are best for days only.
i dont trust people who are attracted to me…like why? write me a 10 page paper with a legitimate thesis and valid points backing up your claim or you fake.
I don’t want to see your name added on my to-kill-before-i-kill-myself list. I want you to know that there is something about you that makes my skin itch for something sharp and unruly like knife or murder or a slap that turns your head 180 degrees to the right. I don’t want to be the one to end your string not the one to stop you from breathing. For I like the way you make me smile it still sends shivers to my spine. I don’t want to kill you—-at least not yet for you still make me whole even if you take away my parts little by little and paste it onto your skin so she could look at you with such admiration you make me feel like I am not yet dead that i am capable of feeling this ugly pain that pierces through my chest and veins whenever you say her name. I don’t want to see your name added on my to-kill list because I just cannot turn you into tragedy no, not yet for only in you had I seen that there is beauty in loving something that has already been broken. But would it be okay if I give you a slap? I just really really want to give you one or maybe you could just turn your head 90 degrees to the right and see me saying ‘im tired, give my pieces back’ before I scribble your name and plan my execution.
You’d be the first on my list. Elicielle.
Sky, it’s raining again. Aren’t you getting tired? You’ve been crying for so long each day it gets darker even sadder. Can’t you make it stop? When will you stop? When you’ve drained all of you and nothing’s left of you? Sky, aren’t you getting tired? You let your parts fall again and again, you pour your heart and life does someone even catch them? Will someone paste them all back to you, when you need a thing to hold on to? When everyone’s left and everyone has gone who will say good bye to you? Who will thank you? When you’ve given yourself, who will give you himself? Who will love you? Will someone even love you? Sky, aren’t you getting tired? Of the loneliness the hollowness. The good byes and their empty kisses? The love you’ve given, will you be able to take it back? Sky, aren’t you getting tired? Give yourself a chance to be embraced so all of your pieces would stick together. Inhale what you can inhale, take what you can have. Let them take you as you are and not just because you can heal or make or fix.
You’re not supposed to be like this, Elicielle.
Please stop. I can't handle it anymore. Please, just stop.
To the boy who's trying to play with my heart with his fake love.
fuck. am i wrong to think that your sadness is addictive? that it's slowly becoming a drug i take daily? when i read your words, i feel like i know you. fuck. where do all these lead to? i hope in your sadness, you find happiness. i hope in the darkness where light doesn't exist, you find your perfect shade of dark. fuck. i love everything about your life and how it speaks of death. fuck it. fuck fuck fuck. i don't know what to say.
Sadness is viral. Don’t get too close, don’t inhale it too much. I don’t want you to have it in your hands. Run. Run as fast as you can and never look back.
What they didin't tell you was that even if you have yourself cured, the illness shall still come back with the same pain but the damage will be larger and far worse. Be wise and pull yourself together man, they'd keep telling you. Hugs. Pats on the back. Kisses. Hush, baby. There is so much pleasure in doing what you've done once. There is familiarity spilling on your skin everytime they touch you. There is the sense of belongingness everytime they kiss you. You break. You break again and again because that's what you only know about. Each time you fall, you see your pieces spreading out and you carefully pick them up and paste them to your skin. Because you can't look broken anymore. You don't want to be anymore. But you pick your pieces up just so you could watch them fall again. That's it, right? Once you've mastered the art of something, you will not let go of it because you become as attached to it as how attached you are with your poetry. You come back to sadness again and again because that's the only thing you know you can have wholly after having to lose your branches. Yes, yes. You ache for happiness but won't you fall the same direction? Falling is inevitable. And the ground is your only catcher. Sadness is your only catcher once happiness fades, just like how darkness spreads when light stops being a light.
I am (un)happy, Elicielle.
Stop chasing the wrong people. Please.
15 minutes;
1st, I managed to stand up. 2nd-4th, I tried not to look back. 5th, I still did. 6th-9th, I looked at all the memories we've had. 10th, No, I am not turning back. 11th, Please, make me stay. 12th-13th, I started walking away. 14th, Just say my name. 15th, Okay. "I need you" 15 minutes of torture. And you're 15 minutes too late.
Love is a happy place, it is a happy person, it is the words you make others feel. Love is, as other people say, indescribable. But then I wonder why it is indescribable for you make them tangible for me and you make me feel something. Love may not be sexual or arousal, it may not always be looking at someone for so long but it may also be just the word I was looking for and that, I found in the way you write to yourself and for others. (Love, anonym)
*hugs* You make me feel so happy. You always do. Thank you for always appreciating me, for guiding me. I hope you have a lovely night, my anonym.
Love yourself first. Again and again and again, I'll tell you. Love yourself first. You know you can't deny that you hear it almost everyday. Like an alarm clock. A buzzer. A commercial in your favorite radio station. An echo of your deepest note-to-self's. An opener. An answer. It gets worn out like your momma's pants even if you want to keep it to yourself as beautiful as how you first saw it. Love yourself first. Why can't you love yourself? You know you are beautiful not just because your parents tell you so. You know you are wise not just because your friends tell you so. You know you are lovely not just because some of your relatives say so. You know you are more than what your figures say, you know you are more than what people say. And you should know that you are more than the number on your weighing scale. More than the spots on your cheek. More than the scars on your wrist. More than the words 'fugly' and 'freak' that they slash with you in front or not. More than the notes on your desk. More than the 'i hate you's' and 'shut the fuck up's' exchanges of your mother and father. More than the tears you've shed. More than all the pain. There is so much beauty inside you. Feel it. Accept it. Love it. Hear me. Especially when I tell you, "Love yourself first." Because you are more than just spikes and edges. You are more. You are beautiful. You are beautiful. Sweetheart, you are beautiful. You. Are. Beautiful.
Elicielle, Note to self #1.
Do I really have to cut my fingers just so my hand could fit yours perfectly?
Elicielle