𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐞𝐨

a sepulchre of a long lost reverie • 𝐣𝐞𝐞-𝐨𝐡 •𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞

[jeoreyss]

Lost text #1

We build walls around us, and we’re left within our own isolating presence.The white nose ringing in our ears, almost deafening but it somehow fills up the emptiness of our heavy mind.

The barriers I carry slowly becomes overbearing, too much to handle and it makes me wonder who I was before I locked myself in, away from the light. I ask and ask again but I have no answer. This is me now, and if I lose it, am I even still me?

I’m aware of the present yet I’m grounded to the past and staring out to the future, just a few miles ahead. The things I see are clearer yet the lines that I seem to understand are blurred and almost fading away. I’m forgetting the lines that I know and looking past everything and everyone around me.

It’s just me alone with the cracks of these walls and smudged lines.

The tears fall from my face as I wrack my brain for the home that I crave. The warmth that my brain yearns and longs for. Faint memories with blazing emotions burning with a bright flare. They flash behind my eyes and my mind chases the only living light that disappears into the darkness. Where they leave me be, as my cries are buried into the shoulders of the shadows. The voices of the shadows speak to me in their chimes and sometimes a sharp cry of pure, raw emotion.

My breath is erratic and I hastily feel for my limbs, my heartbeat and my voice. Anything to keep me here, safe and sound. But then I feel the comfort, the tranquility wash over me like a wave swallowing me whole in its harsh tides, mercilessly killing my voice and all that’s left of me.

I’m only just a shadow now. A hollow shell of a void in the dark. I lost my walls and I lost myself. I belong nowhere, I don’t miss the home that I never had and no longer will have.

I’m no longer a barrier between my crippling sense of identity and I cry once more with a blare, then into a ring, and into nothing more.

[jeoreyss]

Before I knew it, history was made, and our lives intertwined.

Night falls, and I welcome you as flashes of you dances across my eyelids shut.

Dawn awakes, and you are there again — A dream come true, they said.

A name like yours, not quite as familiar, but only rings as ordinary to others

A name like yours, has my head turning in a second

I hope Ivan is the name I will remember for a long, long time.

[jeoreyss]

Something powerful is grasping the fact that my grandma’s knees has withstood the gravity this biosphere holds, as well as all the hopes and dreams of this family she’s built with the bare , raw hands of her and her late husband.

[jeoreyss]

I in Abyss, Cradling the ocean

Caught in the sidelines

Within the seams of your blinds

I catch your twinkling eyes

That striking mind of yours

Intertwined with all that I bore

Feel the oceans in my pocket, I find solace in nearing suffocation.

But if you ever find me hesitating, ruminating, stagnating, you should know to light a fuse in my lungs, reignite what is now dead and doused

What used to help me fall asleep

now is used as cunning weaponry

I feel your hands in mine,

I take it with stride,

There’s no such thing as too much,

if it’s about you and me, and what we had

now i’m tumbling down where it used to be home

i carry my blood and take what’s left of my soul, and I try to let go

But to no avail, it always ends the same,

Words of affection lost to the wars of blame,

You choose to stay in spite,

I chose to stay despite.

The cycle begins and only lasts forever,

the kind of self deprecation you only see in tragedies is written in modern love, a plain mutual ruin.

When you’re young and careless,

Get in the wagon filled with airy dreams and shoes filled with petals

Forget about it all at once, and let the abyss cradle you like an old wise friend.

[amiliathinks]

Mind

To think is to expand yourself though yourself, and to better understand your world. Throughout my life, my mind thinks about itself, its purpose; a thought almost foreign in its structure. When I think of the meaning of my life, I often look in the actions I've taken, the choices I've made, and the mistakes that arise from them. But, is such an assessment even accurate? Often I try to simplify my experience so that I may understand them better, but in such a topic as life, would it not be wise to feel them as they are? Such a thought scares me, for the mind is a dark place; not a place of fear, but a place of chaos. The mind creates stories to entertain itself while its host is gone, weaving its experiences into dreams, and its emotions into nightmares. The mind creates meaning in everyday tasks to motivate its host to live, to thrive. We like to think that we are free in our thought, but often, we forget that we do not even truly understand what thought is. How does one expect to understand meaning when we cannot understand thought?

[philosophyquotes]

It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages.

Friedrich Nietzsche

[jeoreyss]

In this town full of worries

You collect the stares you receive and the gazes that are caught upon you, and throw them in a paper bag. You feel like there’s a drill in your head, so much yelling, non-stop screaming. They promise you it stops when you’re 20, but it doesn’t get quieter on your 21st birthday.

There’s the boy you hurt again, because you can’t forget that one time when he said something wrong and you deemed yourself unloveable after that.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Unkind to yourself. Unkind to everyone else around you. Who even put the drill there in the first place? You never wondered and there was no point in realising it anyways, it’s still your fault for letting it rattling itself deeper into your skull.

I forgot how this works. Does your heart beat faster than the neurotransmitters making you feel this way? I don’t care, cause you now run every single part of my body. That is so stupid.

I am so stupid.

[bookmania]

Seven years after, I see you again 😚

[scripturient-manipulator]

Guys this completely changed my writing, heed it. I often do an entire draft just looking at sentence variation and oftentimes the results are absolutely transformative in the difference.

[nex-mix]

This

[jeoreyss]

Blissfully devastating, cliché heartbreak sob story.

It eats away at you, doesn’t it? You wish you could peel away your burdens, your fears and your overbearing thoughts; layer by layer as it sheds and leaves you be with a newfound sense of self when you are conscious of your ability to blink.

You pick up the glass dome, of wilted petals and heart-shaped cut outs. You gaze at it, and the more you, it morphs into a jagged object and it melts away through the seams of your palms.

And just then, you bawl and you sob. The molten pool of what was once, a loud and proud symbol of a heavily romanticised idea of the purest form of love, is now just a ghost of a memory.

[jeoreyss]

cicka cicka ling long yabadabadoo heng hong leng long

[jeoreyss]

the awakening of my subconscious mind

You sat down, and you put your grocery bag down along with your backpack. It felt like the day was draining you bit by bit and you thought that maybe you had wanted to spend the remaining energy of what’s left to silently do some sun-gazing.

It was beautiful, like the colours of the sun filling your irises then reaching deep into your soul and bring you into a state of tranquility. It is quiet and suddenly you feel that you don’t oppose to the idea of being stuck in a wormhole forever if there was the sunset to remind you that every end of the loop can be this majestic.

As happy as the sunset makes you feel, it leads you into a kind of emptiness. You bring your feet up on the park bench and you hug your knees and rest your chin on top of it. The view of the sunset manages to be accompanied by a soft and mellow instrumental tune, the thumping of the piano keys reverberate gently against your chest. A slow rhythm matched perfectly with the picturesque view, you closed your eyes and a breath hitches up to your throat.

You start crying, and crying, sobbing harder than you always have.

There seems to be a valid reason but all outdated reasons to mull about. And now you begin to regret the decisions of holding off your sorrows because it all comes crashing down on you like an unforgiving storm. It doesn’t seem very right to be unhappy in a place this mesmerising but it was the only place you felt at peace with.

And now when I look back at you, I wish I knew- I wish I knew how to tell you that it was okay, that everything was going to be alright, that I had all of the answers so you wouldn’t have felt what I had.

It was my responsibility after all, considering we had tied souls. I should have been the one comforting you any way I can. But I guess you knew, that I didn’t know any of the answers either. We were both the same yet always acting in polar directions.

Now all that comforts me is when at the end, you quietly and hastily wipe your tears, patting your thighs then flashing a big wide grin. It was your childlike innocence that saved you in a way, in a way that I couldn’t have.

And that’s what makes me happy, that I should have been gentler, kinder and more understanding towards you. That is how we make sense of the self anyways.

So as you walk away with a runny nose but confident steps, I knew you were going to be okay and I was going to be there for you.

You and I were gonna get through and be okay together.

~jeo

[jeoreyss]

i left my tab too long and a 400 word post was literally erased

[jeoreyss]

If I pour my inkless words on the screen, will one ever feel the same way as I do right in this moment. Have I ever felt this way before or when the emptiness in my immortal soul creeps up on me, I make a new friend all over again only to forget it was in me all along.

That the simple sadness never left me, that all I became of was a screaming, voidless ugly little thing. So if I look into the clouds, would someone look back? Does that make me normal then? If one were to understand how I was, and there was a person who was just like me - lost, miserable, angry, a ticking time bomb.

Perhaps all I need is hope. A small streak of light to seep into the crevices of my ignorant mind. What do I need? Another solution to the cause? In the name of a healthy mind, body and soul, I was tied to the responsibility of my life. That is what should keep me going, correct? So what more do I need?

It is a question man will wonder. And one who truly fathoms one of the simple concepts in life is that happiness comes from within - but really is it all that we know?

Routine comes from all places to sentence structures, body cycles and even our minuscule habits we cannot seem to change. Society is maintained in routine, that spontaneity in any part of our cycles should only be slotted in our routine only when the unexpected was unpredicted.

Stigmas will always exist, no matter where we go and how we grow. A small voice would pipe in and our learned mind calms it down to remind that it is an ongoing trend that being open minded, calm and correct is the way to go.

And why is it that, the more we want to love and to be loved, it is a risk to fall in the death traps of affection and romance. To open our hearts and be comfortable in front of those who want to love us yet we are either simply too afraid or there is more that we need.

Maybe this is it, maybe these are the problems I want to solve. Although it is easier to believe that the self is the problem, often times all we need is to understand that there is nothing inherently wrong with the part living inside of us.

[jeoreyss]

A figment of the times we had

Time cannot change the past, and it cannot get ahold of the certain future.

I stand in the present and I’m stuck in time. My memories of you dance across my eyelids. You were there fiddling with the string of your sweatpants, and you pulled it out aggressively. It’s what you always did, that brain of yours that could craft anything with any material you tinkered around with. And when you did, we never spoke. We didn’t need to.

The sun hung high that day, I pass by every street and one was a studio. Time brought the dance studio with it and became a chamber of flashbacks that leaves a bittersweet aftertaste in the back of your mouth. Dancing children with bubbling laughter reverberating off the walls.

I come home to you, and you were finished with your work. It always manages to make me amuse me whether it was because of your work or really just you. The string had been to hold apart the gears and these wooden pipes, you had been making a fountain of some sort- our very own makeshift dam.

“There’s a switch, turn it on!” You exclaimed with a childlike enthusiasm.

“I like this one, it’s gonna make our treehouse look so cool! And the lights make it a lamp too.” You giggled and your hands clasped together.

Your turned the switch on, and the gears were in motion. The wooden pipes collecting the water from the sauce plate. The fairy lights twinkled and the sound of the water flowing down towards the bigger bowl. It amazed both you and me, but my eyes travelled upwards. And your proud smile with the twinkle in your eyes made my heart twinge and filled butterflies in it all at the same time.

Then your smile dropped, I looked to where your eyes were going. Something wasn’t right with the model, there was a squeak in the gears and the string tightened. Just then,—

Snap

The string went loose, and the gears fell and it fell apart. The impact of the falling of the gears sent the water splashing and you flung your head away with a gasp. Your eyes fell because for the first time, your work malfunctioned and you had done something wrong.

“What happened?” Your small voice squeaked.

“I don’t know.” I said as you held back tears and you gritted your teeth, lips pouting.

“I-I’ll clean it up. And we can rebuild it alright? We can play with our other toys and we can paint the seesaw you made last week. Yona would have loved the model you made, she would have said-“ I said before you cut me off.

“Yona’s gone. She’s never coming back, you know that right?” You looked to the floor with your fists clenched.

“We promised not to talk about it. Yona said that we should be-“

“What? Happy? That she’s gone? We’re never seeing her again, and we’re never playing forever! How can we be happy?” You bit your lips and tears welled in your eyes. A sob was lodged in your throat, but I knew I had made a promise - to keep you happy.

“Well, she left us with so much. Remember the first toy she made, the pie thrower. She taught you how to install levers and how to tighten the bolts because you kept turning it the other way.” I chuckled at the memory.

You let out a soft laughter too. “Yeah she did, I looked so dumb back then.”

“Yeah, and you remember the time Yona fixed your bike in like 5 seconds! When your dad couldn’t.” And you giggled, your laughter came out like honey.

“And Yona was so cool and my dads face was so funny!” Your eyes crinkled as you were gasping for breath. God, it just made you more charming at the time.

Both of us were gasping for breaths and the laughter died down when your eyes caught on to the last thing Yona had made, for the both of us.

It was the first toy she made without any mechanism. Just a simple one, a manual one she had giggled so hard about while the two of us stared meekly at her dainty fingers painting the cardboard.

“What did Yona call this one again?” You asked.

“A puzzle.”

“She called this a toy, but it doesn’t look like one at all.” I touched the neatly cut out puzzled pieces.

And something clicked in your head. “She wanted us to put it together, it’s gonna make something.”

“What?” You stared confusedly. “A toy that will make something?”

“I don’t know, but I think it goes together. See?” You put the pieces and it connected to make one piece.

And on that scorching afternoon, all we did was putpuzzle pieces together Yona had made. And it was the most fun we ever had since she was gone. A toy without switches or levers, just the last picture we took, and the last that we were all smiling with our strength combined. I looked at her face and I remember the pants and the panic in her voice as Yona huffed and took in breath eradically as the adults frantically ran around, trying to stabilise her. I touched the puzzle piece with her smile and I could still hear the tired laughter as she told us to be happy, for Yona.

“It’s us. Our last picture.” Your eyes scanned every detail.

“She looked so happy.” Your eyes were glassy as a lump formed at the back of your throat.

“I miss her, I really do. She was so good and smart.” Your eyes let out the tears you had held back.

“Me too. And I’m sure she does too.” I patted your back and I blinked the tears away.

“Yona was really cool and she always will be. We’ll never forget her and she knows that, right?” Your voice wavered with a sense of uncertainty, you needed something, hope, assurance.

“Of course she does, silly. Look at all the toys she made us, even when she was sick. She made all the cool things we have.” I smiled at the treehouse.

And that evening, we hung the puzzle piece at the front door of the treehouse.

Yona’s memories, we had called it..

And those memories shone the brightest just as your mind and soul had been.

Time had taken her away from us, but it never did erase the things that she left behind. Nothing can ever replace that bond, not even time. And I felt my heart swell with warmth, the last of her laughter ringing in my ears.

[poemswords]

“People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character.”

— Ralph Waldo Emerson (via philosophyquotes)

[poemswords]

“It’s a most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a skeptical mind.”

— Nagulb Mahfouz, Sugar Street (via books-n-quotes)

[jeoreyss]

the mind’s longing

The sound of the river ebbs and flows and I watch as people come and go. It’s a simple day with soft clouds painting the blue canvas. Though, all I see is you.

You are on the other side of the door, patiently waiting for me. The door of longing, in my world of recluse. I yearn for your presence that is so comforting yet so tantalising and it drives the gears in my head a frenzy.

At that point, I know their words were right. What the spirits whispered to me in the dead of the night. Within the ruffles of autumn leaves, I knew that missing someone so deeply with all your heart brings you a tugging pain but there’s a clinging hope to it I never seem to understand.

So when will I see you again? When will I feel you in my arms and not only existing in the crevices of my mind. Would I be expecting you during the first snowfall? Or when the flowers blossom in the dewy mornings. Perhaps I would lose you to the sweltering heat in summer when I’ll be busy sprinting around in my fluttering dress.

There is no guarantee of you being a stagnant frame in my life. You were merely the smile I caught by luck and the glistering of your eyes enchanted mine.

When the last leave on my tree falls on the bed of grass in my porch, I ought to let the petals of spring flutter by and the laughter of summer echo by. You shall be the last ruffle of leaves I hear. I will catch a snowflake and let it melt in my palms like the memories of you and me. I will forget you.

And you will never see me again.

And with each passing season, a part of me longs for the comforting bittersweet presence. I close the oak door to my recluse and the old spruce door opens and welcomes me with new beginnings and unforeseeable endings.

I look back to you and you seem well and okay.

The yearning stops growing but the roots will never wilt. The bells chime with every footstep I take and the weather never seems to get worse nor better. Each day is as simple as it is.

I fall like the leaves and melt like the snow. Let the first snowfall be our promise of goodbye.

For now, I shall bid you adieu. To no more growing memories and more cherry blossoms in the path you walk upon, my love.