Unspoken Words

Just my crappy other side.

[books-n-quotes]

“Below a certain point, if you keep too quiet, people no longer see you as thoughtful or deep; they simply forget you.” - Douglas Coupland, Eleanor Rigby

[shadowtobe]

Plan B

She is always been an option. Never the priority. Never the first choice. They say, abstinence’s always the best choice. Condoms if things can’t be stopped. Pills for those who would want to feel but weren’t ready. IVF’s for those who’ve been waiting for years. But, she’s never the choice., always an option. She is the last resort. Next morning’s band aid. She’s every man’s “I don’t remember”, “I forgot, “Did I?”. She’s every woman’s “i think i slipped”, “is it this week?”, or “I was too drunk to remember”. She never intended to but always brings shame. She carried the drunken mistakes, one night stands and maybe not’s. In every situation, she’s kept hidden when chosen. She retaliates in woman’s womb. Mental guilt. Psychological torture. Persisting anxiety. Depression. She’s called the murderer of life. A symbolism to death of future. She never wants the job; she knows she is not welcomed. Forced to be accepted. Intentionally needed for unintended mistake; she cries every time, wishing that someday, someone will want her fully. But what can she do? She is made to be the second option.

[shadowtobe]

Maybe, Next

She held tighter on the steering wheel. Her vision was blurry by her thoughts. It was past dawn, but the sun was nowhere to be found. Her stereo was blasting the sound from her phone. Don’t look at me like that Just like you understand Don’t try to pull me back

Being rational was not an option for her clouded mind with inept sleep. An hour: she has not decided if it was considered as anything near to sleep or nap. Her foot stepped on the gad paddle - increasing her speed of 100 to a limit of 50kph.

The red sedan was almost the sharp curb by the runabout. The road was not ideal as the weather was unpredictable this week. She was still thinking it was the most plausible way to make it look like an accident. Yet, she turned the wheel and made it way out of the runabout. The road became darker with no streetlights alongside. She held on the wheel tighter, taking her breathes deeply. She escaped her own planned death.

Realizing what she had thought, she released her hand and looked at her pale palms. Her eyes averted quickly. She can see the air crafts, the big lights and her job’s building.

Maybe, next time, she told herself.

[shadowtobe]

Bianca Phipps

You wrote the heart broken poem Majestically brought the story of abused and marriage The beauty of divorce and ugliness of destruction The chills

If Sarah Kay and Phil Kay were my perfect duo Your individuality astound me with your words and magic Your art of sharing a story, a poem and emotions The depth of pain you have shown me Can’t weigh the most pain of broken family, broken heart and promises

If spoken poetry is something I’ll always adore and try to pursue, An ambition I’ll never achieve, I’ll be contented enough to watch you perform in live

[shadowtobe]

Metamorphosis

Month ago, she considered herself dead Walking in this world with loneliness Only few can see it in her eyes Only those who recognize the darkness, knew the abyss inside of her Everyday, she’d wake up Every time, she’s smile But the truth is she’s tired She’s tired of it all So, she builds herself a cocoon Wrapped with silk of tears She bid the world goodbye She finally rests Rest, then fly like a butterfly.

[shadowtobe]

Bottoms Up

First bottle’s for you To whom I have shared my heart first Memories may have faded through years I still yearn for whatever it used to be Do I regret of how we ended? No. But the bottle’s yours Thank you for the forgotten love

Second’s bottle’s for them To everyone after you, To those who taught my heart to give in easily To those who taught my mind to give up too soon To them who barely knew me but hurt me To those who saw what I became Some stayed to watch; others left with dismay My tortured heart and mind cursed each one

To my intoxicated heart, I want to see you sober One day From all the pain and remorse From all the what if’s and sorrow Mat you forgive yourself of now loving yourself enough Let go all the bitter past Forget the unknown future

For the last bottle, I offer you peace Hoping this won’t break after Wishing to never cut from broken glasses Praying to free yourself from the shackles of darkness To love yourself a little more this time. For you, my heart, Bottoms up!

[shadowtobe]

Let This be My Farewell

This sadness has conquered me It owned me; it took control of me Please believe my truth I’ve fought this battle But it won each time I’ve given in Sometimes, it’s more courageous to accept defeat So, I’ve lose Now, peace came

[shadowtobe]

One minute, you felt special. The second, you felt trash

[nothingwithoutwords]

“i used to think a tattoo was the most permanent way to love someone. to stain your skin with a name. but then i etched you onto my soul and years later, the ink has not begun to fade.”

— shelby leigh

[shadowtobe]

I love you. I love you. i LOVE you. I LOVE YOU. See? It meant nothing. It voids the meaning. Loving him doesn’t mean being in love with him.

[shadowtobe]

Welcome back, my dark thoughts. I was distracted that I’ve almost forgotten about you.

2am thoughts

[shadowtobe]

I am scared to ask: have you learnt to love another? While I try to heal myself from all the pain, doubts and regrets. I still wish to see the better version of you

[neckkiss]

via weheartit

[duskyverses]

“I have always been the kind of person who listens to everyone else’s story. I gently nudge them into lightening the weight on their shoulders. I like hearing about their lives. What makes them smile, what makes them cry. What hurts them, what gives them butterflies. I open the door to my comfort zone and let them take off their suit of armour for a bit. But sometimes I wonder if in this love for listening to others, I never learnt to tell them about myself or if they never really bothered to ask? It is difficult even for me to understand how I ever reached a point where I became more comfortable spilling my thoughts on a piece of paper for a thousand strangers to read, than sharing what I feel with those in the same physical space as me. I still love listening to stories, I just wish someone would want to listen to mine too.”

— how did I manage to feel unsafe in the safe place I built for others // .a.c.

[shadowtobe]

Gago

Gago, hindi niya hiniling ang pagdating mo pero mas hindi niya hiniling ang paglisan mo

Siya na ata ang pinakatanga mong nakilala. Kung gaano mo kabilis nakuha ang loob niya ay s'ya mong kabilis baliwalain.

Nakita mo ba yung sakit na naging dulot mo? Nakita mo ang mga luhang hindi mapigil sa pag agos?

Bakit hindi mo subukan harapin ang tunay mong nararamdaman kaysa sa pakikipaglaro mo sa damdaming sawian? Bakit mas pinipili mo ang magpaiyak kaysa maghatid ng saya sa mga puso nakaalay sa'yo?

Nagmumukha nang mga tanga ang katulad niyang handang sumugal sa "baka sakali", sa mga bagay na walang katiyakan kung dapat pa bang pinaglalaban. Sa kinabukasan hindi sigurado. Hahabulin ang oras at panahon, sa mga pagkakataon na makasama ka lang.

Gago, bakit patuloy kang naglalaro sa apoy ng damdaming umaalab? Hindi ka ba natatakot mapaso at masaktan sa mga emosyong maaaring mag-iwan ng peklat sa iyong pagkatao?

Isa kang mandirigma sa laban na hindi mo tiyak ang kahihinatnan. Pero patuloy kang lumalaban. Patuloy kang sumusugal para sa taong akala mo kasangga mo sa digmaan. Hindi mo alam, siya ang iyong kalaban. Siya ang nagsimula ng gulo. Ng pagtatalo. Ang pagwaglit ng katahimikan ng iyong isip at puso.

Sana matuto kang huminto. Sana dumating ang panahon na makita mo ang sugatan mong pagkatao para sa isang taong hindi ka naman kayang panindigan. Sana matuto kang lumayo,tumakbo - tumakbo papalayo sa mundong binuo mo para lang makasama siya. Hihilingin ng katulad ko ang iyong katapangan na pumiglas sa gapos na akala mong pagmamahalan ninyo, pagmamahal niya na tila isang rehas na kinukulong ka na. Pinapahirapan ka. Sinasaktan.

Gago ka. Sa iyong pagtanggap ng isang taong hindi ka kayang mahalin ng buo at totoo. Gago ka sa pagtitiwala na siya rin ay magbabago para sa'yo. Gago ka para maniwala sa isang bagay na matagal na niyang pinagkakait sa'yo. Gago ka. Gago ka.

Pero gago siya. Gago siya sa kanyang hindi tuwid na pangangatwiran. Sa hindi niya paglaban sa maaaring maging isang kwentong pagmamahalang wagas. Sa hindi niya pagpapakatotoo na hindi ka niya mahal, minahal o minamahal. Nakipagsapalaran siya para lamang makita ang hangganan ng iyong pagmamahal. Hanggang saan. Hanggang kailan. Ano ba ang hangganan ng tinatawag mong wagas na pagmamahal.

Naging gago kayo. Sa hindi niyo paghintay sa panahon. Sa paglalaro niyo sa isang bagay na dapat sagrado. Sa pagsugal sa bagay na walang tiyak na kahahantungan. Nakipagsapalaran kayong dalawa para malaman kung bakit kayo pinagtagpo ng tadhana. At lalo kayong naging gago nang pinili niyong maggaguhan sa isang sitwasyon na sana inyo na lamang iniwasan.

Pero mas gago ako, dahil ako'y nandoon. Pinanood. Pinagmasdan. Nagmatsag. Hinintay ang panahon na ito para malaman kung sino ang tunay na nagwagi sa laban na walang magtatagumpay.

Nandito tayo sa dulo, duguan at sawi. Lumuluha ang mga mata pero mas lumuluha ang puso. Sinayang ang oras at panahon. Nakatitig sa kawalan. Sa pakikipagsapalaran, kayo'y tuluyang huminto dahil napagod and mga katawan. Pero mas hapo ang mga puso. Sa huli, mas maraming naging sakripisyo kaysa sa panalo.

Gago ka.

Gago siya.

Pero mas gago ka.

[books-n-quotes]

“We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It’s our own concept—our own selves—that we love.”

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[books-n-quotes]

“I don’t think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it.”

— Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha