stella

things i’ll never say — est 2017

[st-rless]

Its like we’re in a game of chess and its always your turn.

You’re just taking and taking all my pieces. Chess was not meant to be like this. When will it be my turn?

[st-rless]

We are growing in ways our past selves can never imagine. But as we reach to the skies, the distance between us widens and widens.

Dear Lover, can you move a bit closer? I'm afraid my arms are not long enough to keep holding on.

[st-rless]

she grew up with that definition of love... a definition that can be categorized as trauma. being forced by love at such a young age; not knowing why its wrong and why she can't tell anyone.

she grew up hiding it because it was a mistake, well it is a mistake... a mistake not because it ended, but a mistake because in the beggining, it shouldn't even have happened;

the thing is it was not the kind of forbidden people see as sad, it is the kind of forbidden people will look at in digust; the kind of forbidden that people would rather forget.

she was too young yet love was older and more... experienced in life. she had dreams of fairytales and ever afters when love, really, is not that.

and now years and years went by and her definition of love changed; her views on it, the pain, the happiness. that if old love did not happen, it could've been just now that she'll realize damsels in distress will die waiting for her prince to save her. but no. old love had to change her.

now old love came back. so sudden. and once again her heart rushed in a way she can't define as love. her sweat trickled down in a way that can only be seen in movies.

why are you here old love? why are you reminding me again of the memories i've burried eight feet deep in the ground.

[st-rless]

how long has it been? are you still here?

[st-rless]

I think I hate the commitment because I have no choice but to wake up again tomorrow and face everything. Like, I cannot just give up and end things because I know someone is still waiting for me to show up.

It sucks but... I am still here.

[st-rless]

the what-ifs still haunt me

[st-rless]

I miss the thrill of it; the uncertainty. I miss the feeling of being afraid to lose something; miss the eagerness to keep fighting.

The thing is that’s the problem.

I have something concrete, something I know will last long. But why am I not fulfilled? Why do I feel so uneasy, so out of place, so... wrong. Why does this feel wrong when we all strive to have something that is sure?

[st-rless]

I am in between again; in between of the end of the chapter and start of another. I hate this feeling... of not knowing when I’ll reach the other side. I hate just waiting for something, for someone to pick me up, to pull me out of this void.

[st-rless]

Dear you,

Wow! How long has it been? A few months? Years? But hello. I don’t know if you remember me or if you know me but, hi. In the first place, of course you don’t know me. I never really opened up. I’m always that one-night-stand kind of girl (but with all the mushy stuff gone).

I would always overshare but always leave the basic things untouched. I will always talk about my darkness, my thoughts, all my backstories then leave before midnight without even saying my name or leaving a glass slipper.

I always try my best to leave this place but its always a random 2AM when I’ll be back to talk to my non-existent stranger. I honestly have nothing to write about. I just felt like pretending I am really talking to someone; to somehow feel that someone has my back.

I missed having to just open my phone and talk to you. I miss how we would connect, the topics, the randomness. I miss the feeling of knowing someone understands my shade of black. How come you colored me so perfectly in a way he can never do? I miss you. I wish I could’ve kept you in my life. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want things to go back to the way it was before. I just wish we could’ve at least stayed as friends.

Maybe we were soulmates. Our stories are completely different yet similar enough to at least solve a part of the puzzle. We ended so tragically — too tragically — with reasons I don’t even remember but with pain I will never forget.

Maybe that’s the thing I’m missing. Maybe I’m not missing you; instead, I’m missing the pain. I miss feeling pain because at least, somehow, I’m feeling something.

[st-rless]

Have you ever felt so lonely that you no longer have the words to explain it? So empty that you don't even know how to ask for help so you just lay there in bed staring at your phone not knowing what you should do

[st-rless]

you said you'd drop me when things starts failing, and here i am sticking around; waiting for that day.

[st-rless]

To you,

I am not happy. I feel sad and alone. That kind when its physically painful. That kind where you just want to cry because things are getting too overwhelming but you can't. You can't because then people will know. And them knowing and not even reacting to it, or reacting but taking it lightly, will only make matters worse. Making what I am feeling worse.

Generally, my day has been going pretty smoothly. I have been busy with all things I have planned. But its the nights when I can't sleep that really makes continuing hard. At these sleepless nights I am left with my thoughts; lost within the darkness and depth of it. My then okay day starts crumbling infront of me and I don't know how to make it stop. I don't know how to stop overthinking every single thing.

And then theres us. I really want to make this work. I really want to see us together at the end of all of this but this relationship is just adding up to the stack of papers I read in my mind every single night. I know it will work out. Things will be fine. But I can't feel it. I no longer feel that it will. People change every single day. What if the assurance of tomorrow you promise me each night changes the very morning I wake up. Am I selfish for asking for more? Asking for more time? Asking for more you?

Of course you will say you are always here but we both know its your job to say that. It can't happen. You can't always be here because right now, as I am writing this, you are not. Right now, in the depths of my sadness, I am alone. Is it selfish to ask for things you promised? Ask for you to be by my side? Ask for you to accompany me in this dark path?

My friend once said that its your role. Its our role to help each other. Its our role to be with each other, give comfort, love, understanding. Because if not, then why are we here? Why are we still here?

[st-rless]

Dear dad,

You taught me to fear men for they are superior and stronger than women; that they should be treated with utmost respect. You taught me that I should be demure and quiet and good and studious; for only boys are allowed to be bold, to laugh loud, be mischievous, and play hard. You taught me to wear "appropriate" and "lady-like" clothing to ward off the predators around me; that I should not wear shorts in a hot summer day.

You taught me that gays are funny and that it is always okay to make fun of them; that no matter what achievement they get, they are gays and that is funny. You also taught me to not be in a relationship at a young age because I will be branded as malandi; and that I should never be seen alone with male friends. You also taught me that loving the opposite gender is the only way to love because doing the opposite is just a phase, something I will grow out of.

You taught me that in this world, I am part of the youth and that entails little experience and being naive; that no matter what happens, talking back to the elderly is disrespect. You taught me to always follow everything you will say without question for asking why is wrong I am stepping in. You taught me that no matter what happens I ak your little girl, and my opinions does not matter because I am just a child.

Dear dad, I thank god that you are my father for if it was someone else, I would not have known what a machismo homophobe looks like. The ideals and mindset you tried to force on me will always be my reason to continue to fight for the oppressed because I will never stand to start my own family in a world with people like you in it.

[st-rless]

I hugged him as if it was the last time; cried like I was never going to see him again. But we said goodbye like we are still going to meet tomorrow to spend the day together; walk hand in hand and smile at each other. 

We will meet again soon, my love. Hold on tight. I’ll come back.

[st-rless]

We'll be together again, my love. Please keep holding on. We can get through this.

[st-rless]

I am at that state of my life wherein interacting with people really hurts, physically.

Is it normal to tremble and palpitate just by reciting in class? The fear of the possibility of being called by the professor to answer questions you know the answers to. 

Is it normal to stutter at casual conversations with peers? The shock and panic rushing through your veins just because you were asked what you are going to eat for lunch. 

Is it normal to feel your heart aching because of a scheduled social interaction? The excruciating wait until its over slowly eating you whole.

Is it normal to feel overworked and drained just by ordering food? The long exchange of words and the uneasy feeling that someone is waiting behind you.

Is it normal to get dizzy and out of breath at times you have to talk in front of a crowd no matter how small? The way you feel your insides turning and actually get nauseous and vomit upon finishing your sentence.

Is it normal that I feel like something bad is going to happen to me all the time for every period and semicolon that escaped from my mouth. Is it normal to intentionally avoid people and different scenarios that will lead to a social interaction. Is it normal to feel this way? How do someone who is afraid of communicating ask for help?

[st-rless]

I miss drinking til morning; that feeling when you start to get numb and careless and free. I miss my confidence and enthusiasm to start a conversation about anything to anyone. I miss walking home alone all drunk with no one in the streets to see me fast walking to my apartment. I miss how I'll arrive to see my boyfriend there on the bed and I'll just cry to him about all the things I have been bottling up. I miss his warm embrace, his soothing voice, his patience, his love. I miss crying and soon falling asleep in his arms. I miss him. I miss us.

[st-rless]

I'm sorry for pushing you away. It's just that you are far too important to me; far too important to get stained with all my misery; far too important to get caught in my darkness.