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@the120dreamerswrite
I know I've said that you're not entitled to my own expectations... but in this case, it's not that. It's a matter of wanting to feel wanted, the need to feel needed. The knowledge that I deserve a good man, because I know how good I can be to you.
I think we've just reached the lowest we can go, and I know in my mind that you've just proven how unworthy you are of my weeping. Oh well, that's all. I'll still keep the lessons I've learned from you, both the good and the bad. I'm done mourning this quick friendship we had, which cut my heart so unexpectedly deeply. I've had enough of this pain that I don't think I ever deserved.
Your pain is getting repetitive.
All these misery you burden upon us has been a never-ending story. We have memorized every words of this tale you have claimed to be your downfall. The tears being shed has been caused by the exact same sadness that you never really wanted to let go. You said... you'll let go. But after the days turned to months, and the months turned to years, I realized that you cling to the very reason of your discomfort. I just hope you wouldn't drag us down with you. We can fight for ourselves, but only you can fight your own battles.
You know what scares me the most? It's being in so much pain that I'll find myself unable to cry anymore. And no, that's not exactly a good thing–because there is strength in vulnerability. So much more. In breaking down comes the strongest will to feel alive and human. There is no shame in filling up your empty room with tears that won't let up. Those sleepless nights of feeling so many things are the epitome of beauty in this world of apathy. And these trembling hands that refuses to stay still, it can carry the whole weight of this heavy heart. This heavy heart of mine, I'm so scared that I might drop it from too much pain. And if ever than happens, not single tear shall be shed. Numbness will follow, and so will the death of my soul.
Kaunting kirot. Pangako, ‘yon lamang ang nararamdaman ko. Sa isang saglit na nakita kong may iba ka na pala. Sa isang silip na madalian upang patunayan na may sinusuyo ka– at hindi ako 'yon. Pangako, kaunting kirot lamang. Dahil hindi ba’t ako ang unang bumitaw sa oras na nakita kong hindi ikaw ang hinahanap ko? Hindi ba’t ako ang naglaho parang bula dahil naduwag ako sa pagharap sa iyo, sa dami ng takot ko? Na baka masaktan lang kita? Na baka hindi mo ibigay ang kailangan ko? Ako ang umayaw, bago ka pa magtanong. Ako ang tumakbo, bago pa magsimula ang lahat. Ginusto ko ang hindi ka ipaglaban dahil nagduda ako sa tibay ng 'yong loob. Kaya pangako, kaunting kirot lamang. Kaunting pagkagulo ng utak. At kaunting sakit sa dibdib. Kaunti lamang… dahil 'yon lang ang karapatan kong maramdaman. Walang labis, walang kulang.
You Make This So Easy
I have always been told that attraction is a push and pull motion. A series of strong wanting and hated distraction. A welcomed disturbance that rippled a once peaceful pond.
But with you, it’s so easy. Your clarity is my new favorite thing. You get what you want and I give it willingly. You offer what I never knew I wanted without so much of a second thought. It’s so natural for us to pace it slowly, but then I know I’ve never felt such a smooth sailing drift. It makes me somehow wonder… Is this perhaps right? They said it’s supposed to be hard, but all I feel is contentment in your pursuit.
Out of My Wits Because You Don’t Like Me Back
The refusal I insist upon the thought of liking you is not something I take lightly.
Ask me if I do, and I would shake my head so hard that I could make a tornado. I would bite my tongue until it bleeds out the truth, but I'll swallow it all in because no one could ever know. I would laugh hysterically like a hyena on crack, in hopes that my feign of insanity is a simple gesture of saying "No, I don't like him, you silly! Not at all, not one bit. Eew!"
But then, in my mind, I am running in circles because this stubborn defiance is making me feel rotten inside. It's a tangled mess of NO NO NO, but once unwound, it's an endless thread of MOTHERFUCKING YES.
You confuse me, you son of a bitch. I may have feelings for you and I hate myself for it. This heart beats like it's overdosed in caffeine, ready to jump out of my chest, just because you tried talking to me. I feel so low when you don't notice me, but it feels like cloud nine when you know I exist. But you know what sucks the most? It's that you don't like me back. Not as much as you like yourself. I like an asshole, and that makes me the fucking fool.
So no, thank you very much. I will deny my attraction towards the likes of you.
In fact, I despise you so much, I ended up dreaming that we ended up together and lived happily after. You disgust me so much, all I could think about was your lips on mine. You infuriate me immensely that all I could hear was your sweet nothings whispered to my ears. I am not blushing, as you like to point out. No. This is me, putting on my war paint, ready to battle out this parasitic feeling eating up my rationality.
So no, no, no!
But motherfucking yes.
A Series of “Maybe” as Confessed by a Writer.
I… have not written anything for a long time. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure why. I thought maybe it was because inspiration has not kicked in for quite some time. Maybe my world has been running in slow motion, and details were dramatic but very much meaningless. Or worse–maybe words have left me.
But then, maybe it’s because I’m scared. Surprise, surprise–when am I not? But you see… there is vulnerability in my writing. Not the way that I bare my thoughts naked, or for mere words to explain the complexity of my mixed up emotions. No. It’s because I allow my imagination to take over me, and you have no idea how dangerous that is for my sanity.
I write fiction. I put into words the fantasy of nonexistent relationships–the imaginary broken hearted and the twisted mind. They are all me, at the same time, they are nothing like me at all. But in my mind, I couldn’t tell the difference. I could get lost inside my imagination, and I could choose to live there if I want to. I’m so good at that, you see. I have mastered the art of escaping my life.
So maybe that’s why I’ve held off my writing. I’ve unconsciously put a leash on my thoughts and, God forbid, turn it into a literary creation. Maybe… I’m so scared of the fact that I romanticize people more than who they really are.
And I don’t want to write about you. You, who I know nothing about. I could choose to immortalize you in my words–turning your nonchalance into a series of colorful metaphors. Your indifference that frustrated me to no ends and made me want to scream so loud because I know–I know! I deserve better things. My need for affection can never be sated by your disinterest and no matter how much I want you to chase after me, I just can’t.
So I haven’t written in a long time. Because these feelings I have are getting harder and harder for me to differentiate from my own overactive imagination. Maybe words are my drugs. Too much of its sweet sugarcoating is masking the poison that’s slowly turning me insane.
Maybe.
Every now and then I have to watch this. And, every single time I watch it, I SMILE :)
“I Will Wait…for You” — Janette Ikz
So it seemed, that it was cool, for everyone to be in a relationship but me..
So I took matters into my own hands… and ended up with him
Him who displayed the characteristics of a CHEATER, a LIAR, an ABUSER, & a THEIF
So.. why was I surprised when he broke into my heart?
I called 911, but I was cardiac arrested for aiding and abetting,
Cause it was ME who let him in…
Claiming we were “just friends”..
It was already decided for me by the first date, that even if he wasn’t!
I was gonna make him ‘The One’..
You know… I was tired of being alone,
And I simply made up in my mind, that it was about that time so I decided to drag him along for the ride,
Cause I was always the bridesmaid & never the bride..
A virgin in the physical, but mentally just a grown woman on the corner in heat!
Who was tired of the wait!
So I was gonna make him ‘The One’.
He had a… form of Godliness… but not much..
But hey, hey I can change him! So (honey) I’ll TAKE him, I mean he’s close… enough
Ready to sell my aorta for a quarter, not knowing the value of its use to me
Arties so clogged with MY will, it blocked HIS Will from flowing through me
So, I thank Christ that His blood pressure gave this heart an attack,
That flatlined my obscured vision, put me flat on my back
Through my ignorance He sawed,
Through my sternum He sawed & cracked open my chest
TO transplant Psalm 51:10
A new heart & a renewed right spirit within!
So now I fully understand,
Better yet I thoroughly comprehend,
How much I NEED to wait… for You.
See, the bad thing is that I knew he wasn’t you from the beginning..
Cause in the beginning was the Word
And he didn’t even sound or shine like Your Son
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,
And all he could whisper was sweet, empty nothings –
Which meant NOTHING.
He couldn’t even pray when I NEEDED him to
Asking him to fast would be absurd!
So forget about being cleansed & washed with water through the Word…
But I know You..
You were already praying for me
Even never having met me
Let me assure you, I will wait for you.
I will no longer date, socialize or communicate with carbon copies of you
To appease my boredom or to quench my thirstiness I have for attention
And short-lived compliments from ‘sorta kindas’.
You know…. He ‘sort kinda’ right, but ‘sorta kinda’ wrong?
His first name LUKE,
His last name WARM.
I, I won’t settle for false companionship
I won’t lay in the embrace of his arms,
Attempting to find some closeness,
But never feeling so far apart cause, I just wanna be held
Cause ♫”all I gotta do is Say” No!
NO more ‘almost sessions’ of ‘almost coming close’
Passing winks & buying drinks,
I’ma, I’ma, I’ma flirt!♫
Who flirts with the ideology of,
‘Can you just tell me how much I can get away with & still be saved?’
NO more.
I’ll stay in my bed… alone, and write poems, about how I will wait for you
He won’t even come close,
Our fingers won’t even interlock
We won’t even exchange breath
Cause I have thoughts that I’ve ‘saved as’ in a file that God has only equipped you to open.
I will no longer get weighted down,
From so-called friends & family talks,
About the concern for my biological clock
When I serve the Author of Time.
Who is NOT subject to time,
But I’M subject to Him,
He has the ability to STOP, FAST FORWARD, PAUSE, or REWIND at any given time…
So if we could role play,
You would be Abraham & I would be Sara
Or you can be Isaac & I can be Rebecca – a servant’s answered prayer
I am bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh,
Made up of your rib Adam!
And once we meet, like electrons
I will be bound to your nucleus, completely indivisible atom.
We even speak the same math: 1 + 1 + 1 = 3, which really equals 1 if you add Him.
We were all created in His image,
But you have the ability to reflect, project & even detect the Son.
If I were to explain what you looked like,
You would have to look like a star,
A son of the Son..
I would gain energy simply from the light on me.
I would need you , in order to complete my photosynthesis
I await your revelation, but once again from the genesis, I will wait for you
And I will know you… because when you speak I will be reminded of Solomon’s wisdom,
Your ability to lead will remind me of Moses,
Your faith will remind me of Abraham,
Your confidence in God’s Word will remind me of Daniel,
Your inspiration will remind me of Paul,
Your heart for God will remind me of David,
Your attention to detail will remind me of Noah,
Your integrity will remind me of Joseph,
And your ability to abandon your own will, will remind me of the disciples,
But Your ability to love selflessly & unconditionally will remind me of Christ.
But I won’t need to identify you by any special Matthews or any special Marks,
Cause His word will be tatted all over your heart.
And you will know me, and you will find me,
Where… the boldness of Esther meets the warm closeness of Ruth.
Where the hospitality of Lydia is aligned with the submission of Mary,
Which is engulfed in the tears of a praying Hanna.
I will be the one, drenched in Proverbs 31… waiting for you.
But to my Father, my Father who has known me before I was birthed into this earth
Only if you should see fit…
I desire Your will above mine,
So even if you call me to a life of singleness,
My heart is content with YOU – the One who was sent.
YOU are the greatest love story ever told,
The greatest story ever known
You are forever my judge & I’m forever Your witness
And I pray that I’m always found on a mission about my Father’s business
Oh, I will always be Yours!
And I will always wait for You Lord, more than the watchmen wait for the morning…
More than the watchmen wait for the morning… I WILL WAIT .
There’s this sweet aftertaste if you bite into a heartbreak. That first taste of it–the repulsion and the hurt–those were a given. It makes you regret daring to even have the guts to try it. It’s worth it, they said. You hate them for giving you this false hope, because during that moment, all that you can taste is this bitter resentment burning inside your mouth. But keep chewing it, taste every pang of it, and finish it until it lasts, because once it’s down your throat… There’s a hint of that sweet, sense of relief… And you’ll say to yourself, “Ah. So this is what they meant.” Then you take a bite again.
I've never felt more alone than today, when I felt sick and horrible from these sleepless nights. I was left with this ache in my heart (quite literally) because all I wanted to do was cry and whine on someone from this helplessness. I thought... How nice it would have been to have someone listen to me, just be there with me, together in this situation.But I'm alone. And it's all my fucking fault.
Being sick and alone is too fucking lonely.
My star you don't know how bright you have grown. Just look back and you'll see the trail you left on my empty night sky.
Let me tell you about That one time when I thought That perhaps we’re both done And the past has been gone But the memories barrage Through these flashback attacks So I needed your smile To be lost from my mind Now I wither in pain From the whips of mistakes I conflicted upon You, my dear cherished one Please forgive my offense In this form of defense But I thought I was hurt When in fact you’re who’s burnt.
Silence...
How can you despise the serenity in emptiness? You push it away, while I cling to it. They say the louder your voice is, the less it actually means. So does the muteness of my words full of a thousand metaphors?
Why do you have so many blank spaces on a page full of broken lines? What do you expect, that staring at it blankly would suddenly give you a moment of eureka? That only happens to a genius, and you are everything but that. You’re not even an artist, but they say I am.
An artist. I hate that self-absorbed title which seems to give me more depth than I actually have. Interpreting my shallowness into something profound has never failed to make me laugh. You, on the other hand, just look at me as if you could read me like an open book.
I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you needn’t dig deeper. I’m simply a whirlwind of complex emotions, and most of the time, I’m not saying anything simply because I have nothing else to say. Who would have figured that overthinking could render me speechless?
Sit with me through this silence, and don’t analyze every muscle twitches on my face. You can hold my hand though, and let’s share the warmth in this cold, bitter night. And look at the dark sky—
Do you want to live there in Mars, just the two of us? But the solitude that seems perfect to me would be a nightmare to you. Why do we even bother to be together when I am north and you are south?
…
We haven’t moved in an hour or two, and I feel like cobwebs are already forming between our fingertips.
Hello, my nobody, I’m already here Just smiling and laughing and everything in cheers I’m here waiting pretty for some stranger to approach Will you knock down my walls and save me from grief? If ever you missed me, I really can’t blame you My camouflage is perfect in the midst of this glee I mean… Who would ever spot the darkness lying beneath? Everyone is bright enough to cover up my shadows But it’s there, Always there, I really hope it wasn’t. So my dear nobody, Are you coming, are you near? ‘Cause I need to know if I should keep waiting— This heart was once beating, but now it's turned cold.
I knew the thoughts of what could have been would haunt me for days to come. Still, I refuse to turn you into my greatest what if.
I wake up to the sound of your cello. It’s times like this when I realize how nice it was to be with a musician—it makes such mornings easier to deal with. Suddenly, temporarily, I forget the fight we had last night before going to bed. And you probably don’t know I’m awake yet, but I pretend to be asleep because I want to listen to you undisturbed. I smile to myself longingly. I know the tender way you’re holding your cello close to you right now. I know, because sometimes, I feel like you hold me like that. You make an instrument out of my heartstrings, and I imagine myself making a beautiful sound made by your wonderful fingers. I always think, how can someone with such gentle hands hurt me? But you do. There are days when I feel like I’m your broken symphony, causing the misery in your eyes. I see the blame, as if it’s my fault that this relationship is out of tune. Sometimes, you forget that you have the responsibility to make sure I’m in good condition. You leave me on the side of the room, collecting dust and rust from abandonment. Last night, I finally snapped. I screamed and yelled the words that cut you deep. I told you I was done, that I was over feeling sorry for myself. I realized that gone were the days when I was your sweet melody, a piece you have yet learned to play. You never are satisfied, when you play a note wrongly. You won’t stop playing it over and over again, until you have perfected the sound you want—even if your hands are already bleeding. But I should have asked you to stop. I should have told you I'm not an instrument to be played. My music is something the wind carries, free and unbound. But you completely forgot that’s the very reason why you want me in the first place. You trap me in the false promises of being fine-tuned into a better sonata. I’m sorry if I’m just one of your failed compositions. Deciding that it is time for me to go, I finally stand up and get out of your bed. I grab my coat and walk out to the door, attempting to softly open it so you won’t notice me leaving. But it creaks loud enough for you to hear anyway, and you stop playing your cello. You won’t even look at me, and I pretend that doesn’t hurt. My distance from the exit feels like a thousand miles away, and the silence prolongs it which we both despise. Still, I continue walking, dragging my feet one step at a time. But just when I’m about to leave, I swear I hear you say the words you should have told me last night. And it is the perfect last note for a masterpiece that’s ended.
