334 Days

Days and days of unforeseen warmth.

We adored each other for better or for worst.

We love each other until it worn us out

I tried fixing us, but you chose to give it up.

We built things out of uncertainty

And despite the lack of assurance

Both of us wanted that thrill.

But love, what has happened to us?

Why does it seem like it's easy for you to just throw me out?

To just give this out?

Haven't I given enough?

I wanted to think that it's for the best,

But how is it reasonable to leave someone when you're still in love?

You told me not to smoke And it's a promise that I broke. Fumes rushing within my lungs A buzz that killed one young Dopamine, nicotine, tar I had enough with putting it in a jar. Never-ending complex of array, A stick to cure my dismay.

Sight up—straight above.

I’d watch you as you observe the nightly sky.

Let me in, I’m knocking into your abstracts.

Guide me through your thoughts; I long for epiphany.

Ghost-like silence.

I feel my body trembles upon the darkness that lacks my sight. It was cold, yet I feel myself drowning in a pond of my sweat, immobilized thus unsteady. The silence within my room discerns that I’m next. The bad guy’s footstep stomped against the wooden floorings, indicating a rational distance that he’s close and could hurt me anytime soon.

Some pages from my writing notebook.

I'm somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to what my writings looks and it used to annoy me whenever I have to make some erasures to correct/change some words. Seeing the ink scribble around my notebook's pages just seemed to annoy me a lot so for years; I stopped writing my drafts on paper.

But as time goes, I began missing the feeling of what writing on a paper feels. At first the scribbled ink did annoyed me but little by little; I began seeing the beauty of it. It did looked dirty at first but the more you look onto it, the more you'll appreciate the improvements you make.

So that I'm able to express my innermost monologue.

they adore their mirror yet they won't see themselves clearer. exclaiming on those who refuse to agree biased praises--they profusely plea.

they are the ones that we shouldn't trigger.

Waves of Thought

It felt like being stuck in a time-loop within a time frame of one specific afternoon. A repeated case of never-ending sluggishness; with all my troubles piled and stacked up like a gigantic-sized Jenga. I would like to runaway and find a place like the beach—where I could relax my mind. I would watch the waves as it sweeps through the shore as I have my thoughts suppressed into the core.

he bombarded me with love

smothered me with blandishments

adored me for my skin

saw my juvenility as memento

They can be evil sometimes But you chose to stay with them. Just a sighting behind their shadows; You're in denial, yet overwhelmed.

You let them play your mind And test your patience up to its limit. You wanted them to stop Yet you hate feeling of being alone.

A mentality of gratitude over solitude You wish that one day they'll realize. You wanted to make feel But always you end up sobbing silently.

No one can hear you over that pain. With all of their actions, what have you gain? You attract bad people you thought were good. Are those your friends? I don't think so.

Anhedonia

I have never given much thought to how should I be feeling these days. It felt like a series of mazes; inhabited by motion sickness. I can no longer say that it's accompanied by idleness but rather: it's something that I can no longer hypothesize with a phrase.

In simple words: I'd describe it as not being able to enjoy everything you used to enjoy. Something that you once found pleasure in but is now something that you'd still do; only to end up peeving about it. Like a song that you'd play on repeat only to end up loathing it, in the long run.

Some would claim it was due to the effect of low dopamine. But what is it with dopamine that serves excess happiness to one's soul? Stupid as it gets, dopamine is just a neuromodulatory molecule that plays an important role in a person's brain--basically an organic form of drug that you can obtain and sell for free. Some reward that you can also get from some lone-time self-abuse (Euphemistically known as 'masturbation'.) But as harsh as it gets, at least you get to have some sort of self-gratification from an orgasm.

In the case of Anhedonia (which is something that I used to refer to as 'Melancholia'). Each day forces you to run on autopilot--as if life is just something that 'has to be done.' From how I understand it; it's like being stuck in a series of dull video game levels that you have to go through with the thought of being able to go through the 'exciting' part. Even so, just like some video game endings--you are left with disappointment. But unlike that video game, Anhedonia is something that's hard to terminate.

You want to destroy it--kill every traces of that creature that loves to agonize you. You wanted it to stop making you feel like shit thus it felt like it controls you as if it was the master organ of one's nervous system.

For once, you want to be happy.

But then, there's Anhedonia. A beast that won't hesitate to fuck you over.