Category: random feels

Period.

I’m in love with my bed. Or at the moment just the sheet. It was washed and tumble-dried and I still remember how toasty it was last night. I didn’t think about my sleeping position, I just wanted to go fetal and let go. And I was rewarded. I had candied-dreams last night. The kind that you can hold in your hand as if they are cute little jewels that are wrapped in even cuter wrappers. I didn’t even mind having to wake up to change my un-sanitary pad in the middle of night.

But the wind, oh the wind, or rather the air. It’d been blowing the whole night and well into noon while I’m still in bed (because I can’t bring myself to leave). The air is fragrant, like how it was long ago, like how it should be. There was no sound of traffic for the longest time, so the air remains unpolluted, undisturbed. It caresses me with its gentleness and its scent. And I remember…

Outside of the window, the occasional courting birds hide under the fruiting tree, and the feasting butterflies picking out the rotting fruits on the ground. My roaming eyes seek them out, while my body, my sensitive body like my sensitive nose picks up the friction from the sheet and the air. It is good to have a body. Even a bleeding one. I cuddle with the sheet, bunch them up and hold them close to my bosom, as one would with a loved one. For my body is in love with the bed, as my mind is in love with the moment. I can’t bring myself to leave.

Across the street, balloons decorate a neighbor’s front yard, “15”, big and red. Do I want to be 15 again? No. If I’m in peace at this moment, all the moments before led me to this. I can have no regrets. But cake, mmmm, cake. I wonder if I will leave this bed, this moment for another moment with the half eaten cake in the fridge…

Sunset diamonds.

Sunset diamonds
through the leaves,
there’re millions of you,
make me dream.
Through the fruits ripe
and the butterflies’ wings,
intricate webs,
a blissful paradise.
Like honey-white gold,
but no,
quick-silver
until
chances maybe:
another angle,
another glimpse.
Fleeting.
Sunset such as this,
priceless diamonds indeed.

To the swells.

I miss that feeling I get when I’m in the middle of the ocean, and the tides and the undercurrents are at odds working together. I get scared and exhausted. I remember that feeling.

Then it’s time to learn what’s wrong with that. Why I can’t just let it go and not worry about the future. Things become predictable, or appear to be so.

Waiting for the bubble to burst. Too scared to do it myself. Who am I to demand and claim? Even myself?

I try difficult things to beat myself down. “See? You can’t succeed. You don’t have what it takes.” Eyes on the prize. Keeping things outside.

Have I grown up? Am I still that child trapped? What should I do?

TIL.

I was raised by parents
that were disturbed,
emotionally abusive
though they truly love me.
It doesn’t make it easier
or less confusing.
Was it OK to push them away?

It hurts knowing I couldn’t help.
It hurts watching them
hurt themselves.
Getting crushed by this
tense atmosphere of
“Wrong! Wrong!! Wrong!!!”,
learned to maintain
my sanity at all cost.

Shut the door,
shut the window,
don’t let it show.
It’s no use, I can’t
break them outta their own hell.
Was it selfish to keep my distance
while I was so weak & lost?

I can’t stay still
my heart hurts.
Where is my heart?
I can’t find it.
I’ve hidden it too well.

What of death?

My left lung feels like there’s lead in it. My head is not clear, my effort at paying attention comes and goes. No, I don’t have that one, but some other one. Is this what fading feels like?

I lay on the bed, looking through the window. The world is the same, starkingly beautiful. Yeh, I know that’s not a word. I don’t care. I’m tired of googling things. I’m tired.

Oh, yeh, I look through the window, into the sky, into the white patch that’s covered by 5% of my eyes, the mind makes up the rest. I notice the light’s fading in and out, in and out. I get curious, so maybe this is what dying feels like?

When the lung is not working properly, nothing much goes. I wonder if the lack of oxygen coursing through the body will make people stupider. But no, people are plenty stupid already. Case in point.

Is it my fault? What’s happening now? Did I wish for it? Is it a wakeup call? A cleansing? Nature’s thriving again. The seeds must be sowed, for the future. Why should I care?

I’m not afraid of death. I often say it would solve all my problems. That doesn’t stop me from romanticizing it though. Isn’t that what we do? Chocolate, sex, glitters, death.

I’m afraid of living with no purpose. And since I’m still breathing, with one lung, or 1 1/2, the work is not done.

All is well. Whatever that means.

Charged.

You’re so beautiful, my tree.
Shiny, stark, sparkling crystals at the top.
The sun’s setting soon
and I share your yearning.
But you are also patient.
One minute is one day,
with one purpose:
to harvest the air & the soil,
to fill the world with rhythms & stories,
to stand alone.
Do you feel pain,
or just the absence of something,
a need to be filled?
Do you strive because of it?
Is there a reason that
your roots are clenching the stones?
Do you aid the worms?
Do you plant the springs?
Will you ever stop?
Have you ever dreamt?
Do you breath with your whole being?
Or just, as much as you can?
Is it because life is calling?
Especially when the light is fading?
Pretty soon it will all be silence,
not even the birds would sing.
You keep on breathing
in the darkness
one breath to the next.

To an actor.

Aren’t your exhausted
selling what you haven’t got?
Or just a bit of who you are,
but really no one gives a fuck?
You’re the money-maker,
the signage to the gift-shop.
Or maybe you’re the main attraction
who wonders when the time’s gonna be up.
All the fine details few can afford,
not sure should celebrate you or leave you alone.
Baby, it’s lonely in a crowd.
Every one needs something something, a lot.
How much are you willing to give to please?
Your time, your life, your peace, your god?
For the sake of a polaroid undeveloped?
Someday, somewhere when the lights come on,
will you be there or will it be someone else?