Do you sometimes stop and feel the rain touch your face?
However, looking up you saw a clear sky, cloudless heaven and the bright sun glaring, like a sarcastic remark on your feelings.
You half expect people to stop and offer you an umbrella
But, you forgot no one dies from rain, unless it is your fire that’s underwater.
Everybody’s walking yet, you still stood there.
Waiting for the imaginary rain to stop.
For the imaginary hands to hold you.
For something to make sense.
Like a movie, a moving panaroma of the world sliding out of your mind
You are the actor playing the greatest role invented.
Bite your tongue, right foot forward, left foot, right foot. Remember the steps to the choreographed dance,
now more fluid, let your self relax to the lies.
Walk again, wipe the rain from your eyes. Put the grin back on. We’re on a tight schedule, a decade less til the encore
You were awkwardly beautiful that day. Every word you spoke felt like howls. I did not know where that refined savagery came from.
You speak of things simple minds think as just stories and tales.
But, I heard you. I listened and felt the narrative dripping from your fangs. Those tasty gore you live for.
They thought it was a play.
I know that was your history. Your life. Stripped for all to see. Decorated with the carcass of a once glorious culture. But still, Atlantis sunk.
They were mesmerized with your poetry. Vibration of your voice resounds the home you’ll never see. Your pitch was so sullen and haunting, I can still feel the chill.
When you looked back on that day, did you see the burnt bridges and the dried tears etched in the ground?
Did you get to smell the smoke? Remember it burning your lungs and kissing your lips. Does it cloud your eyes? Follow the ashes – the only reminder of what used to lay there.
Come back to us. What do you see? What do you hear?
Only glazed memories, thrown into the deep. You smile as it reflect the sky, your feelings, yourself.
All the audience witnessed was incoherent sound coming out of a troubled soul. They saw insanity. I saw it too, and it was beautiful.
It’s on the job description of every friends to keep secrets. They do have the uncouth privilege to taunt you with it every time they see an opening, take it as a payment for keeping the skeletons. But even with the strongest bond of friendship, you still have that one secret you can’t admit to them. And it goes way beyond the weight of wetting your bed when you were five, or getting a boner in church. They became strangers.
Coincidentally, it is much easier to tell and pour all of our deepest dark secrets to a nameless face, a stuffed toy or dirty laundry. Anonymity becomes our trusted friend. (more…)
O is for OK
A new battle begins, as it is a new day
Against sorrows and fears that won’t go away
As you are pushed and tossed into the fray
Just smile and not worry because you’ll be O.K.
Be careful what you wish for
Always mean what you say
Mind not what they see in you
You know yourself either way
Find no joy in others’ ordeal
And help them find their way
For as you are pushed and tossed into the fray
Just smile and not worry because you’ll be O.K.
Laugh as if your last, cry if need be
Ease yourself and into my arms you lay,
Know your limits, understand that you are free
To learn and express, what it is you wish to say
And as long as you are pushed and tossed into the fray
Just smile and not worry because you’ll be O.K.
L is for Laughter
If laughter is the best medicine and an apple a day keeps the doctor away? Then would a laughing apple be potent enough to cure cancer?
Well it would be an upgrade to Annoying Orange.
We all have friends who make us spontaneously combust with laughter when you’re in the same breathing space. That’s why they become a dangerous combination with you in the worst place to laugh like (more…)
I is for Insanity
(Some bad things in here. Finally got the courage to post this. *deep breath*)
Crazy that’s what I’m afraid being labelled with. I was eighteen years old when I met my first psychiatrist. I didn’t even know where I am at the moment I was there. I can grasp so little in my head, the train of thought I was in was jumping all over the place and that focusing was an unpleasant task. Heck I don’t even know how I can remember those things. My mind was clogged with all the paranoia and fear that I don’t even know what day it was. I was a train wreck; pieces littered the street waiting to be burned. With all the voices in my head commanding and upbraiding my actions, it was very hard not to be confused. I sat at an office don’t know what I’m waiting for, along with my elder sisters. It was the first of many sessions.
The first symptoms of my illness showed its ugly face at the age of sixteen; I was hearing voices, I found out later that it was called auditory hallucination. At first it was just comments about the people around me, telling me things and criticizing people. Then it became demanding, aggravating me to no end. I didn’t confide with my siblings, thinking they would just shrug it off and blame me for just being weird; my parents are not living with us, as they are at the province. I tried to hide this to everyone. Tried.
I was scared and had no idea what was happening to me. Fighting this losing battle, I got worse. Voices in my head keep calling out. There were many times I don’t know what are real voices and the one inside my head. I started to alienate myself in class; I sometimes resort in skipping class just to appease the turbulent voices. I had my own world and spent many times at sea on it.
My grades was terribly affected by my illness, skipping class was no help. I was having trouble concentrating on class, and I was at lost in almost all of my subjects. I was plagued by the voices in my head. I could not get some sleep. It would be a lucky night if I could doze off at four a.m. My grades started to fall, my guilt of failing is killing me and the voices are at peak.
I was terribly depressed and found my way into cutting, I was terrified to cut myself. The fear was outweighed by the incessant coaxing of the voices, the first slash on my arm was just superficial just enough to bleed. The pain muffled the voices and my sadness momentarily. The bliss of being free of the demons in my head was refreshing. I resolute on mutilating to quiet the voices down. I would have six or more slashes on both arms each other day. The euphoria only lasted so short.
My siblings start to notice the slashes on my arms, I told them about the voices that I am hearing. At first they taught I was on drugs. But after a while they considered the possibility that something may be wrong about me that I might need help. Telling them felt like the weight on my chest was mislaid, I don’t have to pretend I am fine every time. But the fear being tagged as crazy is still there. I refuse to believe that I am crazy and that I am mentally ill. I was so terrified they would lock me up to hospital to rot. I would not be institutionalized! Luckily they see it like I do, so I would like to think. I agreed to go to a psychiatrist, but not to the hospital.
Fast forward to now and 2 different diagnoses later ( hoping for the lesser evil, *depression*) I’m still holding on, keeping a tight grip on my sanity.
The world being overrun by zombies is not far off. No need for nuclear fallout or a brain virus to infect the human race. Media and Pop Culture is doing well in turning people to mindless drones eating away life.
Evolved from the typical brain eating zombies to a different class of mindless bodies that we see, they are more resistant to cure, spreading the contagion without even taking a chunk of flesh. The worst thing is aiming for the head is not an option.
Here are few types of zombies you might recognize.
- SMART PHONE ZOMBIES
You can easily distinguish this type of zombies by the trademark phone magically glued to their hand. Taking pictures of their meal and posting it on social media is common ritual. They have the tendency in seeing the event in the lens of their phones rather than enjoying the moment in real time. Follow, click, like is its daily routine. It stalks its prey in Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and other social media platforms. To communicate with this type of zombies, medium through texts and other applications is highly effective. Do not in any case touch the phone without permission, reading messages in their phone will guarantee an untimely demise.
- VANITY ZOMBIES
Armed with layers and layers of protective gear this zombies main line of defense is their designer clothes, animal tested make-up and hard -toned bods. Filling the vast void of emptiness with everyone’s admiration is a need. Weighing every calorie that enters their system, you can see how hollow they are. Do not taunt with their obvious insecurities, they will chew and spit you out like a tasteless gum.
- PLAY HARD ZOMBIES
They are like amphibians, living on different planes, the virtual reality and the boring reality. Immersing on the virtual plane gives them the high of being anything and anyone aside from their plain old self. Can be seen staring all day in front of a computer or a gaming console. Turns into a normal functioning citizen when in downtime (game is under maintanenace). Turns into a debater in a game forum and can be strongly agitated when called with the taboo word “NOOB”.
There are several more types of zombies lurking in every corner. Wasting away life, marching through the streets with glazed eyes reflecting emptiness. Are you one of THEM?
When I look back at my old writings, I cannot help but laugh at my outlook on life back then. Not just a laugh, mind you, a full blown LMFAO. I thought those awkward teenager phases were a myth, that there is no way, what I was feeling back then was just an effect of my hormonal imbalance body. I was a mess back then, so screwed up that its aftereffect is still haunting me. Ha! I was so dark back then; I swear I don’t have a shadow. Here is a drabble from 2009.
Death is an awfully magnificent thing, isn’t it? It’s a loop hole in this god-forsaken-hell-game we called life. If our body is just prison to our soul, (if you have one) then dying would be like getting out from the jail card in this game.
Isn’t it ironic to live just to die, at the end of the day everything you’ve done doesn’t matter, the hard work, the money, your fucking grades it all adds up to nothing. We’re all in a waiting room. Anticipating for our turn, knowing nothing about what lies beyond the vast ocean of oblivion. What we do in this life is just a distraction to keep ourselves occupied until the inevitable claims us.
The acuity of death is contorted by the shallow mind of man; the misery, suffering; loss and pain that it entails are what man dreads for. Ignorance and not knowing what is outside our consciousness is a mine of fear.
Humanity fears what he doesn’t comprehend; it’s a basic survival instinct that is embedded in our genes. Curiosity is a bitch, and we’re it’s.. We destroy what we can’t tame, and hold terror on what is predestined. Death is a trivial matter; the perception of it is extremely exaggerated to fantasy.
It’s really simple. People live then die, and it’s the way things are in reality. It is bound to happen. What’s beyond death is a matter of belief, and what is the perception of the individual on it. This assures the restless mind of man
.It would be hypocritical of me to say to live your life to fullest, which is so cliché in so many ways, so then…. just pretend to live, and then drop dead.
It’s funny, right? I thought so too. Reading this again makes me want to go back in time and punch myself square in the face.
What would you give up for eternal youth or to reverse the hands of time? Its mind boggling to see how an intangible thing, a concept so basic has so much power over us. No matter how much effort we exert, we cannot put back the sands of the unforgiving time.