Musing no. 25: Hello, Wordsmith.

Words. I’ve always fallen for those so good with words. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I love to talk so much, that when someone else speaks I prefer to listen. But that has never benefited me, to be honest.

I dislike when people say things they don’t mean. They say things you want to hear, claim to be honest, then if they fall through–and you did expect them to–they say you have no faith. Excuse me. If I listened in the first place, then I’d have lost my soul already.

We sometimes forget how our words affect others; the way we say things and what our words mean can be totally different. Some may claim to be pleased doing this, some may lie about it. Whatever. You’re in charge of what you do and say to others at this point.

 

There will always be disappointment. You’re literally surrounded by liars. Family, friends, lovers, what-have-you… They all lie to you regularly. Hell, you even lie to yourself regularly. No, Janet, those pants do NOT accentuate your bum.

But my point is, don’t lie to yourselves. When you lie–self-righteousness like “I’m not the same person I was… I only deserve the best… I have to become better for you” type of crap–you don’t like to the other person. You lie to yourself. No, you don’t deserve the best, you can barely handle a real relationship. No, you are not the same person, but that same person makes you who you are, and you can’t really escape it. No, you don’t have to become better for me, you need to become better for someone better than me, because in your eyes I was not enough and I was flawed. THERE. Isn’t being honest SOOO much easier? Jeez.

 

I can not wait until I find someone I can speak to with any thought–no matter how shocking or appalling, how wondrous and amazing, how insane and inane, how beautiful and awesome. Time will come. I shall wait. I shall speak, and I shall be honest.

 

And. So. Should. You.

Musing no. 21: Broken-hearted 

Oh the Broken-hearted.

Spent their time pouring affection onto people who don’t reciprocate, or recognize that their feelings are genuine; that they just want someone to pour their heart into and love. 

And now they’re stuck hurting because people can’t love them the same way they expect. They expect. Don’t expect. 

It’s difficult when you spend a lot of time letting people know you care, that you’re always there, that time will pass but your emotions will be the same. And now you’re slowly going insane. Because they can’t do what you’ve intended for them to do. It isn’t fair to them; is it, to you?

We break our own hearts by handing them to people who can’t do the same for us.

No wonder some of us numb ourselves. 

It’s so easy to say, “don’t give up, love will come.”

It won’t. It never will. Some have to pursue it, and other times it just stays still. 

So then those who are trapped with nothing end up hating. Being miserable. Projecting hate onto those who don’t understand why. And yet we all sigh, we all sigh. 

So I’m tired. I’ll just be still.

And I personally accept the fact that I should just watch idly by. And not pursue. And not wait. And not expect, and not hate. I don’t know if I was made to have a mate.

If I end up alone, I guess I’ll be fine. 

No one wants to end up with a crazy; no one wants to be just mine.

Musing no. 14: Kintsugi

So I felt broken. I still feel that way sometimes. I felt I had it together, had the perfect everything. Everyone thought everything was going well for me. From the outside I was pristine.

From the inside I had cracks slowly breaking through the outside.

I tried to drown it with justification. I tried to blame myself. Actually, I blame myself. It’s mostly my fault anyway. 

I feel like I’m never enough. And when I begin saying this, I can tell what people hide. I can tell when you act differently around me. I can tell when the way you touch me is different, the way you look at me. The way you don’t look at me. Why don’t you look at me? I suffocate people. 

My concern for their safety suffocates people.

And it was broken. My giant dam of emotions broke. It poured out. I had no control. I broke down. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. I was tired. I was alone. I got given up on. I got given up on.

After pouring my heart, my wishes, my soul, my poetry, my desires, everything you would invest in someone who promises to love you the way you love them–it just all trickled down the drain. Forgotten, set aside, shoved aside.

And I broke. 

And I hurt.

And I felt alone.

And I was alone.
So I bring all my broken pieces back to God–again–for the ump-teenth time. And cry. At His feet. Because I gave my love to someone who didn’t love Him more than me. I need someone who loves God more than me, who wants to grow in faith with God with me, and seeks His will and doesn’t doubt it.

Someone who runs to God when he is hurting, because he knows humans will fail him; I need someone who won’t hurt me because he thinks the carnal desires that take over him are what makes him human. Yes, they are. But if you claim to have a relationship with God, why live like that?
I’m tired of dating. I’m tired of wishing to be with someone who reciprocates and loves me the way I love them.

So I’ll wait. 

Learned my lesson again. 

So this time, I’ll wait. 

Maybe my love will come back someday. 

Only heaven knows.
And my broken pieces will be fused back together with the sliver of gold that takes over because of the Love I can always hold onto. 

Musing no. 12: Prayers

Most of you don’t know I speak 4 languages. Only 4. I’m working on the other 6, since I do want to end up knowing at least 10 functional ones before I die.
But I pray in Ilocano. My language closest to my heart. Pray to the God who gives you love when all you feel for yourself is hate. 
He won’t let you be by yourself without His unending support and love. 

It sounds stupid, after wallowing in depression for almost 3 weeks. But I find my comfort in Him. ❤️
Humans will fail you, no matter who they are, they will. 

God. Will.

Never. Leave you.

Musing no. 11: Are you awake?

Hi, it’s me.

Today, I feel like I’ve lost my fight. It’s okay, I’ll finally have peace. I remember feeling this when I was 14. Nobody believed me, because he was blood. Relatives would never do that. Nope. Let’s still help him go to school. Let’s still feed him when he’s hungry. Let’s ignore the fact that our daughter is wanting to kill herself because this human-imposed “purity” was the basis of that of a fulfilling and honorable marriage. But let’s help the enemy instead.

I feel it again today, unfortunately. And this time, I’m by myself. No one listens to you anyway, so what’s the point in surrounding yourself with people who have no care except to promote their own well-being, when you’ve been selfless this whole time? When you’d drop everything in a heartbeat, travel to them in short notice, but you’re just a passing hobby that gets too complicated. So bye, “it’s not you, it’s me,” yet again. Laugh it out. It’s going to be the case anyway.

She’s always handing her heart to people who would receive it, but not give anything back.

You’ll pass. you’re just a game. Try to explain it, and you’ll go insane.

Just wake up. It’s all a bad dream.

 

Wake up, you’re by the river stream. Pick the right choices from there. Don’t pick that box up. Save your money. Don’t buy that knife. Don’t cut your hair. Be beautiful. Keep singing, never stop. Don’t drink that.

Keep reading.

 

Is it something you’d die for? I doubt that’s passion, that’s just sacrifice and a justification of what’s “right.”

Does it make your heart beat fast, dilate your pupils, excite you, beckons you where you get distracted for hours on end, without tiring? That’s it.

Wake up. It keeps you awake. Find something that makes you want to stay away.

Don’t go to sleep.

Rage against the dying of the light.

Musing no. 10: Don’t ask me how I’m doing.

You don’t listen anyway. 

I say, “I’m fine, everything is well. I haven’t had an episode in days!” Just to make you feel like you’re doing your “job” as a friend.

But when I don’t respond, or just look at you, you know there’s something wrong. Of course you change the subject right away, because what the heck did you get into, asking me how I was doing, right?

Ugh.

Why do we ask people, “How are you? How have you been?!” If we aren’t genuinely interested in knowing how they are doing? Why do we say self-serving statements in order to prevent us from looking indifferent and clueless–when that’s exactly what we are?

Well, I don’t know either. 

Don’t ask me how I’m doing. 

Look into my eyes, maybe. Understand that there’s pain. Understand that it’s not easy. Understand that even if I go La-La Land all the freaking time, I’m not okay. I’m trying to be positive and find the good; I find the good even in those who think they’re no good. 

Listen to what I’m not saying. 

Then you will understand how I’m really doing without you asking questions that don’t warrant an honest answer.