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. 24: Homebound

As some of you already know, I am headed back to Canada tomorrow to take care of family. I initially just wanted to dip out, and not tell anyone about it, but I need you all to understand something.

I’m here for whoever needs someone to rely on, talk to, confide in, and comfort them. Most of you know that. I just ask two things of you—please say a prayer for my family. Please pray for healing, and that we get through our trials.

The other thing I am asking for you to do, is to love those around you. You don’t know the struggles they’re facing, no matter how happy they seem on the outside. Help them even just by checking up on them. I have friends who know me so well that they check up on me every day, even when everything is seemingly fine. I have friends who feed me when they can tell I haven’t been eating and I’ve lost my appetite (Ronald, I see you!). But PLEASE, be kind to each other. Be kind to those you encounter. No matter how annoying you think they are, you don’t know if you’re the one inspiring them to follow their passions and end up making a big difference in the world. You’re capable of being kind—use it.

I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back, but I am aiming for before the beginning of the Fall semester. I still have unfinished business to deal with here.

If no one else around you is kind, be the difference. It’s so easy to be apathetic and dismissive of people in this city; it’s also easy to just be considerate and helpful. Don’t break hearts. Mend them. Don’t hurt souls. Inspire them.

And again, be kind. Coz Lo told you so. 🙂 ❤

Musing no. 22: Lullabies

When I was a toddler, my mom said I would pat my bum and lull myself to sleep, as if my parents were doing it. I needed that comfort of being able to sleep in a way that I am most comfortable with. I would even hum to myself, as if I were singing myself to sleep.

As a teenager, I remember singing myself to sleep while wishing I was back in my country the 2.5 years I spent outside of it. While crying.

As an adult, I rock and sing and cry myself to sleep, but doing these don’t work anymore. Do you think it matters that I can’t sleep? Yep.

But why am I wide awake at this time of night? Oh, it’s morning. 0401 to be exact. I wasn’t meant to be on this side of the planet. So the goal is to go back where I belong.

 

Sometimes Life gives you a giant reality check and hits you with all types of maladies in the different facets and connections in your life, and it just brings you to your knees. I respect life. I just wish things went well, for once.

If I passed away right now, what they’ll find are empty water bottles, clothes I haven’t folded, books I’ve been dying to read, photographs I’ve taken, letters I’ve written, things I’ve sketched, and my dead, naked body. I don’t know if that’s even of any concern. In fact, I doubt anyone I know knows.

Ugh no, I am not taking my own life. I just like to imagine life without me, and how easier it would be for other people if I weren’t around.

 

Maybe I’ll just move to a country where nobody knows me.

Maybe thinking of that will give me sleep. Sleeps are mini-deaths anyway.

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. 20: Emanating

Any emotion one feels emanates. 

You can see it in my eyes. You can see it on my smile. Whether it be joy, sadness, pain, or excitement, you feel it by observing.

And yet all I feel is a void that’s missing feeling. It’s numb. It lingers from inside your chest, out into your arms, your forearm, your wrist. It takes over your hand, and your fingers feel warm at the tips. I feel it, and I hate it. 

My dad was right. I need to stop being too happy because everything will be balanced out with pain. 

But now I can’t genuinely enjoy joy, or peace; I await the arrival of sadness and chaos. How morbid. Don’t be like me. 

I have 5 layers of blankets. It’s summer. It simulates a hug. Simulates comfort. An embrace that I may not ever find. By inanimate objects that can’t rewind. 

Don’t be stuck in my mind, it’s no fun there. Everyday is a struggle to have fun. Everyday is not a fairytale. Thanks for telling me that, &$)@. 

I’ll just go to sleep. Sleep usually fixes it. Usually. Fixes. It.

Musing no. 19: Freedom

What is freedom?

What does it entail? Does it mean you are genuinely free from that which enslaves you? Or is it just an illusion that keeps you in chains in a way that makes you think you’re in control?

Is freedom being by yourself, or having the ability to enjoy whatever state you’re in?

Is freedom being surrounded by people who feel the same, or being secure in your solitude?

Is freedom the ability to travel, when you could enjoy what’s around you without cost?

Is freedom your ability to speak without hindrance, or the ability to speak and not hurt anyone with your words?

 

What is it?

Is it defined by someone else telling you what you need to do to feel free, or is it defined by your ability to decipher that which benefits you most?

Is it a way for you to practice your “free-ness” by not being tied down to one person, and just jump from one to another on a whim?

Is it really freedom when you confine yourself in a belief solely yours?

I don’t know either.

 

I think true freedom is found when you have peace with what you do, and don’t hurt those around you; and yet find fortune in what’s within, what’s surrounding, those who are there, those who are everywhere. And you feel love and are able to love–without holding back. THAT is freedom.

 

 

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. 9: I should just be alone.

The sun is out, shining its brightest. It’s 72 degrees in New York City. I’m sitting in a room full of people taking exams. 

I am paying attention to them, and paying no attention to them. 

I like my interactions with these people. Some of them I won’t see ever again, and I’m alright with that. But why am I here?

Because I need to make ends meet, so I’m working on a Saturday. At my third job. 

I could just complain more and blah blah blah, but I’m honestly just very lethargic. Days like these are when I wish I were just laying down on my bed, reading a book, sleeping, just laying down, catering to my tired-ness while I waste away.

Just kidding.

But seriously. 

All I ever wanted was to be loved and Be accepted for who I am, no matter how broken and screwed up I am. I’m working on it, I promise. Everyone just leaves because they automatically think people should be  finished and shiny. They forget that if you’re human, you’re a constant work of art, an oil painting that can numerously be modified and changed and improved and destroyed. And destroyed.

But hey, I don’t know how to deal with myself either. 

I feel like checking out sometimes. 

I heard it’s surreal. I heard it’s peaceful. 

I want that.

But not today, it seems.