A Star That Knows How To Wait

Warner is good,
Warner is great.
Warner knows why I’m always late…
He’s neither a crush nor someone I hate,
He’s a star that glows and knows how to wait.

“Stars are not here to be pretty,” he said.
“They’re here to guide us to what lies ahead.”
His words of truth remain with dread,
But lights me at night when I lie in bed.

He’s bossy, arrogant, and misunderstood;
A whisper at noon that searches the good.
Look at his eyes, they will tell you his mood.
He puts secrets in sleeves and trust in a hood.

His sword weighs too much, he’s anchored by the pain.
His body falters and drips with disdain.
He sees everyone taking two steps away,
He’s a thought—a clamor—with nothing to say.

Warner laughs when I tell him my dreams.
When he smiles, he can’t see I’m at the seams.
Warner has a voice that beats the sun’s gleam,
I think he’s the captain of the football team.

Warner hears muffled voices and a cry,
He sings to the trees asking for a reason why.
He laughs at his own joke and will look to the sky.
He’s a bird with broken wings, still learning how to fly.

You feel too much, young girl.
Nobody ever fathoms the shallow sense of emotion you have.
They all look at you with amusement and pity;
whoever notices seems apathetic anyway.
You are in your self destruct mode,
please do not go haywire there.
Because they will not care
or will be too busy to even see.
You are not alone, young girl,
but others are hard to find.
They crawl beneath their own skins
to satisfy the guilt of being alive.
They scream in shades of fervor and anguish,
but you see, others don’t listen
even if their tear-filled eyes continues to glisten…
just like you, they retreat in their shells.
Stop asking why, young girl.
They do not feel what you feel because you are special,
and you deserve to be punished
for being who you are.
Yes, they see that rope too.
Don’t be afraid to wear it,
no one will ever notice even a bit
of how swiftly this will go.
Alas, they will now be asking questions, young girl.
And then they will suddenly care.
And then blame themselves for not realizing
how you were so different
and special
and unique.
They will put on their plastic frowns—
the same ones they wear twice a week.
After the years have passed they will not have known,
how you cared so much
you’ve seen the trees full grown.
They will visit just to say sorry and sorry and sorry
but it will be too late.
You once tugged your brother at the hem
and you feel nothing now, just like them.
Aren’t they proud?

Blue

When the music starts,
it doesn’t feel like something nice.
The trees say hello
but the doors bang louder.
It keeps on telling you
you can’t
because you’re blue,
you’re blue,
you’re blue.
The tides splash in unison
that swallow you whole
down the seabed,
around the ocean floor.
When you tell yourself it’s time you do,
they remind you that  you’re blue you’re blue you’re blue.

The streaks of your long, vibrant hair
fall under your lower hip.
But why do you sell yourself short?

The color of your eyes begins to fade
and your life has been miserable for the past decade.
When the only person you can trust
is you,
it’s hard to forget
the blue,
your blue,
you’re blue.

(Artist yet unknown)

You are afraid.

“You are afraid to be beaten, to show up unprepared, and to lose in the only game you were winning in. You hate it. You suffer from a creative constipation and you don’t know how to get rid of it. It carries an unwanted feeling that itches inside, and the ticking of the clock reminds you that it can fly right between your eyes. You don’t want to give up. You don’t want to settle for less. Because you know you can do this. You know that when you stumble, you can rise up again. You don’t want to pressure yourself, so don’t. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody learns the hard way. You need to set it all free. Remember the days when everything around you inspires you. Remember every little detail of your favourite song, or movie, or book. Remember everything that once inspired you. Because I’m telling you, if you don’t show your ass up tomorrow, or if you show your ass up tomorrow with an unfinished or not memorized speech, I can guarantee that you will regret it your whole life. Do things your future self will thank you for. Isn’t that what you used to tell yourself when you were feeling so lost? So go and do it. You cannot just sit there and wait for the perfect moment to happen to you. Go ahead and make it. Be resilient. Be confident. There’s no one else I know that can do this but you.”

Shizama Utami, “A letter I wrote to myself”

Not

She doesn’t usually get why she feels like she’s never good enough most of the time.
But sometimes she does.
And when she does, the ground shakes. She falls. Her hands clasp and unclasp. She somehow feels like she’s been shredded to even smaller pieces because she knows she just glued her tiny parts which were broken before. When she does, she understands why he abandoned her in the middle of the road in the middle of the night. She fathoms the questions she always asks herself. Why he sends broken promises as his parting gifts and why she lets him. Now she gets why after she mends his ripped tapestry, he immediately bids her goodbye. Why she accepts him with open arms every time he comes back after he leaves. Why he doesn’t need to explain to her his side. Why she loves the mixture of his personality with a rebellious view of the world. Why looking at his eyes are enough. She understands everything- why she fell, why she keeps coming back, why Natalie chose Keith when she has Raphael.
But what she doesn’t know is that the problem isn’t her, it’s him and his blindness.
He doesn’t see the art that flows through her veins. He doesn’t appreciate the magic that sparks between her teeth when she laughs and when the dimple on her right cheek comes out. When he looks at the night sky, there are thousands of lights glimmering above, unable to distinguish which are stars, meteors, satellites, and airplanes. But when he sees a star in front of him, he focuses his attention on a satellite. It’s not her fault why she doesn’t have a face as lovely as a perfectly roasted marshmallow in the bonfire. She knows that no one likes it that her face is not fragile because it shows her stern, resilient personality. No one recognizes the worth of her smiles. He doesn’t see that deep inside, she’s a castle of glass… too easy to break.
She
isn’t
good
enough.
And sometimes knowing that is enough.

m x

(image from deviant artist cartoongirl7)

She is us.

Picture this.
The sun is ready to envelop the whole town with the morning breeze. For a great way to end the summer, they decided to wander around the town and get out of their comfort zones. That’s what they’re all searching for, isn’t it? Adventure.
She takes his hand, he takes her heart.
When she looks into his eyes, she doesn’t seem scared. He makes her feel better just by being there. That’s why she always craves for his presence. He reminds her of a cozy place she used to go, back in her days as a child. He reminds her of home.
 Tick-tock.
How could she forget? They’re not supposed to last forever. It’s a summer fling. Time observes them in a complicated strategy, patiently waiting to tear them apart. Their hands remain intertwined for the rest of the hour. She laughs at their silly mistakes, their inside chemistry jokes, and the way their hands sweat. But whenever she looks at him, there it is again, his impeccable smile that never fails to take her breath away. It’s like she’s falling into this vast crevasse with nothing to hold on to, but she falls anyway. She doesn’t have a care in the world. Why would she when he’s there?
 Tick-tock.
She feels something slowly sliding away from her. She shivers. Those hands that used to give her warmth suddenly becomes ice cold. The coldness runs through her body. All at once she feels oblivious to her surroundings. It’s like everything is being taken away from me, she thought. Well, except for two things; a heart colder than ice, and a pair of eyes that are starting to fill up with tears.
 Tick-tock.
Their time is over. She watches him leave. Drifting farther away from her as the wintery air kicks in. He doesn’t even turn back to give her a quick goodbye. He doesn’t give her the last chance to hear his contagious laugh. He leaves so fast she could feel her broken pieces scattering once again. No letters, no signs, no anything. He just left. He left her hanging. He left her with a defeated heart. That’s when the tears come. That’s the moment where she stands in the middle of the bridge with loneliness as her only companion. And now the one she loves the most causes her so much pain. The irony of life hits her in the eyes. She wants to fall, but she can’t. She’ll drown in the water.
Everything she sees turns into the hue of darkness.
Then she gets confused. She thought that the world is losing its light, but the truth is she’s just going blind. Sometimes, there are painful situations that trigger her emotional imbalance.

Perhaps her eyes need to be washed by her tears so that she could see life with a clearer view again.

(The last sentence is a literary work from Alex Tan. Artwork by Soltreis)

The cupid doesn’t want his arrows back

I don’t know how destiny finds its way. I’m utterly perplexed by how this world works, with all its monotonous twist and turns. I predict everything, that in the end it’ll be the people we love that will break us. Strangers to friends is a never ending cycle, or that’s what I thought. I remember I shouldn’t be feeling this. I’m a mess, remember? I get exhausted mentally and physically every day. I was supposed to be good at staying alive. I was supposed to conceal the hurt I tuck inside the corners of my mind. I was supposed to end the flush of circulating blood in my body.
But now I hear the trees sing.
They whisper to me with such sounds I haven’t heard in a long time, and they never forget to include his name in their melody. He came out of the blue to claim his throne, moving me with his remarkable wit. I have a theory that our souls are drawn to each other from the beginning. We were living inside each other’s subconscious minds all along. And now that I finally found what I didn’t know I was looking for, I’m stupefied.
When he sees this, he’ll smile. He’ll feel the same way I felt when I saw his post. Doesn’t he know that since I met him, my life has changed? He hoists me up. I remember that there are countless of times that I let him see my bad sides. I always expect that sooner or later, I’ll be left hanging alone. These are side effects of my chosen melancholy. But instead of turning away, he stays. He wants me to become the best version of myself. He doesn’t demand. And if I’d be given a chance to go back in time, I wouldn’t. Because love finds its way through the steepest cracks of life. And maybe it’s a little late for us to get along, but I still wouldn’t have it any other way.
So I thank him for making me believe and hope again.

To him: This is a black and white world, and we’re in screaming colors. (Wag kang kiligin.)