thoughts Archives - Page 9 of 13

the deafening of a heartbeat.

Reading Time: 8 minutes

ie: something that we have come to be familiar with in so many ways.

We are used to the dawning of hope, inceptions of promise — something bland and stupid like love or things that last. Let me tell you that we have seen little bits and pieces of the end, captured the procurement of nihilism and antagonistic self-hatred. We are the beginning of the end, in the stories that should have never been told.

i. in the coffee shop. her name is scrawled on, it is generic and placid — just as the life that is reaming within the lines of creamer. her order was taken wrong but she doesn’t say anything against it; the apron-donned mass serves it with apathy, accent ridden from the dwellings of a hundred miles over. stir, the window is tinged with a hue of emerald. stir, the marbling of the floor reminds her of the corner tile she had grown to memorize in her mother’s home. stir, the eyes of the lone student in the corner are as brown as the earth, downtrodden with the miserly await of the future. they are just as scared as she is, she proclaims in her mind. tap, the liquid flickers and stains cream white tops, antiquated floral transparencies fly off from seams of lace and string. the humming of the air conditioner overpowers her mind. the apronness harbinger shifts from corner to corner, and she thinks she has counted the number of bricks on the back wall completely right this time — 152.

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December 16, 2016 4 Comments

a self-orchestrated, half-drunken ramble towards demise

Reading Time: 3 minutes

when i was a kid i used to pray every single night.

it went something like this:

in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, god i love everything. i love all the galaxy and the universes and the stars and the sun and the moon and the planets and the earth and the clouds and the rain and the trees and the dogs and the rollercoasters and the books and the oceans and the sea and the lighthouses and all the food and the people who make the food and the dust and the grass and the rice and the eggs and the houses and the doors and the beds and my grandfather and my grandmother and my yaya and my cousins and mommy and my daddy and my sister and myself. bless us all. i am sorry for everything bad i have done, please help me get better always since i love getting better. i love the world i want to be better. please help me. i hope tomorrow goes well. thank you for tomorrow.”

it would drift off into incomprehensiblity but the start always remained the same; me proclaiming my love for everyone as a gesture of… pure passion.

of course, i stopped praying every night. i realized that it stopped as soon as the nightmares decreased. praying always gave young me the most fucked up, inexplicable nightmares. the kind of visuals you’d have to paint to describe. when pen-and-paper plus frantic teary-eyed whimpering confessions just aren’t enough.

of course, i stopped believing in god after a while. perhaps it was a mix of how i felt the need to grow up being that ‘edgy, different, one of the boys’ girl and blindly follow tons of things. (the internet, particularly a 9gag post told me that old music was cool. they listed down shit like the beatles and nirvana and metallica and i tried to listen to it and claimed to love it when i didn’t know anything i was talking about. pop music is a sin of course.) and soon i lost the religion in the school classroom and became a frustrated beacon of injustice when i began realizing the dangers of a god.

idk. he’s all evil. someone changwd the course of history and that’s pretty cool, it fucked ip the social sustem, fuxk organizing us by tracked ways.

what im trting to say is. god fuckwd us ip. the world is going to ruin. i have destroyed society in the confines of my own mattress laying in the corner and crying into gifted toys.
what im alao trying to say is: ive had leas than two hours of sleep in the past three days. im a mess. had so much coffee thought i was gonna die, complete witb the buzzing and the palpitations and the impending doom. idk what im typing anymore. but hwre: fuck you.

(can you believe it? we’ve sunk so far into the sea we feel like we’ve found ourselves. we haven’t. we’ve reached the bottom of every crevice and the delusions of every maniac. we are still falling, plummeting, and we call ourselves explorers. we’re dying. have you noticed that. i haven’t seen the west coast since the birth of the sunrays itself. i haven’t been one with the clouds since the dance of icarus with the scorching sun. we do not love in purity, nor in peace. we love in anchors that drag us down, splitting our beliefs and forgetting everything we stand for. we love in whispers and drunken promises that never really happen, we love in lust and we love in fury just like how the sun loves us all. echoing. beckoning. it is there, but we do not feel its full force. and if you were to love me like the sun, don’t love me at all. love me in a supernova, love me in an explosion, love me for an instant — if only that instant was an eternity of emotions and feeling. if you love me, love me like i am something more than a walking grave. love me like i am your only chance at life, or better yet — like i am the sweet taste of death that countless little boys and girls pray for. love me for a moment, if only that moment were a forever.)

— then i’d take it.

October 16, 2016 Add Comment

Reading Time: < 1 minute

im probably not good at anything but memorizing song lyrics

it’s scary once they can really be applied to your life

i try and understand experiences and walk in footsteps of people who i have never met, people who ripped out their past for money and fame and an apartment in the middle of the city where they can lie to themselves about what feels like living

i’ll never understand until i experience the words. twist overanalyzed wishes when they were just stories and games

one day i swore id write my own. be a poet for the masses. the song you hum at the corner of the pew while you pretend to believe in all there is

no more sorrys. i understand why people write music. i understand that we are all one and the same.

if you know youre wrong why dont you just say it

and if you want to sing why pretend that you would do it for me

and if on that day the beating sun scorched us and warned me of the months to come, the rust enthralled itself on my knuckles and told me that id cry on the car ride back but its alright. the voices there will tell you you are nothing so often you begin to drown it out. you look past everything but can only look in front of you, your worst fucking habit.

and if on that day i understood, i would have sung a different song. but we are all pieces and fragments. all chances.

ill hear a real voice out there. one day. i havent found mine. its a shame, ive reserved so much love for it.

x

ps i dont blame you for being you but you cant blame me for hating it

September 19, 2016 Add Comment