Something To Read When You Feel Like Your Life is Too Messy

At times like these, we just all wish we had a rewind button. But rewind button is too cliché. And if you had one, you’d go far back as to your, I don’t know, birth? That is because you don’t ever remember having experienced pain, hurt, fear, and heartache. Also the thing about life is an awful roller coaster ride, with ups and downs. Sometimes it just happens that you’re down there too long that no matter how patient you are in waiting to get to the good part, climb up, that you just want to get off the ride because it’s so boring.

Life gets so boring, you wonder why you’re still given the time and space in this world, in this life.

So we either do two things. One, we find plenty of ways to regain that feeling, or any feeling at all. We go through such lengths that involve the unusual, the bizarre, and then the uncharacteristic and sometimes immoral/illegal. The crazy lengths we have to go through makes everyone else put a distance from you, or worse, condemn and ostracize you. Honestly, you’d rather they just leave you alone than tell you what to do with your life. If you wanted help, you would have asked, right?

And second, you get so tired of it all that you just want to end it.

Everyone knows those two things, but there was that one obvious answer we often forget in which we really need.

You just need to rest. What we need is a pause button.

Whether it be a vacation, a retreat, or a simple timeout. Hell, it can even be a small bathroom break. All it just takes is a time for yourself, remember who you are, what you really want to do and become.

I’ve always thought the point of roller coasters were not the feelings of the highs. It makes my stomach queazy and awful, so I don’t like it at all. Nor is it the lows, the plummeting down, because I’m afraid of heights. What I like, and what I think is the purpose of me riding a roller coaster is the view. Open space, clear skies, and the fresh air despite coming from the speed of the ride, is what I’m in it for.

Life can get high and low, bumpy and smooth, good or bad, but when you never lose sight of what matters most, then the messiness of it all doesn’t seem as colossal at it does at the moment. To some, it might seem like you’re trying to forget, project, or even neglect. But the view looks too good for every other distraction, am I right?


Today I Wish You Knew

Having one person to share all of your thoughts, secrets, and demons within is a lie. Each person you know knows a fraction of who you are, not as a whole. But there is only one person you always want to talk to about everything- that even if there’s everybody else, it doesn’t feel as good as when you tell that person. It doesn’t matter what your relationship is with them either. Connection is what you’re looking for, and you can connect with a stranger far more deeper than a childhood friend.

It doesn’t matter if it’s something trivial as how beautiful the sunset looked today as you walked home. Something profound as a passage you discovered from this new book you’re reading. Something simple as a new episode of The Handmaid’s Tale coming out today. Something debilitating as how you feel like everything is too much and you hate making small talk with people and just want to be left alone for a while and yet you feel lonely for something but don’t know what it is.

But the thing about those persons is that they often have lives of their own, one that might not include you anymore for different reasons. And when you suddenly have the urge to talk to them but can’t yet wish you would, the question is, does that make you selfish?

I wish I didn’t have to fight for people to stay in my life. If they wanted to be, they will be. Everyone seems to be having that same mindset lately. But if we kept waiting around on each other, nothing will ever be done, now wouldn’t it?

I’ve learned that it’s all give and take. When you give, you give what you can. When you tire, you rest. When you give up, you leave. Of course you can leave, you’re human after all. We’re all capable of having fickle hearts at certain times of weakness in our lives. It’s not a crime to fail, to give up, to forget.

But like the sunset that you witnessed, the book you’re reading, the show you’re watching, and the feeling you’re having, this will have to end and you will have to finish it. The walking around on each other. The silent dance. 

It is then that you realize that your persons can leave you, and that you can find another one again. And it will feel so different yet so intense as well.

I wanted to tell you so many things that my boring life has had lately, but I don’t see any point of it anymore. You can ask, and I will tell, I just won’t push again. I’ve done it a lot that I must sound crazy and silly and desperate to some. I guess I should keep all these experiences, feelings, and moments to myself so I can tell it to someone who will be my new person. I don’t know if I’ll find another one, I’m hoping I will. Until then, like my love, I’ll keep it hidden and tucked away to someone who’ll take good care of it.

When Someone Said I Needed a Holiday, I Said

What is a bed
when you lie down
and still your mind
shouts and rings and cries
with your thoughts,
your life on replay like a bad sitcom,
and your regrets
play in your head?

What is an empty room
when it’s filled with
the suffocating air
of the words that
you ache to say,
or did say
but wanted to take back-
mixing with the
sounds of the air condition-
and you wonder if
it’s either keeping you cool
or coldhearted?

What is a nice stroll
on a quiet park
when you have
the fear that someone
might mug you,
rape you,
kill you,
or worse,
see that you’re
lonely and alone?

What is a recluse
on a deserted island
when the waves
remind you of
the things, the people
that came and went in your life,
and how you, like the sand,
was never the same since then?

What is rest
of all kinds and places
when all you ever wanted
and needed and craved
was a person,
a feeling,
a moment,
a chance?

I Like Staying In Thrift Bookshops

Amidst the crooked spines
and the tattered pages
and the smell of
aging paper,
I found my place
in this world.

Left with marks-
like fingerprints and
coffee stains-
once touched,
never the same.

After giving pleasure
abandoned, discarded
they’ve seen it all before,
sometimes more
than once.

I’d like to think
that the next
person to touch me
will keep me
this time.

A Year

is the time
that we spent together-
laughing and crying
and loving
and loving still
until you had to go.

A year
is the time
that we spent apart-
wondering and worrying
and loving
and loving still
but decided to let go.

A year
is the time
that you came back-
trying and failing
and loving
and loving still
but not the same way anymore.

A year
is the time
that I moved on-
wishing and praying
and loving
and loving still
even if it’s not you anymore.

If By Any Chance You Still Love Me

You have to know
that I am not the same woman
as I was before.
You once wanted me
because I was the kind
of person who would
never do anything cruel.
But the world, time, and my loneliness
have made me the woman
you said you did not want.

You have to see
that I have changed for
I no longer look like
the delicate angel that will
touch your hair and
kiss your lips.
I am the iron maiden
in my ivory tower
that you must fight before
you get a taste.

You have to hear
my voice.
My once joyous laugh
has gone to a better place,
and is now replaced with
a dark chuckle
on a good day.

Most of all
you have to see
my demons,
my fear,
my shame,
and wonder if this is what you made me.
If this is what I would always be.
If this is what has been me all this time,
and if you will still love me the same.

Twenty Four

I feel like I’m older from the way I look. Sometimes I think I can feel it when my cells are changing, when my skin is peeling away, when my body is getting rounder with the pounds I am gaining.
I feel like I’m older from the way I strive from day to day. I no longer have the energy to stay up all night and wake up early in the morning. I can’t remember the last time I attempted at a winged eyeliner because of how I would rush every day to work. I don’t even like wearing makeup during the weekends. I get dragged by the slow and torturous flow of traffic, wasting my time and strength to get from one place to another. I spend most of my food stress eating.

I feel like I’m older from the way I have to understand people. Younger or older than me, I have to adjust for their expense. Mostly because it’s my obligation to do so, but because I don’t want anymore conflicts to resound. I know they’ll always think they’re right, that I’ll never win. Millennials are such troubled people, they say. I carry the weight of the people and the world on my shoulders even if I don’t have to, because the rest are happy in their ignorant bliss. I have come to the realization to just simply accept that.

I feel like I’m older from the way I see things. Every other sunset looks different, but beautiful all the same. Every other person’s flaws, including mine, looks hideous in our own eyes. Every other movie, every other song, and every other television show is not just a simple filler of silence, or feeder of eyes, but a window through what I perceive to be worth my time and emotions.

I feel like I’m older from the way I want something. Some people dream to be rich, powerful, smart, beautiful. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I go day to day, grinding myself, and yet only having a simple dream: to be a happy stay at home mom. It’s such a contrary from the ultimate working girl reputation I’ve got going on, with my ivory tower and closed guard. Eventually these lavishes gets so tiring that you just want the simple things so life doesn’t get so complicated.

I feel like I’m older, but like ten times more or ten times less. I’ll always want to be someone who is wise beyond my years, but still have that childlike wonder. To see the world as if it was the first but look at it deeply than others. To grow old but not grow up. Like an age limbo where I can be anything and everything.

When I hear how people my age are striving to be so many things, at first it saddens me, but then it resonates. It’s not because they’re lost and have no idea who they are, it is because they can be so many things in so many ways that the world cannot pigeonhole them into a single person when in fact, those fragments build up to what and who exactly they are.

Twenty four doesn’t sound promising, but it’s not so bad.