1st of November Entry

I wish it was easier to not be bothered by blank pages… But it’s not. Especially when your mind keeps ratting out on you just until it convinces you to write something, anything so that this page wouldn’t look as empty as how your eyes are looking lately. I’ve been so empty. Probably because I’m done with all the crying. And we all know what that means, time for a void to settle in. How fucking surprising, right? I know… I knew. I just thought it’d arrive sooner and leave immediately, before December, before my birthday, before Christmas. Because last year, this was present. This was everywhere. And that birthday was the worst. I just don’t want to feel this anymore, okay? I’m so tired of all the shit I put myself through. And like the fool I am, I still keep placing myself in the middle of the storm anyway.

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If I ask the world nicely, will it whisper its answer to me?

I.

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Before I go flying off again to universes

      That only ever exist in the palms of my    

      Hands, in my bones crackling under my    

      Own weight, in my bloodstream flowing

      Life after life; death after death

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Before I sail towards patched up cities     

      Merging with distant lands written in the  

      Storybooks I’ve read in the past my mind

      Will never allow me forget and the        

      Storybooks I write in the present

II.

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Before I let my heart take over and you

      Know how my heart can be–

      Drawing on walls with colors it can’t

      Even pronounce; painting on faces it

      Could barely recognize; creating

      Something without hesitation even if it

      Doesn’t know what it is it’s creating

Continue reading “If I ask the world nicely, will it whisper its answer to me?”

the walks i take whilst the moon is still awake

going to work too early makes my mother tremble, fill up with worry
“say a little prayer before you leave,” she says, handing me a booklet she has used all these years
she tells me she had been guided by that tiny prayer book whilst she gave birth to me, my sister and my brothers
and i think to myself, maybe it will pass the same kind of protection to me
maybe not
going to work too early makes my mother tremble, fill up with worry
“leave a little later, maybe when the sun cracks open the sky and darkness would no longer be alive” she says, holding my hand a little too tight
i don’t think i can do that, mom
i’ll run late, and you know how that creates knots inside my stomach
nausea kicking in, forgetting how to breathe
forgetting how to breathe
breathe, breathe, breathe
i don’t want to see the sun shining as i walk through the same paths, drive through the same roads as i did yesterday and the days before that
going to work too early makes my mother tremble, fill up with worry
“wait until the moon and the stars are no longer in sight, will you?” she says, still holding on to me
you don’t understand, maybe i don’t too
but this is the only time i can telepathically write letters to the moon
i wonder if anyone else looks at the moon without waiting for the sun to devour it soon after
without waiting for something else, anything else to happen
going to work too early makes my mother tremble, fill up with worry
“it’s too dangerous outside” she says, her voice shaky as she stares deep into my eyes, something she doesn’t always do
i know, mom
i know
i have become afraid of this country too
hungry for streets painted with the blood of its people
blood of nameless children no longer nameless
blood in every corner, the stench tingling our noses, reminding us of all our recurring nightmares
blood and violence in a crazy mix driving everyone to their feet
to their wings
i am afraid too, mom
but mom, i have to go
outside where i can’t pretend to be blind
outside where i can feel danger’s foul and heavy breath licking my neck over and over again
outside where i can do more than just ignore what’s happening out there
because i can’t close my eyes anymore
because i can’t
because i won’t let myself
going to work too early makes my mother tremble, fill up with worry
but i step out anyway

a letter to my journal

My Dearest Diary,

I’ve written so many letters for the people I love, the people I would love to meet, the people who don’t even know me on you and I’ve come to realize I haven’t written one for you. Though I believe there are times when I express my gratitude for your existence, a letter is still different so I hope you regard this as that. A letter that isn’t waiting for a reply. Anyway, I’m blabbering here. It’s as if I don’t know what to say to you at all even if you probably know every word I have written or uttered to myself, alone in a room. You’ve known me for more than a year or so and you’ve let me express everything I couldn’t in my poetry, in my stories, in my art and in the conversations I have with others and with myself. I would like you to know that I’m often too careful of what I say to myself but with you here, I am free. I know you’ve witnessed me writing some of the harshest things I have said to no one but me and I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you felt that anger, that self-hatred, but thank you for letting me see who I am when I feel I’m not me. Those are the parts that I hide so well from the world and from myself. Those are the parts of me that I don’t understand, that I don’t fully accept. Those are the parts of me I deem as foreign, alien even. But they’re part of me. They’re who I am. And you let me write them, you let me express them, all these voices I have cupped my ears for. And I’ve realized, I have so much more to learn about myself, the fears I have, the insecurities, the unused energy reverberating inside of me. Positive values and negative traits, they’re all me. Parts of me. I am fragmented. But with you here, I feel whole. You contain all of who I am. Maybe not all, definitely not all, but you posses the parts of me even I can’t face. And you’re doing so unapologetically. So… thank you. With all my being, I thank you.

Love,

Kat

things i want you to know

i know there are times i’m too hard to love, to understand, even to forgive so i find it a miracle that you’re still here beside me. the voices inside of me might never learn how to quiet themselves forever, but they settle down whenever you’re near. we’re not perfect, together and apart, but we are us. you let me be, and you love me for me. and that is enough, more than enough, for me to finally listen to the voices and rise up from them, grow from and with them, face them instead of fleeing. i’m not running anymore, i want you to know that. i don’t want to run. i don’t want to run from myself anymore.

i feel your eyes every single time

i write poems dedicated to you as you look at me with disappointed eyes. i know that look. it’s that look you gave my brother when he failed. the look you gave my sister when she failed. and this is how i know i’m failing in your eyes when i’m not in mine. the only difference is that it’s a deeper disappointment, one that might be permanent. one that might keep burning after it is gone. because, yes, my siblings failed. but only in school. i’m failing in life. according to you.
and as much as i don’t want you nor anyone else to define my successes and my failures, i see your eyes every time i write another poem, every time i create something from my Heart.
and as much as i don’t want you nor anyone else to define my successes and my failures, i feel the sting of your eyes every time i try to be proud of what i made, of what i was able to do on my own. i feel the sting of your eyes every time i try to be proud of myself.
and as much as i don’t want you nor anyone else to define my successes and my failures, i still do. because you are my mother. and the only thing i ever want is for you to be proud of me again. the only thing i want is for that disappointment to fade away in my mind, to fade away in your eyes.

the universe and me

 

And the universe left me dizzy today as it plucked my soul out of a daze and left me in a swamp of confusion of which I cannot rise up from.
In other words, I am stuck in a reverie wherein all my voices and all my choices come running after my flesh.
And here comes the sun, cascading its light towards me. Its rise, my envy. Its fall, my undeterred jealousy.
My thoughts make my hair their home, tangling and untangling, the wind carrying them as if dandelion seeds.
What is this that is making me question my entire humanity? I see my limbs, but for a split second, I don’t remember what they’re for.
The universe crochets itself inside my being and I am left navigating without a star or a compass to rely on.
I am left with myself to rely on.
For the universe is me and I am the universe.
This entire lifetime will never be enough for me to understand… the universe and me.