Isn’t this what I have been longing for?
To uncover the universe with my bare hands
Scoop up all the stars, planets, moons and suns I could hold
And bite into their bodies
Make light of my murderous hunger just to ingest something other than darkness
That has always found a way to settle into my hollow bones I can make telescopes out of
How long has it been since I ate hope?
How long has it been since I stuffed myself with prayers and wishes?
I still believe they float somewhere in the universe or in the spaces between me and the self I’ve carried once like an injured bird
Now flying midair with a broken wing
And maybe if I reached out far enough, I’d be able taste them once again
Let their embers burn my tongue
Let them start wildfires within me
And make stars out of every sigh
Planets out of every tear
Moons out of every wish
Suns out of ever prayer
Let them make a damn universe out every breath I’ve taken
Every breath I’m taking
Every breath I will take
Out of thin air
Out of me
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.
The eyes of water have proved to me the eyes of life and of death, of creation and of destruction, of things we can see and of things we cannot. It flows within me, within you, within all of us. We are water.
Take off your earthly skin, let your soul take flight; your soul looks like water, feels like water.
What else has water seen? What else has water touched? What else has water devoured? What else has water destroyed and what has it created?
And in a way, are we not all these things? All these things water has seen, touched, devoured? All these things water destroyed and created? Are we all these things as we are water? Are we water?
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.
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.
Let me in, dear moon
Let me in
Let me make a temporary refuge inside one of your craters
I’ll keep quiet, I promise
Let me stay here for a while
Let me stay here for longer than forever
I’ll keep still, I promise
Let me stay here
Let me stay, dear moon
Let me stay
We dance slowly in this room and I can feel the two of us lift off the ground. We are levitating, you and I. Slow dancing whilst I hum one of my favorite songs you learned to play on the guitar just recently. Just for me. It’s just you and me, my Love. Just you and me. Everything is starting to make so much sense. I feel so alive with you here, as we sway back and forth, stealing kisses every so often. All my worries dissipate, evaporate into thin air. My anxieties quiet themselves in your presence. We look deep into each other’s eyes. We hold each other tight and it feels like we’re experiencing all our lifetimes, past, future, present, in one second. We silence the world, dancing in this room, you and I.