An irrelevance for the great question
Those freaking fur shedding hyperactive cats that I begged my parents to have a year ago as a counter for my random impulse to shot myself on the head.
That's what holds me back.
Or maybe I am the one that holds me back for making a plan to oppose my own, and for desiring to have a pet that would scratch my thighs and jump over my shoulder to claw on.
No longer spoken
Loosing my words,
the value of my tears,
spinning the letters of my vocabulary
Humming in place of voicing words
Paralyzed tounge, unable to sing
Unspoken rhythm for the deaf
The stage in which the audience are facing backwards
A make believe story for the actor
Loosing my words,
My mislead audience in haywire,
My thoughts spinning in circles
No one will be able to listen
The recoiled thoughts that are meant to be said
The value of my words lost
And each ear could only hear disharmony
Stuttered words, flooding thoughts
Ended the play as a mute
When you hated everyone,
Those blindingly cloudless afternoon sky,
The piled up week's worth of laudry,
The dishes left in the sink for the whole day,
Curtains heavy in dust,
Those neighborhood dogs barking,
Those neighborhood kids playing in youthful bickering,
Your dog's urine and excrement in the corner of the house,
Those birds singing on your window.
That garden in vivid colors looking like muddy water on your front yard.
The way you looked outside beyond the window railings ment for burglars, ignoring how it looked like prison bars.
Those double lock doors.
That peaceful silence within the room.
You hated everything.
Until night comes and that peaceful silence broke,
Those accursed repressed noises started eating you again from the inside.
Deafening you in the process.
And when those jarring discordant sounds came to you,
Only then you'll find peace.
Proceeding to exist to be non-existent for the next day.
And when you do hated everything in a vexatious unreasonable way.
Then you probably hated yourself the most.
quiet lull of the shore
And the night grew colder
Silence, as if not existing
for the distant roars
are the seaweed
tainted of salt,
The scent will always
follow the waves
to the shore
in the sand
Leaving the imprint
is longer than
the day before
And in my wake
for longer slumber
How fast my train of thought goes and comes back around while taunting me
The following parts are my disorganized thoughts and will have a possibility of the reader not being able to follow my train of thoughts. This is just another attempt of me dumping my emotionally disturbed mind.
I've always thought,
'How did I normally live my life? Just like back then?'
'I was on autopilot', is what I would say to my friend.
Doing things as it is. Flowing where the current goes.
Without much emotional understanding, days passed just like a blink of an eye.
Reactions from those time came back to me, haunting me for the neglect.
It was a delayed reaction. The process of me understanding how the world revolves was delayed further.
I killed off the ability of mine to understand myself.
Belatedly realizing that what I mostly needed that time was affection and recognition.
I was starving.
After much deprivation,
I woke up from my self-inflicted autopiloting.
Why did I woke up?
Like some dry leaves being carried away, I just landed there where the wind stopped.
Not particularly aware of what I'm supposed to be doing.
I'm supposed to go to college after forcing— I mean barely graduating from senior high school.
Get a degree after 4 years.
Graduate then get a job.
And save money.
I just have to be like myself back then.
I just have to not think of anything.
Think later. Feel later.
I just have to endure four more years.
It'll also pass just like a blink of an eye.
Well it's not.
I was like a good marionette maneuvering a car accidentally stepping on the breaks.
The steering wheel then get stucked, and the good little marionette gave it up so easily.
Deciding to accelerate without holding it.
Everything else didn't matter anymore.
I was headed for a cliff.
It was a beautiful cliff actually, ignoring the fact that jumping off of it will leave the car damaged with no return, and I will probably die.
Still, it's beautiful.
Ruminating the past decisions, I was reminded of the consequences several months after.
A brief dialogue with my mom in different days overlapped.
"I did everything I could. We did everything we could! None of it is my fault. It's not my fault!"
Mom reprimanded me in their bedroom.
I was standing near their door looking at her face infused of anger.
It's my fault then, isn't it?
Well in common sense, it is, I stopped studying, practically dropping out of college without even informing the school. It's basically my fault. Yes. It's my fault.
"Tell me what's happening with you?! Do you need a psychiatrist?"
Mom suddenly asked, we've been sitting on the dinner table for a while now.
And I was surprised, she opened that kind of topic first before I even suggested it. I was given a false hope.
"Really? Should... Should I?"
It was a mistake.
I shouldn't have opened my mouth like I've always been doing.
Mom suddenly laughed.
"Crazy, you're crazy", she commented on my remarks.
I was dumbstruck and the hole digging deep within me was dug deeper.
On another day in front of the dinner table,
I slowly opened my mouth, in a spur of the moment.
"I always feel like I'm so faraway with you guys"
Blankly staring at the floor with my monotonous voice, I couldn't stop myself from talking.
"I couldn't feel you"
"I felt a great distance between us"
"It has always been like that, ever since I'm young"
I shouldn't have said that
"It's like that? So it's always been like that?
So you don't love me? You don't love us? Is that it?"
It's not like that mom....
"No ma, I... I love you...."
I shouldn't have opened my mouth.
I should've stopped talking.
On some warm mornings and peaceful days, it came back to me like winter, leaving me frozen. On a normal sunny day, It's common for me to feel cold.
On some cold and rainy days, I would be laying under the blanket cradling with warmth, coming to me in muddled voices and hazy dream.
On some days like this, particularly feeling empty...or numb, if I could describe it correctly.
It gave me a time to think and analyze it over and over again. Justifying every scenarios to be... a chance of growth.
On a particular days like this,
Are the chances for me to cry rationally.
Perhaps, despite my constant fear of change, deep inside I actually crave it.
And it made me reckless.
While still not having my life together.
I am still left to wonder further.
'Before all of this things turning into a whirlpool of mess, how did I normally live back then?'
Me, Myself, and My meaning
It's my name.
Lost in translation within multiple layers of unnamed alter ego.
Jumbled words is my second name.
Derived from homophones, which originated from the month I was supposed to be born into.
I am simply a name lost in thought
Lost in meaning
With a speck of my unhinged identity
I am a subconscious thought, purposely made, of a person whose in the verge of destroying oneself.
It was simply a last ditch resort
of saving a wailing child within.
It was supposed to burn everything down
Together with this subconscious thought
Leaving nothing even passion
When I light the match stick
with a flick of a hand
—a shriek bombarded me
Piercing me whole
Followed by another wail from within
Defenseless, I couldn't fought the cacophonies filling me
And I found this place.
Within the few moments of discord
The wailing child escaped from the cracks
And hid here.
I am the subconscious thought
To protect the neglected child
From my own self