There’s a certain kind of sadness
All-consuming and tyrannical
A palpable emptiness
As I look into your distant eyes
That I can’t have you
There’s a certain kind of sadness
Forceful, dark, and imposing
The one that creeps up at around midnight
As my lids slowly close
And I make a vital mistake of
Thinking of you
I desperately needed to write— not just for the deadline that was two months ago, but for my sanity as well. Going too long without writing makes me nothing but a raging emotionally-challenged lunatic.
The words don’t/won’t come as I try to begin this serendipitous night-long catch-up marathon with the monsters lurking deep inside of me. I tried to start with an idea, a poem, and a book and coincidentally, still ended up with nothing.
Time flies when you’re having fun
x Library stolen shot x Last week’s correlates x Finally starting to win at Bump Sheep (with research proposal presentation cue cards in the background) x Busy bee on the last three weeks of this school year
On twitter: Professional eavesdropper by the corner, pretending to read Guyton. I’m highlighting the right words, but processing the wrong information.
For the first time, I felt regret— the only thing I once thought I will certainly be free of. Yet, several years down the crappy traffic-ridden road, here I am.
I have one regret and so many wishes I could use up all the genie bottles in Arabian Nights. I could use up all the wrong references in literature and Disney movies and still end up with the worst feeling of all: regret.
I wish I didn’t fall in love that one time long ago. I wish I kept my heart in a box, dug a hole somewhere in an obscure forest, threw the box into the dark pit hole, and ran as far away as I can into the meadow. I wish I didn’t use up more than half of my first times: first love, first kiss, first hand to ever hold, first light in darkness. I wish I had put my heart on reserve, only to be claimed when the time is right. I wish to be hopeful, unaware that falling too hard, too fast, too soon could end up not down the aisle but in the laboratories in furious and futile search for the cure of the broken heart.
I feel regret for all I have lost: the ideals of romance, the innocence of the heart, the possibility that I could experience first love with someone else— someone who is able create with me a love that could last forever.
Maybe, regret comes when after all these years, you finally realize you can never take it all back. Regret is when you know you can never be eighteen, impulsive as hell, and reckless with emotions again. Regret is when that one person you thought was everything becomes a nobody you can never think of building a future with: not in this life, not in this universe.
I feel regret for all I have lost and that I have lost them for nothing and for nobody.
There are many feelings and there are those we should seek in hunger for the rest of our lives. But, this is not this feeling. The exhaustion, frustration, and surprising monotony that comes with wondering what could be and what should be are enough to drain our energy before we could even begin to continue existing, let alone begin living once again.
Stay-in-bed weather on a block exam weekend *huhuhuhu*
If this were satire, for the first time
I wouldn’t laugh nor understand
If this were a dream, for the last time
Before I wake up, kindly hold my hand