poetry?

For me, poetry isn't always about beautiful words. Poetry is a way to let go of what's inside my head into sentences or paragraphs. Poetry is a way to express myself. If I'm mad at the world, then I'll have no problem putting words like "shit" or "fuck" in my poetry. If I'm happy maybe I'll write with words like "rainbow" or "flower". And if I am in love, maybe my words will make no sense at all. Maybe my words will be cheesy and cliché.

That's the beauty of poetry I guess. It doesn't have to be beautiful or well-written. It is poetry when it can express what you feel in a way action can't. It is poetry because it has so many hidden emotions; anger, happiness, love, sadness and so much more. And poetry doesn't even have to make sense at all. 

What a rainy ending given to a perfect day. What a fucking rainy ending given to a perfect day.

They All Fall

There are things that look beautiful when they fall;
Raindrops.
Autumn leaves.
Snow.
Shooting stars.

But when they hit the ground,
Rain will only become puddles.
Autumn leaves will be stepped on by people.
Snow will melt.
Shooting stars are dead.


I guess the same thing happens with human. They fall and they will be crushed.

The best poetry comes from either a great amount of happiness or sadness, they say.
--
And I know for sure where mine came from.

A Final.

And so she looked back at her old writings and read all the words she wrote there. And it was all about him. She smiled. It was that kind of sad yet happy smile. She was sad remembering all the reasons behind every letter but at the same time, she was happy. She remembered all the time when he brought a smile to her face. She was happy that she got the chance to know him well. To be the part of his life, to be his bestfriend and she knew that she couldn't ask for more. Then she looked at the playlist she made for him. She laughed. She really did. She found so many songs about heartbreaks and unrequited love. So many songs about adoring someone from afar. Then she went through her gallery, and again, so many pictures of him. She stared at one picture of them together and she looked at how happy she was. She looked at him. Really looked at him and trying to find the things she liked about him. His small eyes and the way they seemed to disappear whenever he smiled. His never-too-long hair and the way he wore his school's uniform and tie. She remembered it all too well. And with tears stained cheeks, she smiled. She didn't cry because she was sad. It was that kind of relief cry. She finally accepted the fact that he was never hers and never will be and she was fine with it now. She understood that well enough and she finally let go of the things she knew she couldn't have, including him. What she didn't want to let go was the happy memory of him. The memory she knew she would keep for as long as she could and she realized that no matter what comes and goes, he would always have a place in her heart, and even though that part was getting smaller day by day, she knew that part would never be completely gone forever. He had that place in her heart where no one could stay. A place where he left his scars so beautifully.

But she was done waiting for him to fill that place and she was done with hoping and dreaming about a happy ever after with him. She's finally done. Or so she thought.

"Nothing about him is ugly. Even the heartbreak he caused was so beautiful."

That was the last note she ever wrote about him. And she couldn't be any more right than she already was.

"And for the first time, what's past is past."

Can people please stop telling me what to do and what not to do? Can everyone stop telling me "I told you so" or "it's your fault" or "That's because you bla bla"?

Why don't they understand that sometimes, I don't need them telling me what's wrong and what is right. I don't need them pointing out my flaws or what I did wrong as if I don't already know it. I damn well know when I did something wrong so please stop telling me it's wrong.

Is it that hard to just sit there and listen? Is it that hard to say "I understand" even though I know you don't? Is it?

And that is why I never really tell anyone everything when they told me "you can tell me everything". That is why sometimes it's better to keep it all inside. But there's a point in life where you feel so fed up with yout own self and all you want to do is to let everything out. All you want to do is to vomit all those words inside your brain that you've held back for so long. And I think I'm at this point right now. I feel like nothing is okay and I need a way to make everything okay again. I've tried to write everything down in a piece of paper but all I've got is meaningless words staring back at me. And I'M so tired of letting everything out by crying because that does not really solve the problem. And I feel like a bottle right now and everyone keeps on pouring water inside me without really looking at my capability and I have more than enough water right now but everyone doesn't really take a look and now I'm so fed up.

Three Days Escape

So I finally got the chance to runaway from uni. It's only for 3 days and I'll go back to reality tomorrow but honestly, going back home is exactly what I needed. Anyway, home is different now. We've moved out and my new home looks nothing like my old one. It's bigger and there are so many windows here and my mom keeps on telling me and my brothers "no light from 6 am to 6 pm" and she said that maybe 232434 times a day. And me and my brother kind of tease her all the time by saying "NO LIGHT NO TV NO AC NO CHARGING PHONES UNTIL 6 PM NO ELECTRICITY!!!! AND LET'S SAVE THE WOOOOORLD" and it's so funny because my brother tried so hard to imitate my mom's voice but its a total failure since his voice has already gone deep (it still surprises me every time I hear my brother speaks) and it just makes me laugh, he sounds like a dying cat instead of my mom. And I like my new room. It has a door that connects my room to our small backyard and there's a chair there and I tried to read books at night in the backyard but there are so many mosquitoes so I ended up going back inside and finishing my book in my room. But I do miss my old posters-covered room in my old home. And also my old bookshelves. But whatever, my new room is cooler. The thing is, I thought I wouldn't like my new home but now, I think I kind of like it. It's still sad to leave my friends from my old neighborhood. We grew up together and I literally spent everyday of my childhood with them. The trees and street lights there watched me grew up until I reached 18. The road there was the road where I first stepped my little feet on, the road where I first learnt how to ride a bicycle, the road where I first got my knees bruised while playing hide and seek with my friends, the road where I first got my love letter (seriously, I found a love letter outside my gate with my name on it and I was afraid of  God knows what and I threw that love letter away. Now I regret not reading it first). Yeah so it's kind of sad to leave my old neighborhood but changes happen all the time and maybe this change won't be so bad at all. After all, home is not about the place and I understand it now. I'm so happy to see my family again and I realize no matter where we live, as long as we are together, it's a home for all of us.

And today (after a very frustrating night and day), I got the chance to meet my friends from high school and like always, it is never a dull time with them. That's what I like about my friends here, I can do everything I want in front of them and I won't feel embarrassed or ashamed. We went to try this new cafe in town and it was great and then we went to a karaoke bar (a place that we visited at least twice a week when we were in the 12th grade just because 12th grade were so tiring). It's great to go back there and recall the time we had spent there. And as usual, we sounded so horrible and totally out of tune but whatever, I got the chance to scream out loud and let everything out and now, my throat hurts a little. I miss singing out loud with them (or more like screaming and shouting together) and dancing like a fool without being afraid to feel embarrassed. I can be my very own self with them. And sometimes, I wonder how can I be so different when I'm back in uni? I can't be my total self when I am around the people from uni, not even the ones who are close to me. At home, I don't even care about what everyone thinks of me. I don't care if someone dislikes or hates me, because I know I have my family and friends whom I believe will never turn their back on me. They've been with me for so many years and never once they betrayed me. But back in uni, I have the urge to make people like me. I don't want anyone to hate me. I don't know whom I can depend myself on and maybe I've learnt to depend only on myself. I don't even know why. Maybe it takes time but how long will it take?

And this is my last day at home and I'm so glad that I ended my short holiday by spending it with my friends and I'm happy to know that the 'I-don't-care-about-what-everyone-thinks' version of me is still living inside of me. Maybe that version of me will only come out when I am at home. Or maybe when someone feels like home to that version.

(I'm actually sad to go back to reality but I know I have to. Bye)