a part of me tells me to give up and the other part tells me to continue
But this time, I guess I wouldn't interfere

How?

I told myself to never fall in love again,

maybe a 6

"'On a scale of one to ten how sad are you'

you almost say seven but the answer floats in your lungs like rising mud. you shift your shoulders. some part of you is already forming an excuse. that it’s not that bad sometimes. one, two, three on a day that the clouds are out. you’re just complaining about stuff. yesterday you laughed past a brick of a four, does that make the brick come down to a two-point-five.  the solid seven panic attack of last Tuesday feels somehow like a little thorn, just a regular day full of a gentle three-point-nine earthquake rocking after yesterday’s close-to-an-eight. see but if tomorrow you have a real bad day, it will make today look simple.

Spilling the beans

I'm so tired of having the urge to cry every night, even though I have told myself so many times not to cry, I still cry anyway, over what people say stupid things.

Enjoying the show?

It's 7 am in the mornin'
Wake up and put my mask on

Being so disgusted and hateful with yourself, both physically and psychologically, is definitely.... stressful.

12.44 am

There are so many things in me that I hate, that I wish I could throw away. From my selfishness, my ego, my size of pride to my stubbornness.

But then again, there are too many parts of me that I hate and if I throw them all away, what would be left of me?

After all, my bad traits and habits are what made me, me.

Things I tell myself over and over again

It's okay to scream so loud,
It's okay to cry in silence,
It's okay to be mad at the world,
It's okay to feel like everything is fucked up,

Logical thinking

Because we fear what our brains fail to explain.

Against all odds.

Let's write a history,
Me and you.
About a young love that survives.

So I guess feelings are a lot like rain.

Two sides.

Fierce like wave,

And as blue as the sea.

Strong she might be,

But empty is her heart.

No one needs fixing

But darling,
No one needs fixing,

Karena hanya dalam sunyi,
Akan terbentuk suatu imaji,
Yang kemudian aku rangkai,

Why can't I?

Oh how I wish

I could wake up one day

In someone else's body

My 202 post

This one's for you,

Is it?

Me with my broken heart,
And you with your broken heart.

Long gone is defeat

And there she lays,
On the shadow of her own misery; shaking and gasping for air,
Tears-stained cheeks and blank worn out eyes wrapped neatly with a blanket of sadness,
Bruised heart and swollen lips; both are trembling in fear,
Oh darling, what have you become!

Beautiful tragical

How tragic it is,

To me,

I have just realized that it's been a while since I last wrote about myself and what's really in my mind. I have been so caught up writing so many academic writings that I can submit somewhere to win prize or to get one of them featured on the website. Or maybe I have been too busy writing love poems about no one just so that I could send it somewhere.

The ugly thoughts and tiny voices in my head always appear when there is silence.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #19

There are just some feelings that cannot change over time. No matter long it has been, they are still there, unmoving.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #18

No, I don't need anyone to make me feel whole. I was born as a whole, not in half. I don't need anyone to complete me, I am completely complete.

Don't fear fear

Why fear darkness when darkness is needed to see the stars.

Why fear emptiness when emptiness is needed to make a room to grow.

Hello, orange!

Hello!

Finally I'm back!--not that anyone cares. Lol. So I decided to check my blog and surprisingly, I still have plenty readers from my last post, well, it could be the same person that reads my post over and over again but yeah, whatever. I've been writing a lot of things on Medium and I might stay there for a little while because it's fun there and I've been on WordPress too but what I wrote there was a little too personal so I immediately deleted everything right after I wrote it which made all my writing pointless. But there are nothing like this blog! This site keeps on making me come back every time I want to stop writing here. Told you I cannot stay away from this lovely bloggie for so long :P

So long, bloggie.

Writing for me is always a way to let go of everything I cannot let go verbally and this blog has become my online diary where I write everything out.

And it is rather funny how my own blog makes me so sad and nostalgic sometimes. Looking at all my posts here always brings back a lot of memories I had created in the past 5 years or so. I remember every story behind each post; some I'd love to recall and some I'd like to avoid.

And sometimes, this blog always remind me of my own past-self's pain and a complete reminder of how gullible and pathetic I was back then, a reminder of what I used to be, a reminder of who I was before and I hate it a lot. It makes me hate myself even more than I already do.

I started to think maybe it is time for me to move on from this blog. Make another one, create a whole new set of memories with some new characters and places. A whole memories starting from when I am 20, an official young adult and maybe later I can compare 2 different phases of my life; one when I was on my teenage year, and one when I was on my 20s. That way, I don't have to delete this blog because I don't think I have enough power to delete this 5 years  old bloggie, there's way too much memories in it.

I don't know. It seems like a good idea for now but I know I won't be able to abandon this blog completely so maybe I will still write on this blog once in a while or maybe everyday, too, I have no idea but I will try to write on different platforms.

For now, I am more active on my Tumblr and Twitter. Also, I just recently made a Medium account. I don't know, I'm trying everything out.

Until then,
Goodbye.

Hell with you're not alone. You are always alone.

I always disagree with the phase "you are not alone". The first time I heard those four words was from Michael Jackson's famous song; you are not alone. I thought that song was good and inspirational. It told people that someone would always be there for you but as I grow older, those 4 words are becoming more and more irrelevant and downright stupid.

The older I get, the more I realize that I am mostly alone in my life. I am alone when I cried myself to sleep. I am alone when my dreams haunt my sleep. I am alone when I sob in the shower. I am alone when I am sad and unhappy. I am alone when my insecurities kill myself. I am alone when I hit the rock bottom. And the sad thing is, I've gotten so used to loneliness that I would rather stay silent when I feel something. I feel things, and I only want to feel it alone--be it sadness, happiness, anger, hatred, or disgust. I feel like, only in my own bubble of loneliness that I can cope with everything.

I should have known better. 

I should  have known better than to lash out.

I should have known that it's better for me to keep my emotions to myself only.

I should have known that people will get tired of me once I get too hard for them to handle.

Anyway, the person who said "don't let their words get to your head" had probably never been hit by words as sharp as hundred knives thrown together all at once. 

Someone someday

Someone will get to call you beautiful someday and someone will write about you the way I did (or maybe still do) but the difference is that she will send them all to you. Unlike me who loved you only in silence and let every page of my writings about you be buried beneath the dust and momeries, leaving them all unsent.

She will love you,
In a way I could never be able to love you.
And you will love her,
In a way like you've never loved before.

"I love too much that I don't have any love left to myself"

"I remember when I was younger and I wanted to be beautiful; now I’m older and I want to be intelligent. I want to burn hearts with brilliance and engulf souls with compassion. I want to be loved for my thoughts and nothing else."

No one likes messy

This is from the book "All The Bright Places" and I can relate to the girl character more than I can relate to any other characters from every book I have read.

I am messy. Messier than what it looks like from the outside, messier ghan my bedroom. Perhaps it is my thoughts that are messy and unarranged. Perhaps my thoughts are strings with too many dead knots that I cannot unknot.

I have secrets. Secrets that I keep only to myself because I know if I tell anyone, they would think less of me. If I tell any soul, I know they'd be disgusted, they'd judge, and they'd leave. I have my own secrets because it feels good to know that there is a part of me that no one else knows.

Per aspera ad astra

"Per aspera ad astra" it was my moto during my last year of high school where everything was so hectic and tiring. Then, I forgot about it. Literally forgot about it until today when I was browsing on the internet about ancient Greek.

And surprisingly, that moto can fit (again) into my life right now which is a huge chaos. Anyway, per aspera ad astra means "through difficulfies to the stars" or in a way, it means that you have to suffer the difficulties before you finally succeed. And somehow, that moto still boosts myself up in this kind of situation.

Hardship is the only way to get to the stars.

Where

I don't even know what's going on with me right now. It's not the people around me. It's me, purely me. Like, I feel so pathetic, so useless. I'm starting to question my existence here in this world, my purpose. I'm starting to wonder whether what and where I am right now is right. I'm starting to remember all the dreams I have and now, I feel like I am getting further away from my dreams. I feel like I have no clear destination and goals.

God, my 15 years old self had a lot of plans for uni but where had all the plans gone? Where had all the spirits gone? When did I become this unmotivated and so out of energy?

I am starting to mess up my future and everything I have ever planned and dreamed of.

Crescent

Kiss me under the crescent moon,
Where there is nothing to be heard,
Where the wolves do not howl,
Where the wind whispers sweet nothings to us.

Let's dance under the crescent moon,
Where the only sound is our moving feet,
Where the wolves swallow their howls,
Where the rain slowly washes our pain away.

Can we stay underneath the crescent moon?
Where there is nothing but silence.
Crescent moon, where the wolves are too scared to howl.
Crescent moon, where things are so peaceful.

Crescent moon, stay high.
Let your scent radiate in this whole world.

Moon and Sea

You're the moon and I am the sea. Every night you would always try to pull me up, like you're trying so hard to get me to you even though you know we'd never touch. And when you're tired, you hide away, letting the sun take over and with that, you also put me in my lowest point, again.

How could you pull me up so high only to let me down again?

Because at nights I cannot control my own brain. It turns into an unforgiving sadistic killer that tortures me slowly by stabbing rusty knives and needles into my soul as I cry for help.

It doesn't kill me. I always survive to see another sunrise but with each sunrise also comes another sunset which mean another night I have to go through. Another torture.

No, it doesn't kill me. But no, it doesn't make me any stronger.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #17

I remember all the promises he promised not to break. Now I see it all breaking. It's like a domino effect. One domino represents one promise. He pushed the first domino when he first broke a promise, and as the dominos kept falling, he kept breaking every single promise.

And the last domino is his promise where he promised to love me forever. But the dominos kept falling, I don't know how long will it take until the second last domino hits the last domino.

It's like we are skating on a thin layer of ice. One wrong move and we'll drown. One wrong move, then we'll be done.


And none of us can skate. It's us against all the odds.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #16

Maybe we're meant to be or maybe we're not. Maybe you're just a character I met in a few chapters of my book and you never make it till the ending. Maybe a couple years from now, you'll meet another woman and fall in love. Maybe 5 years from now, I'll be attending your wedding party with my very own family and we'll smile at each other and feel nothing at all. Maybe a month from now, we'll be on our own way. But all I know right now is that I'm pretty much in love with you and it'd be such a shame if one day we have to go our separate ways.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #15

I used to write about him every night. I called him all sort of things; the moon, fire, sea, storm, and book. Looking back at all my writings made me remember how much I used to adore him; his intelligence, his witty comebacks, his laughs. He was my metaphor, the reason why I started to write sad poems. I thought of him as someone who could be so many things. But now, I know better. He is only a boy, not more, not less. He still could be so many things, but I understans that he'd never be something I really need.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #14

"Right guy at the wrong time" they say. But what if one day you meet again with the right guy at the most perfect time? Will there be another "wrong"?

Silly old me

I've always been so fascinated with love stories ever since I was a kid reading a Little Mermaid story. Until now, I  still find myself addicted to a happy ending love story. My bookshelf is filled with romance books, it's like I could never get bored reading the same description over and over again, the same cliché line about butterflies, sparks, and goosebumps. It's all like that on every love story and yet, I still smile and swoon at the idea of how love should be.

I damn well know that love in real life doesn't even feel half as good as what those stories told me, so I read books instead. I thought that maybe if I couldn't experience a love like that, then I'd bury myself with the idea of it.

When I was a kid, my mom read me all sort of princess stories and I grew up believing that love was the greatest feeling anyone could ever had. I grew up believing that every girl was a princess with a tiara. As a kid, I was so obsessed with love. And now, I've become pessimistic about love. When I was in my first year of junior high, I saw my senior being cheated on. I saw my friend cried her heart out over a boy who dumped her. I saw my bestfriend getting her heart broken by the boy who stole her first kiss. I've grown old enough to know that the concept of love I read is an impossible thing. A lie to keep a kid's mind happy and optimistic while living in this sad world where love is so close to being extinct.

That's why I still read all those love stories after all these time. Because in real life, love doesn't exist and in fantasy world, love exists. If love cannot be great in this real world, at least there is a fantasy world where love could stand tall and that is a place where I would love to stay.

Or maybe I read all those books because there's still a little part of me who's dying to feel like Cinderella. A little part of me who doesn't really grow up and is still hoping to be swept off of her feet. A little part of me who expects too high about love and people. A little part of me who still thinks that love can conquer it all.

A silly part of me.

I really want to write something, anything. I have hundred of messed up words inside my brain that I have arranged into perfect sentences. But somehow they already made my brain their home and it seems like they won't be getting out anytime soon.

And I am too afraid to let them out.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #13

There's one thing that I know about us; you would always try to prove people wrong and I would always try to prove myself right. One day I told you that I don't believe in love that lasts forever.

And I don't know who's going to win. You proving myself wrong, or me proving myself right?

But, oh, for once I don't mind losing, I don't mind being proved wrong, if I get you as a proof of the love I've been dying to receive.

Maybe I don't want to be loved as much as I want to be understood

Again, it's my thoughts that scare me the most.

AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH

MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE ANYTIME SOON

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

EVERYTHING WAS ALREADY BACK TO NORMAL BUT THEN I GET A LOT OF ASSIGNMENTS AND MID-TERMS FOR NEXT WEEK AND I AM ALL STRESSED OUT!!

SO INSTEAD OF DOING MY 25 PAGES LONG WRITING, 2000 WORDS ESSAY, 1000 WORDS ESSAY AND OTHER CRAPS, HERE I AM COMPLAINING AND BITCHING ABOUT IT.

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

WHY DOES UNIVERSITY LIFE HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS WHY WHY WHY

WHY CAN'T I REST WHY CAN'T I TAKE A BREAK WHY

The nights get a little bit darker
And there's no stars to illuminate the dark.
The nights get a little bit longer
And there's no lullaby to sing you to sleep.
The nights get a little bit lonelier
And there's no moon to talk to.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #12

I no longer want to be a poet or a writer who writes about you anymore. I, for once, want to be an object. I want to be someone's poem. I want to be the sole reason why someone writes. I want to be the main character of someone's story.

And one day, you'll write about me. About how you regret leaving me. You'll write about how you could never be able to find someone who loved you as much as I did. And when that day comes, I'll already be someone's poem, just like how you were my poem before.

Hi! Things have been going out of control lately and I decided to make my blog private for a while. I need to let things out so I wrote everything that was on my mind without filtering it and I don't think it's something I would like everyone to read.

Now that things are getting a little bit less chaotic, I decide to make it public again and of course, I deleted some of the posts because I think they were way too honest and personal.

I don't even know what's wrong with me, but I hope things will go back to normal soon because I have realized whatever situation or feeling I am in now, it doesn't only hurt me, but also the ones who loved me and I loved back in return.

It's like I am walking absentmindedly in a big desert. I am lost. I have nowhere to go. Nothing.

truths be told

There's something that has been bugging me a lot these past few days. The problem is, I don't even know what it is but I know there's something wrong going on within me. It's not like I am unhappy or depressed but I am not happy either. I am not enjoying whatever it is I am supposed to be enjoying. I find myself space out a lot during classes, my mind drifts away so easily. I still talk and laugh a lot but it feels different. It's like I am there with them laughing and talking but then I feel like I am not really there talking and laughing. I often find myself wanting to be alone a lot. During classes I usually bury my nose on my book, so that no one would bother me. I've been craving to be alone so much. I spend my time laying on my bed, doing nothing and thinking about nothing. I just lay there, period. My mind is empty. Blank. Nothing. And having nothing going on in your brain is worse than having so many things running through your mind. Believe me. It is bad. And to make it worse, I cannot sleep at nights. I always fall asleep at 2 am-ish these past few days. So I just lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling and my mind is empty. I feel nothing. Nothing at all. But sometimes I feel like crying because of the circumstances I am in. I mean, it's better to cry than to feel empty.

I don't know. I really don't know. And it's going to be another long night for me. And I am tired of waking up so early, doing the same routine everyday, making sure everything is done. I am tired of everything and also everyone.

Sometimes I wish I could make a time machine and turn back time. Now that I've grown up I realized that what I'm doing and where I am right now is the result of my past. And there are things I would like to undo, things I would like to unshare, words I would like to unsay and feels I would really like to unfeel.

I wish I could go back and turn some of the yes' into no and turn some of the no I had said into yes. I wish I could say all the words I had left unsaid and maybe if I had, things would be different now.

But maybe people are meant to only go forward, not backward. Maybe some people and things are meant to be left only in the past.

We have a different path of life, afterall. Maybe someday we'll cross paths with our past again and things would be different.

She can be a lil bit useful sometimes :)))

"Who cares about the numbers? We're all in the search for the right ones. If you leave someone, then it means there's something about that person that makes you uncomfortable. But if someone chooses to be with you now, then it means there's something you have that the others don't." -D

They finally met

One died to let one live. One hid to make one be seen. One shone to make one bright. One stood still, one went in circle.

Once in a blue moon, they crossed path. Only for not more than 3 minutes.

Dark. It was what happened when they met. But God, never had we, human, seen so much beauty in darkness.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #11

"I love him. I really do. But not in the way I used to love him years ago. Not with the same burning fire and sparks anymore. I think I love him the way people love things or places. Like how I love beaches. And if one day I am forced to stop going to beaches, I would be devastated. I'd miss all the things I love about beaches. The sand, the waves, the birds and everything. But in the end, it won't hurt me. Well, maybe it will, but not that much. But God, will I miss it so much."

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #10

I think it's okay to randomly miss the people you don't really want to miss. We do that a lot, don't we? We randomly miss someone. We randomly love someone. We randomly leave someone. Time randomly heals everything and God randomly changes our fate.

If the Earth falls down and we are all able to live in Mars, will we ruin the Mars the way we ruin our Earth? Or have we actually learned enough to know better?

No.

When we're already living in Mars, we will search for a way to live in Jupiter, just in case Mars falls down, too.

Have you ever had a lot of questions in your head that you're too afraid to ask??!!!

Because I HAVE!!!!

Like, I had this question and then I kept repeating that question inside my brain and then I was like "okay, I'm going to ask now" and then 5 mins later I was like "naah, better keep it to myself" and it happened A LOT and then I started to make my own version of answers and it didn't do anything except making it worse!!!l

When insecurities attack

How do you get it of your insecurities, really? They've been my biggest enemy since God-knows-when and it never gets any better. I have one of those nights when I kept laying awake on my bed and then my brain just started questioning everything and then making images of something very very horrible. And sometimes the images are very vivid and real and it terrifies me to the point where I shudder and cry under my pillow.

People may think it's stupid to cry over something as simple as that--I know it's stupid-- but I just can't help it. I can't stop my brain. I just can't shut it off. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

Tell me, how do you kill insecurities?

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #9

I had never mastered the art of reading people's eyes. I had never be able to stare at someone's eyes for more than 5 minutes. Until I looked closely at your eyes. I could spent hours staring at them. I thought your eyes were the windows to your soul. They were the colour of leaves in the beginning of Autumn. Light brown but with a hint of green.

And in those eyes, I could see a loving and carefree man. A man whose soul had been bruised and hurt. A man whose soul was older than his age. A man who had gone through a lot. A man who's worth loving. Or so I thought.

I wish I knew better. Oh God, did I wish I know better.

Suddenly your eyes didn't bring me the soothing and peaceful breeze that the Autumn brings. You left as soon as the Winter came. Your eyes gave me nothing but an icy cold stare that chilled me to the bone. Though I love the coldness of Winter, I could never bear to look at you for more than five minutes.

Well, I guess eyes were not the windows to anyone's souls. Eyes can lie, too.

Back home

The worst thing about being abroad is that you're going to miss every single thing that happens back home. Like your mom's bday, family dinner, your brother's first beatbox competition and so much more.

The best thing about being abroad is that you'll learn so much thing you know you won't learn back home. Like living alone, going to the doctor alone, doing everything alone and so much more.

Nevertheless, it's never easy to leave home but it sure makes me feel better when I know that I'm leaving home for another home.

It's like I'm in a running race and yet I don't have any idea about what I'll get once I reach the finish line.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #8

I've read it somewhere that people are the prettiest when they talk about something they really really love. I never met someone who's so passionate over things and that it changed their whole demeanor when they talked about it. And then I met you. And I fell in love with the way you talked about your favorite games. I fell in love with they way your coal black eyes lit up when you talked about your childhood games. I fell in love with the way you groaned hopelessly when I didn't really get what you had just told me about your games. I fell in love with the hands gestures you made when you were explaining something to me. I fell in love with the way your voices rose a little bit when you got too excited about things.

And then I wonder, how did I look when I talked about my favorite books? Did you fall in love a little bit more when my eyes lit up in excitement the way I fell in love over and over again when those eyes were filled with passion?

my very first surgery!

HI!
It's nice to be back home after spending some nights at the hospital! Remember the post I posted here a few days ago about me being so scared? Yeah, I will basically write about that now.

So, there was this weird mole on my lips that just suddenly appeared out of nowhere and my mom decided to get it checked. Long story short, the doctor suspected that I have melanoma, which is a skin cancer, and when I knew there was a possibility of me having cancer, even though it was a very tiny tiny possibility, I went ballistic. I was scared beyond words. The word "cancer" was on my mind every damn time and I was so so terrified. All I thought about were cancer, cancer, chemo, death, loss hair, death and more death. I knew I was overreacting! It was only a tiny mole but still! Cancer was the deadliest disease on earth and to know that I had a possibility of having it, was just so terrifying.

Then, the doctor told me to get the mole removed by having a surgery. And I said yes. I managed to put on a brave face in front of the doctor but once I arrived at home, I cried like a baby. I cried for 3 days straight and I couldn't sleep safe and sound. When it was the night before the surgery, I was staying at the hospital with my mom and I finally told her that I was scared. She told me there was nothing to be scared about and that it didn't hurt. I wanted to believe her and everyone else who had told me that it wouldn't be that hurt but no, I was still scared. I have a small phobia on needles. I hate needles. I hate seeing needles and the thought that they would be using needles and knives to open my lips was scary.

Then, the nurse came to my room to bring me to the surgery room. My heart was beating so fast and I bet the nurse could hear it. Once I entered the surgery room, I almost puked. Needles were everywhere. Knives. Scissors. And everything. I was asked to wear the surgery dress, you know, the typical green dress and a cap that covered my head. And then I lied down on the bed and the doctor came. The doctor was actually pretty nice and friendly so I told him I was scared and he laughed at my face and said "it'd be done before you know it" and I was like "okay, still not helping". And then he injected my lips with a dose of anesthetic and it hurt but well, it didn't hurt like I thought it would be...... And then my lips went numb. Oh, I got my eyes covered by I still could peak a little but of course I closed my eyes.

And then the doctor and his assistants started to work on my lips. It didn't hurt because my lips were numb but I knew there were doing something. I could feel the doctor using knife to cut the mole and I knew when he was sewing my lips with needles but I couldn't feel the pain. When the surgery was going on, the doctor and the assistants were talking about another patient that needed a bone surgery and I was like "CAN YOU GUYS BE FOCUSED ON MY LIPS AND GET IT DONE SOON" I mean, hey my lips were wide open! And the doctor was singing the whole time he worked on my lips! He even asked me some question and I just mumbled some words to him because how was I supposed to answer him when there were needles on my lips?! And then I could feel blood running down from my lips to my lower cheek and to my neck! BLOOD ALL OVER MY NECK AND CHEEK! God. And being the curious self that I was, I decided to take a peak from my blindfold :) And I saw them using knife and needles on me and blood blood blood more blood everywhere. I closed my eyes instantly. And yes, it was done before I knew it. It took only around 10 mins and it didn't hurt at all. Sure, it kind of hurt when my lips weren't numb anymore but to sum it up, my first surgery wasn't that bad. I was just overreacting and overthinking everything.

Now that the mole was gone, my chance of having melanoma is gone, too. I am writing this with bandage on my lips. It was hard for me to drink, eat, and talk for me for a while and I can't even laugh right now. And there would be 2 ugly stitches left on my lips. But well, I couldn't do anything about it. I hope I can cover them with lipstick. lol.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #7

She would look at me with a bottle on her hand and without even asking, I know she needs help opening the bottle. Or in a rare occasion, I would offer her a hand right after she buys her bottle of water but she always denies and says she can open it on her own. And she can. The thing about her is that she is capable of doing everything on her own but it feels nice to know that she wants me to feel needed. She wants me to think that she needs me, even for the smallest and simplest thing like opening her bottle of water or waiting in front of the girls' toilet until she's done inside. It means she wants me to stay, doesn't it?

P.s: the idea is not entirely mine. But since he kind of sent it to me, I assume that it's mine already. Hehe.

Stolen

I am sorry, sweetheart,
For stealing your heart.
I'll keep it safe in a small cage,
Put it on the space between my bones,
And throw the key into the depth of hell.

I won't promise not to break it,
But whenever your heart breaks,
My bones will crack in response.
Your pain will be mine, too.

I'm sorry, my dear,
For claiming your heart as mine,
Making a permanent tattoo on it,
And keeping it hostage.

But if one day you want it back,
I will crack open my bones and go into the depth of hell for you.
Breaking myself,
Only to give back something that is no longer mine.

I would be left with an empty space between my bones and a permanent burn on my skin.
And you'd be left with your unscarred heart.
And when it happens,
My pain will never be yours anymore.

----

I've been trying so hard to write a good poem but this piece of shit is the only thing I can come out with! It doesn't even sound great. Ugh. It's rather hard to make a poem when you're not heartbroken.

A trip around the space

Take me to the space,
And I will step my feet on Venus,
Ask her how it feels like to be alone.
For she has no moons around,
And still, she manages to shine bright.

Take me to the space,
And I will land on the moon,
Beg her to tell me a story about the sun.
For she cannot shine without him.
And he cannot exist when she's up.

Take me to the space,
And I will dance on the Jupiter,
With the other 67 moons that Jupiter has.
I will ask Jupiter if 67 moons are enough for a big planet.
Because sometimes, it still gets lonely no matter how crowded it is.

Take me to the space,
And I will go to my home,
Where only one moon shines upon me.
Where I can see Venus on the evening sky.
Where Jupiter is hard to see despite its size.
Where I can look to the sky and count the stars, noticing how we are nothing but stardusts.

I've never been this scared and shaken up before. I don't even know what I'm feeling. Scared. Sad. Angry. Mad. Confused. Everything. Never have I cried this long before. It's all eating me alive and no matter how hard I tried to not think about it, it just stays on the back of my mind and forces me to think about all the possibilities that could happen to me. I wonder how many tears I'm going to waste in these couple of days.

I'm scared. God, I'm terrified.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #6

I remember that you don't like to buy a new pair of jeans until the old ones are really worn out. Well, I guess I am your old worn out jeans that you used to love so much but now I don't fit you anymore so you get a new pair of jeans and left me in the back of your closet until I am buried in dust and dirt.

Help!

So happy to know that my essay gets featured on Voices of Youth (a website organized by UNICEF)! My aim is to have at least 4 more essays there so that I could compete against the others. I am also hoping for more comments from everyone!

A little help would be nice! :)

Here's the link. 

Thank you!

Sometimes I wish I were someone else, living a completely different life in a different place, knowing different people, having different personality.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #5

I remember the first time I leaned my head on your shoulder or the first time you held my hand so tight. I remember how you would text me everyday just to make sure I was okay. And now here I am, leaning on the wall of my 2 bedrooms apartment and holding a cheap bottle of beer with tears running down my cheeks. I don't even know what enters my mouth anymore, my tears or the beer? All I know is my throat burns like hell and that I've been sending you a lot of drunken texts and calls saying how much I miss you but all I get is a distant sound of you and some other girl.

He is a raging fire and I am a blown out candle. He lits me up, but in the end, his fire will burn out the candle until it completely disappears.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #4

"Forever." He says confidently.

And her minds is a chaos. She never believes in a concept of forever. How can someone promise a forever when no one knows about tomorrow? We never know about what's going to happen tomorrow or next year, let alone forever.

He might meet a beautiful girl tomorrow in a cafe and instantly falls in love with her. He might talk with a girl in a bus and falls in love with the way she thinks. He might fall in love with someone else's eyes, someone else's laughter and smile and then he'd completely forget all about me and my dull eyes. He'd forget why he fell in love with me in the first place and everything would be gone.

No, forever is a very very long time and no one can promise a forever.

"The happiest people don't have the best of everything, they just make the best of everything"

The question is,
How do you make the best of everything?

It's funny how a year ago you wished to end up with him and now you wish to end up with another one and there is a chance that a year from now on, you'll wish to end up with someone you don't even know, now.

It's funny how feelings can jump from a person to another person and to another person just because of the time.

excerpt from a book I'll never write #3

"How much in love were you that night?" I finally said, "when you first kissed me on our third date,"

"So much. I was so in love with you that night and it was that kind of love that consumed every inch of my body."

"And how much in love are you now?"

"So much," He paused, "But, it's not you anymore... things did change, didn't it?" He continued, "And besides, you never really believe in love, anyway."

"Things changed, didn't it? I changed my mind about love and you changed your mind about loving me," She let out a bitter laugh, "yeah, things really did change."

Blank Canvas

You would never be able to paint her. She's a picture of thousand birds soaring and dancing through the evening sky, a picture of freedom. She's a picture of black and white and yet a picture of a colorful rainbow you wish to see after a heavy rain. She's a picture of thousand shining stars on the night sky. A picture of light and gold. She's a picture of green forest you'd have no problem getting lost in. A picture of deep blue ocean where you'd like to drown yourself in. A picture of perfection.

She's an art, and like other arts, not everyone can understand her. She's an art with so many hidden meanings.

And yet, she's also a white blank canvas, waiting for someone to paint her smile. Waiting for someone to unwhite the canvas. Waiting for someone to put emotions on her.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #2

"Never fall in love with a writer."

"Why?"

"Because he will say the most beautiful words to describe you. He will say that your eyes are seas he has no problem drowning in for days and that the freckles on your cheeks are constellation he'd love to trace for the rest of his life. He will write you poems about how your laugh sounds better than the singing birds on a summer day or how your smile can cure cancer and stop wars. But believe me, in the end, you'd be the one writing poems about heartbreaks and tears and his name will appear on every page of your diary and no one could stop you but him."

"But I already did. Fall in love with a writer, I mean."

"Oh. How did he describe your eyes?"

"He said my eyes are bluer than the sky and that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them,"

"Well, good luck, I guess."

excerpt from a book I’ll never write #1

It was when he looked at me with his cold blue eyes did I realize that he didn't deserve every poem I wrote about him. He didn't deserve any love letters I didn't send to him. The emptiness in his blue eyes told me everything I had yet to know. He was never a saint. He was the boy my mom warned me about. But oh God, writing about him was an addiction I couldn't stop. It was an ecstasy. Whenever my pen meets my paper, his name was the first thing that popped up in my mind and in the end, I would write about how his blue eyes kill me in the most beautiful way.