声を聞こえないよ。
眠ってないよ。
君はどこえ？
元気か？

I want to hear your voice again.
I want to see you again.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore."
Then why am I hurting all over right now?

"Live on."
I will.

I miss you. I really do.

But you won't return.

It is painful, and I miss you. It feels like I am skinned alive.

There's nothing more, right? I am just a figment of memory for you now. Someone that you need to forget in order to achieve your happiness.

会いたい。
会いたい。
会いたい。
会いたいよ。

I cannot undo what I have done.
I cannot un-see what I have seen.
I cannot forget what I have heard.

I am sorry.

Of Knitted Scarf, Small Bunnies and Unopened Tea Satchets

Why are the memories so painful to recall?

I am still at the place where we parted, and still unable to take a step forward.

I cry.

There's nothing I can do. I regret. I reminisce. I saw the triggers yet again and they flow again.

I wonder if it is the same at the other side,

What can I do now? I really don't know. How can I go through this ordeal? I am still here, stuck deep into the ground while people are moving forward.

God, I don't know what You have planned for me. I need to stay strong, right? I have neglected You for so long, and do the prayers just for the sake of it. I never think twice if I am doing them right or not.

Is there still something for me in the future?

I pray that in the end, I will be unbroken once again. I want to be happy again. I want to be normal again. I want to...

I give myself to You, as You will know how to weave my fate accordingly. I prostrate myself before You and offer You my sincerest apology.

Please make her happier than ever, and for me to be able to overcome this.

I pray earnestly to you, God.

瞬間 Ｒｏｍａｎｔｉｃｉｓｍ

A fated occurrence, where two souls bound by the red thread
Met under the guidance of the scattered sakura petals

Their hands, taught firmly with each other's warmth
Playing the whistling sound of swaying grasses dancing with the wind
The two souls smiled and whispered their eternal exchange of vows
In which their hearts are doomed with love

Their lives had been embroided by the thin red thread
Exchanging kisses when the moon was dirtied with the colour blue
A reason to keep on living was found, eclipsing the desire for the darkness
"I will never let your gentle grip slip away"

The boy wondered how many ways can he prove his pledge
To this beautiful angel crafted in flesh
The girl put her finger on his lips and said sweetly
"Hush my darling, just love me dearly and we will not be separated"

The trail to true happiness is not without stones you might trip on, adviced the elderly woman upon seeing the couple
Seeing the girl contorted her face in worry, the boy let his hand linger on her cheek
As if saying, "love, my love, need not worry because the red thread bonds us eternally"

Alone in Aokigahara, the girl found a deathly black scarf
With the word "hate" inscribed on it all over
Wrapping it around her neck, she was snatched by the dark and not to return again

The boy, desperately running to be in the embrace where he found comfort in
Looking for the hands that always hold his in a passion words won't be able to describe
He saw a pair of white shoes he bought as the gift for their anniversary
Only now, they were tainted in bloody red
Next to an apologising note for unable to keep the promise to stay together

The forest trembled in sorrow as the roar of anguish proceeded to shatter the tranquil of the sky
He took the scarf from the girl's cold body and wound it around his neck
His heart melted and overflowed from his eyes
Chanting "so sorry, eternally together"
He reached for the darkness the girl was drowned in


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Dated Friday, December 17, 2010. Another one I discovered.

I was having an unhealthy obsession for the Aokigahara forest at that time, as well as the story of the red thread of fate.

赤い糸。

I should have known. I was not supposed to be with another at that time. Suicidal tendencies are already apparent at that time. Perhaps that is why I am being discarded away.

That's okay. It's alright.

If we can't treat a bad portion of our flesh, the other thing we can do is to cut it away.

I am nothing but a diseased flesh, thrown away to cure an illness from a healthy body.

鳥籠

Swallowed by the times of drifting in the everlasting dream
The shards of my raison d'etre are piercing through my chest

The sky starts to shine, 

 therefore spread your wings of prayers 

  and reach for the noctilucent cloud

How many times have I lost count of the times when the Sun's ray burn me?
I don't remember, I gaze at the scars that remind me of the mistakes I've done

Why is it so hard to let go of you but you tend to leave me before it dawns
Is the sky filled with so much calamity 

 that you refused to remain at my side?
Answer me, 

 have faith in me, 

  I'm damaged beyond repair

White rays begin to pierce through the cloud, 

 outshining the noctilucent cloud
Yet I still cannot see beyond my two arms

If achieving what we desired is a sin

 I wouldn't mind to scrape away my grace

  if it means you staying with me forever
Because in you I find my true self
A genuine smile is carved on my face when I succumb to the endless desire

I shall take my leave,

 as the scorching rays penetrated the thick cloud covers and the mist dissipates
The dark depletes when agony eats me
I wrap my wings around me awaiting the next dawn

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, September 9, 2010. The above was written on that date.

Crude, but I remember being satisfied with it.

All this while, I was unaware that somewhere in this reality, there will be at least someone who reads what I write.

My translation of a song is being linked from an official website.

It is a window to a distant world. I wonder, when others clicked on that link, what kind of world do they imagine I live in?

I want to talk to you people. I want to learn more of the world outside this birdcage. We are detained here with an illusion of free will, and we need outsiders to unlock the door.

I will work harder from now on. I want to be able to escape this cell.

Nameless Cog in the Machine

ああ。ここで。この場所。
That's right. Here, at this place.

Surrounded by the forest, the brown cabins that give out the sense of tranquil. That place far from the main capital. That was the place where I wanted to start a new life.

A green meadow spread right across the road. Nature is abundant here, and we wouldn't be alone.

It is too late now.

I'd like to think that I have already gotten through this ordeal. Unfortunately, it is not that easy. For this, I cannot lie to myself.

大丈夫。
It's okay.

In this everlasting dream, there is an eternal winter. A perpetual snowfall. All is covered by the thin white layer.

I clasp my hands and look up to the sky. There, in the middle of the sky. There is the sun, faint and gloom, saddened by the fact that its place is taken by the clouds.

I smile. Here, there's nothing to be afraid of. I am not alive, but I am also not dead. I am a projection of someone whose wish is to escape the reality, however briefly.

There's no reason for any hurt, and I am free here. I don't carry my burdens and wounded conscience into the dream. I am free. I am normal. I am happy.

No. That's not it.

It is more like I feel nothing at all.
It is more like I am thinking of nothing at all.

Because of that, I am not burdened by my own thoughts. My mind is clear, and I have a dream there.

次の歌を歌う。
I sing the next song.

I exist here, in this cruel reality, for what? Where will I end up, and what will I be in the future? How long will I be here?

This anxiety, it is a defect in this otherwise perfect brain. We are all created complete, and once we are broken, we remain broken forever.

We are part of the gear, and I am a nameless cog in the machine.

I am heading back. There's nothing for me to do in the present, and future is still very far. My only option is to go back. I am tracing back the path I took and see the old scenery once again.

It will be tough, I know. I need to wade through all the pleasant memories once again. I may end up even more broken than now, but my gut tells me I am doing the right thing.

My old bubble. My old sanctuary. My old self.

生きてるよ。
もう、生きてるよ。
In this place, where no one can reach.
I am becoming more and more transparent.
I am becoming easy to see through, but I am also disappearing,
 dissolving in this clear aquamarine liquid.

Delkmiroph

"As long as we're happy in my dreams, I will be happy in my mind."

It's nothing more than an illusion, the times when we were supposed to sleep in each other's embrace. It was vivid, but sadly ended when I opened my eyes.

I am falling again. I tried to grab on anything to break it but all I managed to grasp is a tattered rope.

"There. That was the rope you used. You left me lost and hanging there, remember?"

I know, but I try to forget. It's all in the past now. Why are you still inside here to torment me almost every night?

I try to understand my situation and attempted to revoke control of my consciousness. I've handed in the reins from the beginning and it led me to someplace familiar. The place where it all started. The white chamber, the smell of a farewell party, the familiar faces. It was still there, clearly still etched inside my mind. I recognized that scene.

Running away, trying to catch the fleeing you. I failed, thus I hid next door. I kept my composure and figuring out what my next move would be. And downstairs, someone was punching his knuckles raw.

All are part of memories now. They will live on forever inside me. I failed, and the feeling will never leave me. I am doomed to live the rest of my life with this splinter sticking into my ego. A wedge that threatens to split me into half if I suffer another blow.

Everything has ended, and so is my will to live on.

The silence is unbearable. Where are you? I wonder if you are dreaming right now. What kind of dream are you having now?

I sigh. The cigarette smell is comforting. The filter tastes sweet as ever, and the charred end is still glowing red. Whenever I move it, it draws a bright trail in front of my eyes. The cat is still nowhere to be seen, and I really miss it.

I do not care anymore. I need to do things that I refrained from for the past four years. It is for the sake of recovering myself that has been lost. I am following a map that is incomplete, all thanks to the lack of notes of remembrance. No sense of direction, and all I want to see is the sunset.

Let it be the final one. I want to see the sunset. Once again, bathed in this emotion that never ceases to swell in my chest.

All is done, and all is history. What I can do now is to get over it. Do not pull me forward, please. I am gathering up the pieces I have left and trying to construct something out of it. No matter how incoherent I speak, how unkempt I look and how nihilist my writing is, I am normal. You are normal. Everyone is normal.

I am insane, you are insane, everyone is insane. It is up to our perspective.

Black and white. Dear monochromatic view of life, I stand here hoping that I can still see the orange sun at the moment of the dusk. I want to see the brilliant blue moon during the dawn and to see the night during the noon.  After all, we are what we seem, and what we see is what we get. There is no limitation, only us restraining our capabilities and strengths.

I am not a burden to anyone. I will not be a burden anymore. I can move on. I can do this.

I am changing, I know I am. Where my change is heading, I do not know. I will stay still like a corpse and see what will sprout from my back. Will there be white feathery wings, or an insect's plastic-like wings. Either way, I will not object. If that is what fate hands to me, I can only shut up and accept it. Even if I am destined to be a parasite or a maggot or a starfish.

 Let's just aim to be the best in whatever form I will end up in.

I know this is just a trial, God. Your humble servant here is still learning how to get out of this ditch. I can only pray that I will be able to climb out before I die.

泡になりたい

Waves bring forth foreign substances and deposit them along these shores.

I wonder, if I am to entrust myself to these waves, will I be able to go where I can't? These legs that won't carry me to the destination that I desire, will they listen to my commands now?

I want to to be able to shut down, even for a while. I am being distracted by the past, and ending up clinging onto the same spot for years. The ones I had before, they did not leave me. They see me as being unchanged, thus they move forward. They did not leave, they had simply accepted that and move on.

Their essence, their mannerisms, they have been ingrained inside me. They keep me alive and well, and at the same time bringing lots of regrets.

"If only."

I look at my hands and see some scars. Are they self-inflicted or by some other factors? I don't remember. Are my memories real? I have no way to confirm it.

What if all the happy times are just fabrication of my own mind? What if I was just convincing myself that back then, we all were laughing together sincerely? Maybe they were laughing over something that I can't understand.

All those time, I couldn't make anyone else happy but myself. I don't know how many I have disappointed back then. Maybe they expected more of me, and I just simply brushed them away and go on with my own pace.

I need something else. Something tragic. Something that can shake my mind to its very core. Something that can crumble the very foundation where I have built my concepts. That way, I can feel that I am alive.

The danger, the adrenaline, the rush. I need those things. But I need to be careful not to drag others as well.

I am feeling sorry to myself and others that I have met. I don't know how to atone for my mistakes, and I am still carrying the burdens I have from years ago. How can I repay them in this short lifespan bestowed upon me?

Then again, I know that even if I live long, I will just keep on repeating my mistakes, ending up as the villain once again.

Being nostalgic at this moment, I carved what I feel into these parchments and hope that they will be read in the future by someone else. I am not alone, I know. This kind of pain, other people than me had bear it and survived.

However, at this moment, I feel truly alone.

Even being surrounded by other people, even when being with my loved ones, I feel alone. Our thoughts are not in sync, and the emotions are of different wavelengths. We speak of the same topic but each with their own version of truth.

I am selfish. Even though I am like this, I am still a man. I cannot deny what nature has decided on me. I feel sick.



"Don't take life too seriously."
"Besides, you are still young."
"Hence, the retreat from not doing it there."
"It's a symbolic act of killing our demon."
"I know what you're going through now, so if you need to talk, I am always free."
"Don't think yourself as being a burden."
"I'm just a call away."

I am sorry, friend. I know you have wounds you want to hide from others but still...

I fear that by asking you for help and support, I am ripping away the crusting scabs from you. I asked you to lower your mask and look after me. The two of us, maybe if we aren't what we are now, I think we will be happy with each other.

Too bad, we have to be like this.

Those times spent with you, the night cruises, the jokes we shared and the things we said in unison, the rebellion, I still remember them. If only we were born differently, I am sure that we won't have to look for others.

We complete each other, and I know it. Do you notice it? Do you?

We are separated by fate, and fate itself is very cruel. Do you know that?

For now, I will do my best. Not only for myself, but for you as well. Others that still need me, I will try to not disappoint them.

So that someday, I can stand proudly and face you once again. Then, I will be able to say that I have changed for the better and doesn't need your hand to support me anymore.

Perhaps, that time, we will be able to walk side by side as something more than friends.

I know that, and I think you know that as well.

For that time to come one day, I will keep on living.

Let's Fuck Things Up

A couple fighting when the woman accidentally opened up a porn on her man's mobile phone in public.

A very fine morning to you people.

It was then proceeded by accusation that the man is actually dissatisfied with his woman's body weight since the porn features a woman of a very slim, petite figure.

After that, they went down the memory lane and began to dig up dirt on each other. It was embarrassing to watch.

Still, standing in a long line awaiting your turn doesn't offer much entertainment. I kept watching anyway.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know what to expect anymore.

The last conversation keeps on replaying over and over again in my head.

Jamming music into my ears won't do any good since it's all in my head.

We've been talking in our sleep,

A little of our darkest secret let loose.

We are broken not beyond disrepair,

but we need to avoid aggravating old wounds.

There's nothing but empty bed sheet.

A cold air in the warm morning.

Unused coffee mug and plates in the kitchen.

An empty conditioner in the trash can.

The schedule is barren.

The laundry now is only for one person.

We used to be close.

Another year and we'd be one.

Now all there is are just vivid recollections.

I washed your dirty socks, too.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sculpture's picture is posted online.

I saved that, I don't know why.

Right from the start, I knew that we are not supposed to be happy all the time.

I've had enough. We've had enough. You've had enough.

I am saying farewell again.

So, goodbye.

I feel warm, somehow.

There's this ache that persists, but I feel warm and comfortable.

Our memories won't remain, and we won't be here for too long.

Repost

When in doubt, return back to the point where you felt certain.

So I complied.

The return to the past, going through all the things that once provided me joy, I feel like I died inside. There were so much things unraveled, and questions unanswered.

I feel sick.

I was told that I never care. Now going through a lot of things I wrote in the past, back when everything was supposed to be happy and peaceful...

I think that I am also a victim.

"You never care what kind of songs I listen to anyway."
"You never took time to say what I wanted you to say."
"You never want to do things together."

I wrote things. I pulled any kind of emotion I experienced that time and expressed them in words. I twisted them around to make it sound nice.

But it was not acknowledged.

Why the fuck would I wrote things about abandonment when I was supposed to be happy that time?
Why the fuck would I write about not being heard when I was supposed to had another pair of ears to listen to my problems?

Hints were given. "Yes, I checked." Sure. But nothing was being done to remedy it. Nothing was said indicating that it was understood. Nothing was shown that there was even a slightest realization that I was, in fact, alone.

I am angry. I am sad. But most of all, I feel so pathetic.The more I try to forget, the more I recall.

I am immature. I am still not growing up. My mind is still to shallow and I still cry over not wanting to grow up.

I feel like crying, but I am tired. This hurting feelings inside, if only I can convert them somehow to become physical pain, I would gladly do it. It is much more bearable.

"Even if the whole world is against you, I will still trust you."

That was a silent vow. I tried to adhere to it. Tried.

What if.

Yes, what if.

What if the person whom the vow was meant for, distrusts you?
What if the person whom the vow was meant for, discards you?
What if the person whom the vow was meant for, doesn't care about you?

And I retaliated.

There's no doubt that what I did is very despicable, but I would never stab another if they don't stab me first.

But no, I am painted as the villain. In this constructed modern fairy tale, I am the one that terrorizes the princess to get her attention. I am the one that draws blood first. I am the one that kills first.

I do not know what I am supposed to feel now. Can someone tell me? To what extend can you go to forget something? How far would you go to retrieve back your old self that you have thrown away when you let another person in your heart?

I am the villain. I am the evil one.

The old trick is pulled. "Sorry, but I just bought this number."

Nothing is left in this hand. Only burdens on my shoulder has been added. "Do not live for another person that is only in your life for a couple of years. What of your parents?"

If only these parents are more open-minded and don't prosecute your every act. Perhaps I won't be as broken as I am. I am not complaining. I am not wishing for the better. I am just ranting.

You take a shit, you wipe your ass yourself. No one's gonna offer you any assistance. Their own hands are full of theirs.

「天の砂」La voix silencieuse: REDISCOVERY

Let me rest here

A place to return to

The space which aches in the absence of you...

The silence is hurting me

The beads fall again and again but they are left unseen

As I whisper "GOODNIGHT" the flashing light beacons

Luring me away from the sleep

Depriving me the comfort of dreams

"Waiting for you to fall by my side..."

The sanctuary sings but wounded not without remorse

Driven away, casted upon the sun

Crumbling away, unable to be rebuilt anymore

"Forgive me, I have sinned"

Tainted and impure, looking upon Eden, wishing for its light to reach down here

"Calling for you to fall by my side..."

I fall asleep, trapped within the lapis lazuli dream

Waiting to be released, but my voice remains unheard

Still, I touch the glass wall hoping to finally wake up

In this space, will I finally dissolve to nothingness?

Within you, sinking

Permeated by the aurora that merges the sky and the clouds

"Praying for you to fall by my side"

Shivering, longing for the fall

The beads roll away

No answer... Silence...

The conscience is nearly betrayed

In the end, the sanctuary is out of reach

"Having faith for you to finally fall by my side..."

Wish

A little boy trampling along the path
Blue shirt, his face troubled
Eyes darting around, looking for the sign
Of the forest guardian

A white bunny scurries before him
With fluffy ears twitching, image of the cloud
Looking at the boy, it says
"Little child, what is wrong?"

The boy speaks, a voice of innocence
"I am searching for the guardian
I have a wish to be told
A wish to be fulfilled"

They walk along the path, side by side
until they meet the fox
Reddish-brown coat, shimmering under light
And it speaks,

"Little child, what is wrong?
You do not look lost,
and certainly not cheerful
May I accompany you?"

Three is their number, a unique bunch
The boy in blue, the white bunny, the red fox
No further words exchanged, yet they understand;
'Look for the forest guardian'

At the end of the path, the guardian stands
Leaves of everlasting green, bark as brown as the soil
It a soft voice it speaks
"Little child, what is wrong?"

Tears in eyes, the boy says
"Dear guardian, I have a wish to tell
A wish to be fulfilled
Return to me my little cat"

"It has not moved since yesterday,
and it has not eaten its treats
Its fur loses the shine
and its eyes glaze over"

Shedding its leaves, the guardian smiles
"Return home, little child
Your place is not here
You do not belong here, but your little cat is"

"Return home, little child
One wish told, one wish unfulfilled
The cat stays, but remember always
Its heart, however small, is filled by you"

"Do not cry, do not despair,
Once your purpose is done, return here
You will be welcomed with warmth
and your little cat awaits"

青い毒

It's starting again.

I feel that I cannot express myself again.

Keep our backs turned away. We don't know each other. We are all up to no good, so we need to find an easy way out of this.

Getting rid of the triggers. That means throwing away many things that I cherish.

Maybe I have developed a phobia of some sorts. A disease that is only inside my mind but I am convinced that it is real. It has begun to affect my physical health.

I am doing my best here. I am keeping the faith for tomorrow and is still trying to stay alive. I cannot expect things would be better as soon as I opened my eyes. I need to do something.

It is the governing law in this reality. An equality exchange. We can't have free things shoved down our throats. We need to sacrifice something too receive something.

I am tired of hiding these scars. It is too much a burden.

We are starting to see with clear eyes. I don't know about that before, but there are so much dirt in this world. Unseen, cultivating without any suspicions. The source is still not known, but it shows that this world is corrupted. And this is also the world where we need to give birth to a new life in.

Am I willing to sacrifice something of mine to achieve another? That means forgetting one thing to get a new sense of satisfaction. I don't know if I can do that. I am too stubborn to let go of the past. I want to forget all the laughter, the anger, the humiliation, the sorrow, the moment of silent.

Yet I am still reminded of them once in a while. A whim of the torturous mind. I cannot control it.

Maybe I need to move away from this place, one that I call home. I don't know when I can do that, but if I start to work for it now, it will be in a near future.

The road is still there, and I have the option to move forward or return back. I am stuck in this road for so long, and the scenery is unchanged. Perhaps the time has come for me.

一

I am at the end of the road again.

I don't have the drive to turn back for now. I fear for the worst.

One thing I am sure of is, I must not be alone now.

My recovery is still so far. I am not back to normal yet.

C.Y.F.L.I.D.?

傷は消えない。

だからこそ、生き続けるよ。

Nothing I won't forget.
Nothing I will regret.
If there's a button that wipes myself from the world and people's memories, I won't hesitate to push it.

I am a coward.
I can't even bring an end to it all.

Our inherited genes are flawed.
Still, we need to leave behind a legacy.
A new keeper of the flame.
That's why, stay alive.
Wounds heal, but we are scarred forever.
No need to worry.
Our words wound others constantly, and they develop scars.
With scars covering their wounds, they won't need to bleed from the same cut again.

Why do I keep myself shut?
Why do I keep writing?
Why do I keep insisting to stay alive?
When will I be tired of it all?

We announce our deeds online and claim them as divine punishments.
Tell me, is our God bloodthirsty?
Why do we need to slaughter innocents to prove that we are pious?
Why do we need to hurt other people to claim our prize in paradise?
Why do we need to cut the poor person's neck to get our message across?
Will killing the pedestrians appease our God?

Tell me the truth.
If there is any truth left in this world.
The only truth I had is now dangerously fragile.
I learnt that truth is a fabrication done by the person of power.

I am sick of it all.
This violence.
This blood-shedding.
This killing.
The dying of the sacred earth red.

My favorite songs are on.
My favorite TV shows are recorded.

Everything will end someday.
But I wish it will never end.
Once I find the other side of my heart.
I want to keep myself shut.
This world is scary, and adults are out there spinning their lies.
Justifying their actions.
Dragging unrelated parties into their little game of slaughter.

I am sick of it.
I am tired of it.
The newscaster happily read the news.
"Among the victims, there is no one that is of our nationality."
"No one that is of our nationality."
"No one."

Inside our bubble.
Forever.

ヂストレッスとヂストラスト

Losing my way of pride.

There's no loyalty here. Just bits of broken desire. We are a servant of our bodies. We can't do much to suppress them.

We are normal. Having wicked thoughts are normal. The problem starts when you start to do the things that voice ask you to.

The scar on our forehead throbs. It is healed long time ago, but the pain is still there.

Last time I go there, I was driven to the brink of destruction. I almost gave in. It was too empowering, all sane thoughts were cast aside. We became beasts that day, instincts overwriting everything else in our heads.

Still, all went well. Too well, I'd say.

So long, and see you again. I bid you farewell a lot of times already, and it is still ongoing.

We need a premeditated malfunction, a severe one that can lead to the reboot of our morality and new commanding operatives implanted inside us.

Breaking ourselves is a crime, and spreading viruses inside us is illegal. Because you were always there, I was able to go on toward the world where nobody is. The worm is crawling deeper, making duplicates of useless data inside the brain and slows any thought processes to a halt.

Emotionns are rendered harmlesss. Therefore there'ss no need to panic. SSensse of balance iss disruptedd and we aare required to stay motionleess. This silent rooom of ours are safe enough, and we'll be able to purge out the bad programs from our system.

この世界

There's an echo in the distance that draws me closer. A voice that is friendly, singing a melody that I once heard before.

No nightmares, no past memories. For once, I slept peacefully and woke up energized. I am fully awake now and there is no reason for me to cry.

To forget is a blessing, and we should be grateful of it. We are only here temporary, and our mind is a vast collection of information jammed together after years of accumulation. Do not try to dirty it any further.

I am a transient life, and God can take me anytime. I can't have any regrets now and then, or I'll have to deal with them in the afterlife. We are but a servant waiting to be freed from this shackling flesh that rages with desire.

I need to speak more. The longer I hold myself from interaction, the sooner I feel I will crack.

Willing

We lie. You lie. I lie. Everyone lie.

I lied because you lied. You lied because I lied. I cheated because you cheated. You cheated because I cheated.

We hurt each other in retaliation. When I hurt you, you hurt me back. It is an ongoing cycle.

A glimpse of you is all it need to break me. Is it guilt, or leftover feelings? I don't know. That's why I keep on writing. By writing, I feel like I am talking to people, confiding my secrets, my worries. I do not own journals anymore. They are all over the place now, passengers of the heavy wind that blow yesterday.

No more hurt. No more secrets. All of us are exposed already and there is no way we can get back to the innocent days. We are growing up, and with it we also gain the ability to discern the right and wrong. I am growing up and still wondering if I can keep the purity of a child inside my mind which is biased.

Bidding my past farewell, I shed a few tears. Watching the flames as it ate its way into the pages where I once scribbled both our names, I wish I could just disappear forever. I cannot describe the emptiness inside me, and the flames are permanently inside me all the time.

You are supposed to come out of this stronger.

I am sure I will dream about it again. The past that I wished would last forever. The future that I hoped would come one day. The present is no more than a bed of nails, and I am getting sucked into the earth by the intensifying gravity that threatens to bury me alive.

I am losing control of my dream world. More and more, my own private world is invaded by reality and replays the time which I want to forget. The jet that were supposed to crash onto the surface of the bluish moon was not there. I was strapped onto a log that was shot high into the sky by a geyser of hot water from deep inside the earth. I could feel the scalding temperature of it on my skin, and the rope that bound me snapped before I came plummeting back onto the ground.

The person in the red dress was there all along. Why won't you extend a hand to help me out? Pluck me away from this faux-reality and bring me into your world. I don't want to spend more time here, where my imagination runs unchecked and is killing me slowly.

I need to wear my heart on my sleeve a little bit more. I need to show the people out there that I am normal. I also like the things that they like, and I prefer to read instead of having empty talks all the time. I am not weird, I am not abnormal. We are all not normal, so we are all the same.

Let's burn this world, where I am tormented all over again. I despise the gallows that keep on swinging before me from that old, giant tree in my dreams. I am sick of the wailing mannequins that beg me to complete them again and again. I am tired of the phone that keep on receiving non-existing messages.

All of those are of the past. I want to start new. Do I have to burn myself to achieve that?

My medicines are running low, and their side-effects are starting to bud. Will I be permanently damaged before I can be healed?

A car crash on the news. Can I be the one inside the car, instead? The life that is on the brink of destruction doesn't deserve to go early. It is sad. Do not die before your children repay you for you effort. It should be me. I am tired of living a repetition of yesterday, and waking up to a tomorrow that holds no value of me.

Why are people happily spreading the drawings of the suspects happily as if they are handing out invitations for a part? Wipe that grin off that face. It is not something to be amused of. A person died, and it is disrespectful. She has ascended life itself. She had broken out of the cocoon of life and is now fleeting away with her new wings.

This old flame, can I snuff it? There is no point of keeping it alive. A new flame, where mine once burned, is dancing proudly. This birdcage is now empty.

No.

It is not empty.

There is another being inside there. A shadow. A dark-feathered bird whose cries are foul and glare so sharp it is chilling.

Nothing I can forget. Nothing I can't forgive. Those are what I told myself over and over again. No point in forgetting the painful memories, and no point in holding grudges against something that has passed.

Sleep used to be something I can do to escape this corrupting world, but it is now tainted with the ugly reality. I do not want to sleep, but the pills inside this bottle want me to. 'Be careful', they said, 'take too much and you'll die.'

My mind is running wild, and those white circular pills want to cure my anxiety. 'There, there', they said, 'there's no need to think too much.'

I am starting to lose something else. I don't know what it is, but I can feel that I am slowly breaking apart and the pieces are being blown away.

I am back inside my cell. Even after all this time, it stays loyal to me. The walls are white, free of dirt and stains. I am here, I yelled. Nothing can touch me here. I am free inside here. No one can take me away from me.

The smell of citrus is replaced with one of that cloyingly sweet scent of lavender. I never liked lavender but why is it replacing the one scent that I loved so much.

I am holding a glass of water in my right hand, and the medicines in my left. If I take them inside me, that would mean I am admitting I am weak. That I need outside forces to figure out what's wrong with me. I am normal. I am not crazy. My mind is just undergoing a major reconstruction, that's what. I can still think straight, and I won't need to reach for the razor again. The wires are safely stored away from me in a place where I myself don't know. I am being monitored 24/7, and I am eating good food on a regular basis.

I don't need a doctor to call me and ask me if my mind is quiet or not. I am well. I am healthy, doctor. Are your children healthy too? Maybe you need to see me as not a patient but a mere distraction from your own family. Do not concern yourself over my well-being anymore. I am nothing more than a withering husk, and awaiting my turn to a combustion.

I am okay. I am doing fine.

I am still alive and well, and I want to keep living.

I am thankful of all the things that befell me. A gratitude to all those who do wrong.

So I am printing another page to burn. The demon needs to go away. Again

Locust Diary

The goodbyes are engulfed in flames.

Nothing else to do now. Just let all those remain fly away. The two people who used to be close will now pass each other without knowing.

Now all the pieces have gathered. It's up to me now to reconstruct what I have left. This jigsaw puzzle of mine, seems to be missing something whenever I want to finish it. The picture is a blur, and in it I recognize a familiar silhouette.

It is from a person who wanted to walk together, but always leave me behind whenever we did.

I am sick. In body and in mind. But in our society nowadays, everyone is sick. Some won't know that they are, and only themselves can discover that.

For how long can we pretend that we are all healthy? Nothing is wrong with us, and we will live to the best of our age?

We put on our daily mask, and face the day like there is nothing wrong with the world. We devour our food and drinks and go out to work. We spend half the day at work and go home before dark. We take our time to relax, interact with others before heading to sleep.

What have we achieved by doing that?

When the mask starts to frown, we toss it away and purchase a new one. When we get full, we leave the food and drink behind for maggots to culture in. When we have a day off, we spend time with people who we see every week, talking of topics that is a repetition of what we talked about in the previous weeks. We sleep, and wake up, and sleep, and wake up again.

We are in an endless loop, and we are unwilling to break away from it.

We are a creature of habit, and that makes us vulnerable. We are predictable animals, and digging deep into our motives to get through each day, we are only driven by our urge to reproduce. We are in desperation to spread our seeds before we die, and hope that our offspring will spread theirs, too.

Why are we programmed like that?

I am not supposed to question why. Maybe I am a defect. Other people who question this are also defects. For us defects, where will we end up after we die? We carry within us the corrupted seeds, and maybe we are not meant to propagate. It won't be good to spread the bad seeds, isn't it?

But we are still alive.

Men putting on their colognes and hair-waxes, and women decking themselves in make-up and pretty clothes. I see this every day and wonder why do we have to do that. We have an insatiable thirst, and will continue to be like that for the most of our lives. The males are cursed to bear it until they die.

It is part of our routines, and we aren't supposed to question that.

Encore

Once again, I am repeating myself. I am drawing a circle, and tracing the line over and over.

My sense of balance has diminished. Maybe it has always been like this, just that I never paid attention to it. Now that I know, it bothers me everyday.

Just like how we noticed that we are breathing automatically, then we start to become conscious of it and end up doing it manually for a period of time.

Severing ties to the past. It's not something I want to do, but it is necessary. The past is stained, and I need a clean slate. The rust needs to be scrapped away, be it forcefully or by aid.

The deepest part of our subconsciousness, how does it look like? I pictured the inside of my mind as a swirl of aquamarine against a dim yellow background, with a piece of land just floating in the nothingness. There, I can create an impression of someone for me to converse with. Their behaviors are based on my impression of them. I speak, interact with this impression until I am satisfied, then summon another impression while dismissing the previous one.

I don't know how others' subconsciousness work, but I am very interested in it. I try to understand and predict how others react to certain things, and often my guesses are incorrect. Quoting my friend here, "Sometimes people lie even to themselves". At times I feel like I am able to pinpoint the exact moment when they would say something, but is disappointed when I am proven wrong.

I have been told that my behaviors, in a polite way of saying it, are weird at times. How does that work? People's impression of normal behaviors differ, and by saying that one person is weird, does that mean that in the point of view of others, the same person is weird as well? I don't know how weird I am, or to what extend, but it should be interesting to find out.

Is there someone else living in my subconsciousness? Perhaps there is, or more precisely, are. There are some impressions that refuse to go away. They are permanently there, subjugating me, suffocating me and watching my every move. Getting rid of them would be simple, but it will take a lot of will to do so. And I am too lazy to expand so much energy. So they can stay.

They are part of my subconsciousness, and shall remain that way until the end of the road. I will forever be the disciple, and these passengers are my teachers. It is how it is meant to be, and I cannot question it.

So I will sleep now, and wake up to a tomorrow that is a copy of yesterday.

Looping the Ashes

I broke one of my guitar string today. Then I also broke the one spare string I have in the process of replacing it.

Like sand, the ashes crumble in our touch and disappear through the cracks of our fingers. The difference is, ashes left a black mark.

The string, the sand, the ashes, what do they mean? It feels like I am supposed to make a connection between them, but I am too distracted to do so.

We are beginning to forget a lot of things. The names, the places, the smell of comfort. The heat, the creases on our forehead. The frown, the sweat, the muffled sighs. The rainfall, the agony, the connection we shared. But that's okay. It's okay.

All is falling apart. In destruction, a new foundation is created. In this garden we once called home, we torched down all flowers that we loved to forget the pain. We hurt others to forget our own pain and hide it by cruelty. Innocence is lost that day, and we are thrown into the harsh world.

Be kind to yourself.

I can try. We do our best to rise every morning, and life is too short to be wasted on moping around. We have our obligations and daily rituals, and we need to spend time for others as well. That leave us with so little time for ourselves.

I do not want to let those little time pass just like that.

When we lose something, we tend to find things to cover the gaping hole it left in us. Maybe I am just distracting myself, or maybe it is for real this time. Only time can tell.

I see happy people and wonder why are they smiling and laughing. I see gloomy people and I wonder why are they frowning and looking outside the window.

It's okay. It's alright.

We have our lives to go through. Beating ourselves once in a while is fine, but do that too much and it will affect you to the point where you do not want to see another day.

By giving advises to another and by teaching what we have learnt so far to others, we are leaving an imprint of ourselves inside them. We will continue living inside them, as long as they still breathe. When they spread our words around, passing it to newer generations, we are being propagated. We will live on and on, until the society decides that they had enough.

There's no right. There's no wrong. Just make it loud enough, and a lot of people will accept it as the truth. No one cares. Just let it slide, and there won't be any pain. No consequences, just forget it all. Black and white, bad or good, ugly and pretty, they won't hold any meaning in the dream world.

You are you, and you are everything.

Ghost in the Rain

Going across the fields where you spent your whole life in, to reach the other side.

Unnerved. Unease. Butterflies in your stomach. Cold sweat. Anxious.

Skepticism aside, moving outside your comfort zone is really hard, but the benefits often outweigh your irrational fears. After all, we cannot stay at one place forever. Only the dead has the privilege for that.

We are alive, and by changing our scenery, our personality, carving new memories, we know that we are still alive and well. The warm beating hearts inside our chests, they work hard to keep us from rotting away.

I am a ghost. Nowhere to go, nowhere to return to. I'll just carry on forward, to the dream that lay broken years ago. The ruins of the future. A graveyard for a past that struggled to change its destiny. I wonder what's the suitable epitaph for it.

Diversify your way of thinking, and you'll be fine.

With every passing week, I am moving further from the past that I used to latch on so much. It hurts a little bit, but it will hurt worse if I keep reliving the lost moments of happiness. I need to stop looking back. I can do this. I'll keep on living.

With the knife in hand sharpened, I want to dig deep into my own flesh and rip away the splinters that are lodged deep inside. The remains of the one that has gone. I worked hard to integrate it to my every being, and now I need it gone.

I'll hold my own funeral for it. No need for fancy ceremonies. If I can watch all burn away, I will do that. Let the ashes scatter in the wind.

Goodbye forever.

Mantra

"Asking my hand in marriage."

You kept repeating those words over and over again when the occasion was fitting. It is like a mantra to you to keep yourself calm, isn't it?

Yet you claim that it began only on that accursed night. What a beautiful, sweet lie. Saying that you were withholding, giving chance, but use the word 'slowly' to describe the process where it begins to bud.

I regret making the last conversation sane, since that gave you time to project the image of someone whose shit doesn't smell bad and doing it all just for the sake of making things better for the two of us. We should have made it more insane, as in insanity we are much more honest with our feelings.

Sweet liar who spit on a dagger to stab me again and again. The more I think of it, the more flaws I discover in your carefully woven reasons. Why try to make me hate you before? Why neglect me intentionally if you are actually 'caring' for my mental health? Why keep it a secret when you already dropped enough hints for me to figure it out? This is stupid, and I am getting more and more frustrated.

Your words spread like virus, infecting my thought processes and destabilize me more and more.

I wish we can meet again, but at the same time, I wish we will never meet again. I am afraid of the consequences and the already splintering sanity that we shared.

You said I never wanted to spend time with you, but you have time to go out with friends etc etc or whoever it is that you fancy. Why not invite me in all those things? Go on Skype with your friends then, draw for them as much as you like. Post it on your social networks and rub it all over my face. Say that "He never want to do things with me" but neglect even sharing the things you enjoy doing with me.

And you wonder why it seemed like I was substituting you with someone else. Heh.

Kill me over and over again, and when I complain, bring forth my past mistakes and flash them repeatedly before my eyes. "Remember, you fucked all things up first," says you. It is all justified, yeah I know. Ignore all apologies and say sorry for your outbursts, then repeat the same neglect to me again.

This cycle never ends, and you said I am keeping you in circles. I am just tracing the footsteps you left behind and looking for clues why you do that to me.

No, it wasn't your fault. Yes, it is your fault. Why are you so dense? You are smart enough to figure out which guys are interested to bed you and which aren't, but you can't figure out the first breaking point between us? No, you turned back the knife, resharpen it and push it through my flesh. I am the paranoid one, you said. Nope, you didn't do anything wrong; just left me hanging without an answer why.

Of course, you apologized, but not for the first fault. Just like how I inflicted the first wound that left a crack on your heart, you did it to me, too. Only that you didn't notice. Or you did notice, but figured that it wasn't anything important. A guy's gotta act like how a guy's gotta do, right? And guys are stupid, so I am stupid as well. Right?

The warmth that we used to share, now I recall them, they do have a sense of emptiness behind them all. As if you are trying to figure out something. You are never satisfied with yourself, and keep on beating yourself for the things that you can't avoid. Even after I assured you that appearance was not the factor why I want you. Nope, you didn't agree and proceed to starve yourself to achieve a figure to make others jealous. Not for me. That act of benevolence was not aimed to make me happy after all. You deflected all the words I said regarding me being already satisfied with how you were, and moments later screamed that you were never enough for me. Whose fault was that? And why you deflected my words so easily? Did any of it reach you after all?

My gifts to you. Sure, they weren't worth much, but I worked hard to get them. Lasted only a few weeks at best with you, then you store them away, collecting dusts. You said you wanted to keep them pristine and undamaged. Honey, if I want to give you something just for you to keep locked away in the box inside your drawer, I would give bricks. Tons of bricks. Those things I gave you were supposed to be worn, not left to rot. I worked my days out to get the necessary funds to buy gifts, but yeah. They're just cheap imitations of branded stuffs, right? Easily found anywhere, and can be thrown away without remorse.

For you I've been cutting outside contacts severely, and becoming who I am now. Just to avoid making you jealous anymore, I did my hardest to not speak to any other girls. I chose only those whom you trust, or those who obviously do not have any feelings for me. I am encased in a social armor that hides me from the public eyes. Yet you said you do not want me to do that anymore. Saying that you were jealous of those who meet me, speak with me and able to spend some time with me, but also said that I shouldn't hold myself back and go on interact with others happily. What do you want me to do actually? Speak with others, and I wounded you. Keep myself from the outside world, and you said you were converting me to a negative person. I am abandoning my hobbies that involve me getting out of my house, just for you.

Yeah, it is best to part now, before we ended up strangling each other with our hands. But know that we are one and the same. We understood each other once in a rare moment, and were in sync with each other's emotion for a short time. We can detect whether each one of us is hiding something, and I can say that I detected a whole lot of skeletons in your closet before the end.

I need to vent this out before my mind collapsed, again. Agitation seeps into me and makes me restless. I know I will definitely dream of those old times again, but I will do my hardest to take the reins this time.

裏切り

Once again, I dreamt. Again and again. I cannot escape.

I am tired of steering the dreams to where I want them to be, however when let alone, they conjured memories that bring forth sorrowful feelings.

Once again, the memories are painful to bear with.

There aren't any triggers. I tried to be casual to prevent the onset of such events. I was doing well for at least one week, but my mind starts to betray me and hits me when I am most vulnerable.

"I want to see you now, but still I wait for tomorrow."

It wasn't me. I was thinking about something else before I sleep. The dream itself was following a pleasant sequence of non-remembrance in the beginning. I was at ease, it made me forget the things in reality however brief.

In that dream, I received a text message. A familiar tone. My phone sang a familiar tone and I knew who that tone belong to. Like how I did in the past few years, I picked it up and immediately read the message as quickly as I can.

Shouldn't have done that.

From there, past memories poured forth, changing the dream landscape into the ones that we both find solace in. The familiar city, the rainy weather, the cool breeze that frolics with her hair, the smell of citrus on her clothes. I was powerless to stop it. This change, I knew it wouldn't do me any good but I couldn't do anything to stop it. Perhaps, deep within me, I wanted to see this through.

I am sorry. I really am sorry.

Memories, real and forged, replayed quickly one after another. I wasn't able to stop them. I couldn't. I was helpless, at the mercy of my own mind. I was trapped there. The reins were nowhere to be seen. The dream had changed to a form that is much closer to reality that it was supposed to be.

I can't understand the whims of my own mind. One time, it tells me that I am okay. Then it shoves dirt of the past to bring me down.

I am betrayed.

Hill of Repose

'To the other side of the dream, falling there while deeply embracing you.'

Another dream. Another day. Another fear. We live only in a borrowed bodies created solely for us, and in which our souls are permanently bonded. Once the tether is severed, where we will go next is up to us.

I had a dream where I was chased by a woman wielding a knife. She was screaming, swinging wildly and I was dodging every strike and stabs.

"I thought you want to die?" she shrieked. I didn't recall seeing her face, but I knew she was crying.

I don't understand why, though. I ran away, deathly afraid to die by the knife in her hands. The surrounding was dark, and our footsteps echoed as if we were actually inside a very large room. I could see her just fine even in the absence of light, however.

In the other side of the dream, I wonder what happened. When I was chased by the mad woman, probably it was peaceful there. The mannequins, the blue lake, the disembodies voices in the deserts and the out-of-place beach.

To understand each other is impossible.

The swirl of vortex in the sky, howling wind surround us when we went up the hill. I discard my innocence there and greet the gathering mannequins with curses.

And after that, I head back to sleep.

Depth

In my dream, I was still hurting. In real life, I'm getting used to it.

Why am I getting tormented by myself unconsciously?

The scenes from my childhood were mixed with visions of the recent past, and they brought forth a new kind of sensations along. The long road to the farm is now triggering forged memories that never should have existed in the first place.

It is certainly a mystery.

I let free of the reins and carried to someplace that I didn't expect. No other alternatives were left but to let the torrent of emotions run free. It was vivid and indistinguishable from reality.

Although I am fine, I am still not recovering. It is still there, above my head, hovering and waiting to extend its tendrils into my head and toy with my mind.

In my dream, I can fly. In reality, I am wingless.

Taking up the wings of others, forcefully tearing them off to the vast sky. Unflinching, unfazed by the blood. Butchering those trapped inside the web and letting the other victims watch. The spider is merciless, but it is just trying to fly.

わかった。ゴメンね。

I believe that nothing changes.

The things that we left. The things that you left. Nothing changes. It never will.

We take away bits of ourselves, thinking that we will be able to forget. A cut-and-paste kind of thing.

Unknowingly, it is a copy-and-paste instead. We left imprints into the ones we met, and they carry these imprints like a disease waiting to propagate.

We are like parasites, spreading our own influence and planting the seeds of our thoughts into others. We want them to understand us, that's why. Until we are sure that they do, we will keep on explaining, lying and courting until we feel the familiar raging urge. So, go ahead and satisfy yourself. No one's there to stop you, and dissolve in your own carnal bliss.

Please stop watching me with such sad eyes. I am doing fine here in this white cell. There are no windows, but I can still see you clearly standing outside. You might think that being confined here deprives me of worldly pleasures. On the contrary,being here allows me to be myself. No one's here to chastise me for my every move. Imprisoning me does little; whether outside or inside, I am still chained to the guilt and will end up here sooner or later.

Nobody can take me away from here. Even if they do, I'll return here. It's a singularity point. Unchanging, unwavering, no matter how much experience I have gained. The cold, transparent walls are nurturing me, allowing me to grow with little interference. Until this darkness disappears, I will stay here. Free of the unknowns, the fear of the things I cannot see. I am cultivating some kind of demon here. A demon to fight others' demons.

Everywhere we go, we cannot stop our eyes from checking out the people out there. We stare and stare, identifying the voluptuous ones and imagine a night with them. It is sickening. We are created with this basic, bestial desire and have no means to completely suppress it. From the satisfying convulsions of copulation, we are giving birth to a new life. Why is it so pleasurable? We can keep on going like this even if we cannot spread our seeds. We make contraptions that kill potential leaders and pioneers and innovators just to experience a brief moment of respite. Saying that we are committing an act of stopping the spread of diseases, we are just using these contraptions to indulge ourselves in libido without having to deal with the consequences.

Hormones bursting from healthy young skins, we bare ourselves to the whole world, selling ourselves and getting lots of attention. 

'She is so fine', 'he is dreamy', 'there's something about him that just draws me closer', 'her eyes are like a pool of liquid amber that swirls continuously', 'she reminds me of my mother', 'those legs are god-send', 'wonder how he is in bed'.

Why can't we just shut up and focus. These little voices, the tiny voices, the minute urge that keep on popping in our heads every now and then. I understand so little yet so much has made clear. I'm sorry.

No, I'm pretending I am free, but I also carry the same urges as everyone. Nothing changes, nothing is different. Nobody can take me away from me. Even me myself.

I died. Everyone died. And still we rise everyday, every morning without fail. It is a programmed command in our brain. Those who sleep will wake up eventually. Those who don't will be shut down permanently. Mercy killing, they said. Atrophied, the lifeless husk is still alive, said the relatives. Yet the doctor pulls the plug anyway.

We are living. The steady beating in our chest, sending warm pulses around our body, the circulation that keeps us from rotting away, it tells us that we are alive. Holding our own breath and hope to die by suffocation is impossible. So why bother, go on living then. Wade through all those piling hurtful things, and continue making your way across.

If I am needed, just look for the white cell. I'll be there, I promise.

もう一つ、言葉は無くす

Waking up, performing the morning rituals and preparing to present myself to the outside world. A daily routine I cannot escape from.

More and more I notice that little by little, the old days are fading.

I don't want them to be forgotten. So I keep repeating myself again. Again and again, like the world that spins without stopping. A vinyl disc on loop. The cycle of sun and moon. The blood that circulates around our body.

I think too much, and I notice it still.

Slowly I am getting away from a place that I once thought my home. The warmth that once comforting, now it is suffocating. Gripping on the mementos left, I try to figure out the reason why.

Nothing. I can think of nothing.

Why is it that I end up broken again?
Stuck in an infinite loop.
I whispered your name and my breath becomes shallow.
I hope I can peacefully close my ears.
The unheard voices call and cry.
We keep standing at ground zero, looking at the preserved destruction around us.
By surrounding ourselves with the mistakes we have done, can we truly live to the fullest?

On that one day, when the discarded remnants of memories come back to haunt me, what can you see?

There's no reset button in life, and there are no continues. Once it is over, it is over. If it is not meant to be, then it's not meant to be.

I accepted that already, but why am I still shivering?

A Treasure Game on a Rainy Day

Yesterday I dreamt again.

I was in the cell again, the one with bright, transparent white walls. There was a visitor, a familiar one, in dark red dress, face that is so pale and lips matching her dress color. It was from an image from long ago, I remember. She was just there, staring, as usual.

"Do not tilt first, because if you tilt, then I will, too," she said.

Then everything stood still, as if time itself took a leave for a moment. I do not know how much time passed after that, but then, it is meaningless in the dream world. Laws of the real world doesn't apply there.

Waking up to the call of prayer, it was unusually cold. The moon hung in its usual place and shone as brightly as ever. It was a beautiful dawn.

I know it's not real. The dream, I mean. Maybe my own subconsciousness is trying to relay a message. Some parts of my brain that has grown tired with all the moping and self-blaming sessions.

'Hey, pull yourself together. We are tired of your shit. Let's face the day instead of drowning yourself in the past.'

I will, someday, but the torrent of memories are often too great and vivid that it feels useless trying to fight it off. Being swept away daily is not exactly what I aim to do, but after each events, I am left helpless and scattered. I need time to pick up the pieces I have before they are taken away by the waves.

The sandy beach feels gritty under my bare feet, and the wind feels coarse against my skin. The sun is, as usual, warm and unforgiving. The glistening waves carry bits of trash coming from other places and dump them on the wet sand. If I try hard, maybe I can find a meaning in those piles of rubbish, but I am too preoccupied with the ones inside my mind to even try.

Terra-forming my dream landscape isn't hard, but the more I concentrate, my time there will be much shorter than usual. I do not like that. It is as if my efforts are wasted. Building a sandcastle, and then letting the sea wash them away, like an offering to an ancient patron deity. In my dream, I am absolute. The only weakness is the duration I can be there. Our REM won't last long, and often we dream only when we are about to wake up. Perhaps in the last five seconds or so. However, in the dream world, this can last longer. Those five seconds can be five minutes, five hours or even five days.

Suppose that we can get stuck there in the dream world, and we lose control of it. How can we know that we are actually dreaming? At times, I leave the reins free and just go along with the jumbled, disjointed dream sequence. Where I will end up, I don't know. Just like how the sea carries its unfortunate victims and deposits them at some far-away places. And when I leave the reins free, I will just forget that it is a dream and just be passive, accepting what's being thrown at me and process it at my own pace.

Building something from scratch is easy enough, but when I lose concentration, what I built will sometimes be gone. Maybe there's a limit to the amount of things I can project inside the dream world. Or simply because I found another object to focus on and the object is disintegrated to become an ethereal building materials for the new object that I want to create out of nothing.

Once I tried splitting myself into two halves, and succeeded in doing so. However, making the other me sentient is something I cannot achieve at that time. He ended up mimicking my every move, or so I believe. Now that I think of it, I don't remember how he looks like. I know that he is essentially me, as I imagined him to be like that, but we can even lie to ourselves. Maybe it was just me convincing myself that the person I created was a copy of me.

In other words,  I was successful in making another lie in  a world where 'real' is just a word and doesn't carry as much power as it is in the real world.

'Hey, another me. I baked a sweet poison cake. This won't kill you, right? If you believe that it is not poisonous, it won't be poisonous. Imagine that it is just a blueberry-filled ice cream cake. It is your favourite, right? Maybe you need to switch your food preferences. In a way, that is like killing your previous self. The cake itself won't expire. It will just wait there, until you can bring yourself to pick it up and take a bite.'

Inner monologues are fun, it allows you to converse with your own mind and find out how different your mind and your gut feeling can react to different situations. Too much of it, however, can lead to triggering something I don't wish to remember.

Now we wait. The cake is still there, and the ice cream is still frozen. They will remain that way forever, taking up spaces not meant for them. Where I will end up after eating them, I do not know. Bite the lemon, and take a swig out of the glass, simple enough. But it's not easy to leave the darkness behind. Everywhere we go, our own shadow tails us.

What a sweet monster we are. We spin exquisite lies to impress, weave them around unsuspecting preys and leave when there's nothing more to gain. I don't think we can change this, but I suppose I can try to see it in a different perspective.

A wild goose chase, no doubt, but at least it will be fun.

Ｉｔ’ｓ Ｍｙ Ｄｒｅａｍ おぼれさせたい。

Ｔｈａｔ　ｃｏｕｌｄ　ｈａｖｅ　ｂｅｅｎ　ｕｓ．Ｈａｄ　ｙｏｕ　ｎｏｔ　ｓｃｒｅｗｅｄ　ｕｐ　ｗｈｉｌｅ　ｃｈａｓｉｎｇ　ｔｈｅ　ｕｎｃｅｒｔａｉｎ　ｆｕｔｕｒｅ．

Ｈａｕｎｔｅｄ　ｂｙ　ｉｍａｇｅｓ　ｃｏｎｊｕｒｅｄ　ｆｒｏｍ　ｙｏｕｒ　ｏｗｎ　ｍｉｎｄ；　ｈｏｗ　ｄｏ　ｙｏｕ　ｐｌａｎ　ｏｎ　ｍｏｖｉｎｇ　ｏｎ？

Ｓａｙｉｎｇ　ｔｈｉｓ　ａｎｄ　ｔｈａｔ，　ａｖｏｉｄｉｎｇ　ｔｈｉｓ　ａｎｄ　ｔｈａｔ，　ｇｉｖｉｎｇ　ｒｅａｓｏｎｓ　ａｎｄ　ｂｌａｍｉｎｇ　ｙｏｕｒｓｅｌｆ　ａｇａｉｎ　ａｎｄ　ａｇａｉｎ．

Ａｒｅ　ｙｏｕ　ｉｎｓａｎｅ？　Ｂｅ　ｍｏｒｅ　ｇｒａｔｅｆｕｌ　ｗｉｔｈ　ｔｈｅ　ｌｉｆｅ　ｙｏｕ　ｈａｖｅ．

Ａｉｎ’ｔ　ｗｏｒｔｈ　ｗａｓｔｉｎｇ　ｙｏｕｒｓｅｌｆ　ａｗａｙ　ｆｏｒ　ｓｏｍｅｏｎｅ　ｗｈｏ　ｈａｓ　ｄｅｃｉｄｅｄ　ｔｏ　ｗａｌｋ　ｉｎ　ａ　ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ　ｐａｔｈ．　Ｃｌｅａｒｌｙ　ｉｔ　ｉｓ　ｎｏｔ　ｍｅａｎｔ　ｔｏ　ｂｅ．　Ｓｕｃｋ　ｉｔ　ｕｐ．

Ｙｏｕ　ａｒｅ　ｍｕｃｈ　ｍｏｒｅ　ｔｈａｎ　ｔｈａｔ．

Ｔｈｅｒｅ　ａｒｅ　ｓｔｉｌｌ　ｏｔｈｅｒ　ｐｅｏｐｌｅ　ｏｕｔ　ｔｈｅｒｅ，　ｐｒｏｂａｂｌｙ　ｂｅｔｔｅｒ　ｏｎｅｓ．　Ｊｕｓｔ　ｂｅ　ｐａｔｉｅｎｔ．

Ｂｅａｒ　ｗｉｔｈ　ｔｈｅ　ｐａｉｎ　ｆｏｒ　ｎｏｗ．　Ｙｏｕ’ｌｌ　ｃｏｍｅ　ｏｕｔ　ｓｔｒｏｎｇｅｒ　ａｆｔｅｒ　ｔｈｉｓ．　Ｂｅ　ｔｈｅ　ｔｏｕｇｈｅｓｔ　ｐｅｒｓｏｎ　ｙｏｕ　ｃａｎ．

Ｄｏ　ｎｏｔ　ｆｏｒｇｅｔ　ｔｈｅ　ｏｎｅｓ　ｗｈｏ　ｈｅｌｐｅｄ　ｙｏｕ．　Ｄｏ　ｎｏｔ　ｌｅｔ　ｔｈｅｉｒ　ｅｆｆｏｒｔｓ　ｗａｓｔｅｄ　ｊｕｓｔ　ｌｉｋｅ　ｔｈａｔ．　Ｗｈｅｎ　ｙｏｕ　ａｓｋｅｄ　ｔｈｅｍ，　ｔｈｅｙ　ｄｉｄｎ’ｔ　ｈｅｓｉｔａｔｅ．　Ｄｏｎ’ｔ　ｔｈｒｏｗ　ｙｏｕｒ　ｌｉｆｅ　ａｗａｙ．

Ｔｈｅｒｅ　ａｒｅ　ｔｈｉｎｇｓ　ｙｏｕ　ｗａｎｔ　ｔｏ　ｄｏ　ｓｔｉｌｌ．　Ｄｒｅａｍｓ　ｎｏｔ　ｙｅｔ　ｒｅａｌｉｚｅｄ；　ｈｏｐｅ　ｉｓ　ｓｔｉｌｌ　ｔｈｅｒｅ．

Ｋｅｅｐ　ｌｏｏｋｉｎｇ　ｂａｃｋ　ａｎｄ　ｙｏｕ’ｌｌ　ｅｎｄ　ｕｐ　ｇｅｔｔｉｎｇ　ｌｅｆｔ　ｂｅｈｉｎｄ　ａｇａｉｎ．

Ｄｏ　ｎｏｔ　ｋｅｅｐ　ｄｅｐｅｎｄｉｎｇ　ｏｎ　ｔｈｅ　ｍｅｄｉｃｉｎｅｓ．　Ｙｏｕ　ｃａｎ　ｄｏ　ｔｈｉｓ．　Ｉｔ　ｗｉｌｌ　ｔａｋｅ　ｔｉｍｅ，　ｂｕｔ　ｙｏｕ　ｃａｎ　ｂｅ　ａ　ｇｒｅａｔｅｒ　ｐｅｒｓｏｎ．

Ｔａｋｅ　ａ　ｌｏｏｋ　ａｔ　ｙｏｕｒ　ｆｒｉｅｎｄｓ．　Ｔｈｅ　ｏｎｅｓ　ｙｏｕ　ａｂａｎｄｏｎｅｄ　ｂｅｆｏｒｅ．　Ｙｏｕ　ｃｏｎｔａｃｔｅｄ　ｔｈｅｍ　ａｎｄ　ｓｔｉｌｌ　ｔｈｅｙ　ｒｅｓｐｏｎｄｅｄ．　Ｔｈｅｒｅ　ａｒｅ　ｓｔｉｌｌ　ｌｉｎｋ　ｂｅｔｗｅｅｎ　ａｌｌ　ｏｆ　ｙｏｕ．

Ｆｉｎｄ　ａ　ｃｏｍｍｏｎ　ｐｏｉｎｔ，　ａｎｄ　ｓｔａｒｔ　ｆｒｏｍ　ｔｈｅｒｅ．　Ｔｈｉｎｋ　ｏｆ　ｔｈｉｓ　ａｓ　ａ　ｍｉｓｓｉｏｎ．　Ｊｕｓｔ　ｆｏｒ　ｙｏｕ．

Ｇｏｏｄ　ｌｕｃｋ．

ﾏﾘｱはどこえ

I dreamt I was decapitating the mannequins over and over again.

What has happened? Please make up your mind.

They cried but I didn't care. They were still alive after that, though. After all, they were mannequins. Probably that's the reason why they were missing their heads in one of my earlier dreams.

I am having multiple episodes of sudden migraines currently, the reason I still don't know what. I sleep for a total of 7-8 hours daily, and have a nice long rest already. I don't know what the trigger is this time.

Yesterday I was having a nice chat with a trusted friend. It feels good to know that there are still some people out there that are concerned. As usual, I do not know where to start but when asked, I just kept talking and talking.

Maybe I'll be like this for the rest of my life. I don't know. If I constantly need a push to do something, what will happen if there's no one behind me? Probably I'll just hang back and keep on waiting for the push.

Ain't that charming.

Some people I know have two modes; one is the polite, soft-spoken side and another is a direct opposite. One time, they can be taking care of the words they say, and the next moment they can be spouting vulgarities that purples the air.

What makes them to switch modes?

I also noticed that I kind of have two modes as well. One is keep-absolutely-quiet type, one is someone who is very talkative. The trigger for this is probably the level of comfort I have at moments. The talkative one can also be someone who disregard what he says as being harmless.

I explained that as if the two modes are separate people. No, they are not separate. Those two are what I am, and I am aware of them. It's not that I have split personalities, it's more like two different end of a spectrum. The two faces of the moon. Two different sides of a coin.

Mood-swings are getting more and more common these days, and sometimes the migraine gets too painful that I need to take a break from other things. Only for a short moment, though. I'll start consulting doctors when the migraines are accompanied with serious nose-bleeding. Heh.

We look behind and sense the things we left there. The things that used to define us, but our hands are already full with things necessary for a change. Can we go back and fetch them, to bring them with us along with the new things?

I don't care. I found a singularity point and I am going to make sure I am strongly anchored to it. I feel that if I am moving forward in a fast pace, I will end up lost instead of progressing. I need a point for which I can return when things get confusing and to plan for another trip.

Until then, I'll keep on dreaming.

君だけ、だから…

I dreamt again.

It was short but full of memories of the past and the future. I was chasing something that is not supposed to be mine anymore. I kept on hinting that I need to get her back but there was no response.

After waking up, I felt relieved instead of hurting all over again. Not like before.

Had we continued to be together, I think we will be heading down the path of self-destruction. She is so attuned to the thoughts of others that she sometimes acts as an extension of others' mind. According to my own state of mind, I want to be alone with her, to ignore everything else and just to be with her forever.

That is not supposed to happen, isn't it? I want to isolate her and me in a place where outsiders cannot reach. To be obsessed and sink in each others' presence, to be completely engulfed in our own reality and to be one. Hence why I worked so hard to achieve outstanding results so I could get such a place in the future.

After that, where will we both end up?

I am afraid that I am slowly ticking away. I am afraid that when I wake up one day, my glossy blue bucket is empty, and I don't want to refill it anymore. I am afraid that when waking up, I am not myself and I cannot do anything but watch as my own body acts without consent. Since I want her and me to be one, I am afraid that once I feel like life is not worth living anymore, I will end up taking both our lives.

It is a very scary thought.

I can be apathetic at times, and when I am angry I often spat out venomous words that I will regret later. I won't even care about the feeling of others and when I finally realized what I have been doing, I often won't even apologize, feeling that the anger is justified.

And being apathetic means that I am capable of doing things without considering how they affect others in the long run. It has happened a lot of times. I know that it happens but I always assumed that I am not able to control when they occurs. I need a self-restraint and to be able to notice when the switch flipped.

Maybe it is connected to how I categorize myself as an introvert. I do things alone, and is comfortable with the silence. Being alone means that you don't need to express yourself and you can keep your thoughts to yourself, as there is no one to communicate to.

Why am I pouring my thoughts to this blog instead of talking it out to my friends?

I can't bring myself to do so. Not that I don't trust my friends, it's just that I can't find the suitable time, and even if I do, I won't know where to start.

I feel much better, though. I am glad that I managed to contact one person the night I was about to kill myself. I am really thankful for that. I was hesitating, and somehow managed to contact him. He proceeded to give a lengthy advice, one that I keep reading over and over.

Recalling the memories now don't hurt as much as it is before. I don't want to forget them, I need to learn from the past and forgetting them will make me commit the same mistakes again.

I am thankful for the memories. If you are reading this, I am glad that we didn't end up fighting in the end. I am truly glad that you had the patience to tend to me to the very end and your advises I will take to heart. I pray that you are happier now. It has been overdue for three years, and I hope for the best for the two of you.

Keeper of the Flame

The creepy dreams, what do they mean? They are something that come from my own mind, yet I don't remember seeing, for example, the mannequins, in real life. I dislike swimming, and diving is definitely out of question. I've never seen the sad, silent angel's face anywhere before. The area where I looked for the heads were not somewhere I am familiar of.

At least, the nightmares have stopped for now.

It has stopped raining, but I need to remember it.

Hosomi, you sing everyday but I take everything you say for granted. I am sorry. I will try to understand you better. Seems like you've been through a lot, and having to leave a life you enjoyed behind is certainly more painful than what I am experiencing now. I thought you were just someone who merely wanted attention but when I think of it, you want people to understand you instead. I wonder if you managed to do so while still keeping others at bay so they won't be too close to interfere yet not too far to make you feel alone.

I know I am strong enough for this. I will still need help every now and then, but I am taking little steps forward. It is easier to just antagonize the person, but it will make me hate her. Hate is a strong emotion, and I don't want it to poison my thoughts. I managed to convince myself not to hate some of the things that I greatly dislike to look or listen to, and I am no longer biased. All is equal and deserving a chance; blindly pushing things away make us miss some valuable experiences from which we can learn.

I want to try going to a high place. I set my eyes on various sky-scrappers already and I wish I can one day visit them all. The observatories from where we can be closer to the sky, the thrill that we are literally high up in the sky, I want to experience that.

I want to meet new people. I want to learn their languages and to be able to taste their trademark cuisines. I want to be able to see what they see daily, and to have a closer look at their cultures. I want to see sakura blooms, to see the leaves sway in the pleasant spring breeze. I want to see the annual summer fireworks from the beach and share that moment with friends that I have. I want to see the sunrise of the new year alone and make a new resolution that I can achieve someday. I want to see the few people who make me changed, to let them know that they have saved a life here.

I want to walk in the night without worrying about the curfew. I want to go hunt for midnight snacks at 2 in the morning and have a simple chat with nice people while enjoying the food and warm drink.

I want some people to remember me the way I am now. I don't know how much I can change, and we cannot just make a carbon copy of ourselves and store it away so we can refer back to it when we have gone too far. I want someone to point out that I have stray too far from my old self, and is not afraid to say so.

I want to go to a large shopping mall and just be there for hours. I want to see the lives of others and to see where they draw their happiness from. I want to see how they handle different situations accordingly and how they treat each person they have in their lives.

I want to go on a shopping date with someone and not needing to worry of the time and outside interference. To be alone in a place with many people, we can get inside each others' bubble and filter the world away to create our own. I do not want to succumb to the carnal desire early, however. To keep everything at a pace we are both comfortable at, at the same time are casual enough with each other to talk about any topics freely.

I want to be able to learn from my mistakes. This is the most important thing.

I used to hate kids because I felt that they are intrusive and annoying, but now that I have spent some time with my little nephews, I noticed that kids aren't so bad after all. Their purity and simple mind are something to admire. Innocence is lost when we grow up, and to gain that back is impossible.

I am tired. Too much talking wears me out faster than usual. I prefer to keep myself quiet to be able to stay outside longer and oftentimes I find myself zoning out when people are talking.



Take away my soul, don't drive away tonight and keep your keys on the table. Keep your feet off the floor and sleep your exhaustion away.

久々津

I saw in the dream that you were flying in the sky, not wanting to touch the ground anymore. Outstretching your hands, you tried to lift me up and whisk me away from my burdens.

I was floating, and fell back to the ground. Nothing left to do but watch you go across the horizon and disappear.

I see many headless female mannequins, lying on the barren soil sprawled. I go to look for the heads but they are all the same. They carry the same faces and each mannequin is begging me to find their own heads and re-attach them correctly. The sky is red, and there is no sun. Still, the light is bright enough to aid me in my search.

A glimmer of blue light caught my eyes in the distance and I immediately assume that it was from a pool of clear water. Sure enough, I am correct. However, deep underneath the pool is another mannequin, not moving and resting in a fetal position. This one is complete; she isn't missing anything. Her expression peaceful, and her tiny wrists are free of scars. The skin is translucent, and devoid of any deformities.

Intrigued, I dive deep and go straight to her. Standing on the edge, the distance from the surface and her seems so little but I must have been diving for a long time. I am able to breath underwater, or so I believe. She is still there, and I am curious why is she there. I need to see her, to learn of her story and past.

'I live here in this place. I am being fed shit and malnourished. I sleep to escape the situation and is perpetually dreaming. Please do not disturb me else I will be broken.'

'Please leave me alone. I can't be in another's presence. Forget that I am here and live on.'

I turn away and return back to the surface.

I want to live. I can live this out. I can breathe just fine, and I am not suffocating. I am free. I need to live. Even when the whole world is against me, I need to live, Hanging onto a single thread called hope, I can make this through.

I can live without you. I know. I want to believe it so. I will find a way.

Rhetorical Angel

Sleep eludes me yet again, but I feel exhausted.

Moon appears tarnished, yellow instead of the brilliant silver I saw ages ago.

It is quiet, except for a few cars that occasionally passing by. Here, it is cold. Bitterly cold and a stray cat seeks shelter with me. I cannot offer you anything, cat. But I'll gladly share my cover so you'll be warm.

I feel like I need to do this often, Others are mostly asleep, and the silence is comforting in a mysterious way. I feel like I can finally hear my own thoughts, instead of them bursting through my mind and forcing their way inside.

This bitter cold, the darkness that hides a few things from my eyes, the soft glow of the fluorescent bulb, all seem so distant. I want to take a walk away from home but it is as if I am anchored here. It is as if there's something I have to do here.

There's the familiar pain again, inside my chest. Like before, I know it is purely psychological. I won't need a doctor to diagnose me again. There's no immediate cure; I can only wait until it wanes. I feel so helpless.

'Look after me like I look after you.'

Why is the angel weeping? I cannot understand you anymore. Why be in my dreams when you don't even want to tell me what is wrong? The angel who is trapped here on the unhallowed ground, of all places why chose my dreams?

I am not complaining, though. I know I can drive you away anytime, but I also know that anyone would need a place where they can just rest without being questioned why. So you can stay. Do not worry.

Do we even talk? I don't know. All those conversations are in my dreams, so they might be coming from me alone. Perhaps I just imagined them all and is disillusioned that I am talking to something that understands and is imaginary.

My sleep was cut short, and I had to leave you. I am sorry. Next time, I will still be able to see you. That's the benefit of a lucid dreamer. I can often control the flow. All I ask in return is to help me out when I am caught in sleep paralysis. Be the light when I cannot see, and be the warmth when I feel cold.

Are you even an angel? I know you are, because I imagined you to be one. Maybe you are just a figment of memory. That would explain why you don't react to me after all. Maybe you are incomplete. Who do you take after? An old friend of mine? I cannot recall seeing such a face. Why are you sad? Is the fact that you are incomplete troubles you? Maybe you know that you are not real, and cannot accept it. I cannot make you go to my world, but I can let you stay here, as long as you want.

I need to meet you again, but I do not want to rely on medicines anymore. So just wait for a while.

I shall sleep again, and I'll see you soon.

だけど僕は忘れない二度とあえなくなるけど。ここには過去も未来もない。だから許してよ。

The medicines have undesirable side-effects it seems. However, they are needed to keep myself in check.

If I continue to take them, will I be able to stop these symptoms from coming again? At times, I feel like I am not in command of my own body and mind, and they betray me regardless of pleas.

Dropping down from a comfortable position is really painful, and all the while I've been looking only up. So I've forgotten how it feels like to be at the bottom again.

In this place, there is no past nor future. Stagnant, time stands still and I am free. There's no ghostly-pale angel with grotesque wings looming around when I close my eyes. I feel secure, and all my sicknesses and idiosyncrasies are gone. No more hurt nor misunderstanding. I am no longer confined in the bright room and there's no one outside my cell looking at me with transparent eyes. No more sounds of chains binding the unseen creature that sought my life. No more images of gallows around my neck.

The wind is sweet and cool, carrying a familiar scent from my childhood. The sun no longer irritate my eyes and is gentle to me. Clouds sparsely populate the blue sky and nights never come. I can rest anywhere without fear and never miss anything when I sleep. All my pets are there, and are eternally playful. I do not need to eat or drink, and I am free from the urge to reproduce. My mind is clear, and I am in control of my own body.

Sadly, that place doesn't exist.

I wonder if I can ever escape from the shackles that bind me, plaguing me with guilt and corrodes my sanity each day. I sometimes wish I won't need to wake up anymore every morning to the emptiness right next to me. The deafening silence that re-opens scabbing wounds and making me bleed again. My wrists will be free of scars and there's no need to keep me away from happy people. I am tired of covering these scars and pretending that I am normal all the time.

I just skipped a day of medicine and all came crashing down. Dependent of these worldly concoctions to ease the volatile emotions, how different is that from the previous me? Are these pills my safety net now? When will I break and end up hurting any leftover companions I have now? Will I betray their trusts and pretend that I never promised them? My sleeves are soaked, and I wish I do not have to cover the imperfections that I have created on me. When I was not me last night, what was I thinking? Am I doing this to garner attentions? Why did I stretched my hand to pick up the phone just now? Why am I ignoring the call this morning? Was I being attentive to the people who talked to me today? Did they ask me if the dark circles around my eyes are normal? What did I say to answer them when they questioned my desire to change? Will I be able to go back to who I was before? To which point will I turn back? Will I continue to be self-destructive and return back to cutting my life short slowly? The cancerous sticks are tempting, but I was able to stop taking them due to having no means to get a steady supply. Now that I can easily obtain them, will I start killing myself again? Will I be able to see my friends again? The ones I have left and forgotten? What did they feel when I distanced myself from them? Of the juniors who looked up to me when they see me and my comrades as the experienced swordsman, admiring our bamboo blades and worn-out gi-hakama? Why did they even look up to me, then? Was I a good person that time? Was there anything I could have offered them when I said I was one of them who meet David-sensei when he returned here? There's nothing. Nothing at all. All I am is a bag of flesh, bones and blood melded together to create this pathetic excuse of a man.

Why did I fail? I was sure of my dream, and now ending up like this. Why am I still stuck deep in this ditch and unable to climb out. How much time has passed since I fell down here? My skills and memories have deteriorated so much that they have become the subject of ridicule by her. I did not wish to fail. I tried my best and only got that far. All the anxiety accumulated in me was enough to scare me so much it made my heart stopped beating. I downed caffeine like it was an elixir that kept me alive, just so I had time to study. The time sacrificed, the sleep I deprived myself from, the concerned look my doctor had when he checked my health, all is naught now. The money spent to put me through school, spent on gas to send me to school daily, spent on food to nourish me, where had they gone now?

Here, at this body that I feel isn't mine at times.

Life is nothing but pain, and I am reminded time by time that it is only temporary. Why did it feel like eternity has passed since my earliest memory? How many more years I have before I go? What of my parents? I barely remember their young faces, and the pictures they took often had my father not smiling at the camera. Was he smiling when I was born? Was I a planned child, or just a product of libido? Why did my mother bear with the vivisection pain that time? Why did she love me even before we meet? Was my grandparents thrilled that evening? Was the sunset as beautiful as it is now? What were the first words my parents say to me while I was crying after taking my first breath? Were they happy that I was born? Were they glad I didn't end up being choked to death by my own umbilical cord that time? What if I was not supposed to be born? What if I reached the egg by a split second before another? Were the others I passed carry a pleasant combination of genetic materials? If they were the ones who reached first, will I still be able to enter this world? Was my soul created before my body even materialize? What of the others' souls?

Were my parents happy that I learnt quickly? Were my teachers proud that I was able to read even before they teach me? Were my friends glad that I brought my books to school and read them out loud so they can understand the stories? Did they know that I did that without thinking? Where were they now? Can they still recognize me if we met? What did they feel when I was transferred away from them without my consent?

When I was too sick to go to school, why did my father dragged me from home to the door of my class? Why was it my teacher that noticed I was too pale, not my father? Why did they insist that it was due to the djinns and evil spirits when I said that my abdomen was hurting so much? Only after I vomited violently that they rushed me to the hospital. Why did my grandmother force-fed me garlic that has been enchanted with sacred texts? Why can't I recall the face of the doctor who immediately suggested the other doctors to transfer me to the main hospital? What did they tell my parents? Why was my blood 'unreadable' and the sickness 'undetected'?

I remember after being discharged from the hospital, I saw the moon. It was large and dreamy. I remember it being against the dark blue of the night and it being white-silver in color. Was it my imagination that I cried when i saw the moon? Why did I cry then?

Grandparents, why did you two divorce? How much pain did you inflict to mother when you two agreed to separate? What were the circumstances that led to that decision? Why did the two of you marry someone else after that? Why were the first three children being shuttled back and forth without worrying that they might be troubled? What happened to your dog? The obedient one that accompanied mother on every morning trip to school? Did he died peacefully? What was his name? Was he as loyal as what mother had said? Was he as beautiful as Coffee?

Father, what happened to one of your siblings? You won't answer me when I asked, and remain silent when I mentioned his name. Was he a kind person? What happened that night? Was it reported? Why was he photographed smiling while holding the 40-days old me? What happened to him? He looked like someone gentle and chose his words carefully. What did the two of you often talk about? Was what your uncle said true? Was he caught in a situation where he had no choice but to do what he was implied to have done? I still remember where his grave is, and it has been years since we last visited him. Was he forgotten? Erased from our family? How could you?

Were you proud of me? I recall that you used to smile a lot when I was a child. Now I cannot read what is truly on your mind. Why are you masking your own true feelings from us? Back then, you would agree to accompany me to play kites even when the sun wasn't good for me. Now, a short trip to school feels like decades without us talking to each other and you even complained that it is very tiring to send me there. Am I a failure? Am I not deserving the praise you throw to brother? Since when do you look at me with a glint of contempt in your eyes? I wonder if you are even here anymore. Even when we do talk, you keep it simple and straight-forward, without even looking at me directly.

Why is divorce so common in my family? Is it a curse in our bloodline? Why are we finding it so hard to be committed to someone and agree to live the rest of our lives with them? Why are the elders in my family all are looking as emotionless as possible? Am I doomed to be like them? As I age, my empathy diminish slowly until I feel nothing while saying hurtful words to others? Can I just stay the way I am now? At least, I can feel something knowing that I have hurt others. If that is how I will end up growing into, I wish I would stop and stay young forever. Be it physically or just inside people's hearts.

Will I be here next year? Or will I be somewhere else? I hope I can survive and be able to lessen the influence of the negative mind inside me. Am I strong enough? Why was it after every prayers, I still recall you vividly? How am I supposed to do this? Is this a sign from above? Or merely tricks played by my mind? Perhaps it is a divine punishment knowing that I made an innocent heart bleed profusely. What can I do to stop this? I can't keep swallowing pills forever when memories become too unbearable, and they keep on pushing through no matter what I do, leaving me broken and battered afterwards.

Where can I channel my negativity? I do not wish to be like this. I want someone else to just come and take it away. Deus Ex Machina. Just like Euripides. Must've been simpler if that is to happen in reality.

I am still trapped here, unable to get out. A prisoner of my own guilt.