死んだ王女のパヴァーヌ

Change is inevitable.

Dream is a curse, gifted from those who frolic in heavens. To be free, we need to achieve it. Else, we will be plagued with the realisation that we are unable to make it come true.

Is a dream still a dream when we achieve it?
Is a dreamer still a dreamer when he gets what he wanted?
Will I be someone who has no dream when I achieve my dream?

An awakening in silence. It is cold at the moment. A piece of music floats around this room of mine. The smell of rain permeates through the walls, and I can see the yellow streetlights from the outside of my bedroom window.

If I am to confess all my secrets to the night, will I be free from the guilt, or merely given a temporary relief from it?

I ask questions more than I answer them. I know. Should I be grateful of it, or should I wish for a reboot of my personality?

Again with the questions. I need to stop thinking of more questions. I need to slow down.

Gazing out into the night, bathed under the artificial light from the streetlight, more questions come to me.

Am I enough?
Have I done enough?
Am I refusing, or am I running away?
Thinking of many reasons to refuse, and to shed off the unwanted, ridiculous responsibilities.

I should not do this.

Admonishing myself again and again. I keep on recalling the memories I thought I do not want to keep.

Of those times where I was not myself.

No.

There used to be another me. A part of me that I discovered years ago. Another me that used to be another person, until we agreed to become one.

Figuratively, of course.

Going through each memory, like reading chapters of a book, I try to see the breaking points.

I am trying to justify why I failed.

Is there a need for all these recalling? While painful to watch at times, these memories serve to remind me that I used to have something that is special. A link to another person. A link that kept me safe even though we were far apart.

Why am I still agonising over something that has passed?

Perhaps, it is something that I wished I still have. In this time, where my own world seems to spin out of my control, I need an anchor to keep my feet down.

"It is normal."
I do not see how this is normal. We are shaving a few years off our lifespans just to get approvals from a group of people who probably are ignorant of the condition we are in.

I am adapting to this foreign world of other people, but as of now, I feel exhausted.

Maybe it is an example of survival of the fittest. The ones who cannot cope will be left behind.

The world that I want to be in is not the world that I am being forced into.

病気

The starlight is dimming

A sky that fits us both, a bright one

A sky that fits us both, a dark one

Which one will you pick?

You kept saying that

"Pick whichever you want"

"I will be there no matter what"

You are not there, after all

Aimlessly gazing into the sky

Wonder if you are seeing the same sky as I do

At the place where you are right now

Do you see the same stars as I do?

Dark blue, with a hint of violet

That is the color of the sky that I am under, right now

"I have only one wish"

"Do not forget me"

I will not, though the process is painful

The feelings that we laid to rest right next to you

They left me, and made me a husk of yesterday

Keep on living, and I will see you

I tell myself that everyday

But I wonder if you know that

Asleep at dawn, waking up to the sound of birds

Flapping their wings, talons scratching the roof tiles

The stars are all gone, but they will return tonight

Won't they?

"Please do not die too soon"

"Wait for me"

After all this time

My wish remains unfulfilled

But that promise still stands

A beacon in the restless, agitating nights

If caring for someone is a sickness

And caring for ourselves is the cure

How will we continue to live

I gaze into the palms of my hands

Wondering why we have two

And not one, or more

Questioning this over and over again

"For now, sleep"

"Dream of something but me"

I slept, and dreamed

But it is of the empty hospital room and the vacant bed

With vast white walls surrounding the outside

It is okay, I am doing fine

Even without you or the stars, I will still live

Without you, I will not be sick anymore

"Which one will you pick?"

"The bright one, the dark one?"

Maybe a little bit of both

Maybe I am being greedy

Maybe I am being shifty

But I am alive

And going through changes means that I am living

Only the dead remain seventeen forever

分かり合う者たち

Looping through each hour. Moving clouds, dawning days, glistening nights. Asleep in the warmth amidst the chilling grip in the white room.

A bright day it is, but it is still gloomy here.

Say the truth, you said. I was not paying attention before, and now I do. It is one year overdue, though. These papers written for me, laid untouched until the owner is long gone.

I went out and watched people going through the motion of their own life. There is no hatred here, or so I thought. In this country, where everyone put on the mask of obedience, I find that a lot of pent-up emotions are being kept barely in check.

Within a lot of people, there are some voices unheard, and is meant to echo inside the owner's chest until it dies out. I tried to understand, but what can I do when even I am being kept busy with my own voices? At most, I attempted to connect to these people but I cannot see that what I do is enough.

"You can stop running. Aren't you tired?"

Those words, I am still remembering them. Words so kind I feel like they were not meant to me. I hold onto them so tight that I might break them apart. It is the truth, I think.

Repentant as I want, there still linger some thoughts that the past connection still bind me to the people who has gone away. Emphasizing that these are mere remnants of affection for the ones who are not here anymore, I sometimes lay in my bed recalling what me and those people had gone through. A lot of these are memories I have written down in fear of being forgotten, but it seems like the more I am afraid, the more they begin to fade.

Maybe some things are not meant to be remembered, after all.

I find it harder still to reveal my thoughts to people. Even to those I consider close. Now and then, there would be someone that try to coax me out from my own thoughts, but eventually they will back away, possibly thinking that it was not worth it. After all, dragging me away from places I am comfortable in will only result in me longing to get back there as soon as possible.

In the process of growing up, I wounded many people. What I thought were jokes are actually being perceived as insults by some, and the things people said to be that were meant to be constructive criticism I took them too negatively. Alas, I may have said things that disrupt others from achieving their dreams and becoming an obstacle that keeps them away from what they consider as the dead end of their life.

Being around you is fun, and talking to you is something that I enjoy. However, I have the tendency to push people away when they start to get too close. I know, and I have wounded you from my attempt to preserve the sanctity of my personal space, but the one at fault is me. Not you. A few months ago, we talked too much that we eventually ran out of things to say. While I was comfortable with the silence, you misinterpret it as me not wanting to spend more time with you. You started to get closer and closer, trying your best to not make me feel alone, but it was not the case. You tried to get me into your world, wanting me to see things the way you see them, but I was not ready for it, I am still not ready, even now. I tried to follow what you do, and agreed to accompany you to the things that you enjoy, but I did not feel like myself during those moments.

And by the end of March, we stopped talking abruptly. I was scared that we got too close and will feel pain when we are separated one day. You sensed my anguish and relented.

To this day, I am not sure if I did the right thing or not.

フロンチア

‘Endless boundary’.

That is what separates us from everyone. One day within the last few years ago, we thought we were cool with that.

No worries.

Even when we are all disconnected, we are still living. A better half going around somewhere without us knowing its whereabouts.

The sunset light.

Waking up to the orange glow from the horizon. Confused, I checked the dashboard clock to see if this warm light is the beginning of the day or the end of another.

The dream felt so long.

In the dream, I was sleepless. I was worrying, but of what? Anxiety ate me slowly from the insides. What was I afraid of in the dream? I went around the familiar surroundings and agonized at my failure to name any one of them.

Lightning on the sea.

The moment I realized that I was dreaming, everything became clear. The anxiety gone, and my mind rebooted. It was a dream, after all. At the same time I was sleeping, I was awake.

A broken clock.

Just as sudden as I woke up in the dream, I fell back asleep. I can recall this. I was watching at the empty noticeboard of my high school when this happened. An important information was printed and pasted on it for all students to see, and I remember feeling that it was ridiculous. That was the moment I woke up.

Spinning a die.

As if afraid of me being conscious, the dream world pulled my awareness away. I caught up where I was not supposed to, and the world punished me for it. Taking away my freedom and leaving me a mindless automaton. A slave without a master, but still knows what I should do.

Blinking light, beaconing light.

This time, everything went murky. As dark as the night after a firework festival. The brief colorful lights of the fireworks only made me much more aware that the sky is jet-black. Letting go of my innocence, holding onto another person’s hands and confessing what I wanted to do. Intertwining our fingers and mixing our warmth together under that darkness. A beacon of life in the silent night where everything else ceased to move but us.

It was only after we lose something that we realized its true value.

It was a dream, I told myself. Only a dream. Maybe it is a possible path in the future that I might take, but for now, it was just a dream.

‘If I am to see you again, will you be willing to talk to me?’

Remember those days where we used to converse without worrying and hiding our insecurities? By the end, it felt like we were waiting for either of us to show a weakness and pounce on the opportunity to use it to hurt each other.

Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was wrong, and maybe everything we have done is meant to be done. To teach us both a lesson. And to let us know that we were immature still, after all this time. We could have been happier, and we could be spending the rest of our years together but somehow, this beautiful thought seem to disappear along the course of those four years. We both seem to forget, and both want to see how it ends rather than watching it became true. An unrealized dream, we might say. It will always remain as such. And we need it to remain that way for us to grow up, else we will end up doing what we have done before, not learning from mistakes.

One year of living after you, I see things the way I don’t see them before. I learnt so much from losing something rather than achieving it. To treasure something, we need to lose another. Maybe that is the way world works, and I failed to notice that in time.

Going back to the present, the orange glow I saw after waking up was definitely the sunset. It tells me to go back to the place where I call home. The night approaches, and negative thoughts cultivate much more easily in the dark. I turned my back to sea and moved slowly but surely forward.

Goodbye for now, and I will see you again somewhere in the future.

泣かない

'Don't cry', just for a little while
I wish that you would just stay for a while more
Like old times, sharing this small space
Looking for the flashing light in the night sky

It is not like now I am sad because of you
But at the same time
I am not happy as well

A small gesture we shared before
Now we pretend to not see each other
Because we do not want to hurt anyone anymore

Across the station where we first met
I stop by and gaze around
All I see are shadows
Leaving me behind
Trapped inside an immovable time bubble

I wish that we can see each other again
So I do not forget you
Although it is painful to recall
Those moments we had together
They shine like a beacon
In the dark landscape of the sea

If I am to turn back time
Would our feelings be reset
Or being retained from the last present
Knowing how it will end like
Brewing our magic
Hiding and popping out whenever we like
Watching the calendar as it moves on to that day

With this, we are growing up a little
Past mistakes as lessons
We went through that gate for the last time
Holding our breaths
Withholding the desire to go back
Won't that be good?

It is all right
It is not like I feel like crying
But at the same time, I am also not smiling
It is pointless to fight
But it is not a good thing to resign
Moving along the flow of time to someplace far away
A place without your magic

Beyond this farewell
A new world opens up
A story ends
Another story goes on

Across that station
Trying to catch a glimpse of you
I say goodbye once again silently
While watching your back fade into the crowd

A Song That Reminds You of Home

A train of thought, immortalized in parchment. People who read it is imparted with a fragment of the parchment's mind, therefore he continues to live even when his physical body ceased to exist.

Is it not a form of immortality? Deceiving the divine rules, finding loopholes to be exploited while pretending to obey. Is it an idea that is planted inside us from the very beginning? We are expected to act how we are, and we are just simply living the scripts prepared inside the huge record somewhere.

If we are truly following a predetermined course, then we are somewhat of a terminal, accessing the database and gaining knowledge of where to set our foot when we walk. There is no need to decide whether we have to start walking with our left foot or the right foot, everything is already set in stone from the beginning.

Living without any worries of what the future holds for us, because in the end, fate already ties us to our destinations. Each to their own, but sometimes we cross paths with other people because fate tells us to. From here, the two people that have met might exchange words and vows, although knowing that this meeting does not meant that they are to be joined eternally.

Sleeping and waking up to a gentle blue light, I see outside my window the faint glow of the moon, shyly hiding underneath the wispy gray cloud. I dreamt that the world is permanently dyed in warm yellow, but it did not bother me that much. After all, an apple is still an apple, even though it does not appear normal. However, when it was offered to me, I refused. I am full, I replied, even though I could not sense my body to be there. It was like I was travelling here and there as a detached consciousness away from my body.

I see, I ponder, I answer. Therefore I am living.

Weeks ago, I was told that due to how I commented on how the situation was, others were able to have a grasp on how to properly deal with a difficult person that we were talking to. "Thanks to you, we managed to get him under control," said the self-proclaimed leader. Diffusing the situation properly with just words, apparently I was able to analyze and deduce their state of mind during the brief confrontation.

Did I really do that?

I really thought that I was just going through this life aimlessly, but apparently I am also doing something for others without me realizing it. Or so they said.

I met someone the other day, and even though we are still strangers, somehow I feel like we have known each other for a very long time. There was something that attracts us to each other, and the silence between us two were comfortable. It feels like that at some point in that person's life, she has decided to abandon everything and continue living for the sake of others, because dying now will make some people sad. After all those people passed away, who knows?

This feeling I have and the feeling she has, it is something that we understand very well and we both know that we are drawn to each other. An allure that wishes to separate us from other people. However, it is not romance. It is something much more simpler than that, something that others might not be able to comprehend completely. That being said, it is also not simple to explain, and even as I typed this, I ended up being confused and frustrated because I cannot find the right words to express it.

It was just a fleeting moment, but I know that she knows, and we were able to achieve a mutual understanding in that brief moment. A complete understanding is impossible, but what we achieved were enough to let us figure out each other on our own. We might not be able to see each other again, but the sight of her sitting alone, waiting for someone else to come, will forever be etched into my memory, as it is the sight of someone with a longing so painfully hidden but seeps out slowly to others that can feel it.

現実世界の管弦楽団

"Don't go before me"
"Stay until the very end"
What a thing to say

In these rusting memories
You who looked at me as if I would disappear
Speaking slowly, softly putting on the facts
Ending it with just words
"The sky, it is enough for the two of us... Right?"
But why are you crying?

A remembrance of back then
A familiar melody, a nostalgic rainfall
One day, without warning
You who looked at me as if I would disappear, whispered
"If we give a fragment of our heart to another,
  will we still be us, or will we become a new person?"

Even the rabbits up there in the sky
Enjoy their never-ending job together
So why are we who are bound to this earth
Have to spend much time wondering and looking
Searching for another person to make us happy

Passing midnight, days uncounted for
Measuring the distance, making small notes
Surely, you would do the same?
Staring at this moldy-looking moon
Living under this sky that can fit us both

"I didn't mean it, you know?"
Uttering those words, gently smiling
You who looked at me
As if you wondered if I would disappear
Seemed so far away

異世界の管弦楽団

"Is there any drug that can stop me from thinking about that?"

"Heal me now and make me be able to go forward"

Inscribed within the diary, the thoughts of the future

Maybe, someday, it can become true after all

There are a few pages that relates to that name

Folding them together, ripping them out carefully

"These few pages will be inside the red box for now"

The sun sets, and the sea glimmers gold

Can it be? By watching the sunset everyday,

Will I be healed and be able to move forward?

Wishing that I can get up and leave just like that

This 'sickness', others said it is just a symptom

A shooting star outside my window

Shall I make a wish right now?

A few seconds late, but it will surely hear me

"Just a little prayer for the future"

"So please carry it all the way while you shine brightly"

Inscribed within the diary, the events of the past

Should I take away the pages that contained that name?

Being a simple person, I wrote that name casually

But with extra care and multiple times

Maybe I can learn something from this

Maybe I can see something after this

And this 'sickness' of mine will fade away

Along with the recollections of those time

Blinking the eyes, sleeping on the same spot as before

If I wake up, maybe I can see you again

Or in my dreams, maybe I can see you again

But I am unsure if it will help me after all

Gathering all the wishes inside the small jar from those years

Unfolding the diary pages inside the red box

Am I still waiting for something?

Am I still standing still after that night?

Maybe I am dreaming right now,

and by now, only a few seconds passed after that call

"Is there any drug that can stop me from thinking about that?"

"Heal me now and make me be able to go forward"

鎖手

"I wish I have no feelings."

Another sigh escapes, more heart-ache inflicted, another reason to punish oneself by depriving the sweetness of sleep.

We are drawn to each other like a moth to the flame. The more we creep closer, the more we get singed. However, we cannot stop. We cannot say 'No more' and find ourselves immediately ceasing all movements. There is a period of confusion, a period of wondering. Interests and self-preservation conflicts, and either way seem to be dreadful to even take a step forward to.

Is this what I desire? Can I handle the responsibility if I accept? This small light glowing anew, can I keep on feeding it so it will burn stronger, or someday I will start to neglect and smother it after? I do not want to be alone, but I will not be able to take care of this light. No, I am sorry.

Is what I want potentially be destructive to others? What about me, will this light kill me in the future? After all those effort invested on making it brighter. I feel that somehow, it will blind me and rob me of all my consciousness.

There's a war in my mind, he said. I know that. I can relate to it, but not completely. After all, it is your war. I am an outsider, and I cannot grasp completely what transpired between you and your life. Even after years of explaining, we will not be able to understand each other completely. Such is life. I can sympathize, but the one that knows most of your pain is only you. Only you can make the change, but we cannot change what is past.

No. No matter how hard you wish for it, the past is past, and will always be the past. Nothing can change that. The only thing you can change is how you feel about it in the present.

I want nothing more but a balance. A delicate scale that is threatening to tip every now and then, and is dangerously close to the edge of a deep ravine. Once it tips to the left, all of its weight will shift and it will end up falling down into the merciless river that sweeps away everything without care. I can go and retrieve the scale after it falls, but I will not be able to climb my way back up. All I can do is to allow the stream to push me to wherever it desires and continue on living on wherever the location it decides to deposit me.

My hands, there's nothing I am holding right now. Underneath this dim light of the bedside lamp, they seem so frail, so insignificant. However, these two hands are very important to me. When I cannot express myself verbally, they will always be reliable to take matters into themselves.

The light is small, and dimming, just like this bedside lamp I have. For that, I apologize.

XXYearsXXDays

It's always like this.

I feel like I need to talk a lot, but as soon as I open my mouth, all those words I have planned to say disappeared.

Wasting my time, sleeping past the alarm clock set to 5, hitting the snooze button more than once.

What am I planning to achieve in this lifetime? Perhaps, just to survive whatever years I have left and sleep the eternal after that. As of now, my dream remains a dream, and it seems like I do not have the drive to move forward.

Talking to others. Let loose all the silly thoughts I have in my head. Exchanging lame remarks with another person just to feel like we are close.

There's still a phrase I cannot forget, no matter what I do.

It's never a goodbye. It's just a 'see you later'.

After all those promises, where did we end up now?

After all those apologies, what did we left each other with?

After all those moments, how did we recall those?

It's just four years wasted on someone who will not return fully your true feelings, as you said. Not a speck of happiness gleaned from chipping away whatever limited time we had to meet up.

Just maybe, you are the light and I am just a shadow of something that is very close to you. As you shine brighter, I become darker.

Never to be cast anymore. A shadow cannot exist without light, and light will always be accompanied by shadow. I am done being the shadow, and you are done being the light. It is time to exist as two separate entities instead of something that occupies the same space in this world.

With this, I can grow stronger, isn't it? Lamenting what has passed is making me regress, and I am definitely not wanting to go back.

忘れられた世界

The small thing that fit into the palm of your hand
The small thing that you found beautiful in your eyes
It's hard to understand that it is still the same thing, right?
Underneath the piling boxes at the corner of your room

The kind voice that you turned to anytime you could
The gentle voice that soothed you  whenever you were glum
It's hard to believe that it is still the same voice, right?
On the other side of your phone, breaking down

Maybe you are right, we were just wasting time
Holding each other close, waiting for a miracle
Watching as the world unfolded around us, thinking that it wouldn't affect us
Perhaps we should have let that chance pass
So that neither of us bear the same scar across the hearts
of these two souls we wished to tie together until the end

The reality that we wanted to make true
The reality that we escaped into during the hard times
It's too painful to recall, right?
On the other side of the memories we made together

Maybe you are right, we were just wasting our time
Looking past the goodness of other people, waiting for them to turn against us
It is tiring to be on our guard all the time
But we thought it would be good for us to ignore others who wanted to get into
this world we laid barren after that fateful night

Thought I knew it
Thought I was good
Who knows I was fooling only myself
Thought you would be it
Thought you would be good
Who knows the old wound still bleeds
In the end, we were nothing but the past
Another page in a book that is worn out by time

Maybe you are right, we were just wasting our time
Holding each other close, strongly to the point of breaking
Grabbing onto something too tightly and ending up breaking it into pieces
Maybe you are wrong, we were not together without a reason
The warmth of your body temperature during the rain
We were just  joining in a game that we thought we ought to play
In the end, we were all alone in this world
No matter how hard we tried to keep each other close

When the hand that is supposed to hold yours and helps you move forward is also corrupted by the faults from the outside world, it is going to be a lonely reality.

I might falter, every now and then, and everyone keeps pushing their problems into me. While I am here sorting out my thoughts, they come and lay stacks and stacks of their own.

Here, come look at this.
Now, help me.

It makes me want to escape. Cultivate the demon again. A demon to repel others. I feel like I am being dragged here and there, leaving small pieces of myself along the trail, which will then be swept by the breeze. Far, far away, where I won't look when I am gathering the fragments to become whole again.

Disillusioned, once people know how I truly am, they start hating. When you are not as what people expect you to be, they become angry. Angry that their assumption has been proven wrong. A world that they perceive, woven from their own incomplete conclusion, shattered when they see the cultivated demon. Only then they begin to see the real person, however this time their eyes are clouded with contempt.

Being proven wrong does not sit well with a lot of people. It is like a splinter, stuck in the crevice of the heart, the folds normally unreachable, digging deeper and deeper until it reaches the core. When it does, the ache starts, and when we cannot remove the source of the pain, we start to feel anxious. Driven desperate. With every steady beating of the heart comes the throbbing pain. Ebbing away with every second passing, and eventually return crashing like the waves on the beach. Looping for the next few hours, and the nerves that has been on the edge will burst. Agony kicks in, and instability descends. Cursing, desperately looking for comfort, and when it is denied, suspicions intensifies. Everyone is going against you, you think. Everyone is an enemy, and enemies are not to be hold close. Paranoia, anxiety, mixed together in a concoction of madness, which seeps into the veins and being pumped around along the veins.

Caught in a bad time. A relaxation turns into chores, another path to hate anything that you used to like.

When someone else wants to crash at your place for a while, offering gifts of gold and warmth, who can resist? However, when that person starts to demand things as payment, that is when things turn sour.

Maybe you are not expecting anything from others. That's why you feel like people are a burden instead.

Expectations are stupid. It makes you judgmental, and see within people the roles that you want them to fulfill. For example, the girl sitting next to you in class. In your mind, she would be the smart one who knows when to be quiet and when to ask question during lectures. A totally normal girl, who won't see you as potential spouse. A girl who won't crack her knuckles every now and then, and when speaking, she won't breathe down your neck.

How wrong you can be.

Now finding every reason to slip her presence into your life, she now pursues you diligently, like a shepherd tending to their life-stock, looking after what you do and making sure you are not going out of her predetermined route she lays out for you.

Another one, who is persistent enough to accommodate you whenever he can. In return, you are to follow his lead, neck tied to a leash wrapped around his hand. A hospitality that is unneeded, yet it is shoved down your throat like you ever need it. Dragging people around, shouting here and there, creating troubles even when the situations do not allow them (not that troubles are ever, ever needed in the first place). When everything falls apart, he sits down and ponder what has gone wrong while turning a blind eye to whatever idiocy he has committed.

You expected him to keep his shit to himself, but instead he throws them around, making splatters wherever he goes, creating ruckus and inviting conflicts.

I am tired. This tiny community is getting on my nerves a lot right now. Maybe it is time to go lock myself up again. Until the time where I miss the interactions between me and outside people.

Yeah, I will do that for now. Right after I clean up the mess that others pile on me.

「GOOD ENDING」を書きします。

I know misery, and now I should be able to know the opposite of it.

Didn't know what I have until it is gone, and the old feeling that remains here is continually going up and down. The one who was supposed to be the most significant one in my life is now turning into someone whose name must not be recalled.

Sitting here in front of my computer, with a journal placed right next to it, I am trying to figure out what I meant while writing pages full of nonsensical things. I dreamed of forest burning with a pale blue flame, and from the ashes a giant hand formed. I recorded these dream events and re-read them the next day, when I am much more coherent than the drowsy state I was in when I jotted down the main points.

Walking up the stair at home,  I peek through the small window there and look up to the full moon. It is so bright and seem cheerful. Orbiting our planet and incurring the sea's wrath, is the moon benevolent or malevolent? It is a source of many creative writings, and also symbolize mankind's first step of space exploration. Some members of our species already set foot there, and I am still here wondering if the moon can have its own internet connection. That way, if I am to be there in some weird, warped up future, I won't have to miss reading up my favorite sites.

I will write a good ending, the voice in my dream said. I was wandering in a desolate place with white sand spreading all over to the infinite horizon. I was all alone, no trace of other civilization there other than broken monoliths, but oddly I had a feeling that that lonely feeling did not matter to me anyway. I had a mission in that dream, and only by reaching the monoliths that I would accomplish that mission. In my mind was a certain woman in deep blue dress and bright red lips, and I would find her there.

And when I reached a spot where the monoliths were, I sat down and looked up on the sky. I was looking for something, and I didn't find it. A bright green light flashed down from the spot I was looking at, and I smelt something that resembled an overheated electrical appliance. The lightning hit the ground and I expected there to be some kind of object there. 

There was nothing.

An echo in the far distance, 'I will write you a good ending' but I couldn't see the one that said those words.

After that, I remember looking for the woman in deep blue dress and bright red lips. I can't recall if I found her after that, though. It is all hazy and the memory of the dream is mixed up with a few scenes from previous dreams.

Another night, and another dream. Good, pleasant ones and bad, scarring ones. Which one will it be tonight?

Tripped and falling down. A familiar motion embedded in the muscle memory. Thrown the arms forward to break the fall, a reflex honed by time.

Bloodied nose, a metallic taste in my mouth. Withholding the urge to throw up.

I am not that weak. I am not this weak.

I am still here, in the white room. I am still cradling on the past that I wanted to discard a long time ago. It's been months, and I still have to cater to the stray thoughts about something I am supposed to forget.

I hate it, I hate it. These negative words keep on haunting, dangling on the tip of my tongue. They want me to say them out loud.

People I know don't need to be burdened any further. If I show them my weaknesses, they will be disillusioned and keep their distance from me. Them and their assumption. Once they know that I am not as the one they thought I should be, they'll admonish and starts to hate.

I am not dreaming, right? I am living in this reality, even  when I do not wish for it. I am given a chance, and still am finding my true purpose here. It can't be just to merely spread my seed. It can't be.

No. It can't be.

Here, it just rains a little bit. Mosquitoes spring to life and begin to hound us the larger creatures. The black cat struggles from the bites and is trying to find some comfort in my room. I am sorry that I can't do much for you.

And here I am, facing many work and ending up procrastinating. I maim my responsibilities and throw away people's hope that I will finish up the job.

Now I am gnawing on the last thread that connects me to the outside world, desperately trying to cut off the link between my world and the outside world. I am running away yet again.

No one understands me. No one should understand me.

I was wrong before, and there will always be someone that understand. Entrapped in grief, I wasn't even able to see clearly. All I saw, at that time, were past memories and crossroads where what I said and did would led to different situations.

My chest aches yet again, and I know I should stop reminiscing right now. However, in front of this torrent of emotions, I am powerless.

Memories of False Fronts and the Red Box

Walking down the road, watching the hustle and bustle of the city. Looking up to the darkening sky, and I wonder.

"_______, how does this world look to you?"

I hate it.

A bit confused, and not fully awake yet, seeing people nonchalantly dump their trash out from their car window.

"_______, how does this world look to you?"

I don't like it.

You said it's the truth. I open my eyes and see for myself. Of this peaceful country filled with people who said they know everything. Of people behaving like they are not affected by other countries' tragedies.

Hey, _______? You aren't missing anything. By leaving, you were supposed to be spared from this sight and believed that in the future, everything will change.

This static country is starting to change little by little, but I am still stuck in my own bubble, steadily tumbling forward, unaffected by the flow of time. More and more, people around me are accepting the changes and innovations, but they are still the same no matter how much they do.

Sleeping on the couch, waking up to the smell of cigarette and lit matches. A local radio station making announcement of an electrical cable maintenance.

Therefore on tomorrow afternoon, all the affected areas will experience power outage due to the work being carried out. This will continue until the maintenance is finished.

Same old, same old. Whether you are around or not, it is still the truth. I tried to blind myself from the reality by turning to you, but now that you have left, I have nothing else.

_______, I made a note to myself a long time ago. I still keep it even though all other things related to you have been sealed away in the red box. I never showed it to you, and I will never show it to anyone else.

Opening my eyes after a nap, trying to figure out if I am still dreaming or not, and the clock shows half past three in the afternoon. Outside is still warm, and the sky's pleasant. However, I don't want to go out.

Stop, the red box says, opening me won't solve anything, and drowning yourself in the past won't make you stronger. Lock me up and keep me someplace away from you.

I hate it when you said it's the truth.

I hate it.

But it is still the truth.

And I still wonder how does this world look to you.

私はいつもここにいる

Once again. Dreamed once again.

We crossed path, and pretended to not notice.Two people who exchanged vows, now passed each other without even glancing.

The familiar throb in my chest, I thought I wouldn't have to experience it again. This tightening vice I left behind, it still dangles inconspicuously around my heart.

A red string leading to the outside of my room. Tied to my right little finger, it lays there weakly. Asleep, undisturbed and slightly feverish, I tug lightly at the string to see if it is attached to something.

The temperature lowers, and the night is still young. A silent footsteps outside and a vacant home in the neighborhood. Loneliness even when surrounded by people. Trapped within a physical container that hosts another soul.

Entitled to this, was I? All due to my cruelty, now I am forced to stay within this white room. As always, I am cultivating another demon in the comfort of this encroaching white walls.

Please. Let me go.

Souls of places past, an echo in the background. A resonance in the air. Glowing light that grows faint with every second passing. Another shadow lingers and a rough awakening inside the bed.

The mad night has a grip on me, and I am still escaping. This device that is supposed to connect to the collective consciousness of the people, will it save me? Will I be enslaved by it like any other people? We are trading the warmth of companionship for the steady hum of electricity.

大丈夫。
私はいつもここにいる。

The ceiling is alone.
The keys are still here.
The sun's asleep, and the blanket still smell like you.
It's okay.
I'll be fine here.

Awaiting for the dates of remembrance, and my own rebirth into another me.

信仰と決断

Faith and decision.

Leaving those that burden us to move forward.

Frailty of the human mind. Emotional contagion. The flip side of the soft-spoken, polite child. The lost of innocence. Fearful sleep in the dark. The urge for a release. The wail that is swallowed by forced silence.

The last meeting's memories irrecoverable, recreating the sensation of the past by referring to fragmented, biased recollections.

My right hand's getting numb, but I have no intention to move from this small, cramped white room. The dimming light, the familiar music, the scent from before lingers.

No, it is as if I am facing the past once again.

Leaving those that burden me to move forward.

I am sorry that I cut our connection short, best friend. I am sorry that I toyed with your feelings and manipulated the events just to make you vulnerable. I am sorry that I took advantage of the situation and used you to enact a plan of revenge onto someone that was our mutual friend.

Now I will do my hardest to not do that anymore. I thought I can handle the guilt until I die, but it seems like this guilt will be the death of me.

The false deity pierced with the offering flowers and laughed. He sneered and shouted before fading into nothingness.

'You are a mere figment of our mind. We made you appear, and now we made you disappear.'

It's as if the me that talks to other people and the me that keeps quiet are two different people. What do I fear, what can I fear? There's nothing but imagination that others are going after my throat.

Dreamed and reminisced.

The connection between the two people of that past is represented best as a single mobile phone, and it was as if I had returned back to that moment.

Dreams are loud, and make me ponder.

Leaving in paragraphs, words spoken were heard and answered, but the true intentions were buried underneath gratitude.

"Thank you for everything in the past four years."
I know I made a mistake back then, but don't go.

"If I see you again, I want you to be happier."
I'd be much happier if everything returned back to how it is.

No, I am not waiting for a miracle. I definitely am not waiting for a miracle. And I am not begging for an answer anymore. It has been made clear on that one night. Shifting blames will not solve anything.

The scenario concocted by my mind is very close to reality, but it disappears as soon as I open my eyes. Just an illusion of happier times that I could have achieved and maintained, had I be more open and honest about myself.

It felt warm, and I have really forgot how comforting it was.