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.