(v) to take a break, to clear one's head; "to walk in the wind."

Category: personal

A Worrier; A Warrior

I swear I tried to stop myself but I’m sorry I couldn’t and I’m not even sure who I am apologizing to anymore. Is it to you who knew that I was stronger than I was or is it to myself who knew that I had the strength to not give in but did. I’m sorry you had to see me that way. I knew you didn’t want to hurt me but somehow your words stinged my face like a blaring sunlight and I couldn’t look at you anymore. Before I knew it, all the tears I tried to hold back began to stream out and I looked pathetic when I couldn’t breathe– voice soft and shaking when I spoke, but I swear I tried to be strong. My head was spinning with all the things you were trying to tell me. I couldn’t think straight. I tried to focus but all your words were floating around in front of me in a haze. You told me to take deep breaths and I was able to calm myself down when I closed my eyes and inhaled. I wanted time to move faster. I wanted to get it over with but it was hard and I was scared of letting you and I down. It felt like a long time but I got through it. I felt so embarrassed after that I didn’t want people asking if I was okay or even looking at me– cheeks once wet with tears and eyes that cried out of despair.

I admire myself for my optimism though. I would have beaten myself up over something of little matter but here I am, okay. I am okay and I know I will be okay. I know now that I aren’t as strong as I fake myself to believe but I also know now that I am stronger. Thank you for not giving up on me.


Yesterday’s Feelings

You gave me a different kind of summer that day. That time. We weren’t how we were like before.

Did you ever notice? Or did you simply just not care?

I remember sitting down next to you on a small couch in a renovated basement with a couple other people. It was cramped, but I didn’t mind, if it meant sitting closer to you. We watched old cartoons probably from the mid-1900’s and a few terrible movies from the later years. I remember how we couldn’t help but laugh and make vulgar jokes from time to time as we kept watching. I remember how your face lit up when you guffawed over a witty remark I made. We laughed so hard our stomachs started hurting. And even though the other kids were too little to understand our somewhat suggestive banters, we shrugged them off anyway and continued at our own distance.

We calmed down a few moments after and you rested your head upon my shoulder. It used to be small moments like this that got me so worked up on you. I remember how I always felt electricity whenever your skin brushed against mine, even if it was just for an almost second. You layed your arm on my lap and I don’t think you had any idea how much I wanted to hold to your hand and remember all the feelings I tried to suppress. All I ever wanted was inches in front of me and all I had to do was reach out and grab for it. But I didn’t. I knew I couldn’t. I knew you didn’t love me the same way. Not anymore. Or maybe, not even ever.

It’s sad to think that this has probably been my favorite moment from us last year. That time. We used to consist of so much more. But you see, I don’t think being the reason behind someone else’s smile could ever compare. It wasn’t even just anybody. It was you who I made happy. And that’s what made it so special. You were so special. I’m not sure what ever happened to us, but you are my least favorite-best memory. And that’s all we’ll ever be now– a beautifully tragic memory. Read the rest of this entry »


When a mirror falls and shatters, it will always remain shattered. No matter how hard you try to put it’s pieces back together, no matter how hard you try to fix it, the cracks will always be there. It would always look like a broken mirror whole. And now I understand. I always try so hard to move on. I try so hard to forget you. I tried everything I could think of. And I’m still not over everything. I wish I had not fallen so hard. I wish I had not broken into pieces so small I could not even feel sometimes anymore. I wish I had not shattered because of you. And I know now I’ll always be this way– pieces put together with cracks that cut through. I will always be that broken mirror whole.


All this time, I thought I was over it. I thought faking the belief that I did not care would finally influence the reality that I am actually still not over it, and that I still do care.

I still. Do. Care.

For even the gentle breezes bring me so much pain as they blow me all throughout the day eventually creating a tornado in my head of all the thoughts of you and I. And no matter how hard I worked to build a shelter above my head, you still manage to sweep the roof away– breaking the entire infrastructure down.

I cannot dismiss the fact that I still. Do. Care.

There is no denying that there are still pieces of you that live in the corner of my mind. If the things I tell myself are true, I would not be sitting here writing about a love that I was not even sure precisely existed. If the things I tell myself are true, then black and white evidences of my deepest thoughts would have never been exposed on paper.

Why can’t I push you away?

Please, I no longer want you to stay.

Cold Summer Nights

This is no longer about forgetting to wrap myself in a blanket before I fall asleep. Or the pouring rain which blows out winds that breeze in through my window. I am freezing. And I am tired of feeling cold.

The sunrises of 5 a.m. mornings wake me up, and my face is buried in my pillow. I smell the fragrance of lavender laundry soap and although it is lovely it is not the scent of you. I close my eyes. I roll over to the darker side of my bed, the side faced the wall, the side faced with you. I open my eyes. I look at you. You smile at me. You are not there. You are only in my memories. I touch the empty side of my bed, the bed sheets cold without another warm body to lay upon.

I am tired of feeling alone.

It is ironic how I felt some loneliness even with your presence. I think we both knew that those past months have been different compared to those past years. It was difficult being next to you– the icy tension getting sharper and sharper every passing minute that my hands were not intertwined with yours. It was difficult because you were a gust of cold wind that I always felt but tried to not see nor pay any attention to. It is difficult when I used to find warmth through the sound of your strings, your exceptionally trite jokes, your laugh, your smile. I remember the sun upon my cheeks when you kissed me there. I remember how it flushed like a sunset, turning pink– shining out like rays.

Everyday, they are all the same. Each waking morning I rise with the thought of you. It is not even in only the mornings. It is also during the darkest of nights, the loneliest of afternoons and all the moments in between.

There is no metaphor to describe how much I miss the old you. I want to feel warm again.

I want to feel loved again.

It is like walking through an endless blizzard that kept getting me lost. I am blinded by the snow, and all I want is to be found again. Maybe by someone new. Maybe by someone like you, except someone better. Someone that would not make the innocent Autumn leaves slowly falling, hail down like a cold winter storm.

I want to feel summer again.

Our Little Secrets

We were lightweight and unknowing. We were two pieces of a broken soul that found its way to connect to each other that night. Your room was dark. We were not the only people in your room. The others only felt like a blur of laughter and noises in the background of you and I. We laid next to each other on your bed, sharing one pillow beneath our heads. There was a knock on your door. I went out. My mother warned me about the dangers of a boy; a boy she labelled a maniac that night. I crawled onto your bed next to you. I did not believe you were that boy. Your warm body next to my body made me feel protected. Although you were only laying there. Your TV was the only light in your room. Other than that, there was also that spark in your eyes. I watched your stomach move up and down; you laughed over all the little things that seemed funny. I knew that beneath your smile was a tired, broken soul. I thought that was what made you beautiful. I felt like a piece of your broken soul that made you feel whole that night. I hope you felt that too.

I hope you felt that too.

I whispered something in your ear. My tongue a cup of red wine susurrus but not quite drunken. You whispered something back with concern and protection in your voice. I told you not to worry. I told you I did not believe you were the boy they said you were. You had a heart of a balloon. Your heart floated lightly in the air, only popping if it wandered too high into the unknown or if it made contact with anything too sharp for your delicate soul to take. I fell asleep then and there. My world turned black and I floated into a universe of us. I woke up with my fingers lingering in your hair and your arm around my shoulder. The room was still dark except only now we were basically the only people laying there. I was confused when my eyes blinked open, but it was the good kind of confused. The kind of confused where you are not quite sure onto what is really going on but either way, you enjoy it.

You were my favorite confusion.