november was exploring
the space between
hell and home
and mapping out
the earthly constellations
that keeps leading me
back to these ruins;
back to you.
i am stranded on
an island of in-betweens.
this is who i am
and over there is
who i want to be.
When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. The presence that is felt through a hand-held, a voice heard, or a smile seen.
Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. They only know it feels right to be with one another.
This is the reason why you miss someone so much when they are not there– even if they are only in the very next room. Your soul only feels their absence– it doesn’t realize the separation is temporary.
Can I ask you something?
Why is it every time we say goodnight, it feels like goodbye?
I resent the way I am.
I no longer like myself.
I no longer like the person I turned out to be.
I take no pleasure in what I am doing simply because it entails me to think.
It demands that I know how to infer meaning from situations.
And I am being persecuted for knowing how to do it.
How I wish I was born without my senses.
Take away my sight that I should never get to read again.
Take away my hearing that I might not be able to listen to anything again.
Take away my ability to speak that I might not say what I have in mind.
…and maybe then he’ll love me more.
Let me be “unthinking.”
Let me be something different.
Mold me into a person that you will love deeply.
I feel so unhealthy writing this.
I feel so sad about myself.
I want to abandon myself.
Is it possible?
A quarter of a century.
A few years back, I have seen myself already married by the age of 25. As I write this today, a few weeks before my 26th birthday, I am still unmarried and is in more doubt about my weary existence in this world than ever before.
I realize that I am setting new standards for myself as I grow older. Love is not enough for people to get married but I do not also consent to the idea of treating marriage like some business deal with too much scheming and plotting.
I want it to be offered to me for reasons that are beyond me, and not because I just met certain requirements or qualifications. Or because I could fulfill certain conditions. I would want to spend the rest of my life with someone who truly and sincerely wants to be with me, not because I am just a piece that would complete his master plan.
I still believe that one day, when I least expect it, someone would come along and ask me to be his wife. It would be the most pleasant surprise in my whole life, and I am sure I won’t have the heart to turn it down.
I want my own love story to be good, worth telling to the world…
I could never have that if I were just a piece in a plan, or if I were just someone who’s not worth being accepted despite the short comings and mistakes, or if I were not worth being loved unconditionally.
That is my perfect description of my writing skills now. How long had it been since I last sat down and express myself through something creative?
I missed this part of the process, when I am beginning to suck my thumb like a little girl again when it suddenly struck me that I am stranded at the exact same part of the story where I decided to stop a few years back.
Not that I never attempted to get back to it. But it just gets frustrating when I really thought I now have found a different perspective to get past this part of the story I am writing.
Apparently, I now find myself in the very same spot. Same punctuation point. Same freaking episode of a stormy day. I need to give an ending to this soon. But I am missing characters and scenes.
It feels as though there is something blocking my imagination, that if only I get to see through it then everything would flow out smoothly – the words and all…
I am feeling a rush. I need to get the rest of the story out of me.