Convicted.

We always try to fly away. To spread 'wings', an ideal that every man and women possess. We dream of a future where there are no more limits. But there are many of them indeed and sadly, their origin is usually our own hearts. Comfort, we revel in them. Being caressed by soft emotions and security. The look on his eyes. The monthly wages. The feeling of our skin in bed, covered and sheltered by soft linens and the freedom of time. Where we let go, but not completely as we sleep by imagining tomorrow and wake by regretting yesterday.

There I was, hoping and wandering foolishly in an illusion of a world that had more comfort. More love and realising the reality was a luxurious torture. I breathe to sleep at night and I sleep to breathe for a desired tomorrow. That so far had no progress. Because I am still here, under these walls and bricks. Tucked between the sheets and anxieties.

As time sing to me a lullaby, to drift me further into mortality. Until I wake at 9.30 PM, aged 60 and regretting my life by the foot of the bed. All alone with sad, abandoned dreams.

Glass heart.

She was a child of darkness. And though there was light in her eyes, it diminished as time passes by. She loved you, with her heart overflowing with emotions. Lips laced with promises. One neither could have kept, as her heart fractured open. You were the light of her monotonal life, painting colors like a painter. But soon you faded, like soft crayons and flaky watercolors. You were a shade darker every day. And so she smiled, but tears had already stained her skin. And despite her effort to reach out, to touch you once again... There was a huge crack in her soul that she could never jump over. She was broken and you were the lines of fractures in her glass heart.

Cold, sharp and exhausted heart. Hanging on foolishly for a love that was not meant to be.

books im forced to read.....

i think studying is fun.
only when you are a genius who could absorb every bloody letter in the book which i obviously can't. im facing a mid term but here i am just typing the time away in this blog that NO ONE READS.

yes im sarcastic.
its my life i swear

i don't like how he makes me feel, even from the start that person just practically arouse this sea of butterflies in my guts. and depending on how he does it, it will either bless my guts or rip them nice and slowly. making sure i feel like garbage.

i can't. i cannot handle the way he blast these deadly butterflies into my guts and practically infect my mind with his face. because every time this virus decided to mobilize, im literally helpless. i can't do things right and each frail breath i try to control just stray and make my weak mind go back to a part where i promised never to return.

for this week of course.

still if only i was strong. he is strong but im weak. apparently i've become this eternal slave of his because of my slow and faint will which was actually the one that kept me together the whole time.
he destroys logic in my reality and it hurts. i'm not sure but i guess to a certain point i may be exaggerating still being too caught in something so trivial makes my mind mock my own soul.

you are hopeless. worthless. helpless and there is no light that can save you.

i want my reality back and im struggling to own it once again. im living for the future but now i want to live today. lets live it, a subtle voice echoes among the silent screams of mockery in my head constantly reminding of what i really am.
that i am obviously lacking.

i lack so much that it burns me in the chest, that sometimes i would scratch it until it flushes color of the pink flesh in me.

can i face reality? am i competent enough to be able to taste happiness here.
not the dreams that i have in the back of my mind.

the reason why i am here, to chase them while silently battling the ghost of grey in my soul.
because when i slightly falter, they would overwhelm the reality and paint my sight with red, laced with grey.
happiness is objective.

and to me, its a luxury.