Significant

If your wondering why I dont write
Or paint
Or draw anymore

Its probably because I dont feel like it has any purpose, or importance to anyone anymore.

I used to do it to find myself
Sometimes I do it to reach to you
To record memories
To make something....anything.

Then I found I had no impact
Except misery and hardship
I am pretty good at being gloom.

And okay, i know,
I live the comfort life.
Of privilage and opportunity.

So things are given.
It doesnt matter why.
I know I have to be grateful, and I am.
But sometimes its hard to be grateful
When you are consistently reminded
Of your menial existance.

I think I have been grappling
With my self worth for a while.

Who am I to you?
Does what I say matter?
Are you listening?


And its th main reason
I ask and whine and beg
For others to make me feel
Like i mean something, to someone.

Because deep down
A truth I have kept for a long time.
I dont matter.
I make no change.
I can be forgotten. Replaced.

I am insignificant.
And it hurts when you tell me so.

Always mine

You did nothing wrong. 

I blame myself

For thinking you 

Resembled

Looked

Were

Everything i needed. 

Or wanted. 

It was me. 

Always my fault. 

Adapted from riderek

Hero to hero

Maybe not all stories are to have a hero

Maybe its just enemy
To enemy

Both heroes in their own world.

Missed your flight

I am missing your flight
On purpose

I missed your flight
It does not turn back

I will miss your flight
It still is okay

You and me
No matter what you see
No matter what I hear

I miss your flight
And catch the next one

One day.

Either way

Its lonely either way. 

Even when you are here

My dreams dont come true.

Whats more when your gone

I cant make it right. 

All peach pink and yellow

All sound glory and chelo

Its either you make your move

Then I lose my dream

Or I make a move.

And I live a nightmare. 

The corner

Some have advised me to try a different approach.

Thing is, nothing works much like this trick I have. 

I have a corner. 

A place where I go, 

And I think about all these possibilities

Probabilities

Anomolies.

Where you turn and change

And just hurt me.

This corner is wedged between my bed and my bedroom wall. 

So I can stand

And face it. Two hands resting on each side.

The cold was the night blanket.

And the bare structure gave me ground.

The lights were placed

To shadow this corner.
Just like the your words
Have shadowed mine.

And the walls so thin. So freakishly plain.

I can hear things.
Spinning. Repeating. All in my head.

Then I leave my corner

And brace myself.

To god knows what
Some self destructrive honorary plan? 

It usually takes a while.

But it happens anyway. 

You say one thing
And then you do another. 

Its like you cant have one.

And we cant have each other. 

You need your life.

As I need all those dark lonely nights

Cupping my own mouth

And closing my wet eyes.

All in the corner.

The corner and I. 

Third class novels

I started my year by reading all these sappy whimsical trendy novels. With mushy half eaten phrases, badly cut and paste plots and always that excessive use of dramatic flair.

They felt like
Our story.
Me and you.
Unbearable to read.

But lo and behold,
Bestsellers anyway.

Not excited

2017 isnt as exciting as it comes out to be. 

I am accused of being a negative ranter.

But at the very least, I am a realist.

I know

I had you last year

Struggle to keep you today

And wih every passing day

Is just me getting closer to "losing" you.

Its inevitable. 

We meet. Experience. Enjoy.

To leave each other anyway. 

By choice or by fate. 

Always part ways. In the end.

So, as I said. I am not excited. 

Not really.