Switched time zones like time travelers
Working myself to death because I can’t stand the solitude
God has a plan
I’m trying to embrace the magnitude
Having flashbacks with dark episodes
In a different state of mind
Hoping it’s all temporal
Building walls to hide my insecurities
Sometimes I wonder if I disappear
Will they even be missing me
Where’s the love for the ones who truly need it
Why do I feel like I’m losing
When I’m halfway to succeeding
Glass of wine has me Inebriated
spilling out my guts to the universal
Nothing but echos and my confessions reverberated
I’m thinking of leaving the earth like a spaceship
But God keep denying me
He keeps people in my way who inspire me
He keeps people in my way who inspire me
2am in Houston
Feels like the first night in limbo
Overthinking my situation when it could be so simple
They tell me I need a break because I need recovery
Honestly, I’ve been thinking about the surgery
But right now, I feel like there’s there’s no urgency
When I go on hiatus, please remember to check for me
I care even if you don’t wish the best for me
The first time I took my “brain” medication, I immediately felt the side effects. I felt nausea, drowsiness, increase in appetite and all that. I was finally able to go to sleep early and not spend nights awake because of insomnia.
But for the first time in a long time, it felt like I was getting better. My brain which seemed to be all over the place was calm and the “voices” had grown to a hush.
But I got concerned. I was scared that I would never get off the meds. I thought I could lose control and would depend on those pills to function “normally”. So I stopped taking them and tried other ways to get better.
I’m very independent. I don’t trust people. I have low expectations of everyone. If they exceed those expectations, that’s a plus.
My fear of trusting people is one of the reasons I don’t give them access to my feelings. I did that once before without caution and it didn’t end well. Now I’m more cautious.
I thought I could get better with people eventually. I thought I could rely on them when I needed help. They rely on me when they go through the dark tunnels of their lives. They call me up when they’re going through whatever bullshit they’re going through.
But I also go through dark tunnels of my own. I went through one yesterday. And no one was there to shine a light for me to get out. I thought I was lost. But I managed to find my way out.
It feels like there was some unspoken trust rule that was broken. I need help and these people who I had somewhat trusted and let them in, weren’t there to help. I do realize that they might always be there.
But I’m always there at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t seem fair but when I’m rationalizing, it doesn’t really seem like a big deal.
So why I do feel like they let me down…..
I walked into her room and found her sleeping. She must have forgotten to close the door. I slowly closed her door and went back to my room.
The next morning, she said she “sensed” me when I was there. She was sleeping but not all the way and she could feel my presence.
But then she said something which put me off.
“I felt like your soul was dark. I can’t explain. But something didn’t feel right.”
“I just wanted to tell you that you’re writing is pretty good. I think you should enter this competition that’s coming up…”
That was what my US constitution teacher told me a day I had handed in an assignment about the US constitution when I was a senior in high school.
I never considered myself a writer. Not even a poet.
I was a pretty good English student. But never considered myself special in any way. I never really started writing poems till I was about 13/14 years old.
For me, all I was doing was finding an outlet to push out my emotions. Finding a way to let out the rage, anger, and depression out before it consumed me.
I started writing songs at 15. I thought about being a songwriter at some point. But of course, I never got the chance to become one.
I had stopped writing started writing for a bit but picked it up again when I got to college. I went back to writing poetry and attempted short story writing to challenge myself.
But a couple of months ago, I quit creative writing. I didn’t feel like I had the creative “juice” anymore.
This year, I turned 30. Some would say it’s a milestone. Some would say that it’s not a big deal and nothing more than a number.
I’m not really sure I can write anymore. I’m not as inspired as I used to be. I can’t focus. I feel like I’ve lost the art. I feel like I was a better writer when my emotions and mental state were a mess.
This blog used to contain all my works including short stories and poetry. But I wiped it all off.
I’m starting over. I have no idea what this blog will be about. It could be a personal diary. It could be a place where I dump and revise old writings from the past. It could be anything.
Whether you actually read it or not, doesn’t matter.