Empty Days

Time passed with each tick; seconds flow through my fingers in great lengths of discursiveness, and what’s left of it became the emptiness of hours and days... The clock stares blankly with its tentacle hands, sounding out to me in regular intervals. Reminding me of the times I have lost and am going to lose. I lay on my bed, figuring obtusely for things to keep me occupied, to keep my mind from wondering to thoughts it shouldn’t be...

I don’t understand why I took a day off anymore when all I need is something to prevent the melancholic cerebral discourse between me and myself. That invisible battle that relinquishes all reason and logic vice versa. I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to be tormented by the ghosts of past histories...

Asynchronous strands of memories, fragmented dialogues and blurred past narratives... The re-enactment of previous tragedies... I just want to put them all behind... I want to move on...

But how?

I Write

I write to stay alive. In a futile attempt to remove the broken bits in me, I write and I write again… On paper, in my mind, on the web, in this blog, drafts of me scattered all around in physical and ethereal forms… I wrote stories of her, of us… Stories of what I wanted my life to be, to what it has been. I wrote many things, things that now I no longer even remember… I have hundreds if not thousands of unpublished thoughts, thoughts that deliquesce along space and time only to be isolated and coagulated by emptiness, thoughts that for no rhyme nor reason just came crashing into my mind.

Even as I ran out of inspiration, I turned to aspiration… Like breathing, I have to continue writing… Even if it’s just for the canvas to see and feel, even if it is on a tissue that will end up being smudged and rendered illiterate. I write… I don’t know who I’m writing to or who I’m writing for… Heck, I don’t even know who reads these crap…

I wanted to write a book and I even got a title for it, but I figured along the lines of cost and profits - It will not work out. For I harbour way too many thoughts that would interest no one, no things, no beings… Thoughts stored along the bytes and folders of archive, written and stashed under the forgotten pages of yellowed history. As long as I live, I have to keep writing… To leave a piece of me, to leave a piece of memory, no matter how short and insignificant it may be…

Here, I’ve written again…

Dreams time and again...

As I lost myself between the crossroads of life, directions no longer make any sense. They all seemed to be pointing backwards, and I thought I had moved on... I told myself that the end is the dissevering of my soul from the heart, so that I will no longer feel nor love again... I thought that way I would totally forget her... I thought that way, I would totally forget love. But somehow she just appears in my dreams time and again...

Is it because of the human faculty? That equivocal gift of thought that give rise to dreams and imagination... But I don’t want to dream anymore, especially not her. It just drives me crazy whenever I fall into a world with her, just to wake up alone again. That disappointment, that anger, that antagonism, all spawned from the drugs of sub reality...

No one can comprehend the rage that drives me, that impossible anger strangling the grief until the memory of your loved ones just poison in your veins... At the end of the day, you catch yourself wishing that the person you loved never existed so you'd be spared the agony…

Growing Up

Life is never easy, but I did not know it could be so hard. Once we figure out we are on our own, that we are adults with life decisions that could change our future forever, that is when we finally find out what kind of a person we are… Be it choosing which university to go to, what girls to fall in love with. Ultimately, the decision is up to us, for good or for bad. It is how we live with the consequences of our actions and decisions that matters…

Poring through the vestiges of past deliberations, my predilection to play on the safe side has seemed to have gotten the best of me… Be it in relationships, investing, or buying something I desire. I always seemed to dwell too much into its repercussions rather than enjoying that brief moment of pleasure and exhilaration… So much so, it made me stay stagnant in a spot for too long… So much longer, that everyone has moved on except me.

Somedays, being an adult is vexing and tiresome… Imagine being a kid again, when homework is the only least favourite thing. Just at what point do we lose this innocence, that we finally realize the way of the world. Every individual will eventually discover how the world acts and reacts; it's just a matter of when…

For me, I think it was due to all the past perfidies of people whom I have prepensely lost contact with – The realization of my morality, not just family or friends, but my own… That betrayal and heartbreaks are real. That I too someday will die, that one day this blog and all I have lived for will no longer exist or matter.

At which point do we realize we are no longer a child? To each his own, the answer varies. But to me, I think it is the day I see that I will die and understand, it's not sleeping, and it’s not a dream… It is a matter of fact…

Back to Work

Back to work, back to the banality of daily subsistence. I took the passage back to my robotic schedules. I ride back on the trains of familiar strangers, at the same cabin waiting for that same exit... That portal back to the 4 walled partitioned cubes with only a window connected to the world via electronic fibre optic cables.

As I consigned myself upon the seat of a civil servant I tap the plastic medium with the familiarity of breathing, creating works of reports and searches to information for some to see and some into the shredding machine. Wasting my life to this national servitude and waiting for the impending paper race. I sat here, hoping for any defining moment that would make me feel something different. Something besides emptiness... Waiting for change... Waiting for love... A love that will never come to be.

Love has died, that is if it ever was a living thing. Along with it is my anticipation of freedom... Solitaire became my favourite game, and like every unitary leitmotiv, I’m just sitting here, rehashing every moments of before... Saturdays and Sundays became days of escapism. Staying at home becomes a repeat infliction of dolour. I wanted salvation, so I indulged in everything... Now I want to seek forgiveness, but what can a mortal ask, after all the 7 sins...

Tears became a momentary deliverance, yet along the discourse of voice boxes and elucidation are these writing I left behind...

Rebirth

Back in a foreign land that seemed all too familiar, I see life emerging from the bowels of death. Rebirth after the barrenness of winter. Beauty phasing through the cycle of life. Regardless of how short their ephemeral stay may be, they bloomed for the world to see. Painting their existence through the pink of what we epitomised as life.

Nature is a great teacher, and I took down her lessons of death, life and rebirth in stilled images. This is especially so along the transition of winter to spring - The allegory of rebirth. Where the trees take on the barrenness of apparent death, only to be revived through time. Yet their beauty is so transient and fragile that mere wind and rain could them take away.

However short-lived life may be, she has taught me to embrace even the slightest moment of beauty and happiness.

However in this loveless dessert, beauty and happiness is a taboo that only those with it can solace.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Brokened. Shattered against radio-shadows. Dead planets and specks of stardust loomed titanic through lensed distance and incalculable perspective. Washed out by sun flares and nipped at by gravity wells. Many stars alike hovers around the invisible ring of oscillation, yet this one star struggles to stay alive...

Darkness is the word, the very abstract of my heart. It looms across the universe of emptiness. Vacuumed into an eternity of solitude... A lone planet, or so it is... A star hanging between the balance of life and death. Waiting for a day that living things would start flourishing upon its embrace... Yet all there is, are loveless...

All hope and faith expunged across the shades of black and white. This sole planet survived... After the eclipse of the heart, ice age dawned upon the millennia of civilization. Freezing every organism on this fading star, absorbing every degree of warmth it has harnessed over the years of exposure. As love left, this planet sunk into darkness, all ray of life filtered by another star... A star so close and dear to it... Yet even propinquity could not daunt the change of the heart... In this eclipse, all shades of light are bent and distorted, all lines of thoughts ebbed into an inebriated state, all hope and faith evanescence along the disintegration of life.

What’s left is a desert, barren of thoughts and emotions... Even after a hundred years it remained. Stilled and frozen by the ice that numbs all pain. What’s left behind the Moon is just a heart in cold storage. Awaiting for the fenrir to devour the very Moon that meant so much...

A failing fragmented signal. Some final plea unanswered. Some last warning unheeded. Now lost forever into the abyss of emptiness...