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There's a hollow box containing coldness
Somewhere in the passage of my voice
Along where my breathing comes and goes
I tried to let it all out to free myself
From the questions it is packed with
But the more I do, the colder the air becomes

I feel a thousand hot daggers in my chest
All in the size of the biggest needles
The heat of the blades burn the surface
I try to pull it off to rid myself of it
To take the puzzles afar and away
But the more I do, the hotter the pain becomes

An afternoon into space

via

And for another moment in my life, I crave again. For the saltwater kissing my feet, for the dirt and dust hugging me, for all the places and spaces I could run and walk along, I crave. There is this gentle impatience within my heart that wants and wants and screams for something else, for the things that are rather and the things that would be. I try to hush these screaming desires with the silence I pose in the surface. While the world talks and goes about, I contemplate my life and regulate the noise within my system. I have to shut it up right now or it would pain me to think of the things that are yet. I just want for things to happen, for them to really happen. In a way that everyday is a new set of skies, and every minute is an unfamiliar street. I want to see more and I want to go beyond beyond. 

All I am right now is another speck of a dreamer under the navy skies. All I can be sure of right now is that I am uncertain of what will be, and that I will never know what's about to conspire until it unfolds. All I can do is live in the moment and let myself take the minutes into slow and sure strides. Tomorrow is patiently waiting. And all I am doing is towards it. Patience has not always been all I am, but it's all I could be as of now. 

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Impatience is not all the source of my staring-into-nothing spree this afternoon. There is something that makes me think. Maybe it is the ghosts of the mistakes and failures, of the misses and wrongs, of all the things ugly and sad that I've ever encountered. I don't know, but I ended up too doped by these things unknown that I don't wanna delve into anything interesting. Is it cradling this uninteresting and boring feeling that I am currently having what I am doing right now? Unsure of anything really as of the moment. 

I don't even know if I want to pause the clock or speed by to the future awaiting. I understand nothing, and I can hardly translate to myself these weird, lapsing heartbeats. Why am I so up in the nothingness that I find no life in this afternoon? And right now, I am approaching midnight. And all these minutes I let pass without proper shepherding of the time. This is quite disturbing---the feeling of emptiness and nothingness---but what have I to do? It may be because I want a lot of things right now or may be because I am trying to keep myself at rest from all the chaos in the world, that I have to listen to my own chaos, tat which is within me. I don't know. Theories, theories, theories. We have so much of them I can't indulge the world with another set of theories. Anyway, I was hoping that writing these would help me somehow. As if I could vent the emotions into this writing machine. 

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What could I do? What could I hope for? My life is stuck in between. Between the feeling of too much life and blood and the feeling of emptiness and hunger, between the feeling of rage and music and the feeling of quiet and silence, between the feeling of pride and the feeling of insecurities, between the feeling of confidence and the feeling of uncertainty. I am a lot of things. And I am mostly unsettled. I hope in the One who has an eye for what has to come and an eye that reaches the depths of souls. I look up to Him to fill the emptiness and to still the raging desires. Because my humanness demands and demands and it is never filled enough. And in all these, I end up hoping. Praying. Trusting. It will soon be. It will be. Soon. 

The Thinking Therapy

Distractions. They say you need to be distracted from whatever it is that keeps you sad. Distractions like hanging out with friends, watching movies, reading, etc. I'd say I want to be distracted. I want my thoughts be kept away from whatever it is that's lingering and piercing in my heart. But that makes me feel even sadder.

Apparently, I'm sad. For some reasons, I'm sad. I am still functional though. I can carry on the whole day, I can still do my chores, I can still do some things that I wanna do. Yea, just some. But the sadness is whispering to me, calling my attention. It just wants to be attended to.

I try to read, watch stuff, but I can't. I find it hard to divert my attention to other matters. I find it hard to add information into my head. The emotion is demanding. The only things I can do are the things that don't require much thinking (eg hanging around in Pinterest, doing crafts, cleaning, organizing), those activities that keep me moving. I need to do something so I wouldn't be stuck thinking.

I wanna talk about the pain that is in my chest, but I know no one would understand me. People who'd come to me with the same hurt that I have right now would look really pathetic to me. I think I'm just sinking in a shallow body of water, and I can find my way out anytime, but I just can't. That makes me look stupid. I probably just don't know how to deal with this kind of pain. And that adds to my sadness. Obviously, a lot of things pile up to my sadness and boom, this makes my heart wanna explode.

So, distractions won't work, talking doesn't seem fit, I am left to one thing: thinking. I am thinking about the pain. I am thinking about it the time I'm writing this. I feel it pierce my heart with very little needles. I am just so hurt and I'm thinking about how much it hurts.

They say as much as possible don't think about it! Just let it go or avoid allowing yourself from thinking. But I can't. I find the avoidance hard, I'm being called by the pain. It impedes my life from moving forward. I need to do something about it! And that something I thought is to think of it. Think of it until I grew tired of the pain, and all I can do is let it go (but hey, I've been letting it go, it just won't go away).

Thinking helps me face the pain. It helps me face the sadness that's eating me. It helps me talk to what's hurting me, like, "Hey, what do you want? What would keep you away?". And I can talk to my heart and say, "What's wrong with you, fragile one? Why are you being so stupid again?". And as I get more delved into thinking, I get to understand all the lines connected to the pain. It makes my head clearer. It makes it easier to accept what hurts me. It makes the pain-giver look nothing.

I'm giving myself this therapy right now, well, together with the distractions and some small talking. But, of course, I've to do it only when I'm in bed, if I do it the whole day then I need some kind of other major therapies. Thinking therapy is a lot like the concept of flooding in Psychology. I'm exposing myself to the cause of "unwellness".

Despite the time I've spent thinking, I'm still sad though. I'm hoping I'll recover from this blow. Well, that's life. It's painful and confusing for the most part of it. But I think I'll get better. I hope I'll get better.