How loving could be so different
you clasp both of your hands every sunday morning,
while i bow and press my temple against the floor everytime the sun moves the shadows from its place, 5 times a day

How loving could be so different
christmas tree are present at the end of the year,
with a bunch of perfectly wrapped gifts around,
while i hold my hunger,temptation, and thirst when the sun scorches the most,
with the limited time to break it only at dawn and night,

How loving could be so different
we can barely see what the differences are
laughing at pointless jokes
words are overflowing
endless bickering at every conversation
unintentional soft slap on shoulders
same footsteps,
and i guess we don't mind at all

How loving could be so different
we both believe
god do exist
he is the all-mighty
he is the most merciful
god is great
god is good

alas,
alas,
god is different for us

We are the ones who are hard to understand
We'll be the last ones in the movie theatre
because the ending scene made us cry
We'll stop to smell the roses
because they deserve to be appreciated
We are the ones who will take the time
to learn what keeps you up at night
We are the ones who will imagine
an entire future of adventures
with the people who show us love

We are the ones who will love you more
than we love ourselves
We will give you our strongest parts
in hopes that we can make things better
We desire to see you become the best you
to make sure that you always feel our love
We crave affection and appreciation
We give a piece of ourselves away every day
sometimes to people who don't deserve it
Our love is easy to take advantage of
and sometimes we don't get back
the love that we give away

When we hurt, we crumble and fall apart
We constantly have to put ourselves back together
We are more fragile than we like to give off
We carry our emotions on our sleeves
Our flaws have the ability to consume us
We aren't afraid to give you the world
but we are afraid to feel unloved
We want you to see what we see
We want you to understand where we're coming from

We are good people with good intentions
We are stronger than we believe
Not everyone can feel the way we feel
We feel too much, too often
We are not hard to love
We are something not everyone knows how to love
But you need to remember that
your worth does not change just because
no one is there to appreciate you, to remind you

You are not any less lovable
You are the most lovable person in the world
You are a light that the world needs
Your kindness is not your weakness
You do not need to change for anyone's acceptance
You do not need to stop giving love
just because you don't get any back
Your heart is the best thing about you

And one day when you least expect it
someone will notice you from across the room
and know exactly how to love you
They will think all of these things are beautiful
They will deserve the love you can give
They will fill the empty space in your heart
But for now, don't stop feeling
We are the ones who feel everything so deeply
We are the ones who can't give up because
We are the ones who will teach the world
how to love

I am depressed again.

I'm not mad at myself for it.

I realized because things that don't usually bother me
Are starting to eat away at me like invisible cancer
That doesn't show up on the scans
But I can feel it in my chest
An illness only I can see

I am diseased
Mentally

My brain has been infected with bugs lately
Everyone of them attempting to convince me I am not worth the work or the money or the hurt
That maybe none of this matters
That maybe I miss them

That maybe
It still makes me sad
To wonder about.  

I started staying up late again
Feeling sad and alone into the early hours of the morning

Depression is so frustrating because everyone around you has no idea what's happening so you just stand there talking nonsense trying not to let them peek but some part of you wants them to understand so badly

But how could they?
After all

Depression lusts after lonely
Depression sweeps isolation up in his arms and twirls her
Romantically
Depression loves that I love how I write when he's here
Depression doesn't have a name
But when he visits me I am split between angry and nostalgia

Because I know sad
Well
It is familiar
It is like family
It visits me
And I cannot decide how long it will stay
But I can brave conversations

I cannot run away.

it’s about time to part away
it’s about time to walk in different directions
it’s about time to pull our feet and walk out
to enter a new door
to build another bridge

we don’t have to burn this bridge into ashes,
but no one will be responsible if this one went down because the wave swept it off of its anchor,
it is no one’s fault when it happens,
it’s just the wave,
it’s just the water,
it’s just the fate,
it’s just the life

when the morning comes,
there will be a ceremony waiting
at your doorstep.

you will hear no knocks.
there will be no people.
there will most likely
be no music and drinks.

instead, in here, in the morning,
you'll find a chest heaving
with repressed sighs and cries.

remember when i pretended i didn't see you
offer your hand when
i was trying to get down from behind the car?
or when i didn't look at you
when we were at the pool,
and you gave me a hopeful glance?

i'm sorry—
this is when i want to say
that i wanted to touch your fingertips,
hold the hand that always moved
with such ease and grace.

at the moment,
even though i don't want to admit it
(i still will),
i didn't think i deserved it.

i didn't think i was meant for it.

because here, in this morning,
when you open the door,
i will be looking at the ground,
the silence throbbing between us,
and pretend again
that i do not see you.

that i do not feel for you.

this is how this ceremony will go.

this is how my defeat sounds like.

i hope that,
despite this morning,
you will accept it.

and we'll both be here in this
collective noise and these in-betweens.
just like the times when
we were in the car and at the pool—

we were never here.

*for g

I'm running now and i'm running out of breath
and with every tracks i've ran past through,
none of them seems right

I'm running now and i'm running barefooted
and with every steps i've stepped through,
none of them were smooth,
rough edges i could feel under my heels

I'm running now and i'm running blind
and with every tracks i've seen,
none of them were visible,
guessing,
and hoping all of these were given light,
so that i know which way should i run to

millions of electrons stunned these piece of white stacks.
odd isn't it?
white stacks,
harder than wood weaker than steel,
underneath the layers between the running blood and stretching skin,
miles of miles of skin,
barely feel anything at all unless it got broken by a terrible accident,
or a tragedy,
suddenly tingles,
as if it was ringing a bell,
only when those fingertips brushed against mine.