Why’d you have to say goodbye?
I was doing fine.
I wasn’t really thinking about it,
There were no tears in my eyes.

Now I’m sitting here once again,
Crying about you,
Because even though I’m doing my best,
There was nothing I could do.

It’d be easier if I could just avoid
This feeling crashing down,
But you know I have to sit with it
Since I’ve been focused on healing now.

Once again my chest feels hollow,
My ribcage collapsing in,
I want off this emotional roller-coaster,
I just want one carnival game win.

I know tomorrow I’ll feel silly
For having held on this tight,
And I will never do this again,
Clearly my mind doesn’t process right.

It’s stupid how fast it hit me,
From just a single little text,
Now my progress feels erased,
And my heart’s a ******* mess.

I almost wish you’d stayed silent,
Kept your goodbye to yourself,
Because I was finally feeling better
Putting your memory back on the shelf.

I know this might not apply to everyone because we all view life through different lenses. But from where I stand,  I believe that It will never fully work between two individuals—who don't share the same perspective and perception in life. I understand that the concept of successful relationships is for  people to meet half way. And it will only work if both sides choose to understand each other even though, each and everyone of us came from different backgrounds, live in different worlds, and somehow found a little bit of common ground. Yet, it will only happen if two of them are patient enough to understand, to listen even when it's uncomfortable, even when it's hard.

But here's the truth: for me, I find it difficult to understand someone, who is far different from a life so unlikely of mine, the rules, principles, beliefs, their way of thinking, it's hard to adjust, to adapt to the world where I don't really fit in. It doesn't make sense to me. I find myself questioning everything. I wonder what's really right? What is wrong? Was it all a habit ? A cycle that has been passed down from generation to generation? I'm pondering,  why is it so hard? Why love, feels like a contract, a negotiation— erasing parts of your identity, to fit in someone's world where I don't really belong.

I DON'T THINK I CAN DO IT, AND THAT'S OKAY.

We all know that the environment where we grew up, is really a sensitive topic and often misunderstood. It breaks us, it hinders us, it builds us, and when two people meet who come from a different world, it's difficult, it's hard, it's like a job— there are many sacrifices also lapses, it's tiring, exhausting. I'm somehow afraid that one day, I will lose my freedom, my principles and values which I uphold, the things I stand for. I don't want to lose myself.

Am I liberated for thinking this way? Being liberated means being free to do everything you wanted, without any restrictions. Not in a modern or wild way, perhaps the fact that I also think of myself, of my own peace, the freedom that I had. For acknowledging differences instead of  forcing people to conform to the pattern of each world. I'm honest about my limitations, of what I think. I am a vocal person. I don't accept everything for the sake of fitting in, especially when it goes against the principles and values I uphold in life. In choosing not to lose myself just to make something impossible to work. Maybe liberation for me is walking away from things that no longer give peace, no longer feels right, even when it's almost everything I wanted.

N O I R.

Scathing reality
Humbled by hunger
Unsated I perish
Promises shattered
Bustling with dreams now hollow a hive
Am I doing enough to survive?

I'm walking in the rain.
My hair is wet.
My clothes are drenched.
I'm not running.

I'm walking in the rain
With no umbrella,
Pulling a suitcase
Of baggage I can’t seem to get rid of.
There’s mascara all down my face.

I'm walking in the rain.
The thunder is loud.
The lightning is blinding.
The wind tries to push me fast—
But I'm walking in the rain.

I am the silence between words,
the shadow that slips unnoticed
through crowded rooms.
No one looks my way,
no eyes linger,
not even for a moment.

I walk past like a ghost,
my name barely a whisper in the air,
dissolving before it reaches anyone's ears.
I speak, but it feels like I’m talking to walls,
hoping the vibrations will reach somewhere,
someone.

But I am always alone.
Invisible threads weave through me,
tightening as the world goes on,
oblivious,
unaware
of the emptiness I carry.

I am not part of the conversation.
I am the pause,
the blank space,
the forgotten afterthought.
I try to shout,
but my voice only echoes in my chest,
bouncing back unanswered.

In the sea of faces,
I am the one that doesn’t register,
the one who blends into the background,
like a painting left to collect dust.
I exist,
but I am not seen.
I feel the weight of this truth,
heavy in the hollow places inside me.

I am a story untold,
a face without a name,
a heartbeat no one notices
because it’s too faint to matter.

But I keep breathing,
I keep moving.
Because even if I’m invisible,
I am still here,
still waiting
for someone to see me.

Just a little too much
to overfill a glass,
not quite enough
to fill up the pitcher.

Dripping down the sides,
an ever-messy lover,
yet spiraling in panic
when I’m spilt on the floor.

Whether the rain revives me,
or the sun dries me up—
I don’t fit anywhere
I want to.