Maybe, the moon is a he and not a she, and every night he waits for the girl who once used to wish on his light when the moon is full, until one day, the girl just stopped wishing and she never peered back again at him. And maybe, the moon asked the ocean’s help to look for the girl in every sea and in every shore, and the wolves’ help, in every land and in every continent. And maybe, the moon never finds the girl again because centuries and eons had passed and the oceans never cease tiding, and the wolves never stop howling every night, maybe saying, “mate, we still haven’t found her.”
Mirror mirror on the wall
All I see is nothing but fraud.
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Lately, I’ve been feeling out of sorts, my words never seem to be enough. Worst is I’m recently getting more than my normal likes and shares on my tumblr blog, but I still feel like sh*t. 🙊 For some reasons, I feel like my words don’t seem to have life, lacking of soul, and not like how I used to write before. And no matter how many people had taken time to message me to show their appreciation and to tell me to keep up the good work, I still don’t feel enough. 😔 I find myself constantly comparing myself to the past version of me, to the younger me that could write with soul, and I find my current self lacking. I’m guessing people could relate to my recent writings, but is it of any good if I couldn’t relate to my own works? 😔
I’m finding it hard recently to write, not because of the lack of words or ideas, but because I just can’t seem to relate to my own piece, and I can’t appreciate my own words, and it just doesn’t feel like enough, or me anymore. 😔
Anyways, just ranting, nowadays, I feel like a handicap when I cannot write. 😂
The thing is, there are times that I couldn’t write, and I couldn’t force the words out. Those times when I couldn’t even think of a good metaphor to describe and define whatever it is I want to express because there’s nothing to express. It’s as if my mind suddenly turns into a giant white canvas for me to paint on for the words, but there’s no freaking words coming out of my mind and no matter how much I try to squeeze some thought and some sense, I just couldn’t make myself to.
This is one of those times when I couldn’t harness the magic of words.
My mind is tired. My heart too.
After all, I am named after the moon, and tonight the moon is black.
They say you can never imagine what doesn’t exist. You can only imagine what exists and what will exist, but never what will never exist.
This is true.
I can see alternate futures. The different choices we make leads to different versions of the futures, branching in and out like that of a winding road, sending us to a completely different path.
This is our versions:
1. There is this version of us, in an alternate future, where you choose me instead of her. This doesn’t end well. We will grow to resent each other as time passes by. You will be irritable and moody, and I will grow to hate you. It will be a love-hate relationship where there will be too many fights, and make up sex, and not enough nourishing love. The thing is, we will play too many games that will both hurt us, you will still love me and I will still love you, but our dreams will be better than reality.
2. There is this version of us, in an alternate future, where you stick with what is now. Never changing, never rocking the boat, moving through the same motions day in and day out, never changing your feelings for me, or thoughts, and actions, believing and swearing that on next life, you’ll choose me and we will live happily ever after. The thing is, I can see this far. On next life, you’ll recognize me instantly, without a doubt, but I won’t recognize you. When you find me, I would love someone else by then, and I’ll be holding the same hands I’ll be holding in this lifetime if you choose this path. You will realize then that I’m living a good and satisfying life, and you will decide to keep your distance. This next life maybe your worst life of all the lifetimes you will ever live. You will live a life of unproductivity and drunkenness. Partly because you will see what I see now, that on the next next life, there will be no more us, or on the other futures to come. And we will never be together again. There are futures that seems final, and there are futures that are still changing. This version seems final. Proceed with caution.
3. There is this version of us, in an alternate future, one that ends quite well. Quite related to the one above, only that in this one, you decided to change your feelings for me, without bitterness or animosity, just good intentions and well-wishes, and in this path you’ll live a life of happiness. I, on the other hand, will live a life of contentment and happiness. It will be a good and satisfying life to both of us, separately but running parallel with each other. Your ups will be my ups, my downs will be your downs. On next life though, I’ll be holding the same hands I’ll be holding in this life, should you choose this path. The thing is, as I’m writing this, the future is still changing. On next life, I may be holding yours. And this version is still open-ended.
4. Then there is this version of us, in an alternate future, you ‘fight’ for me and not just ‘choose’ me, whatever that means. Remember that I can’t see the hows, just only the outcome. In this version, you are happy, and I am happy, and we are together. For some reason, this version will stretch for eternity, going on and on, without us needing a next life. The thing is, this future doesn’t exist before, and I have never seen it until only now. I can still see it now quite clearly. I do not know what change. But thank you.
There are many, many more other versions of futures that I haven’t explored, and going through all of it would give me quite a book to write.
5. There is this version when I choose someone else I know now, and I will live an unhappy miserable life, and you will live an unhappy life too, and we will just repeat this same life on the next. If I will choose this path, I see that on next life, I would choose the person I described in 2nd and 3rd versions instead of you, and I will still be happy then.
6. Then, there’s this version of what will happen when I choose to run away from you now. I might forever lose the opportunity to meet the person I’ve seen in the 2nd and 3rd versions. And I ‘might’ end with the unhappy one. After this, I cannot see what’s next for me or for you, which is quite scary, though it can also mean that this version for now is not yet set in stone, unless if I choose this path.
On the 1st version, I will die. On the 2nd and 3rd versions, I ‘might’ die. On the 4th, I do not see death. The 5th and 6th, I haven’t explored yet.
You see, there are futures that I can change, and there are futures that I cannot change. I did my best with those I can change.
Ours, however, is something that I cannot change, because this is yours to change.
So love, please proceed with caution.
There’s something so painful about chasing the memories and love of a dead person. It’s like trying to hope for a better future, a future you know that wouldn’t involve them anymore. A future you once thought would be all about you and him.
I heard our song on the radio while on my way to office, and I was hurled back in time in an instant. It’s still hard to grasp what happened, like it seems to happen just yesterday and I was on the pavement of the hospital, crying my heart and soul out.
What you did, why you did, the theories behind it, the mechanics, I all understand it now. I studied it for you. I just wish I’d understood it before when you’re still clinging to me for life support, like I’m your anchor that keeps you from floating away from this world that demands too much of you.
I wish I held your hand tighter, and hugged you a little bit longer, and listened to you a little bit more patiently. But I didn’t. I took you a little bit for granted because I thought you’d be my forever, that you’ll always be here on my side, that you’ll always be my partner in crime.
When you left us, the world stop spinning for me as if for punishment. That’s the time I also realized that time could bend, that time could stand still and that it could stop just like that for me, the bright noise of the world dimming in a blink of an eye, the curtains closing, and I’m left with nothing but your memories and the white noise behind.
And contrary to what you always say to me, I learned that there’s such thing as too late. And I’d been too late. I’m so sorry.
It is the feeling of tiredness that creeps on you even if you haven’t done anything all day long. It is the crying spells that overtakes you when you are finally left all alone after a long day of pretending to be okay. It is the waking up every 2AM with your thoughts all jumbled up and morose. It is the desire to sleep all the time, to stubbornly stay on bed, and be continually lost in dreams that never makes sense. It is wanting to be somewhere that isn’t really here on the here and now. It is the staring contest at the ceiling, when you finally found a temporary peace in finding no thoughts, no chaos, no feelings, just a deep hollowed numbness at the center of your being.