Browse Tag by death
365, Prose, Writings

Love Letters #2

Do you remember how when we were kids, you taught me how to swim? And when we grew up, you always told me to stay away from waters unless you’re near? You knew how clumsy I could be on all the wrong moments.

But I never worry then.

You were always there to be my lifeguard whether in swimming or in real life. You have always been my floatation device when I’m about to drown, and my lookout when I’m already wading near the deep ends of the waters. You never let me go through any of it alone. That’s why when you’d left, I had a hard time adjusting and keeping afloat, even when I’m not in the waters, even when my feet is flatly on the ground. I feel like I’ll never learn how to float again, and my feet will never find its stability again.

I wish you pushed me harder in lessons.

But how can I blame you? That’s how you’ve always been, comfortable in being relied to, and that’s how I’ve always been, quitting before I even started and just comfortable on depending on you. You said that’s why we clicked on everything.

Sometimes when I’m near the beach, I can still hear your voice ringing through my ears, loud and clear, like it was just yesterday, reminding me to keep to the shore and to not go through the deep waters unless if I’m with you.

Sometimes, I go to the beach alone, because that is when your voice is loudest, that is where my memories of you are the most clear, roaring above the ocean’s wave. And most because, that is where I lose you.

I don’t think I will ever forgive the ocean for never giving you back to me.

Until now, I never manage to learn how to swim, and I’ve never been comfortable again with waters. I don’t think I will ever be, since you’ve been gone.

**…continuation from a post titled, 17.

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365, Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Stars

I heard before that the stars we see every night, those little source of light, twinkling and glittering and painting the night sky are long dead. Yet they still give beauty to everyone who looks at them at night. They still give hope and inspiration to everyone who finds meaning in their existence. Maybe that’s the reason why God created them. To remind us that even on the darkest of the darkest night of our soul, the memories of our loved ones can still give a glimmer of light and a twinkle in our hearts even when they are long gone, just like the stars.

I stare at the night sky today. The stars cannot be seen, the clouds obscuring their twinkling light. But I know behind those clouds, they’re still there. Somewhere far away in the distant. Alive and beating and twinkling, just in a different time. And who knows, maybe the stars do laugh and we’re just too far away behind in time to really know.

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

17

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.

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Poetry, Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Casualties

rain-gif

I.
It was raining hard when you left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
You held her hand,
As I held mine.

II.
It was raining hard when she left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
I wished it was her hand,
I was holding.

III.
It was raining hard when he left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
I was holding his hand,
But she was holding his heart.

– –
My entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

Blackness within blackness

She feels so lost. So empty, like a blank black canvass in a dark tunnel without end light, a black gaping hole in an eternal doom pit. Everything inside her is so dark. She couldn’t even see the end. Is there even an end? Or is where she’s standing an end already?

She is trying. She’s trying with all her might to find the edges of this darkness. As if this darkness is a page where she could just flip it over and be done with it.  Yet it doesn’t seem like that. Her hands are stretched in her front, ready for anything she could grab on—a support, a wall, just anything. A stumbling block is even better than this encompassing nothingness.

Yet there is nothing.

Her fingertips are numb with the coldness around her. Her mind is surprisingly blank.  And there is that haunting silence. Not even a white noise. And she is craving for noises, noises that would penetrate this blackness, noises that would aim at her heart, vibrate in her bones, and pierce her soul.

Yet there is nothing.

Just blackness.

She couldn’t feel herself anymore.

Her breathing is slowly fading.

She is slowly fading.

Sinking into darkness.

And before everything turns to nothing, she utters something beneath her breath. Words that are instantly lost in the darkness, lost before it could even reach anyone, or anything.

Then there is nothing.

Poetry, Random Thoughts, Writings

Too late

(A poem on suicide)

Red, puffy eyes
Broken wings
Shattered dreams
No one cares.

Conformity
Sucked up life
A living dead
No one cares.

Suffering heart
Depression strikes
Exhausted soul
No one cares.

Getaway plot
Expressed desire
Reluctant decision
Still, no one cares.

A slit in the wrist
An overthrown chair
Or a high-rise escape
It doesn’t matter, no one cares.

Following day
A grey afternoon
Everyone cares
The dead doesn’t.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Black Scroll

 

I was taking a bite from the sandwich I brought from the school cafeteria when I saw a guardian approaching me. He was carrying the all-too-familiar black scroll on his hand. As usual, it only means one thing to me, another work to be done, another soul to lookout to its rightful destination.

“You have such an easy life there,” the guardian said when he reached me. Then, he sat across me.

“You bet.” Continue Reading

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Angel’s Valley

 

The place was cold, and the wind is still. I am standing on my favorite place, the rooftop of the university building. There was no sun yet, and everything was quiet as the ocean sleeping. My life used to be this quiet, so mundane that I almost hate it. Now, even though my feet begun to feel numbed by the cold stone on where I was standing, I now admitted that I craved for this stillness, the ordinariness of life. Continue Reading