What is this loneliness you speak of

I think I should start being prepared to tread this world on my own.

I feel lonely as it is already here in Malaysia this semester, and I frankly don't know how I'll fare when I get to the States. It seems as if every second of the day is spent looking for something valid to fill the next undertaken one, and it surely is daunting.

I really don't know why I'm suddenly saying all this. Maybe it's because I'm listening to Gem Club, which God knows can incite weird, trance-like and emotional vibes within my veins. Or maybe it's because I'm starting to realize that every step I take in life has mostly been taken alone, and I'm afraid of growing up because I won't have anyone to hold onto anymore. Or maybe it's just the aftermath of discovering a best friend's current romantic and secure attachment; and realizing that I'll lose him soon. I can't single out any one of these factors and name them the culprit of these emotional strings, but I know they still tie me to the past and I have yet to relieve myself of them.

A part of me wants to run to my parents and tell them I love them and that I want to spend time with them. I don't want to be alone in these next six months, in spite of the fact that I see them every single day and yet I barely say a word to them. I don't want to leave home, I just want to go back to being three years old all over again where I had the happiest days of my life, evoking mischief and being forced to take a nap. These days it seems as if every word I write comes with a tear, and I just cannot bring myself to physically admit that I am weak and falling apart inside.

Each Coming Night by Iron & Wine,

Each coming night is filled with football madness; trying damn hard not to curse at lousy football players (such irony), checking Instagram at half-time to keep awake and largely, prying my stubborn and sleepy eyes open for the sake of using the odd-houred match as conversational currency. I feel empty, really. I open the bible on some days to find nothing, and other days I hear the Holy Spirit speaking to me ever so loudly and allowing me to inspire and minister to others. But the fact remains that I do have days where I feel infinitely alone and miserable because I am a workaholic and there is nothing worthy of my attention or action.

And yet I am happy that he has found someone, and that that someone has found him too. I am glad that they are both in love, although I'm not sure what to make of it. I also think people overrate my responses to the nth degree, thinking that because I am known infinitely for my temper, its intensity must override every other area in my life. I really am not amused these days. I know far too much than I should, and sometimes I wish I didn't. Sometimes I wish I was stupid, I wish I was silly, and that I would love, and love, and love, and love, and love, and love, and love and love until I could love no more. I want to give and give and give and give and give and give and give and give and give and give until I have nothing left to leave you with.

I have tried to love so much that I am growing tired. Ironically you can derive tired from tried. But that does not amuse me at all. No it doesn't.

I'm trying to sort out this poetry thing but it's not working out. Is this a work of prose, or is this poetry? Or is this semi-prose or semi-poetry? How can one tell? What does my work resemble? Can I even consider this to be a work of literature? An ongoing and unstoppable force, a silly and strewn about mess in my head. I am lost, and I am found. I need Jesus.

I think I have listened to too much ambient indie music. Spotify, please go away. I need good sleep. I need love. I need my parents and I need my family. I don't want to be alone.

I need Jesus. I need you, God. I NEED YOU.

I see things differently

I see things differently
Be it emotions
Or perhaps a literal question
My viewpoint is different

When I see anger
When I see withdrawal
I don't see selfishness
I don't see a mood swing
He is just a boy
Asking why he cares so much
Waiting for a word from anyone
Wondering why his value on friendship
Marginally surpasses theirs

When I see sadness
When I see suffering
I don't thank God that I'm not
I don't pretend I know
She is a strong girl
Having faith in a greater purpose
Pulling herself through the pain
Knowing she'll make it through

When I see a question
When I see an actual question
I begin to think
I wonder why
When you ask how I will ever make it
I assume you think I never will
When you label me a certain way
I would think you mean it
Even if you don't

Time
And time again
I try
I try not to think
I think that I overthink
But sometimes
To merely think
Is not to think at all
And to overthink, is to think

What if
What if we share the same lens
What if we see the same things
You and I
We need to affirm each other
To conquer the shallow things of this world
To remember not just to see the world as what it is
But to see it as what it really is

___________________________

They say I'm sensitive, and I try not to complicate things by thinking too much. But when no one understands why people behave the way they do, or are as they are, I know.

Because we share the same ability to see things, differently.

For twenty year olds who have never been loved

"All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover’s sweater or “forgotten" it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they’re both having a separate anxiety attack. 

This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth? 

The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is “wondering what it’s like to meet someone like you," and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-‘em-up drug, and they’re just about ready to inject it into someone else’s bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen. 

At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you’d still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else’s hands were on your waist, someone else’s eyes boring into yours. 

Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you’re going to hit the point where you’re so desperate for human contact that you’re going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.  

But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you’ve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting. 

The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they’re looking for a lover too. 

They’re what you might call a soul mate. 

They think they’re all alone in feeling the way they do, but you’re really both two halves of a whole. 

And one day you’ll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you’ll make one.” 

— Writings for Winter

I came across this while scrolling through Tumblr and thought I had to share this beautiful piece.

Because someday.

FAQ

Who
it was you
an ordinary soul
a foreign Mind
a common sight
unexpected yet commended

How
hours on end
soaring above skies
across oceans
caving In on solid ground
distant yet familiar

Why
a Change of paradigm
thwarted plans
out of love
out of pain
rejected, then accepted

When
The end of the booK
beginning the next chapter
a brand new life
to start afresh
anew yet old

What
thrust into Emotions
played the perfect game
won a heart
but still the same
catharsis, then anguish

Where
the locus of Your voice
what was here before
is now gone
nothing survived
Instinct, then enlightenment

Yet
i am to blame
not what was done
not what was said
but what was felt
i took it all too well

i must move on
i must take comfort
knowing of your happiness
i must think less
i must live more
holding onto faith above

Then perhaps, I shall fathom love.