When you sleep, you start to lose grip of the things that you’re holding. Like the phone on your right hand or the book that you’re reading.
Slowly, slowly, you let go.
You vanish from the world, out of your consciousness, away from here. You create a life where I’m not real.
In case you leave, that’s how it should go. Slowly lose grip of me, then let go.
Daily Post’s Vanish.
The star closest to the moon anticipates this time of the day like any other star in the universe, when the moon is about to come out and stay with them. But his spot is the most coveted of all, he could bask in the glory of the most beautiful creature the stars have ever seen, the majestic moon.
Ever since this star learned that the sparks from his skin are the moon’s guide in finding her place, the star worked hard to shine more. Even though his brightness cannot be appreciated by the weird creatures below to which they shine for because it’s the moon they look at, it’s fine with him, for he knows that the moon appreciates him.
Appreciate. It has become the word he loathes the most. The moon appreciates him. The moon just appreciates him, unlike the sun she loves so much. The star could witness every day how the moon would linger so just she could gaze at the sun from afar. Then all the other stars would sleep because the sight is such a pity to behold, they don’t want to see the moon hurting—for the whole universe knows that the sun and the rain are seeing each other, no matter how forbidden their love is. And the sun wouldn’t even look at the majestic moon, the most beautiful creature the star has ever seen.
It’s ironic how the star would shine for the moon, how the moon would linger for the sun, how the sun and the rain would fight for their love, and how this weird creature below would root for the star.
It is proof enough that one’s existence in this universe would never go unnoticed, no matter how we think of it as such.
P.S. This story is connected with The Sun and The Rain. I also had a hard time looking for the photo’s source but my search led me here.
If this blog is the only medium of my writings, one would think that I haven’t written anything on the month of September. But I have. A lot, mostly drafts.
It’s that time again, when my mind is so drained that finishing a poem is just too much, when my feelings are so complicated that I don’t even bother to try and understand, and when the future is so bleak that you don’t know what you really want.
But I think, well it’s a common knowledge really, that the value of writing is not how great your pieces are or how well they are received, it’s when you are able to pour your heart out and really express what you want. Forcing yourself to write would do you no good, it just comes out naturally. Like love, perhaps.
So when my pen ran out of ink, I let it be. For once in a while, it needs to rest and stop bleeding just as my heart.
Daily Post’s Value.
Writing is scary. At times.
I’m scared of it because once you write, things get more real than ever. Like your feelings for someone: hatred, love, anger, jealousy, etc.
That’s why most of us write indirectly, because we fear the emotions creeping in our hearts and minds. We feel, and we know, that once they’re written down, we can’t get away from it. Or that it’ll be hard to get away from it.
But we can’t help but write. To document, to express, to whatever reason why we do so. And we should never stop. No one should.
I decided not to open my Facebook account. For how long, I’m not sure. Only my millennial craving for news that are “worth my time” and for events that I’m interested in could tell, not to mention the virtual affection I formed with my friends.
I’m fully aware that Facebook lessens my productivity. Instead of writing more bittersweet sensations, or just do anything, I spend most of my free time scrolling down on an endless pile of updates I need to read, movies I should watch at least once in my life, places I have to visit, and restaurants I must try. Social media, like a tattoo, is addicting; not creating another account once you’ve experienced the “connection” you have with the world is just as hard as not getting another tattoo once you’ve experienced the feel good pain it gives you. Just a few weeks ago, I created an Instagram account to “document” and share whatever I feel like.
But who can a twenty-something girl blame but herself? On one hand, social media (Facebook particularly) provides me information not just about my friends but also on the things that I like and we have to thank the sometimes annoying profiling for that but on the other, it limits me to be more creative and active in the real world.
There was a point in my life when things run smoother and time management is easier. Then I became a prisoner in the beneficial advancements of my own generation, feeling lazy and thinking that since I have nothing to do might as well log in here and sign up there, when there’s actually a lot of things to do, if only I could drop down my phone for a minute, or even a second.
To be honest, though, I like the sharing part in social media. It’s my stubborn little finger scrolling down infinitely that I come to despise. It’s my lazy mind and tired eyes, wanting to know more, waiting to know more, when there’s no more.
But I’m pretty sure I’ll reconcile with Facebook after a few weeks or so. I was able to do without it for a month before. It’s not really a necessity, but it’s convenient, which makes us fall for it. I just need a more disciplined Ruth before I come back. Someone who can manage to just lurk around for half an hour a day, and another half for Messenger. 😉 —feeling proud of myself.
I do what I like. Sometimes spontaneously. Just look at the new theme of my blog.
Last night I suddenly wanted to change the skin of my blog, maybe because I got tired of the old one and I needed something new, something different, something that’s much more interesting. So I started trying out free themes until Ryu caught my eye. It’s simple with a bit of class. A few tweaking here and a free download of a background pattern after, this is what my blog looks like.
I’m glad that somehow I feel like I was able to keep the ambiance of it, the mood, familiarity. I think, I hope, it still gives off the bittersweet vibe, the melancholy of the poems or stories that I write, and of course, whatever sensation there is that will come to life.
Here’s to a brighter year to all! One down, eleven to go. ☼
Warm tears still go down my cold face. I started running but I still have a long way. I haven’t tried driving but I’m halfway there. And the only thing I’ve climbed up are the stairs.
Ten months after this post and I’m pretty much still wandering. I turned 21 just this January and though I have figured out some things in life I think I will forever wander. It’s a changing world and how are we going to keep up if we wouldn’t change as well? Only time can tell.
I experienced a lot of firsts in my 20th year and even though the last two quarters of 2015 were somehow bleak, that was also the time when most of the unfamiliar things in life that made me who I am today came. I never asked them to introduce themselves but fate decided to intervene. Oh well. I’ve been to new places, watched more films of my liking, listened to unknown artists, wrote poems on love, met different types of people (and some became my friends), learned more about my demands, aspirations, and necessities, and discovered the pessimistic side of me which was sad. Not to mention my heart bursting with feelings it never knew existed.
It seems like everything turned out well and I felt like I needed to go through whatever happened before in order for me to continue living. I’ve seen the glimpse of my dark side and it’s not pleasing, but I’m proud that I was able to keep my head and be back on my usual strange self. The one that watches thrillers, reads romance, and thinks mermaids are real. The usual strange her made better.
I lie.
But I don’t like lying.
Still, I do.
I lie on the things I write.
My emotions are real—
some, at least.
But I twist them
so as to appear dramatic.
Coz that’s how you should write.
And that’s what writers do.
I connive with words
and make them work for me.
So that every sentence
every phrase or even pauses
could trigger a feeling.
An emotion
so real
so honest
only a lie
could make them
come out.
Daily Post’s Flawed.
Bittersweet Sensations 