There are certain mornings when I wake up, look over to other side of the bed and see the break of sunlight as it protrude right in between the blinds. I stop for a moment and think,“Good morning, Sunshine”. And so, I grab my eye glasses on my nightstand, fish for my iPhone which I later find stuck somewhere underneath one of my three pillows, I thank God for another day.
As I check for messages, I smile, and realize how precious life is and how much happiness people around me bring and how lucky I have to have everything I do. Right here. Right now. And as I get ready to start my day, I think about how blessed I am to have another opportunity to bring about yet another meaningful chapter in my book.
But not everyday is that day.
I often think about the friends I have left and the ones that had left me. I often think about the strangers I’ve grown to become families with, and people whom I once called my family, then eventually turned into strangers. I contemplate as to when each and every one of us got too busy doing just about our own things and living our own lives, and keeping in touch with each other just seemed to fall in between the cracks, like it was the hardest thing to do in this world.
Sometimes, I just want to pick up the phone and dial a number, or type up a quick text, or write a short e-mail but nevertheless, something is always getting in the way. Something always comes up. Something makes it almost impossible to do so. I think about the days I can finally let my pride out of the way, make the effort to initiate something, but today, well, today is not that day.
And so, as I continue to lay my head down on my pillow, I find myself still staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to get up. I still feel tired and listless and somehow, a little apathetic. But I lie. Why? It can’t really be apathy for there are still these random thoughts that continue racing in my head. These thoughts still linger, and no matter how much I try to deny it, I still care.
I feel so… overwhelmed; as if all these varied emotions are bottled up inside and I can’t explain. I want to scream but my throat won’t let me. I want to cry but I can’t weep. My voice is choked up inside. My tears won’t fall from my eyes. I just want to let it all out.
And I stop and think, maybe, just maybe, writing can be an outlet for it all. So I start writing it down - my feelings, my questions, and my worries. And without knowing who to send it to, I write a letter. Hoping somebody out there can read it and empathize with what’s imprisoned within me. I am mad. I am sad. I am aggravated.
As I begin to write the seventh page, I stop. I realize this doesn’t even touch the mere surface of the things I want to reveal and disclose. My wrist started hurting but I yet I’ll endure it. I continue inscribing only to find my tears seeping through the paper, erasing some of the words I’d like to uncover.
Even though I know I exerted that much effort and crumpling the papers and tossing them out would be a waste, I still do. ‘Cause I find the least amount of hope in throwing them out, the feelings and emotions I instilled within these seven pieces of paper, would also rid of the same spirits infused within my heart. But the sorrow still lies within me. And yet, I pray for another time when it all goes away, but well, today is not that day.
I look at myself in the mirror and I feel a little confused. I feel a little dumbfounded. I think about the million other things I should be doing and the other thousand places I should be at, but I don’t flinch. I don’t move. I just… stay. I still don’t know where to go. I still don’t know what to do. And while I know I am alone, and while I feel that I am alone, I stare deep into my own eyes and under my breath, I ask, “Who the fuck am I?”
I think about how less I settle for, a lot of times. I know I am capable of something more, something bigger, and something more out of the ordinary. If we were genuinely happy, we wouldn’t really ask for things that can make us happier, right? I would reach a point of satisfaction and contentment. But I don’t, not at all.
They say there’s nothing wrong with wanting more for your self. And there’s nothing sinful about doing something about it. But sometimes, I don’t want to be selfish. I don’t want to deem inconsiderate. I don’t want to be the woman who’s never going to feel any satisfaction. I don’t want to be ungrateful, nor unappreciative.
And so, I rather stay and deal with the mediocrity, even though at the end of the day, nothing feels rewarding. I am just punishing myself for not pursuing something greater. I think about some life-altering decisions, like apply to Law School, move to New York or even join a health mission abroad. But if you ask if that’s happening today, well, today is not that day.
Oftentimes I get these irrational thoughts in my head. And because the other aspects in my life has been on a downward spiral, all the insecurities and negative judgments are conveyed in other facets of my life, such as love. I start to think that everything seems “too good to be true” and that I will never think I’d reach a point in a relationship where I can make someone happy just as how they make me. So I realize that, and before I can make something great out of anything, I put my guard back up and kill whatever “it” is.
I think about sleeping with a warm body next to me at night, only to find myself waking up to the left side of the bed the next morning, cold and empty. I start to wonder why people fall so deep in love with each other, only to fall out of it faster. And I know in time, it will get better. I will get better. I know sooner or later, love will get stronger. However, yet, in the back of my head, we both deserve only the best. And who really knows what “best” really ever means?
So today, I made a decision to take a chance. Could it be out of loneliness? Maybe. Could it be the perfect time? Perhaps. But here I am, willing to take another shot at it, to make something out of it. I’ve made up my mind to start something new, something fresh. At least something! But I stop yet again. Think, yet again. Well, today is not that day.
There are more times than often when I feel as if I am far too egocentric. I think about how many other major problems the whole world is experiencing and the ordeal, the nightmare I am undergoing is very microscopic to say the least. So then, I start to feel inconsiderate, thoughtless and insensitive for letting these feelings and emotions consume my well being. And here I am, I just want to keep quiet, but that will never be enough. I want to cry out, but that still won’t be enough. I want to bury my face in the pillow so I can scream at the top of my lungs, but it will never ever be enough.
I ask God for refuge, but I feel as if I only call out to Him in times of need, so I apologize. And so I stop asking for salvation due to shame. I feel less and less of myself each and every time. I start to question when and where I could start changing my life around. I start to wonder why we live in a world full of fictitious stories and fairytales with “forever happily ever afters”, when knowing the fact that happiness is never a promise. But yet, I still put my least amount of trust it’s going to come my way one-way or another. Maybe one day. But today? Today is not that day.
Nevertheless, perhaps tomorrow is.
As I check for messages, I smile, and realize how precious life is and how much happiness people around me bring and how lucky I have to have everything I do. Right here. Right now. And as I get ready to start my day, I think about how blessed I am to have another opportunity to bring about yet another meaningful chapter in my book.
But not everyday is that day.
I often think about the friends I have left and the ones that had left me. I often think about the strangers I’ve grown to become families with, and people whom I once called my family, then eventually turned into strangers. I contemplate as to when each and every one of us got too busy doing just about our own things and living our own lives, and keeping in touch with each other just seemed to fall in between the cracks, like it was the hardest thing to do in this world.
Sometimes, I just want to pick up the phone and dial a number, or type up a quick text, or write a short e-mail but nevertheless, something is always getting in the way. Something always comes up. Something makes it almost impossible to do so. I think about the days I can finally let my pride out of the way, make the effort to initiate something, but today, well, today is not that day.
And so, as I continue to lay my head down on my pillow, I find myself still staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to get up. I still feel tired and listless and somehow, a little apathetic. But I lie. Why? It can’t really be apathy for there are still these random thoughts that continue racing in my head. These thoughts still linger, and no matter how much I try to deny it, I still care.
I feel so… overwhelmed; as if all these varied emotions are bottled up inside and I can’t explain. I want to scream but my throat won’t let me. I want to cry but I can’t weep. My voice is choked up inside. My tears won’t fall from my eyes. I just want to let it all out.
And I stop and think, maybe, just maybe, writing can be an outlet for it all. So I start writing it down - my feelings, my questions, and my worries. And without knowing who to send it to, I write a letter. Hoping somebody out there can read it and empathize with what’s imprisoned within me. I am mad. I am sad. I am aggravated.
As I begin to write the seventh page, I stop. I realize this doesn’t even touch the mere surface of the things I want to reveal and disclose. My wrist started hurting but I yet I’ll endure it. I continue inscribing only to find my tears seeping through the paper, erasing some of the words I’d like to uncover.
Even though I know I exerted that much effort and crumpling the papers and tossing them out would be a waste, I still do. ‘Cause I find the least amount of hope in throwing them out, the feelings and emotions I instilled within these seven pieces of paper, would also rid of the same spirits infused within my heart. But the sorrow still lies within me. And yet, I pray for another time when it all goes away, but well, today is not that day.
I look at myself in the mirror and I feel a little confused. I feel a little dumbfounded. I think about the million other things I should be doing and the other thousand places I should be at, but I don’t flinch. I don’t move. I just… stay. I still don’t know where to go. I still don’t know what to do. And while I know I am alone, and while I feel that I am alone, I stare deep into my own eyes and under my breath, I ask, “Who the fuck am I?”
I think about how less I settle for, a lot of times. I know I am capable of something more, something bigger, and something more out of the ordinary. If we were genuinely happy, we wouldn’t really ask for things that can make us happier, right? I would reach a point of satisfaction and contentment. But I don’t, not at all.
They say there’s nothing wrong with wanting more for your self. And there’s nothing sinful about doing something about it. But sometimes, I don’t want to be selfish. I don’t want to deem inconsiderate. I don’t want to be the woman who’s never going to feel any satisfaction. I don’t want to be ungrateful, nor unappreciative.
And so, I rather stay and deal with the mediocrity, even though at the end of the day, nothing feels rewarding. I am just punishing myself for not pursuing something greater. I think about some life-altering decisions, like apply to Law School, move to New York or even join a health mission abroad. But if you ask if that’s happening today, well, today is not that day.
Oftentimes I get these irrational thoughts in my head. And because the other aspects in my life has been on a downward spiral, all the insecurities and negative judgments are conveyed in other facets of my life, such as love. I start to think that everything seems “too good to be true” and that I will never think I’d reach a point in a relationship where I can make someone happy just as how they make me. So I realize that, and before I can make something great out of anything, I put my guard back up and kill whatever “it” is.
I think about sleeping with a warm body next to me at night, only to find myself waking up to the left side of the bed the next morning, cold and empty. I start to wonder why people fall so deep in love with each other, only to fall out of it faster. And I know in time, it will get better. I will get better. I know sooner or later, love will get stronger. However, yet, in the back of my head, we both deserve only the best. And who really knows what “best” really ever means?
So today, I made a decision to take a chance. Could it be out of loneliness? Maybe. Could it be the perfect time? Perhaps. But here I am, willing to take another shot at it, to make something out of it. I’ve made up my mind to start something new, something fresh. At least something! But I stop yet again. Think, yet again. Well, today is not that day.
There are more times than often when I feel as if I am far too egocentric. I think about how many other major problems the whole world is experiencing and the ordeal, the nightmare I am undergoing is very microscopic to say the least. So then, I start to feel inconsiderate, thoughtless and insensitive for letting these feelings and emotions consume my well being. And here I am, I just want to keep quiet, but that will never be enough. I want to cry out, but that still won’t be enough. I want to bury my face in the pillow so I can scream at the top of my lungs, but it will never ever be enough.
I ask God for refuge, but I feel as if I only call out to Him in times of need, so I apologize. And so I stop asking for salvation due to shame. I feel less and less of myself each and every time. I start to question when and where I could start changing my life around. I start to wonder why we live in a world full of fictitious stories and fairytales with “forever happily ever afters”, when knowing the fact that happiness is never a promise. But yet, I still put my least amount of trust it’s going to come my way one-way or another. Maybe one day. But today? Today is not that day.
Nevertheless, perhaps tomorrow is.
