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1:20 a.m. is the time. the mattress in this rented room is too uncomfortable for my liking. these unfamiliar grey walls will take a while for me to get used to, considering i've been staying around white ones for too long. i have a corporate job to attend in about 9 hours; it'll be my fourth day. i should be sleeping. but i've made enough effort for sleep to arrive. the futility of the same made me give in to the urge of writing. i hope at 3, though, i am worn out enough to surrender myself to the luxury of sleeping.

a few years back, i would always make a point to my mother that one should not be consuming headache pills on a regular basis. but right now, the headache is too bad, the way it was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. maybe i have the capacity to bear it. but now i am not that 19-year-old anymore who would speak against consuming the painkiller. i tell myself i understand mom now and take a pill and go to sleep. the headache eases but the guilt widens. the ache was not unbearable, and the medicine was not essential.

yesterday, my friend and i were discussing why i am a good fit for a marketing role. at one point, she said, “you have a jolly personality, that is why.” i was surprised for a moment hearing that, not because i am not jolly, because i am. but because it struck me that my writings never portray me that way. and it matters so much to me what my writings speak about me, and according to me, all they speak about is synonyms of melancholy i carry. joy does not demand to be wrapped in words, while gloom gets spilled every time. i know it is incredibly irrational, but i would choose feeling sadness over joy if that is what makes me hold my laptop at odd hours and pushes me to write.

i am sorry, i do not know what life looks like when you are not a student anymore under the direct care of her parents. i keep on spending money, and i have spent too much in less than a week. i tell my parents that i cannot understand where i am spending so much and that i am frustrated. but they tell me it is no big deal and i should not be worrying. they give me all the reasonings as to why i should be spending money and not be a stupid miser that i can be at times. i cannot explain how much i love them and how so much ease lies in those 8 p.m. video calls. and ease lies in this friend of mine who makes me giggle so much by just being herself. i was afraid that a corporate career would not leave me with time to write, but the case might be opposite. my role at my job might not be too great, but i think it will make me feel dissatisfied enough that ultimately, i will be resorting to writing to find some sort of satisfaction.

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need to start ranting over here again because apparently self consciousness has emerged again and i need to let these self doubts have a safe space for them.

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my favorite love language is trying, actually

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love has arrived. genuine, glorious love has arrived. it's ringing the doorbell, banging the door, screaming my name. i take some reluctant steps before opening the door. i mumble "welcome" with a small smile. you step in with a warm embrace. you're grinning with delight while i hide my despondent face from your sight. your heart is beating with elation while i hope you're not gauging mine.

you brought lavender-colored flowers for me. i wept as i held them. you thought i was weeping with joy, while i was tearing apart at the thought of how the truth will tear you apart. i want to whisper apologies while you whisper endearments, but i stay quiet and let you do the talking.

we sit at the table, and now you are peeling oranges for me. you might even spend an entire lifetime doing that. my stomach hurts at that thought. utmost devotion is being offered to me, and i am taking it all in too. but not out of love, but because i do not have the heart to deny. sweet, overwhelming love has arrived home, but i'm running to the kitchen to get some air.

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my mom took this nearly 10 years ago. she was outside and just happened to have her camera when some newlyweds went by on a bicycle for two

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Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments (trans. Richard Howard) [transcript in ALT]

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one day

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yeah that One Day show on Netflix got me fucked up I have to go out with a swollen face now 😍

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Moments in time, preserved through sentiments Twitter | Ko-Fi | Patreon

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Sci-fi Landscapes by Andrew Porter

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there's a high chance you'd be mad at me, and understandably so. so much would have changed in all these months, both in your life and mine. when i said i needed time to talk again, i meant it. i didn't know how long, but i needed some time away. and honestly, i didn't know that time would extend to months. i still remember you asked me for a 15-minute walk, and i declined. i still remember you telling me that you've been crying all these days, yet i didn't show up.

i know i was not being the kindest at that time. but then again, i wasn't in the right headspace myself. those were overwhelming days, and i didn't have it in me to be there for people. and then later on, when i was in a better place, i didn't reach out because i was told that you're moving on, and i should not mend with the progress you were making. that's right, isn't it? when you have made so much effort to get over someone, i should not be coming back and ruining that. so i didn't come at all.

but today, i'm writing to you just so that you know that although i act all indifferent, i haven't forgotten the good times. i might act like you're just another classmate of mine whom i don't know, but i do that because i don't know what else to do. and i acknowledge that you would have been way more affected than i was, and i'm sorry for the hurt i caused.

i was somehow made to realize that i ended up making someone miserable. i can justify myself, but you will also have your own reasoning and grievances. and i don't have it in me to scream my justifications, the way i used to when we were still talking. and i don't have the heart to hear your side of the story because i don't want to be reminded again that i have been interfering with your mental health. am i taking too much credit by saying i had an impact on you? do i sound too self-absorbed? perhaps, yes. but honestly, i don't know how else to put it.

i wanted to let you know that you're not a bad person, and neither am i, honestly. the circumstances made me distant. i couldn't stand the unreasonable blame. i liked being liked but didn't like the burdens that came with it. i might have become the antagonist in your story, and it'll take time for me to come to terms with this. i miss a friend, but perhaps you miss a girl. some girl that once was something.

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I think here I will leave you. It has come to seem there is no perfect ending.

Indeed, there are infinite endings. Or perhaps, once one begins, there are only endings.

- Louise Glück, Faithful and Virtuous Night

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it feels like i have been listening to the same music for the last three years. all my playlists look the same. but that is the point i want to make. even when i know i should be exploring new music, even when i want to, i am not. just because you know your sources of joy, it does not mean that you will always be willing to do the things that can bring happiness. or maybe i am just lazy. efforts. i should be making more of them. anyway, a few days back, a classmate asked what i was doing apart from academics. and i said all i do is sleep when i return to my room. to that, he replied that i have potential in me, but i am not utilizing it. that felt both good and bad at the same time.

it is nice to know that someone believes i am capable of doing things. but the bad part is my lack of willingness to do things. i know if i pushed myself a little more, i could do so much more than my curriculum, but i am just too worn out. or am i making an excuse once again? this encounter made me think of my papa. he is highly creative and possesses excellent ideas when asked for suggestions. sometimes, he ends up diving too deep into things he is passionate about.

but i believe he did not make full use of his potential. he was and still is capable of doing so much more, but he did not try too hard to do all the things he could have done. he is so good at generating ideas; i wish he had it in him to implement them, too. on his behalf, i regret all that he did not build that he could have. i love him, but i do not have the courage to tell him he wasted so much of his potential. it is okay, though. i am his daughter; i carry his legacy of capabilities, and i will ensure i utilize them. he deserved so much more. if he had believed that, eventually, he would have achieved that ‘much more.’ he did not; i will make sure i do. i hope my brother does, too. anyway, i will listen to new music now while i list all i can do this february.

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having short-term memory is like. this book profoundly affected me. that show bared my soul. i don’t remember a single thing about it. but it did

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there are days when there is nothing to say, and everything is smoothly sailing. and then there are days when you can’t make out what your mind wants to say because there’s too much to make peace with. i can’t count the number of times i have chanted in my head that i wish i were not here, but the worst part is i don’t know where else i’d rather be.

i already had a 4-hour evening nap that even if i want to escape this state of mind by sleeping, i cannot. i am anything but sleepy. i genuinely wish that were not the case. weighing the options, i think it’s better to sit with my laptop and put this sadness out than be wrapped in the blanket and think of everything that’s too difficult to comprehend. i wish i had not been told love’s the cure to everything. now, i keep on looking for it even if it’s so out of reach. i never feel like i am putting enough effort, and perhaps that’s true. or maybe i lack acknowledgment whenever i put in a substantial amount of it.

where do i belong, or what defines my personality? i wish i had some interests i was deeply passionate about. a singer, a director, an author, an actor, an artist, a game, a subject, a genre, an activity, something i could call a core part of my personality. someone or something i had all the knowledge about. something that would make my eyes gleam when the name would be mentioned. writing is there, true, but it is all so ambiguous. i wish i were interested in something that had facts, figures, knowledge, and absolute admiration. anyway, i want to fall in love and know what it is like to know how one defines it. i don’t say or accept this too often, but i yearn to know what love looks like. i would love to describe it in actual words. fictional representation of love all this while hasn’t been enough.

i am talking too much, bringing a new topic - a new sentence - without completing the previous one. are all my thoughts connected, or are they unrelated that putting them together doesn’t make sense whatsoever? this piece of writing would score so low if it were a part of an exam. it is not coherent and doesn’t have any consistency, either. the good thing is it’s not a write-up for an exam where it would be graded. this is me in my rawest form. perhaps many would not approve, just like many professors won’t approve this write-up, but it’s fine. it’s fine because i have nothing else to say to make myself feel better.