And When I Write.

Let the meaning slip away

Lost my faith in another day,

Self deprication seems okay,

I never thought I'd make it anyway

~Less Than Jake, The Science of Selling Yourself Short

08.22.09 | 07:20:33 | i'm my own worst enemy

So I was cleaning up my mailbox and stumbled upon some old writings of mine. I should say they were really crazy and very teenag-y. Hahah! Sure, I made that word up. =p Well, being an ugly duckling back then I couldn't help myself from suffering from a hundreds of heartbreaks. And yeah, it's crazier how I never seem to learn my lesson. Oh well, being the curious me? I'd rather really take risks than be stuck in some void and a series of what-if-sessions with myself. Here's a sample of one of the poems I've written when I was heartbroken.

Broken

His lips still fondle my ears,

His laughter still mimics the bluish sky,

His voice rings clear though distantly,

His hands I hold in vain.

My eyes wander through

Searching for that one face I know.

His name I scream so he could hear

But he remains oblivious.

How could I say I accept him?

How could I possibly love him?

I never really know him, only his face,

And the memories have been relinquished.

He lied and that couldn’t be denied.

He left and now I am bereft.

I know that I could never find again

The man who I once loved so much

I wonder who that was for. Haha! I swear, I couldn't really remember anymore. I guess that's because I've fallen in and out of love sooo many times in the past I've lost count of all the men whom I have passed by! *sniggers* One weird trivia about me: I could hardly write at all when I am very happy or when I'm really in love. And if you ask me why... err - I am so sorry. I really don't know why! :o

And here's another poem that I've found... (yet another crazy one!)

No one understands the language I use.

No one can decipher the codes that I give.

Interpretation of my works would only mean insult.

Misconception of it would be a curse to him who reads it.

He deems understanding, but he really doesn’t.

He triumphs over symbols inferred, but aware not of his error.

Many had failed and no one has yet succeed

To give the meaning to such works that even I cannot recognize.

The epithet could make you lose your interest.

The content could baffle your confounded mind.

The whole of it can make you lose your sanity.

But you will not be able to forget nor remember any of it.

For when I write, I write it for no one.

And when I write, I write it because of someone.

For when my desire to write overflows

I write - and write it for you to read.

Nobody knows why the milieu of my verses is such.

Nobody knows just why it’s there.

Remember how you laughed until you cried?

It was because you just felt like doing so.

Just like when I write and write it for no one.

Some are for and some are for not.

I write because I feel my pen grip the insides of my palm.

I write because I felt like doing so.

And when I write you’ll be frustrated.

And when I write you’ll swear to hate me.

And when I write you’ll never know

That the poem I wrote was for no one, but you.

That should be it for now. I've got to head home and get some sleep because I am going to have a very busy weekend! Busy as it was laid back the last. Btw, I'm gonna post some photos of my weekend vacay in Bohol here in my next entry. I promise! :D

I could be an expert on co-dependency,

~tSin