People rejoicing around for the Christmas celebration. I am here inside my room sitting down the corner trying to figure out what’s wrong. My throat hurts when I ceased myself not to cry. I should at least stop thinking of you just for today, just for this Christmas day. But the more I tried not to, the more I crave for you. The song ‘All I want for Christmas is you’ is so cliched but that’s all I wanted now. I don’t want anything; expensive gifts, nice dress for Christmas but ALL i want is YOU. Am I selfish? I think, YES! I should celebrate this day with my Families, but I can’t lie to myself. I can’t pretend to be happy when all I want to do is to cry. Com’on, It’s you I wanted, it’s you I needed. And it hurts because I can’t do anything about it.
Every night I was hunted by your soul, trying to beseech to cease and freed you from my mind. It’s as if I’m imprisoned you and I felt guilty for the deed. I saw you happy with your friends and made me think how can you be happy when I am sad? I self pitied until I couldn’t see myself rejoice the beauty of life. I forgot the life treasured beneath my solitude body. I secluded into darkness because I willingly to do so. I utter loudly into weep just to call sympathy – but no one’s around, even you. My lost soul became weary and desists to wander. Now, I am ready to run, run away from you and let you go. Because, I know you’re happy without a glimpse of myself meanders around you.
I don’t cry.
Crying got tiring after too many times; so I’d sit silently in my car, reclined leather, turned off engine – and just watch the world go on around, without me. I don’t think about anything, really, and I’ve gotten far too used to, to ask about it now.
I just kind of sink where my body decides to place itself and let the physical wholeness of me feel, though crippling, whatever it needs to feel, until I am ready to step out and be part of the flow again.
When I replay these things in my head it could sound poetic, even, amusing, how emotions as deep as depression could paint such beautiful odd colours across the screen in organised-words form. My head is such a chaotic place to be in, and my heart is merciless in refusing to keep calm grounds so instead of trying to break whatever this condition I had discovered I’d always have to deal with, I find my work around.
There are days when I feel like slicing the palms of my toes just so I could feel something – I’ve decided cuts would be placed there just so I’d be reminded by the ensuing pain in my then-to-follow steps never to do it again. Then there are odd, frequent ones when I feel too many things at once; like I’m being pulled in all directions by forces I don’t recognise and are listless in explaining how or why or when and if it will ever stop. The tugging could be upwards, downwards, circling all around – sometimes I don’t even bother trying to fight it. I just let myself be whirled around in directions – as if to assure at least something inside me is going somewhere, that that’s always the lesser evil between feeling and not wanting to feel anymore.
So I would smoke my cigarettes and read my books and drown in whiskeys and write song hooks and escape in far flung lands and sneak kisses with willing tongues and take showers far too quick or too long and sing myself quietly to sleep and paint the images my head could no longer keep and I do this often enough I forget I only do it to get by.
And I smile and I laugh and I continue to give and to love, and I wait for better days.
It will come.
This beautiful piece is written by Miss Joyce Pring. Visit her blog.
I woke up every morning feeling the pain of solitary. I keep blaming myself for the rotten love. It’s all over my body – savoring the irksome memories alone. My futurity collapse as to obtain the hopefulness of solemnity. I hypnotized my vivid dreams to be realistic and achingly available to be reached. But I still immotile, I still lying on my bed every day because of never-ending sorrow and agony. Cognizant by the bereft of life long before I know and beaten up.
I see myself on a cold concrete floor lying helplessly. Crying the love lost and the pain furiously. I can’t hear myself sobbing because all I heard is the voice of your last goodbye. It was painful that I want to die over and over. The drop of my tears came out flashing hot, tastefully bitter on to my lips. Flickering sideways hitting the innocent floor. Pieces of heart scattered from the corner of my body. Forcefully striking against my skin trying to hunting out, to freely reveal its intensity. I close my eyes, all I can see is your lovely face. And it hurts. It hurts because I love you… but goodbye.
Don’t cry, my Angel. Everything will be alright. Not now, but not ever.
Just like the last time, I tried begging you again. Begging to give me a time. I set aside every bit of my pride. I need to tell you, how much I love you. I need to tell you, I’m drowning into sadness without you. I need to tell you I’m desperately want you in my life – nothing else, nothing does. I need to tell you, you are my happiness – when everything seems so dark and chaos. I need to tell you it’s you, only you, who can make me calm in the midst of trembling world. And i need to tell you, I would die if you leave me alone inutility.