Thursday, October 5, 2017

This is a poem about lost conversations

Rest in peace to the conversations we once had
to the twilight word vomits
to the whispers
and pillow talks

Rest in peace
to late night goodnights beyond fortnights
some nights
i just want to call to say hi

I feel the need to apologize
that we have lost conversations
instead of still being lost in conversations
how our words
broke down to a variety of
small talks

Rest in peace to something that never was
but could have been
if only we tried harder
If only we stuck together
made things a little better

I do not mourn
over the reality of lost conversations
how we fell short on words
that could have only gone
so far

But here's
to existential crisis and
how i cried too much for you
in your deepest and darkest in the darkest of midnights
i hope they stay forever in your memory
and that they are your fondest of me

Saturday, June 24, 2017

words and turbulence

I find it hard to say what i mean to people.
My words may
Come in read-between-the-lines bullshit,
And then i sprinkle it with sarcasm.

I have to vomit all my words
Before saying what i have to,
And i dont even think i mean that metaphorically.

I literally feel like im about to vomit,
About to choke out-
I cry
When i have to speak my thoughts
Like some sort of conditioned reflex.

I am
The opposite of the calm sea
That i admire so much;
My mind is in a constant stormy weather,
And my turbulence never got me any nearer to the shore.

I am a sub type of mess
With a bad habit of overthinking,
And i try to clean up after myself.
But as much as i like running away,
I try, i try...

Saturday, May 20, 2017

things i wonder about you

Sometimes i wonder
If i hurt you more than i thought
    Or if you hurt more than i think
If there are things youve never told me
    Or things that you said
But the words never really came out the way you wanted to

Your feelings have always been
     A mystery
     A story
In a book
Where i had to read between the lines
I always had to ask
Always had to reassure

i still wonder
If there are things youve kept bottled up
     And if we will ever get to sit in that couch of yours
     Or our favourite bench in the park
So we can drink up those feelings
We have kept for too long

Thursday, January 19, 2017

i have always been in love with the idea of the late 70s - 80s; i especially love the neon lights and ambience of it all. looking back at my family's photos from the 80s, i have developed a great admiration for their time, especially of my mother's.

so here, i curated a playlist of songs in appreciation for that era. my favourite is electric indigo by the paper kites, because the feel of the song is just very it's-midnight-and-it-just-rained-so-let's-go-out-for-a-drive-to-the-nearest-diner.

also, the concept of the album is incredibly cute. the album title, "twelvefour", actually comes from the idea that all of the songs in the album were written between 12 midnight and 4 am.

anyways, this is the playlist, and i hope it gives you all the feels as much as it did to me.

Saturday, January 7, 2017

there is a certain type of feeling-
a certain type of almost not a feeling,
but a type of state.
the one that is uncontrollable
the one that is known for selfish,
and self worth.

if they say there are ups and downs in life, then this is the down.

so down
that i thought cigarettes could pass off as pain relief until numbness takes over, and i overdose on thoughts that i should not even be thinking.

once upon a time,
i wore the smell of smoke like perfume; i felt like i stenched of numbness.

nothing beats a good old gum
to force my mouth not to reveal this ugly deed i have done.

and i remember that feeling so vaguely like memories tucked away at the darkest corners in my mind, which i do not wish to open ever again.

and i am scared.
i am scared that maybe one day that locked up chest would open up the chest in my heart, and i will be pouring everything that i have worked so hard to ever kept locked in.

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

something i wrote about this country // 2.12.2016

"there is nothing to do in this place.", this is something that 13 to 17 year old me would constantly say throughout the high school years. as someone who hates, with her every inch of being, going to malls or parks filled with nasty teenagers and going out with friends who i knew weren't even really real friends, i grew up with hopes of leaving this country. i find that many kids relate to that. now 19 turning 20, looking back to old conversations and endless pages of journals and blog posts of prose and poems, and whatnot about wanting to leave this place so badly... i've realized that this place has come a long way. the buildings are less familiar, more events that spark up my interests are happening. and then there are more people, people like me who like making art and are introverted and think too much.

this is a city that grew, and i grew with it for almost 20 years. i no longer feel the desperation of leaving it all behind, but i still yearn to see the world and move on to someplace else. it is a privilege. because even though i know i wont stay here for long, i will always want to contribute to a melting pot city in a country that made me who i am today, as well as who it will make me tomorrow.

happy 45th!