All our lives we’re taught to worry about getting older, as though life has some secret schedule for us to keep. But there’s no magical age for being our best, no deadline for dreaming, taking risks, and being fully alive.
When your world seems to be in oblivion and you lost yourself in the process of reaching out for a false dream. A dream you thought would make you wanting more from it, but it was a lie you continuously believe. A lie that wakes you every morning feeling tired and frustrated because yesterday was the same as the other days before, and it will be for today, tomorrow, and the succeeding days. Will you let it happen in your life? Will you let your ignorance grow until you lose your will of living?
The idea of nothingness fears me. When I started building up all these feelings inside my chest, I am afraid it might explode one day. And this might happen soon.
* I can’t express myself now even in writing. I feel as if I even lost my emotions.*
I fear the sea. Not because of drowning or the creature lurking in its murky water. I am afraid to be imprisoned in its sinister depth, enclosed by perpetuity of darkness. Constantly, I thought the sea is a sad realm, with its boring moss color and chilly feel, with its pounding waves pulling you to its pits to keep you there eternally barred in the shadow cage of vast oblivion. I always stayed at the shore where little waves claw at my feet, alluring me to its territory, to try the waters, but I never give in. I know it’s all a ploy. I go as far as standing on massive boulder of rock by the shore, high enough that the striking waves couldn’t reach me. The wind tasted of salt, biting cold at my cheeks. I stare down at the menacing sea, feeling as though I got one foot on its chest on top of that rock. Only, I don’t feel conquest but shaking of the knees. I must have been trembling really awful and uncontrollably, because my feet skid on the edge, grazing my skin, until I’m no longer standing but plunging, and my heart caught on my throat as the titanic beast open its colossal mouth to receive me. Then two things happened; first I feel the force of the water as it engulf me and I waited for the worse things, secondly, there is no despair nor cells to imprison me. I waited for the dread to approach but there is only darkness, and it is closing me in really fast, but I didn’t feel trapped or caged. To tell you the truth, I’ve never in my life feel free before, never feel as light as now. I let my entire body tune in to the rhythm of the sea; I embrace the void as it welcomes me. Draftiness is warming my body and fear dissolve like the shaft of light above my head. I swim deeper to freedom, never resurfacing ever again for I found my new world now. And I am to make up for those occasion I wasn’t here. I am to reside here forever, its darkness are my light.
My hands dance on the piano, i’m not even sure if i’m playing the right keys or if this noise i make is what they call music. i close my eyes, my hands dancing on the piano. a girl of four is clutching the seems of her mother’s dress. Throwing wary looks all around her, afraid as she could ever be for the world is too big and cruel. The seat inside the theater is filled with people who are sleep walking, and somehow their feet lead them here. My hands dance on the piano. She is waiting by the gate of her grandmother’s house, the sun is already setting and the sky a battlefield, the night conquering the day, blood of orange and red spilled the heavens and she is waiting. A look of disappointment on her face she is careful not to entertain the hurt or let it live inside her. The audience are silent, they are boring. and i am a barely a show to their dull lives, music to keep them in their trance. My hands dance on the piano. A girl of seventeen stare back at her in the mirror, she is nothing extraordinary, the girl noted. all the imperfections is what she can only see. I open my eyes and stare at the sheet of music, not because i don’t know what comes next, but because there is nothing else to look at. The faces watching me, comfortable in their seats, they couldn’t be the judge of me. who are they that they are capable of telling people what is wrong and right, they are barely alive and half-asleep. My hands dance on the piano. She is staring at the ceiling, all her books and clothes neatly packed inside boxes. she clutch a world full of dreams and words that never escape her lips tightly on her chest. i think now i know the music, i am aware of what i’m playing. i can see the notes my fingers thread coming alive and the people watching barely stir. my world is making sense and the people barely stir. they yawn and gawk but understand nothing. My hands dance on the piano. So the girl with a jar full of dreams, went away, far from the hurt and child that was always scared. And every night she think of that person that was her. I search the crowd for a familiar face. My hands dance on the piano. She search the crowd for a familiar face, her hands dance on the piano.
i could write a thousand words and a million more, describing how i feel for you. i am scared to my bones, but the kind of fear that makes you wanna go for more. that addictive feeling of fleeting glances that would make one’s heart flutter. do you dream of me? i do, a lot. but not asleep, i do it with my eyes open. i dream of ruffling your hair, watch you fall into your sleep, wear your shirt, kiss you when the stop light turns red, walk with you in the park or anywhere i don’t really care as long as i have your hand in mine. as long as your heart beats close to mine. i’d kiss you in the rain or watch the stars fall in our heads, bury my face in your chest when i’m afraid, call your name for no reason at all but just to make sure that you are there and would never leave. don’t ever leave. i’m fragile and i’m willing to risk it because i’ve never care for anyone in my life as much as you that when i close my eyes i saw your face and the things that could be if we try.