Chaos

It's one of the days where I'm consumed by the thought of you and everything. It's like I never healed. It's one of the days where the thought of you makes me want to kill myself. The pain isn't there but a hundred of questions are. It's not fair.

You seem okay and really doing fine with everything that happened while here I am, a decade later, still trying to grasp the edges. I'm still trying to breathe from the last time you have drowned me. It's not fair.

You come and go. One day, I have completely forgotten about you, and the next day, I'm drowning again. You have moved on with your life and had left me right where you left me a decade ago. It's nor fair.

I am extremely confused and bothered by the fact that I haven't seem to move on from anything in my past. I have always found myself reminiscing and thinking of all the "what ifs" of the past. I thought I was doing good but every single day, I would have moments where melancholy would start to engulfed my day as I started to think of all the memories I have of the past.

It's just memories now, it shouldn't make me feel like the present life I have is less than what I had before. I have never fully moved on from anything, I just continued and tried to move past everything but never moved on.

You began treating me like I'm nobody when I once was your everything.

You now see me as a waste of time when I once was the time of your day.

You began to ignore me my presence when it was once what you yearn for.

You shut me out when I once was the only one who can get inside your close walls before.

I began to notice how you threw me away and I know this isn't what I deserve.

I love hard and I gave everything I could. I am a good person and I deserve to be loved without asking. I gave my all and left myself with nothing.

I built you up and glued you when you were falling apart. I pulled you out of the water your mind was drowning from.

You pushed me and left me to drown.

You broke me and watched as I fail to glue myself together.

This is not what I deserve and yet-

I settle.

This is not what I deserve and yet-

I stay.

I remember myself typing “Hiraeth” on Google search at 2 am in the morning while casually listening to a song blasting through my room. I remember the sudden coldness that I felt in my stomach when I have found the meaning of the word I searched. It was like a block of ice was dropped on my stomach, making me numb all over the body yet my heart was beating faster than usual.

“Homesickness for a home you can’t return to or never was” was the exact definition that I had found for the word

Hiraeth; it somehow made its way to some feelings that I have strongly suppressed.

Home can be anywhere where you actually feel safe and warm, as for me, it was a person. Cliché as it may sound but it is a fact that I cannot deny.

And to not be able to go back to the person you considered home is a never ending homesickness that cannot be cured unless that person finds their way back to us.

And so I thought, is this feeling of being homesick to you ever fades?

Are you ever gonna find your way back to me?

Will every song that reminds you of them before still reminds you of them now?

Is that how loving them with all you have means?

It starts with a single thought originating from the little things you see or hear--- a post, message, flashback of memories, song--- even the simplest thing is enough to fuck your head over.

Slowly, it builds up. It creates visions inside your head that slowly tears you up. Thoughts that are enough to stop yourself from functioning.

You can't eat, sleep, take a shower, or even get out of your bed. It paralyzes you, ties you down on a spiral of thoughts enough to suffocate and drown you.

And just when you think it can't get worse, it does. You'll start believing that your thoughts are actually true (maybe it actually is) and the panic attacks come.

You start breathing heavily, head swimming in thoughts; drowning you. You start to scream inside your head, asking it to fucking stop thinking. You begin to tremble, like a little child caught in a blizzard. You begin to fall apart.

As soon as everything starts falling apart, you shut down. You can't function, torn by the battle within your mind.

And when I reach for you, I am putting myself on a thousand cuts for you are already out of my reach.

Out of my reach that no matter how far I try to extend my arms, blindedly searching for any bit of you, I hold nothing but the wall between us.

It clouds my mind and there is nothing I can do but await for you to come home and quench this thirst of mine.

I always wonder how some are blessed with features I would die for to have while I'm stuck in the cycle of loathing and loving myself, usually more on the loathing.

I always wonder how I have learned to give love to others when I can't give a single drop of love to myself. The feeling of constantly being a hatchling waiting for their mother to shove love to my throat just to quench my thrist for validation.

It feels heavy, like I took the world from Atlas' shoulders. It's suffcoating, the cold-hard grasp of death's hand on my neck.