lost in paranoia

I was ready to leave. A year ago, I was ready.

Looking back at it now, I couldn’t quite put a finger as to why I was ready to leave everything behind. At that point, I thought it meant I would be starting all over again, to find what was missing, to venture out to something bigger than what I could’ve ever imagined to be possible to happen in my lifetime.

But now, I realize, as humans, we can never fully forget and start with a clean slate because ultimately, our memories are what makes us.

Perhaps, in retrospect, I would’ve left the minute I got the go signal. Today, I feel that my readiness to leave has dissolved into a feeling that is more in line with staying. I am not ready to leave. Finally, I am able to call this place a home—my home. And I am not ready to leave everyone because I have already found myself in them—with them. But, if the unknown permits this, then I will accept whatever is given.

I was ready to leave. A year ago, I was ready. But that was a year ago. Now, I am unsure.

Walks are what defines the experience of a destination that we set for ourselves.

At a certain age, we are encouraged to stand up and walk towards our parents, and eventually, learn to walk for ourselves. And once we've achieved that goal, we use this skill to take us to places and explore new landscapes.

We walk to see. We walk to feel. We walk to experience. We are designed to walk.

I've always been told that i walked faster than the average person. And though this observation was almost often present during times when i had someone to walk with, i never really understood what the predicament meant.

As humans, we were designed to walk. Yet it only occurred to me recently how we're also designed to adjust our stride.

sit comfortably

in

Track 74 - 1:52pm_083020

Two in the morning, on my way home from work. It was this song that made its way to the radio On a cold, heavy morning.

I was oblivious, Or at least trying to be, But somehow present in what was happening at that very moment, Embracing the experience and feeling that came with listening to this song.

But it was only for a night, And I never heard it again.

Two years later And now here it is. Two in the afternoon, I am now working from home. This song made its way to my playlist On a cold, rainy afternoon.

A kind of different that makes me feel that there is more to this life than just merely existing, which, I admit, is something that I have not felt for the longest time.

You see, I have not been my best self. I have been self destructing, always caving in to what lies in the darkness, for too long. Because of this, I have grown a sense of dependency on that feeling. On pain. And I come back to it with every chance that I can get.

But then there’s you. And suddenly, there’s a connection. You make me want to step out of the darkness. You make me believe that there is more to life than getting lost in paranoia.

But I have yet to find out whether or not you would agree this—to stand beside me regardless of which path I choose to take; To find out if you would understand that my attachment to what lies underneath has given me a sense of purpose for existing—a sense of comfort that I can only find in the corners of my bedroom and from the shadows that have been with me when nobody was. 

I feel different.

Sometimes ecstatic. Sometimes hopeful. Yet still restless and dreadfully afraid. Although still grateful, for your existence.

After buying meat from my officemate, Joe, I went to visit a multi-purpose hall. There were a lot of women exercising. One of them was holding a grenade. The instructor was holding a grenade. A few moments later there was a sudden flash of light and a sound too close to discern the exact location. But it felt like I was standing near it. A few seconds had passed and I couldn't make sense of what just happened or if I was still alive but the news came out and my first instinct was to communicate with my friend, Nik. She was the first to confirm it.  It happened at the very place were I was standing.

when you've lost someone out of hindsight, every emotion within you will rage against the dying light soon enough you will succumb to the darkness, and build a home out of what was left from the shattered pieces of your fragile mind.

solitude will be your companion and everyone else will seem like lucid distractions to keep you grounded on the path of lightness.

but at the end of the day when dusk finally governs the vastness of what remains to be seen, you will crawl into bed and embrace the silence amidst the muffled, omnipresent voices and as you sink in despair and before you drift into the inbetween, a last thought emerges and you whisper to your frail self,