scribbles

Life, as i see it, is like Nanny McPhee –- it stays when needed but not wanted, and goes away when wanted but is no longer needed. This one is something i wrote in one sitting, something i cannot consider a poem because it didn’t measure up to its criteria–no metaphor (since i didn’t do much editing), a little rhyme, very freeverse.

so contained in this body, hibernating,

yet i feel

i’m too far away from myself.

things rush so swiftly before me yet when they're gone,

i feel

like it had been

so long ago.

dunno

why i feel this way.

i wanna cry

but i cannot.

wanna move on but i keep on dwelling in the past.

i’m so confused.

sometimes, thoughts

of seeking professional help come to me

but i’m too coward to be

labeled

a weak person.

my eyes are not blind enough

not to see the dark, winding path

my feet chose to walk on;

but still it let them stride farther.

thoughts meander

farther as well. i keep on

walking not knowing my destination.


life does not appeal

to me anymore.

no more

drive. no more

goals. no more dreams.

i feel i reached the end.


keep on wanting

to end everything

but i am

so afraid

to go unprepared.

it’s not that i wasn’t able to realize

my dreams, it is more of why

i wanted

to end

it all. why do

i wanna end it at all? i have no

idea.


deep within,

i wanted to dream

again.

just like when i was ten

when i dreamt

of becoming somebody

—to be wealthy.

power, fame, fortune—

the lamest excuses to live.

life, as i see it, is the means

to know the very reason of one’s existence.

when the reason is found,

one must live it. and when the reason

ceased to exist,

so should life.