breaking the stigma of unmotivated life

         This morning, imagine that your mood betrayed you again. Today, it was the feeling of almost dying—of almost disappearing, again.  Perhaps it was not just your mood, it was your body or your mind or your will or should you ask yourself: is there any? You could not imagine how and why it often happens but probably, you might have been losing track—just like me, just like everyone else. We all live in the same universe where sad people with their ridiculous tears and voices bother everyone else. We nonsensically dream for even a slightest tilt of this universe, hoping that it could change our poor fates, hoping that it could give us something better. Yet, at the end of the day, we still all end up being unmotivated and sad. The terms hopes and dreams are now lexical ambiguities for they already lost their true purpose and meanings. The essence of happiness comes with the idea of terrible consequences—the very reason why we are so afraid to laugh or love genuinely.

            Honestly, most people we know love the smell of the pages of a brand new book. It is the scent a brand new learning and brand new memories that it might cause us. The sound of our keyboards make when they touch our fingers, it is perfect at midnight when matched with brewed coffee. Thus, there is this magnetic effect between human heart and tragic literature. We are hooked to glittered stuff as much as we are drawn to sad-themed stories. Among all the genres of literature, the melancholic ones always leave us puzzled and wounded. And most of the time, they leave us empty. But how can emptiness be so heavy? Little did we know that we are all the same; all the people crave for colorful stuff yet patronize black-and-white lifestyle. There is always sadness hidden within every person’s desires. And I would say that it is totally fine and beautiful. Life is not always unicorns and rainbows. Once in our lives, we all have felt of going to the wrong path. However, the best thing that we can do is just talk about things; let our favorite persons discuss the grandest and simplest subjects that matter to us. Help everyone find answers. Let us see where those conversations take us. Sharing our personal lame encounters might make this substantial, yet it will address the biggest battle the world is terribly facing right now—the battle against ourselves. Little by little, you would finally learn to cope with the world. Little by little, I know we all would, too.

           Essentially, this is constructed out of my personal sentiments but this is for people who also feel exhausted of finding their places, getting dizzy by the revolving world, being always mistaken and judged by the absurd faces or masks or fake faces that we have to wear every single day. This is for all of us individuals who have the bizarre ability to feel the world, who are eager to maintain profound connection among all the silly emotions of the world. So, tomorrow morning, I hope your mood won’t betray you again. I hope you will feel that sensation of almost floating in a cloud of laughter and happiness.  Perhaps it will not just be your mood, it is also your body or your mind or your will or should you ask yourself: can I stay this way every single day?


Mama, answer me, how can emptiness become so heavy?

I mean, I have been alone and independent—trying to conceal the loneliness with my own idea of pleasure. Until now, I could still feel every man’s finger that touched my skin, the heat that they’ve caused me, the new day of hopelessness and the second-rate life. Who wouldn’t want indulgence despite of those things? But no, you can’t enlighten me, Mama. You never enlightened me..or at least tried to. All my life, I thought mothers are capable of making their child invincible but why are you so different, Mama? You have just been making me vulnerable. I would not mind moving in this apartment which, for other people, is a sex den. I would not mind them talking lame things about me and you..but what I really mind is you, of all the people, considering me as the ‘devil’. Everyone can blame me for having a grudge on you since you are still my mother. But why is the world so unfair? Like a trash, you ditched me as your daughter..and it was still fine because you being religious permit everyone to believe that I was the sinful one. Perhaps you are right.

I am doing horrible things under this roof and this is all because of you, Mama.

I am full of hate and anger that even my own sister disgusts me. This is all because of you, Mama.

You will never know how it feels like to be looked at like some kind of beast every time I walk out that room. I may get the pleasure I want but the remorse, after that, pierces my insides. I have a choice, but I chose to be rogue. You, on the other hand, did not have a choice but to choose your daughter over false beliefs, yet still preferred to leave me to hell.

Shame on you for shaming me.

Shame on me for shaming you.

You emptied me.. and now I feel so burdened. Thanks a lot, Mama.

wishful dreaming

Someday, we’ll pass by the tallest buildings of the city—together—with your eyes on the road and mine; you’ll carefully maneuver the steering wheel while we sing along to our favorite songs on the radio. I’ll glance at you with contentment as you squeeze my hand, and I’ll look from the rear-view mirror to the tinted window; I’ll quite see my reflection but the tears won’t be visible. I’ll not be able to decipher it, but I’ll have been feeling it running down my cheeks. Then I’ll realize that it’ll be the most beautiful yet most painful dream I’ll ever have.