Why this action of inaction is killing me while making me feel alive, ironically.

For those people who know me personally, you know exactly how much of an optimist and an idealist I am and how i love looking at the brighter side of things, because we should always be positive amidst the crisis, right? This time, however, I’d like to be completely honest. Recently, I was feeling down—sad, anxious and just not okay. Thus, the isolation. The detaching. The not-replying. The disconnecting.

I have all the time to listen closely to my thoughts and feelings but i was resisting it. I hated feeling what I was feeling because I thought I should be strong, eh? But hell, I’m not. I’m just human. A human being, not a “human doing” who’s tricked that you should always be doing things in order to be good, to be accepted, to be… human. But fact of the matter is, we are supposed to feel, all sorts of emotions (including those we label as bad), and that we are given this uncomfortable time to sit with it because no matter how much we avoid these unwanted emotions by distracting ourselves with Netflix and games and whatnot, we know, that it’s there. And gaahh, it’s killing me. But ironically, it also makes me feel alive—and let me tell you why.

Now that we’re approaching the so-called “Age of Aquarius” where everything spiritual is heightened, this is creating a holistic discomfort in all of us, worldwide. And I don’t mean that in a drama way. I mean, whatever is happening in the world right now is quite different, don’t you think? Hence, my point being is this: if you feel like dying without really approaching real death, that means you’re living. Okay, that’s quite esoteric but i hope you get what i mean.

Stepping into my highly philosophical self, i feel that everything that’s happening globally (that affects us on a personal level) is meant to happen, is meant to make us feel anxious, depressed, lonely and that it’s gonna be magnified even more because this is no longer the time of doing things the same old way. This is the time we break those old patterns that are no longer serving us well. Time to reflect on who you are in this world and how you can change for the better. Time to focus on your beingness. Time to convert mundane activities to purposeful ones. Time to create deeper connections than skin-deep ones. And most importantly, time to have faith, more than ever.

I hate admitting to people that I’m not okay. For reasons that i know everyone feels it too one way or another and that I don’t wanna burden those people around me and that they might think i have all the reasons to be grateful for and all that shit. But choosing to be vulnerable isn’t really a sign of weakness. It’s a sign that no matter who you think you are in this world, despite your worldly accomplishments and possessions, you are allowed to not be okay. Sit with it, journal it, listen and don’t ignore. Feel the pain until there’s nothing left. Everything falls into an equilibrium, anyway. Ah, my favorite word. And let me end this by saying something corny like, “We got this, humans!!!”

The silent Mayhem of beautiful Minds

Never in his life, did he thought too much about romance, until he met this woman who made him wonder whether it’s hysteria or love. He debated his way out of this comedy in his head, thinking it’s impossible that it’s the latter.

No, how could it be?

How can someone you just met a few days make you feel heavy in your heart but ironically makes you want to feel the feel of it? He asked himself this question in his head while she talked about the book she was reading and threw some lame jokes he labeled as boring. Well, that’s just his way of teasing her—to battle against the strong wind that brings him closer to her, like she’s a destination. A place destined for him to live in, or perhaps maybe a home. But he fights it, he fights the urge to look at her more than just how he used to look at girls.

She rolled her eyes and turned her back as a sign of unspoken surrender of losing a debate with him. And then sighed a deep sigh for an ambiguous picture of a future together. With her right hand sandwiched between her right cheek and her soft comfy pillow, she looked past the window and wondered how many girls he had slept with. With his charm and wit, she bet he could’ve easily made his way through their hearts, like how he managed to do with hers.

But ofcourse she would never admit it, she was quite smart enough to know it’s wrong to tell him how safe and heavenly she felt sleeping next to him and observing how his soul of masculinity seemed to overpower his femininity—in the sexiest ways of humanness. No, it’s wrong, what if she scares him away?

She liked him, well, she likes him very much but she feared the idea that he doesn’t like him the way she does.

Little did she know, that he cogitated more than she did as he studies the artistic view of her naked flawless back when she turned around. He wondered how come he’s so drawn to her, not just with what her skin shouts, but more with the language her eyes speak that required neither words nor voice. He wanted to trace his fingers from the abstract beauty of her nape down to the edge of her spine to savor the perfection of it but hesitated for a split second because he thought he should just play it cool.

Or should he, really?

Would it hurt much if he would make an exception? He thought, maybe she wouldn’t mind so he stopped battling against it and moved as close as he can, spooned her with his warmth and breathed near the outlines of her left ear.

The hair of her skin stood like it’s being magnetized by a powerful invisible sense as he embraced her from behind. He whispered something to her but she didn’t mind listening—the beats of her heart was louder as it raced like there’s a zombie apocalypse, like she should run for her life, or should she?

Isn’t this moment something she would want to freeze if she could?

#fiction

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Wrote this at almost 2am here in Iceland, ugh I couldn’t sleep 😂

The art of balance

Recently, I was at my peak state. Highly energetic, full of life and almost always passionate with the work I’m doing. Too hectic that I didn’t find the time to write. There were times, however, that I decided i would write, but it seemed as though my muse weren’t in the mood to show up. Thus I didn’t come looking for it. I gave in to the chaos in my head—put the pen and paper aside and ignored the voices in my head that wanted to be written and be heard.

My problem is, i am currently obsessed. I say “obsessed” because i want to put emphasis on the fact that it’s REALLY bad. I am getting too obsessed with winning that all i get to think of was that goal. My mind became restless. My boyfriend even told me the other night that i came to a point where i sleep-talk, murmuring some things about work—and that’s where it hit me.

Though it’s true, that there’s nothing wrong about working so hard and focusing on a goal and getting all things done and believing that you will achieve it and actually making it happen but the question is—are you progressing? Am I progressing? The answer is NO. I am not growing because I don’t get to enjoy the process of winning because all i care about was getting it. My Reticular Activating System has overruled and programmed me well enough to focus on that goal that the rest of what used to matter a lot, started to matter less and lose its significance.

And that’s where the problem comes in. It’s when you wallow yourself in with long hours of work, thinking day and night of how to achieve the desires of your heart that you tend to forget how to pause and be grateful. We need to treat ourselves of some REAL kind of rest where you would stop stressing yourself out about your goals and targets and dreams and just about anything that drives you mad. It’s okay to be crazy and to be passionate and to be focused but hey, don’t forget to recharge your batteries. Don’t drain yourself too much and have some fun. I’m writing this at 2am as a note to myself with hopes that it will serve as a wake up call to all of you out there who’s been working so hard. I salute you. But please, don’t forget to take a break and learn to master the art of balance.

Of what’s keeping me awake

Words keep me awake. They always ruin my ultimate goal to create a normal sleeping habit of sleep-early, wake-up-early kind of thing. I’ve always fooled myself that I could do it, even my boyfriend almost always roll his eyes in incredulity. Hell, it’s f*cking hard. The eyebags are even worse to look at when you wake up, looking all worn-out and restless despite the idea that you also get atleast seven hours, albeit inconsistently. And yes, the morning after effect always makes me regret staying up til like 3am just to give words some freedom. And yes, I blame the words. These words that give me such indescribable aching pain in an unknown part of my soul or maybe something deeper than that, if there is. Quite a challenge to explain. I’m sure artists (like my boyfriend who actually said this and consider himself a “night owl”) would agree to me if I say that staying wide awake between 12 midnight to 4 am usually gives birth to crazy ideas you didn’t know existed. It’s funny to think I was saying this, after an argument I made with my boyfriend recently when I encouraged him to sleep early to that certain level of absurdity, because even I couldn’t do it. Perhaps it’s that mad debater in me who always wants to win that took place in that “little debate” about sleep and oh yes, that’s a totally different story. I’m talking about words and what they do to me. And this is not just about “seeing” words that fly above my head in my consciousness but more. I don’t just see words. I FEEL them. And sometimes I find it ludicrous, most days I laugh at my own. I laugh at my own sense of folly for thinking that words have a soul, that they have a meaning, that they have a heart that beats of hope and of love. It’s true, that I sometimes feel ashamed with the idea that I exaggerate things uncontrollably and unconsciously but oh God, this is what completes me—as a writer and as a person overall. It completes me… feeling words and hearing them having each distinct sound and melody that compliments my current mood. How spectacular, I thought. To look at words as magical and mysterious—to that extent that they surprise me everyday of the depths of sense they evoke in me. Isn’t it odd? That having too much passion also has its consequences? Like the abnormal sleeping habits, obnoxiously looking eyebags and having a mind that wanders all the time and one that could hardly focus at times? It’s absolutely weird but you know, I thank the heavens for it. Not everyone, especially in this day and age, has the courage to speak proudly yet in the most modest manner ever, about what he truly wants and what makes him tick. Of what he dreams of becoming one day and of what he’s really passionate about. And what’s even worse, is some of us don’t even know what we TRULY want to begin with. Thus, I decided to talk big of what makes me happy, of something I wouldn’t trade for gold, of something I have in me that no one have the capacity to steal. Now, what’s yours? What’s keeping you awake at 3am? Is it music? Is it art? Is the the girl of your dreams? Or is it the reveries you’re having of being Number One? What’s stopping you from embracing it? Fears? Is it that fear of judgment that kills the strength in your bones? Damn it, that’s already a thing in the past! We’re now in this time where all the resources and even sources of motivation are open and available to inspire us to pursue our calling. Hence I therefore challenge you to conquer your fears and do the reason why you wake up (even despite the lack of sleep) with a full smile on your face everyday and do it with so much fire and passion that people would think you’re too much or maybe even call you crazy—and it’s alright. Atleast you know what you want and you don’t fake it. People who fake it sometimes make it, but you know, it expires. Soon they will run out of energy pulling up the invisible strings in both edges of their lips just to show people they’re fine. But not You. Because YOU know exactly why you breathe and you know that one day you will seize whatever it is that keeps you awake. I encourage you to do what you want and do it with so much heart and I promise you, you will never run out of reasons to live. Be passionate. Stop boring yourself doing the things you don’t really like. Like what my mentor said before, there’s no such thing as “lukewarm”. There’s nothing in between. It’s either you go up or you go down. Stop jailing yourself in that little box. Go out there, do what you want, and discover what life has to offer en route to your dreams.

(Above photo is an original Digital Painting crafted beautifully by the best artist and boyfriend in the world 🧡)

Circling thoughts

Today, I felt empty. I buried my face on the table where I write, with my hands and arms reaching for one another like they both needed that warmth, that hug that could maybe lessen the intensity of the pain I have inside. I listened carefully to the chaotic rhythm my tears make as they run down my cheeks and each time it drops to the surface of the table like a raw melancholic beat. Tears that created a melody that nearly lulled me to sleep—that aftermath of crying that makes you want to just close your eyes, hoping for a beautiful dream that you believe show signs.

But then you realise that the things in your head still want you to keep blinking and think more and more til you reach that certain level of restlessness. I am restless, my mind exactly. Not sure whether it’s the right part of my brain that makes my head ache for the flood of words that wanted to escape or if it’s the Amygdala who confuses itself for the battle of emotions that fight against each other to find out which one stands out best. Perhaps, the latter. The war each and everyone of us create can sometimes get too damaging, worse yet, it could make you feel so down and even depressed. Needless to say, I reached that phase of downhill, of rockbottom, of almost losing yourself as you drown your own aching body to the bottomless ocean of agony you thought existed.

Truth is, it’s all in my head. I knew it’s not real when something invisible poked me in the head that made me release my face from drowning in its own tears. Something that cannot be seen, like maybe an angel who whispered to me saying, “you have to look up”, thus I did. I looked up and looked out the window from my left. There I saw a rainbow that showed up like a unicorn passing by with a full smile on his face. Why, I asked myself, does the rainbow suddenly filled my emptiness? And is it really the rainbow that made me feel better or it’s just me wanting to use that rainbow as a tool to lift my spirits up and keep on fighting?

Sometimes, we know where to find the answers but our fears don’t allow us to get there as swift as we want to. Perceiving the road as dark and scary instead of looking at it as a trail of colours with such extraordinary beauty. Some days it’s okay to be empty, it’s actually an opportunity for you to seek for ways to fill your heart with gratitude as you search for the signs you’ve been praying for. But please, don’t stay there. Stop doing that to yourself. Get up and fight the voices in your head that kills your confidence. Hasn’t everyone told you yet that it’s in your hands? Isn’t it too cliched already if I say that the choice is yours to make? Cliched or not, I’ll say it over and over again to strengthen that belief system we all need to guide our way. The power you used that made yourself feel miserable for the nonexistent fears that has lead you to such disastrous episodes is nothing compared to the power you have to turn everything around. You decide your own destiny. Shape it the way you want it with the guidance of God who knows what’s best. Everything’s going to be alright, trust me.

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Photo credit: Pinterest

Why do you write?

“Writing is the only thing, that, when I do it, I don’t feel I should be doing something else.” –Gloria Steinem

You write because you love it, don’t you? But then you look around you and notice that particularly immense edge they have, that unbelievably out-of-the-box wit you hope you possess, that mind-boggling and cleverly written posts you wonder how they were able to pull that off through words so perfectly with the right emotions. How? How do they do it? And you look at yourself and the works you create finding out how clichéd and how boring them posts you have made. You doubt yourself for the grey possibility of having your book published, yet you write anyway. You write because you want to make your readers laugh or maybe cry or maybe just be inspired. You write for a purpose, right? For a bigger purpose, a matter of fact. Like maybe making a difference or just to share your thoughts to the world and maybe to train yourself to be better. You write not only to express yourself but to be yourself, for you are you, the real you, each time you type away the emotions you’ve been holding tight. So, what’s holding you back? Ideas are all around you, why don’t you start? You have penned so many drafts but are too terrified to post them because you think that it’s crap. Hey, listen. You have to cease from being trapped. Trapped with your own set of analysis paralysis that kills your gut. Magnify that burning passion you have for writing and awaken that heart that’s open for new learnings. Write for all your reasons, but please, please… don’t forget to do it for yourself, too.