It's April friggin' twelve and days passed on unnoticed, with everyday pulling itself one by one automatically. Meaningless, or not, I guess.

My days turned into nights and today, at 9:07 AM in the evening, I can't seem to put myself to sleep as words keep on spilling out, brimming over lightheaded dreams and tired eyes.

I've never been this inspired for the longest of days, times, months, years, hundreds of walks and millions of spitted out words.

Seeing life through another's set of mouth and glistening, wrinkled, experienced eyes before has given me a rush I almost forgotten.

You must always remember, you are never alone. In the sense of how the universe conspires every bit of dust surrounding the whole unknown galaxies before--to go towards something,

that something you might not figure out yet,

But something.

Something similar.

Never forget, Kat.

Write, always.

To you who reads this:

The church might feel otherwise but for me, life will end to everyone either way.

They say love is liberating, but it also binds you, to do good or to do bad, to decide what's worth taking the risk or when to decide to stay inside comforting walls.

Personally, I know I am not strong enough for this. And no one can tell anyone that they are.

This probably looks as if it's my last will, but I'm not actually willing anything for anyone.

I've taken risks before, I braved things for the sake of doing myself the greatest good. I failed. And I'm scared as shit to feel that same mistake again. I realized, self pursuit will always be meaningless.

And for you who is impatient. I'm sorry. Because I know how hard it is to wait. But I must do this because my patience has also worn thin to completely empty.

I've ventured the unknown and questioned everyday for the meaning of existence. I found it. But I didn't know it has its anchor. I am pulled, oh boy, how I am going deep.

Farewell.

Remember me with soft kisses,

with warm breath spreading all over your neck,

with gentle caresses and ear tickles,

with subtle laughter and tears of joy,

with pleasure touching deep,

deeper down,

down to our souls.

Remember we are separate,

but we are one.

Like two puzzle pieces that fits each other perfectly.

Remember the sweet sound of surrender,

of giving everything we got.

Remember remembering these things.

And remember me,

happy. 

Fall.

"What", you whisper.

Blanketed by the rumbling noise, suddenly you cannot hear yourself anymore.

"How does it feel."

Awful. Like any other lonely season. Like a never-ending storm, doomed by the thunder, ready to take its course. It roars louder and louder, blocking every sound and every thought erupting from the depths of your mind. You feel the waters crashing down on you, raging with anger and fear. Icy cold and blunt, but nonetheless painful. You struggle to open your eyes, but its no use, you can only manage to squint and see the blurriness of it all. You close your eyes once more, and you feel every strike, every chill, every feeling of it. You scream, at the verge of tears, but only in your mind. The surge of the chilling water washing your whole being. You have to get away.

"How do you feel now."

Take a last glance. And then see it clearly. Of how majestic it was where you have been. Now everything made sense.

To look back, at this time, would always be good.

Living life

So there’s this guy. Quite a lad, not too young, but still can’t be called a man. He has tattoos on his arms, a piercing on the right side of his nose, and a spider tattoo on his hand. I like it.

I envy him. I envy those who have the courage to live life. I would love to do a lot of things, too. I want to be reckless, have fun, go places, ride a speeding bike, drink and laugh till sunrise, fall in love with sunsets, curse and kiss the sun at the same time. But I live a very different life.

Every day starts with a rush. An hour feels like minutes, you’ll seldom notice the difference. Scorching heat, once-crisp white uniform drenched with sweat, a pair of sunglasses, and a drink in hand. You go to work, prepare the things you’ll be needing, constantly check the time, anticipate problems, calculate, heed the needs of your means, endless writing, endless questions, inquiries. Then attend to your higher beings. So many things to do, a lot of things to occupy your mind, sometimes you even forget to pee. Then the remaining hours you wish you can pull faster.

That’s the image of my daily life. But we know pretty well that the days are not always the same.

The doctor comes rushing. We have been waiting for quite some time. She checks the heart, his breathing, and looks at the ECG machine. Flat line. No pulse, no blood pressure, no breathing, nothing. No vital signals that he’s still alive.

She pronounces it. The family expects it, but it is still heartbreaking. All in a matter of minutes.

Now it’s time to do my work. Start to clean him up, with help from a coworker. Remove all of his contraptions. All these with mind occupied by the things I need to accomplish right after. Definitely a toxic day.

“I really want to get a tattoo like this, too,” I say while looking at the spider tattoo on his hand.

“I like tattoos, I just don’t have the courage to get one. Well, how can I go abroad if I have one?”

It’s my first time to have a patient die. But I’m not scared. I’m used to seeing dead bodies. Well, in this profession, you do, anyway. Overwhelming emotions are there, too, so often that you start to get numb. Well, not really, but still you become used to it.

As I clean him up, I ponder on. He’s just an empty vessel now. What life has this boy lived? I’m not one to judge, but by his recklessness I think he wasted it away. But then again, maybe by that he lived it fully.

Really, no one can tell if life is really wasted. One can live to 100 but still feel like one has not lived at all. That’s the funny thing about life. We take it for granted, but the moment it slips away from us, only then can we understand its worth.

Life. Life for me is very hollow. You are born, grow up to study, work to save, start a family, then die of old age (if you’re lucky). A cycle so simple, it makes you wonder: Is that your purpose? To live just to die? Science will say you live for the continuation of our species. But humans are so complex, sometimes you wonder maybe there’s more to life than living. Sometimes you feel that certain emptiness, but you don’t know what’s missing.

“Hey, let’s go. We’re done here,” my coworker says.

“All right, let me just talk to the family,” I say. Then to the family: “You can be with him now, until the funeral service arrives.”

“Thank you, nurse.”

I leave the room to go on with my work. I still have other patients to attend to.

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lightning (2)

Staring blankly out the window,you wonder when will it stop.

You close your eyes and you hear the heavy downpour on the roof.

One cannot have too much rain,

It's cool but it turns you cold.

It leaves you wrinkled,

Turns you low.

You open your eyes.

Its gloom makes you bitter.

Dark clouds, lonely streets.

No one can get used to this.

But I pondered on deeply,

And gave me comfort to know,

That there would always be daylight ahead of me.

It'll embrace me,

It will keep me warm,

It will bring me comfort.

But for now I am content.

You are my sun.

And I will be waiting...

ill tempered

Like a shaken soda bottle, it is kept inside of you, and you would not dare to open it. You wouldn't want to make a mess of yourself, or to anyone else.