a daylight dream

though I dreamed of love far too many times, it seems I am incapable of love. now that the only prerequisite is love, it is the only thing I cannot do. I simply fall into aloneness, seeking recluse in the emptiness that is me, trying to find a spark of love that could ignite an untameable fire so that I don’t have to be in control anymore, and just let the fire burn the hearts I’m near so fiercely that they think it’s me. I cannot do this. it’s too difficult to give something you’ve never learned to be given: a smile, a gaze, time, togetherness. I have failed all the chances I’m being given now. it is of no use. I’m simply unlovable. I thought I had an open heart, but there are impenetrable walls all around me, and I’ve been surrounded by them far too long to even have the will to shatter them. I am telling myself to surrender and lose control. if it is a path I cannot find, then perhaps it is not mine to find this moment. let me circumvent the life that is mine right now, no matter ho...

  I have not yet become bored of my own friendship, a solstice of one’s communion. in this freedom, it is quite estranging. i feel like someone else entirely. i am a foreigner in my own landscape and it is taking me so long to get to know who it is that lives inside of me. with all my motivations altered, inspiration is not exactly easy to find. it is not held in a sun’s rays and a passing cloud. it is beheld in intimacy and courteous conversations with one’s soul. still, I disappear and I cannot find who I’ve been. they say find your inner child. find your spark. find that melodious charm in you. but it is inexistent. it has somewhat withered away somewhere. an exile. I have for so long built a life on the ashes, and it made me so happy. those few joyful moments every now and then were everything I needed to stay alive and at peace. little moments before sleep, spending time with God and dreaming of love. I am afraid I built a life upon fantasies and a longing for little moments s...

there’s a wall between me and the world. a homesickness. a familiar understanding between the isness of all things and myself, but in my heart, in my home, this humanness is deeply flawed. I don’t belong here; midst intermittent laughter, commentaries and cacophonies of doing. I belong in a state where I am listening to meandering comets in their breakthroughs and grass blades in their breathing growth. I am an unparticipant in many eyes.   I find my purpose and leave. that breaks a few hearts. that allows mine to bleed much more, as I realise how deeply unsatisfying the triviality of ordinariness is. I write stories in my mind and manipulate reality so that it is infused with morality. you may call it apathy and recklessness. I call it art. I call it what I am here for.   I am most myself when I am alone, listening and writing stories in my head of what life wants to be like through me. I am the pause between brushstrokes and sentences. I am the nothingness that blends into s...

  opening my eyes, the more life brims with liveliness, the more I realise how much I have yet to learn. it’s been a while of beautiful, gentle and ordinary moments. still, I cannot seem to handle that ordinariness with ease.   it somehow slips through my fingers, that kind of effortless living. the mannerisms of family life, the sharing of beingness with dear souls and the constant showing up for love. I’ve known love in fantasies and sunrise stories, but showing up for it and sharing my heart is an ordeal indeed. I find myself more prone to disappearing and drawing the blinds when the monotony of everyday life becomes my reality. when love becomes the only demand, and the sharing of it the only prerequisite, I distance myself to open skies and tidal waves. I try to remember everything that flaws me. the more days pass by, the more I discover I’ve never been loved in my early years and so it is so damn hard to share a love I’ve never had planted in me. I constantly have to fi...