Escape to Nowhere

I love writing here.

I can write and talk about anything I want. I can be whoever I want to be, whoever I can and can't be. I can play games, confuse and twist your thoughts. I have the power to put assumptions and unnecessary speculations in your head. I will allow you to judge me, my words, but of course, I will have the last laugh. Because all that you can possibly achieve with such a meek self-righteous crusade is to judge a mirror, your very own reflection.

I have the freedom to write complete utter nonsense, speak of lies and half-truths. Sometimes I write about my own real, actual, true experiences, thoughts and frustrations. But, of course, that's not always the case. There would always be a lie, or two, or more, behind every story. There would always be an abstract, hidden meaning behind even the simplest sentence. There would always be some doublespeaks, dichotomies, oxymorons.

We are all liars. And in here, I intend to be nobody but myself and everyone at the same time. What's the use of pretending we're all perfect angels without flaws and fears? That we don't have skeletons in the closet. That are always happy. Why are we so afraid of telling the truth? Of what we think, of what we feel, of our fears and frustrations. Why are we so afraid to open up and seem vulnerable? Why are we so afraid of being judged? Why does what other people think or say matter so much?

But then again, I do contradict myself. Even now.

In here, it's like I'm having conversations with a stranger, a friend, an enemy, a lover, a cat, and with anyone and everyone and no one at the same time. I can talk about myself and not have to worry that I'd make my friends nauseated with my self-indulging stories. This is a place I can come to and hide when the world outside starts to scare me.

In here, I'm free.

Last Beach

Fluffy white clouds. Clear blue sky. Calm crystal clear blue waters. Powder white sands. Towering coconut trees swaying. Evergreen grass. Couples strolling barefooted down the beach. Kids frolicking in the waters. Jet skis zooming to and fro. Yachts silently sailing by. Lamb's Gabriel playing. Beautiful women tanning under the scorching bright sun. Soft silent winds.

I'll see you next year.

Press Stop, Rewind, Erase

My heart broke to a million pieces when I finally realised that I've lost you. You may never understand this. No one will ever understand this. I may never be able to comprehend the gravity of my mistakes. Because it's all too much to bear, for me to even begin to rationalise such... incredibly catastrophic events. I'm falling in between the cracks. And you're not there. And you may never come back. I should've come over, but it may already be too late.

You're the tear that will hang inside my soul forever.
You have always been.
You will always be.

I'm not the person you thought I was.
I'm not someone you deserve.
You're not the person I deserve.
Because I'm not the person you thought I was.

Is This Goodbye?

I've realized now, the long hard painful way, that she's the Sawyer in my imaginary TV series. That sometimes you have to do the wrong thing before you know what's the right thing to do. I've made so many mistakes in the past, so many things that I've regretted. It's only a matter of time that karma will come around, grab me, pull me down, beat every ounce of my sinful fibers, and force me to learn the hard, hard way. But it has always been that way, hasn't it?

I do believe that things happen for a reason, that there is no such thing as a coincidence. I believe that behind every storm, every disaster, every mistake, there's a silver lining. Life has a way of teaching you lessons. And it's funny how life will teach you those lessons again and again, until you'll get it right. When I think about it, sometimes, where is the silver lining behind the "right" lessons? Where is the silver lining behind the "wrong" lessons learnt? Is there really an absolute right or wrong?

It is stated that whatever happens, for better or worse, there's a hikmah hidden in between the lines. I'm not a big believer in fatalism, but sometimes certain events that have transpired in the past had made me think otherwise. Some people cruise through life in a fairly comfortable and secure way. While others, some, go through life in random zig zag, unpredictable, and in a fashionably catastrophic manner.

I really do wonder. Can some mistakes ever be undone? Can it ever be reversed? Can we ever start over, amend things, make things better? Can we ever put a band-aid over it and move on? Or maybe, some people are just fated to go through life the hard way. For reasons perhaps we will never truly understand. Sometimes I do see a bright future ahead of me, doing the things I love, the things I've always dreamt of doing, having my family close with me, and all the people I love around me.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I envision my future to be the complete opposite of that. That perhaps I'm doomed for an eternity of difficulties, pain and merciless sorrow. Not to sound like Dostoevsky extracting paragraphs from Notes from the Underground, but, it really is not as bleak as it sounds. This is not self-pity, nor it is a complete surrender to pessimism.

This is reality. No matter how hard we try, we don't always get what we want. I'm bracing myself for more "karmic" moments that sooner or later I'll have to pay for. I've climbed out of my fair share of rock bottoms. But I've a feeling there's one more, just one more, that will be the toughest that I'll ever have to go through.

Til then, I'll just take one day at a time.
Just one day at a time.
One day at a time.

Walk the Line, This Thin Red Line

Drying up in conversation,
You will be the one who cannot talk
All your insides fall to pieces,
You just sit there wishing you could still make love
They're the ones who'll hate you
When you think you've got the world all sussed out
They're the ones who'll spit at you,
You will be the one screaming out
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
It's the best thing that you ever had,
The best thing that you ever, ever had
The best thing you ever had has gone away

Or maybe I'm just being selfish?
But really, with everything else that's going on, there's only so much I can take.
Everyone has their breaking point.
And I think I'm this close to reaching mine.

p/s: if you think this is about you, it is not. but really, how would you really tell if it's about you to begin with? would you even know the "you" i'm taking about? you'd have absolutely no idea. take this as a riddle for you, whoever you are, whoever you think you are, and think about it long and hard, until you break to a million pieces, just like how I did, over and over and over and over again.

Or, maybe, I'm just being selfish?


I have a million things to write about.
As soon as the clouds in my head begins to clear, I'll begin writing.
Sometimes even ranting about everything and nothing gets tiring after awhile.
It''s time to start writing.
And I will, soon enough.

Simplification of Complications

I don't want you anymore. Not you. Nor you. And definitely not you. Not any of you. Can't you just leave me alone?

Await Rescue

Today I trashed half my room, broke the cupboard and cut my knuckles and elbows. There's some left over blood on the table and keyboard. I was thinking about crashing my car on the way back home, and strangely enough, it happened. I floored, oversteered, and jumped over the curb. There was smoke everywhere. The car wouldn't lock. The lights wouldn't switch off. I took a slow slumbering walk back home accompanied by some Pall Malls. On the way back I was thinking about finishing up the cupboard with my dad's golf club. I feel like destroying something.

Never Sever

Are you saying something,
or are saying nothing at all?

Am I imagining too much,
or is there something to it?

Am I someone to you,
or am I just someone else?

Today is the first morning I woke up in a long time,
but not yet a pure morning.

In these stormy weather,
I hope I will never sever.

Don't ever sever,
because without you I'm nothing.

Of Lies, Assumptions and Foolish Pursuits of Perfection

It's easy to rally against someone when you don't even know half of the true story. Isn't it foolish to rage and rant over something you don't even know half of what is really going on? Like a child scolding the fire because it burnt his hand. Like a cat hissing at the glass door because it ran into it. Like an idiot leading the blind.

Assumptions are such easy things. Such convenient tools to manipulate to our own likings, to our own wants, to our own simple desires. For want of being right. For want of being the victim. Isn't it easy being a victim? All you need is to assume fictionalized stories, imagine stupendously mad scenarios, cry foul, and roll all over the floor. And of course everyone else would rally behind you, irregardless of the truth. Because in the end of the day we're all humans, no? And humans are sometimes stupid, no?

Some people forget that in the end of the day, we're all humans. If you're looking for perfection, if you're looking to be right every single time, if you're looking for a permanent shelter to all your tears and sorrows, you're looking at all the wrong places. Perfection doesn't exist, just a modest reminder. It's most unfortunate that we would always look at all the things gone wrong rather than everything else that have gone right.

You climb a thousand stairs, miss a step and come tumbling down a thousand steps to the ground. What would most people rather pay attention to? Well, why would they care for that thousand steps you took? Why would they care for all the right things you did, for all the effort you put in, for everything you did to do your very best? They would only care that you faltered. That you came crashing down, breaking every bone in your body, burnt to crisp. And there they are, standing tall with their self-righteous smiles, pissing on your ashes. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside out.

Isn't it convenient to be selfish? Isn't it convenient to forget that maybe, just maybe, the rest of us are going through our own hell? That sometimes certain things aren't meant to be spoken. For reasons that can't even be uttered to begin with. And maybe, just maybe, in a matter of time it will be spoken of. In the end of the day, we're all strangers. It's just a matter of to what degree, to what extent. You may know yourself, but maybe not entirely yet. You may know your friends, but maybe, no, most definitely, not entirely. We're all strangers. This is life. This is the real world. Deal with it.

Lies, lies, lies.
There's only so much I can take.
One day, sooner or later, I'll break.


I'm listening to Battles.

They sound chaotic, with intervals of random unpredictable out of this world nonsense noise. Then there's some static, here and there, but there's also some melodic static lullabies of madness in between. Sometimes there's droning, wanking, boring moments. But it's mostly chaos. Sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn't.

These battles I'm crashing into are chaotic, unpredictable, droning, tiring. These are familiar times. Though under different circumstances with a variety of nauseating scenarios. It's tiring. Very tiring. When I look in the mirror I can see invisible, battered lines on my face. I can't see it, but I can feel it. Over time, it gets deeper and deeper. Till it cuts through my skin, my bones. Through my entire flesh. Cutting me in pieces, in a million pieces. Over and over again.

How long can I last in these raging battles?
How much longer can I survive?
How much more will it take till I lose everything?

I lost everything once.
I think I can take another round of it.
I may just be able to crawl out of this ever deepening hole.

For now, I'm just enjoying this darkness around me.
It's comforting.
I remember this.
I remember this.
I remember this.

I'll just listen to Battles a little bit more.
Drowning in their droning, static chaos.
It's comforting.
I remember this.
I remember this.
I remember this.

I am You, but You are Not

The beauty in life lies in the fact that there are no certainties. There is no absolute truth, no real answers, no definite reasons, no perfect equations. Nothing is for certain. Life is arbitrary and constantly changing, evolving, and spinning in unpredictable cycles. Everything we do can be explained by science and mathematical equations, no doubt. But at the same time they are not definite. It is not final. It is only an estimate. It is only the best possible approximation of perceived truths.

I suppose that's why I find art so intriguing. There is no correct interpretation. There is no true perceptions. There is no final answer. There is always a question. It can always be this, that or it can be nothing at all. And it can be everything at the same time. Art, in the most general sense of the word, is so multi-layered. There is so much texture, movement, meaning, story, questions. There's always a question mark.

That is why art is so beautiful. That is why life is so beautiful. Because we are always left guessing. Always wondering. Why, what, who, when, where.

What is real, what is not.
What is right, what is wrong.
Where are you now.
Where will you be in the future.
Who were you yesterday.
Who are you today, now, at this moment.
Who will you be tomorrow.
Who will you be in the future.

Who am I today, now, at this moment?

I am a pensive wanderer. I am a sinner. I am a fake, a lie, a shadow wearing a mask. I am an overjoyed, confused, meandering self-righteous moonstruck boy. I am a normal person. I am a reader, of random words, of moonsongs, of strangers. I am a writer of complete, utter nonsense. I am a pretentious elitist bastard. I am concerned son. I am a terrible father to my cats. I am a lurker, a stalker, a voyeurist. I am a happy person. I am a sad person. I am a pseudo protagonist in a make believe world.

I am a hollow heart. I am the blood that runs through my veins. I am the vibrating particles in this tired body. I am the fingers typing on this keyboard. I am the amber at the end of my burning ciggarette. I am the smoke that chokes this troubled room.

I am someone. And maybe, just maybe, we'll meet again in another lifetime.

(Don't forget to say hello, because I won't)

028/5, 4:50

Torment me with your beauty. Throw me into your tempest of troubles. Pull me into your gravity. Strum my heartstrings with your lullabies. Dazzle me with your chaotic meanderings. Engulf me with your fiery passion. Let me wither in your frail arms. Drown me in your tears. Drag me to your bitter end. Lets marry our fears. Like the naked leading the blind.

(You'll be a beautifully painful memory)

Stairway to Nowhere

I left myself upstairs.
I've been falling down, down, down.

What if it's already beautiful,
down here.

What if ever since the beginning,
I never was.
I never am.
I never will be.
And I can only become,
just another stranger.

Where will I go,
from nowhere?