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thisissai · 2 years

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minds remember these moments sharply

as i take a deeper look around, not from the trees that would have wanted to avoid homes, not from the water that calms down after the surge, not from observing the wind that stays still after gusting through trees— the eyes. eyes that seem to still figure out the destructions; eyes that seem stirred with trauma; eyes, teary, vulnerable, and in pieces like a broken glass— don’t really know how to clean the shards. even those eyes that reflects motivation; eyes that scream, let us keep going; eyes that hold power and give comfort.

i don’t really know which mirrors mine but i do see my eyes from theirs, i just can’t pinpoint whom exactly.

i felt the sting of their heavy emotions and it sometimes overflows, yet not fully process my own emotions to shape it into something beautiful, yet despite all the doubts and anxiety, courage is something beautiful i have collected while taking everything in my eyes. i’ll let healing be my mission:

into kindness

into contentment

into brighter days

into positivity

into peace

into wellness

into love

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thisissai · 3 years

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“You are far more than an identity (which is just a tiny little mechanism in your brain). You are the entire universe and the miraculous awareness of it.”

— THINK. BIG.

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thisissai · 3 years

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i feel like if i show the unmasked me, people would stop loving me because then, the idea they have of me, the envisioned image they thought were real, is an act. Once shown the truth behind it, they may turn their back and not even take a glimpse once again but maybe, just maybe, there are others who will stay and love me more.

(via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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dying is a requirement out of life, they don’t want to leave yet, but they have to— that is what i realize while passing at this house. the murmurs and prayers are somehow soothing to hear so I stopped for a moment and observed. i can see who’s the family both by blood and by love, they have the same eyes— heavy with loneliness, sadness and regrets, perhaps. this house have the gloomiest atmosphere yet they are the brightest tonight— from the lights and from the love hidden that are finally shown, probably too late. the realization that no one can escape death frightened me but I try to keep myself be ready by the reality. not all dead wants to stop living, others if given the chance, would choose to continue living despite the fact that living is way harder. i hope that once i have to go— my dearest knows that.

via @thisissai

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thisissai · 3 years

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everyone seems in love but me, which at all is not wrong. however, it got me thinking if time will come if i fall in love like they do, i can’t deny the fact that i always think about that— how nice it would be to tell someone with my i love you's every time i want to, especially for the times this phrases are in need. how nice it would feel to get hugs, kisses and show the intimacy burning inside us. yes, those ideas made me smile and long for someone yet, i also can’t deny the fact of how nice it would be to just be myself, nurture the appreciation and love i should be pouring to myself long, long time ago. how nice it would be to live alone yet not feel lonely because i am enough and not in need of specific other to make me feel that— these make me long more than anything. yes, i'm not yet on the state of feeling enough but i am taking one step at a time. that matters. i am going to love and nurture myself. i am independent, and solitude will never mirror loneliness.

via @thisissai

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thisissai · 3 years

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treetops glistens as i listen to the classic sounds from my neighbor’s. the song dancing to the countryside, like it is clinging to the wind desperate to see what world could offer. i poured some wine on my teacup— oh how i hope i could just swallow my thoughts like alcohol, burning on my throat. thoughts that seep on my mind like uninvited guests— heavy atmosphere but you have to stay alive, you are the host. i turned my head on the side and there goes my cracked walls. like ghosts of the pasts are digging it up, perhaps visiting from time to time, like i’m dead and my room is the tomb. i’m a little closer to the edge now, erratic breathing, my head aching yet my heart is so still.

this is a dream. i smiled. this might be a dream, today was not the worse yet i still feel like i’m sailing, continuously. i bit the inside of my cheeks, this was surely not a dream, the unknown destination is still not distinguished and not on my sight. my neighbor has turned off their radio. i have to keep myself busy, it is the best way of turning off my thoughts.

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thisissai · 3 years

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one thing i’m sure: i want to be away. i just want to run away, be out of my comfort zone but that dream is not something i could reach, not yet, not soon— no matter how much i bend my feet up. i’ve been in denial about it, yet, no matter all the shrug and change of topics, i am mentally unstable. i am. that’s the real story.

and if you ask me why, i cannot give a solid reason why.

why, the fact that i am not even sure why this is happening makes it even more frustrating. but everything adds up to the reason, my family, friends, colleagues, my patience, perspective, my face, my skin and even those people whose name i don’t know but faces i can distinguish, these things— most of the times are overwhelming, i find myself crying while working at the office or perhaps staring at my reflection at the mirror for a long time— just like i’m lost, well i am. god, i hope no one noticed it, i don’t want to be transparent, i may be vulnerable but i will show resilience.

via @thisissai

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thisissai · 3 years

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i believe all of us have this dream we desiringly want to reach that it hurts too much thinking we may not be able to acquire. Will this life lead me there somehow? It’s like longing for someone we are not a stranger of, but we, a stranger to them.

That shivers on our lips, our trembling hands and worried eyes— it’s true, indeed, dreams are what keeps us moving, our fuel, however some dreams are just kept on notes, just kept at whispers and those are the kind of fuel that burns us if we just keep the fire screams to our skin.

(via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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I always felt happy knowing that there are people who trusted me to the point where they open up their soul and let me be inside it— wandering the constellations that shining in their deepest vague of their perception; letting me touch the blood that was poisoned by words made by flowers. I’ve heard so much pain from these people, and I willingly embrace the blues that were choking them, they welcomed me with open arms.

just as my eyes poured tears of anger, sadness, disappointment; just as I was choked by the comfort I was trying to test for myself; just as I break down and let the pillow dry my tears— I realize I have never been able to push everything that triggers me to give up, out from my soul.

I realize these people have me, but I feel like I never have them

But maybe, I just tried giving them the warmth they needed when their soul is freezing, maybe, I never really tried reaching out to them, did I? Maybe I push away the hands that tried to open my soul, maybe I was caught up with my anticipation that they might not see even a single star within me, just dead silent and empty sky.

yes, even though there is someone out there who believe that distrust to those people who let us ravel on their soul is the reason why we held in our fists the melancholy we have (instead of letting someone hush it until it calms down) I will be the living proof that it can also be self-issues. The distress of our weaknesses, the thoughts that whisper us slowly that these people might stab our wound that is about to heal instead of stroking them with gentleness— that they might blow off the candles in our palms we have protected for years just for us to have some short warmth and radiance— that they might take advantage of how vulnerable we are when we let them peel the mask we wore for protection

believe us, believe me. I hate how unfair it sounds to you that I cannot leave a basket full of why I am like these, what makes me awake each night and why are there traces of tears in my cheeks—outside your door just as how you leave one outside mine. I trust you, but not this mind.

sorry, i do.

(old one | via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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how could something beautiful be used to hurt someone?

(via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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And time came that the blues we’ve been clutching on our wounded palms catapulted into the sea, the time when we set them free

and the waves set boundaries which our body cannot cross over that wretchedness once again, the sea that we have made as our safe haven tasted enough tears, and witnessed enough pain from the eyes that stares on its calming lines with so much longing

it’s like we are made with every hue, almost perfect yet sadness takes everything but black and white, and here, here comes the life just like from the start, the bright colors were cast adrift our feet and our palms are longing of how it feels like to have merriment once again between our grips

isn’t this the time to let this ocean hear our laughter

(via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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It is just a typical evening- a jukebox playing country songs and a mind screaming for your name. 11 PM but still wide awake, staring at the empty wall that flashes neon lights from cars passing by outside, feet on the headboard, arms hanging on the bed side.

Evenings are ours and I cannot seem to end that routine just because you are not beside me anymore. Evenings are always ours, from the past ‘till now- a silence from me and a heavy thudding noise from you on my mind.

Just let me dwell with the memories you left, just let me feel the pain it brings, just let my eyes pour tears from remembering you, just let me spend my nights like this. This sharp pain that impales through me made me feel that I still exist. This might sound impossible, but love, I know, those blissful memories of you and I that I cage in my mind, and the songs that we once listened together, although hurts- will be my therapy.

(old one | via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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Life is hard, and your eyes made me realize that. I saw how you struggle living with it. I don’t know everything about you, all those tiny details of those scratches and marks on your skin, why was it there? Who did it? just like how you have no idea I'd find a place to hide every time I saw you, hide to cry on the reality that I can’t even caress those marks away, plant a kiss on each of them, afraid you might push me away just like how you push those people who made you feel that life is beautiful.

You are afraid that your heart and mind might agree that life is not the way you define it, afraid you might show the world once again your real smile and later on be disappointed on the fact that people will ruin the moment and push you again and again on a doleful void.

I want you to see it in my eyes and feel it on my touch, that I will always be here to help you carry all the burdens that have been pulling you, non-stop. I will always be here to help you heal the bruises of pain, help you wipe the tears of aches your hands get tired of wiping. Will it be too much to ask- live, please?

(old one | via @thisissai)

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thisissai · 3 years

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quotes that help me survive:

“You are not lost. You are here. Stop abandoning yourself. Stop repeating this myth about love and success that will land in your lap or evade you forever. Build a humble, flawed life from the rubble, and cherish that. There is nothing more glorious on the face of the earth than someone who refuses to give up, who refuses to give in to their most self-hating, discouraged, disillusioned self, and instead learns, slowly and painfully, how to relish the feeling of building a hut in middle of the suffocating dust.” — Heather Havrilesky, Ask Polly

this tumblr text post:

“To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.” — Mary Oliver

From an interview with Kazu Makino:

Instructions On Not Giving Up, Ada Limon:

And this poster by Yumi Sakugawa

“You have to believe, in your heart, that even if you don’t work hard and exercise and think positive thoughts and make new friends and march triumphantly into the future, you are still enough. You will always have bad days. Being broken doesn’t make you a loser. You can crumble, and you will still be enough. Make that your religion moving forward. You are here to feel this moment. You are not here to become someone better. You are not here to impress or compete. You are not here to prove yourself. You are here to savor this life. Let down your guard. You are already enough. Believe it.” — Heather Havrilesky

“The first feminist gesture is to say: “Ok. They’re looking at me. But I’m looking at them.” The act of deciding to look, of deciding that the world is not defined by how people see me, but by how I see them.” -Agnès Varda

lyrics from the song Grow by The Oh Hellos:

“The world’s otherness is antidote to confusion, that standing within this otherness—the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books—can re-dignify the worst-stung heart.” — Mary Oliver

“I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you,and that you will work with these stories from your life--not someone else's life--water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom. That is the work. The only work.” — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

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thisissai · 3 years

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lasso the bright moon to your wrist- first and foremost, and fill your universe with light, you don’t have to collect any darkness- you have it, almost suffocates you

pluck stars you touch at skins of humans, and other things with no life but has for you- in furs, treasured pictures, phrases in between paragraphs, droplets of rain clinging in leaves

embrace each, so tight, you can glimpse of its light when you stare at the mirror

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thisissai · 3 years

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We spoke the same language, powerful than mother-tongue. The language of flowers blooming on our lips of red rose petals, seedbed that is carefully placed on our throats, sprouting daffodils to our open lips and colors of water lilies reflecting on our eye

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thisissai · 3 years

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you are a frazil ice in a rough sea- risking myself walking into your thin layer ice cracking on every touch of my bare skin to your cold skin

you become a frozen soul from months of watching bare trees coated with cotton travail snow balls you become a frozen soul from nights of scorching warmth from a burning fire that does not even give you any warmth you become a frozen soul from finding glimpse of jollity from sledding down hills and jumping your body on hills of snow you become that soul, from looking up the sky with your eyes bluer than blue, from those dry lips snowflakes from the sky, lands- tears blood when you forced a smile, cracked and sore

if only i was good at reading you, finding meaning from those uncertainties from catching my eyes i could have that crepuscular ray you've been waiting to melt your frozen heart i could have that twilight ray of a sunlight that melts your agonies away i could have that warmth instead of that growling cold wind of winter days

i could have.... i'm sorry

(old one | via @thisissai)

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