A collection of poetry and prose, feelings and emotions, love and loss. Written with the intention that it may give voice to the thoughts that hold you hostage, thoughts that remain a distant hum to your grief.
Written with the intention that you r...
But these feelings come back in a way similar to waves swaying back and forth, back and forth and repeat. They may subside but they never really settle down for good for once and for all.
Like that feeling of coming back to a home so empty to call out to no one and say ‘I’m home’ nor even to hear of anyone’s voice nagging at you to ‘Now change your clothes’ and ‘Come down to eat before food gets cold.’ A home so empty with no one to call out and ask “How was your day?” Or “Did you cause trouble at school again?”
But I liked to wonder that though it wasn’t ordinary it was okay to live through. A pretense of feeling empty like the emptiness of coming back to a home with no one to welcome.
But that feeling, however, of emptiness wasn’t ever entirely empty in itself. It was filled to it’s brim with feelings of such grief, loneliness, numbness and misery of all sorts that together they fought each other to keep each at bay. Thus, equaling the emptiness that came forth.
It still doesn’t matter if it’s been years or however long the feelings—they remain. Just like an old tale and those old memories, feelings too are what we become accustomed with. That when nostalgia appears like a solid faith you just sigh, smiling half-heartedly at this feeling so similar yet strange, so unsettling, yet something you feel relieved to feel.
But you're never quite sure if you’re ‘happy’ feeling it again. Because it’s what you have felt for so long, something belonging to your childhood. Or just ‘sad’ that you cannot get over it no matter how many more years you live on, years that pass by. You just simply learn to live with it, as though they are now a part of your heart, like memories of your mind.
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