Pieces of Moonbeams

XCII.

how can know what i feel when i can't even think anymore. i'm like a statue—not thinking simple things that let ideas slip through. and also the bombardment of exploding ideas rushing out of excitement to write them down. but i didn't even flinch. i act out nothing. i didn't even write them down. 

i let them purge themselves in my mind. wasting its essence as i forget to remember them forver.

i am lying here, sinking on the fluffy cushin of my messy bed. the piled up hangers of the laundry are still hanging there. and i can see the stuff toys and pillows wanted to be out of sight cause it's so dirty.

i stare at the antiquated roof-reaching its old age because the dusts and falling debris and dirt are suspended in the air. waiting for the time to push them down in space. i couldn't even think anymore.

any moment, i feel the pillow hugging me unclutched its hands onto mine. not covering me anymore when i sipped through its warmth that i want to embrace.

as i peek through, the scratches and drafts and crumpled paper are waiting for me to clean them. but i couldn't even lift my hand, nor my fingers to tidy up the sheets. the beige and yellowish curtain aren't as appealing to me wnymore.

the window seeing through behind it opens air to fill out my entire room. the heat just happened to rise wgain. i've been in hell for so many years. my room is a lava lashing out its waves roughly. i couldn't even move my body. 'cause i feel like a dying fire had consumed me.

the blue, triangulated air of the ceiling fans aren't working, no one would ever give me a breath of fresh air. the medals hanging in the corner are fading its tinted hues: white, blues, and red attached to a golden merit. a memory of my schooldays worth to keep.

i keep writing and still cannot see a point. i still don't have my own point or standpoint. what's the essence of my smoke if the flames have already gone out?
what's the use of my voice when i couldn't even shout?

i just wanna be a lilypod: floating on the water & staring only at the blue skies. and still not drowning when showers of rain come and go. a lilypod that is attached to the waters: freely letting itself to go what and where it wants. not blinded by the strict school deadlines and requirements: not abiding society rules which we ought to do.

enough of the day dream, my mother called me. i've looked on the table and pick up the halo-halo. a superb dessert when in the verge of heat. i sit on my chair and take a sip.

the sweet taste of the sugars linger at the roof of my tounge. it was super cold: perfect to pair up in a hot summer breeze. i gulp the milk and the toppings, and feel the sweet condensada milk covering my entire mouth. what a delight. it was so mouthwatering. every bite tastes like candies and milk chocolates. i let the freezing ice let its wholeness wash away the heat from my body.

enough of thinking, enough of that, i still cannot move myself out of my room. i need to contemplate and pick up the crumbled bits of paper scattered all over the floor.

but i guess i need to leave the house for school. i have more things to do than just to stare at a blank space here

and waste their essence upon remembering.

April 19, 2023
von