whispers and mutters • blasnique

Chapter Six

UNIQUE

The moonlight has found its way through my window pane, shining itself on my chair and reflecting its light on my wine glass half empty.

I open my apartment door only to see my empty, undone bed and the lonely chair standing by the window. The orng street light was shining through my window along with the crescent moon.

I feel.. empty.

Emptiness always finds a way to get through me like ghosts through someone's delicate skin.

I always had that type of empty void inside me that I couldn't even seem to fill in with anything - not even the drugs that I buy from smug fuckers from that one dark alley in Manila.

In a dark room, an emotionless piece of shit is sitting on his messily undone bed, staring at a blank wall that he wishes to punch. Oh how fragile these thin walls are.

My body feels unusually light, maybe it's from the alcohol? Sometimes I wonder if whiskey still has its effect on me. Does it still make me feel any better? Does it still make me feel the way it used to do?

Questions float around like random species of birds flying across the bright blue sky; float around like heavenly bodies and celestial objects visible in the sky.

Currently having a hard time to compose and construct my sentences; my words. The wine glass is still half empty the way I left it be, half full of still so delicate wine.

I start to stare into the absence, eyes dead and emotionless like the usual. How has my life come to this? Dazed, confused and feeling shitty like the usual me.

Ever got that feeling? The feeling of not wanting to move at all, the feeling of not even wanting to do shit; to speak, to sing, dance, laugh, or even do anything at all.

I try my best to collect motivation, collect whatever the fuck I need to collect. Staring at the distance or at a blank wall was just as similar as losing inspiration, motivation, and whatnot; you continuously try to find something in what you're trying to do, but in all honestly, you're just losing yourself.

There's like an empty void in my head that I try to fill in with drugs and alcohol, maybe try to enter that void through writing literary pieces and trying to configure what I've written so far. Distracting myself will always be the nuclear option when the void comes back to attack me - but it will always be ironic to me how something so empty could be something so heavy at the same time.

How and why do words pre-occupy my mind so easily? The thought of insecurities doesn't very much entertain me.

The way the moon shines reminds me of someone very special. A person very close to my heart yet very far from me - he's like a star that I know to myself I could not reach. At all.

He's like the graceful moonlight that dances along with its reflection on the crippling water, scattering its light in the reflective bodies of water half past midnight. Celestial and heavenly; divine.

I sure am a sinner for those heavenly lips and angelic voices he has.

Godlike.

I stand up from my seat and I slowly walk to the light switch to open the lights, obviously. As I press the light switch open, for a split second my eyes have absorbed too much brightness for the usual.

I sit on the lonely chair by the window, and visible at sight moon's still shining ever so brightly even from down here - and I felt safe the moment I locked my gaze upon the moon, just by the its grace.

Things are getting tiring.

Things have already gotten extremely tiring the moment I've met legality and soon enough I've already wanted to run away - far far away, someplace else where no one could find me.

I'm tired of doing a lot of things I haven't even done yet.

Running so fast, laughing so loud, sneaking my head off the car window, hug whoever the fuck I want, kiss whoever I want, make out with a sly smile on my face, jump around, feel euphoria, feel a lot of emotions, feel things... feel happiness.

No matter how many times I've done whatever I've been wanting to do before, I've always wished for one thing that I never got from doing those even from the past - and that's feeling pure joy.

I wish I was happy.

I will forever wish I was as happy as them.

Those who got to smile through their hardships and embraced even their shortcomings, those who got to be happy for no reason, those who ran away with a smile on their face and those who have felt genuine joy and happiness in their lives. I envy those fuckers and I always wish I was like them.

They were my wish-to-be's before downing a bottle of beer in a place I can't spell right, the things I always long for from wrong people, and the things I have already waved white flags to.

And then I long for sleep once again.

I wish for eternal sleep, that type to not wake up anymore as I fall so gracefully in my delightfully satisfactory coffin; arms crossed and my eyes closed.

When was it ever time to say goodbye?

Cause I have been surely waiting for that long awaited time.

I walk back to my light switch once again, staying there standing still as I press the light switch off. My thoughts have been consuming me lately to the point that I couldn't even tell if it's getting unhealthier with each passing day.

The want and the urges to fall on my knees and collapse was strong, but I've gained the strength to walk to my bed as I closed the lights; the darkness letting the moon shine through my glass window pane once again like skin through ghosts.

I come in to the darkness and I must disappear into darkness. Always and all ways.

With high hopes of shutting the voices out, I have thought of closing my eyes and drifting off to dreamland.