30 - Sentient
Warning: Suicidal ideation.
If you're mentally vulnerable at the moment, I advised you not to read this. Let's prioritize our mental health. If you still insist, read at your own risk.
***
Ms. Rielle's POV:
"House and home, often are used
interchangeably, however, not every
house is a home and not every home
necessarily mean a house and how ironic
... how ironic it is that I bought the
penthouse for being the closest word
next to a house that was supposed
to be home but never felt home.
And what's more actually ironic about
that was how can a person be
home more than a house?"
- from the lost soul
"and if there will be a time
that you needed to leave
i'll never ask you to stay
nor even say goodbye
just please, forget me
... forget me not."
- from the one who will always
remember not to forget
"do writers write because
they have this sword called a pen?
or because they are in pain?"
- from a wandering soul
"the only thing that's great about pain
is it allows me to bleed through the papers
that were once leaves, leaves that are sometimes
just blown by the wind and sometimes allow me to unwind"
- from the soon dust of the wind
"they say every day is another day
but why is it that day keeps coming back?"
- every day's repeated shits
As I browsed the thoughts I have written down today-eyeing, specifically, the very first thought that came to me-a familiar yet strange feeling, after all this time, engulfs my chest once again.
Out of all the things that I wrote, out of all the thoughts that I've tried to dismiss, I guess, it will always be that something that I will never learn to outgrow.
Bringing me back to the very reason why I left that place. Deciding to leave on my own after finally having the chance to do so. However, indeed, you can never really run away forever and so, memories from the past haunt me down again to the core. Reminding me of the pettiest thing I've ever done in the name of affection.
Why did I ever think that the penthouse I bought could fill the place of that house and eventually, allow me to feel the warmth of the so-called 'home'?
A meager smile cast on my lips as I pressed my worn back against my swivel chair.
For far too long, I have been dealing with this situation. Yet, I'm always getting back to square one. Never had the chance to progress, never had the chance to forget, never anything at all. How could that ever be possible?
I pressed my swollen eyes closed before I redirected my attention back to the journal I just bought today.
After what happened earlier with Harriette, I suddenly blabbed about wanting to get out 'here'. Yet, I have no idea what I was really referring to at all. Was it a place? A situation? Or a feeling?
BINABASA MO ANG
She's Into Her
RomanceTFOL SERIES 1 Kaetherine is an obscure student who merely wants to pursue her passion for composing poems. As she gradually grew enthusiastic about discovering her deep-seated gift, she also found herself never-not involved in her professor's life...
