spilled thoughts and crafted words [ SOON TO BE PUBLISHED ]

These are thoughts remembered in the middle of awkward laughter and noticeable stares that are divided by three sections.

The first one is leakage. It talks about our suffering, the strange feeling of existing, the weight, and the burden; the quick whisper of "I need help." Leakage is where our anxieties walk through to escape; the foreign place no one knows but our fear.

Meanwhile, the mid part is a pocket of acceptance-may it be real or a mock-up one. I called it "disguise." Here are forgiveness, bravery, and a little tinge of hope concealed with vivid narratives of childhood flashbacks and muted confessions.

The last and the longest part is about the cracks. Some of it is just a mere fault, yet most of the time, cracks cause tough surfaces to break too. This is where all the souls I loved before lies. The cradle of leakages. The continuous attempts at recognizing and creating my own language again-because they once made me speak a dialect my tongue never had a taste of.

This is filled with lapses, hatred, debris, the gloomy age, and the stories of failed first loves that I have overheard. Composed of forgotten cold cases, the broadsides I will tell the first and last time, and the stabs I had to cope with until I bled from the same wounds they pierced and invaded.