It will be done soon.

It will be done soon, and it will begin again. Another pocket of time where I fill my words into this page. I don't need words of sympathy. Don't analyze my feelings. I know what I feel, and I tell you as it is.

It will be done soon. I wake up every morning with dread. I can’t believe in hope because I am not full of it. But I must believe in it, even if I don’t fully understand it. It’s something I have to hold on to, even when it feels out of reach.

It will be done soon. I sleep every night thinking of it. I hear what they say, and their voices linger in my mind, turning into her. I hear all my fears come to life. She’s always there when I fall apart, always there when I’m at my weakest. I’m starting to think it’s not just a coincidence, that she is tied to these moments of my undoing.

It will be done soon. The thought repeats in my mind, a constant refrain. It’s what I tell myself when the days feel too long, and the nights too heavy. I keep saying it, hoping that maybe, one day, it will actually be true.

Comments

Ominous Positivity: Reflecting on Korea Day

It's inevitable. The poetry and prose can only shield me from vulnerability for so long. Someone is bound to read through the poorly written literary devices and figure out the true meaning of all my works that I run away from by writing it (How presumptuous). Or no one cares. The latter is the greater possibility. I find comfort in it, no one cares. And on some days, it's despair in how no one cares. True to my character, I am going to switch the topic to another one. For today, I wish to reminisce on Korea Day and as much as I would love to say it started with me speaking Korean and having a wonderful day. It didn't. I sat on my glasses. Having a power of -6 and allegedly even more, I can't move around without my glasses as there is a possibility I will fall into a ditch, the depth perception does lessen when you can't perceive objects, it turns out. It was frustrating, the whole sitting on glasses debacle. I had never done it before. Out of character as I wou...

The Chase to Curfew.

My heart is out of my chest. It's in my throat, beating like it's struggling to stay alive. But it's more alive than ever. The curfew is at 7 PM. You know it, I know it. Everyone knows it. Especially the duos that linger at Martin Junction. Yet we all love to tease the limits of how far a body can run and make it in time. The urgency, the need, the frustration, the fulfillment. There’s something exhilarating about skirting the edge of danger. About feeling the adrenaline course through your veins as the clock ticks down. I reach out for it during exams, actively working towards it—to be sleep-deprived and see how far I can push myself and still dish out something legible. I always take that one fake quote in stride, "Edison built the electric bulb in a night," or something of that sort. It's fake for multiple reasons, the stealing allegations aside. But it brings me hope. And this hope is quite delusional when it’s not accompanied by action. You can call it pr...

Rainy Reflections.

What do I write today? I pondered for hours while doing mundane tasks. The sunlight stayed with me for a while, then it left, all alone, before the tube of electricity joined my thoughts. "Aren't you eating dinner?" asked my roommate. That's when I finally broke the silence I had condemned myself to until I wrote. I ate dinner and drank tea instead of coffee because I wanted to sleep earlier. I came back to my room, determined to write the third blog post. I couldn't give up so soon, could I? The sounds of doors and windows slamming against the walls, screeching laughter, and people running around seeped into my room. "It's cool outside, the rain, it's raining," said my roommate. I am not a huge fan of the rain. It always made me moody. I wasn't a hater either. Something in me whispered back to my roommate, "It's raining? It's raining!" I jumped up barefoot and ran out to feel the cool breeze against my face. My feet felt th...

bone crush

Search This Blog