Tag Archives: emotions

Just something from today:

 

3 am,
And I’m awake.
I fell asleep for one hour –
For the day,
I am one hour
Of no rest.
The day goes on,
And I am able to stay awake.
I am able to make it through.
I am able laugh
And smile,
Be with other people.
But I miss you.
Then comes night,
And I am able to cry.
And I fall asleep.
Somewhere between asleep
And awake.
I see your messages.
I don’t reply.
I can’t reply.
Because I’m asking myself
How do I live.
And I am crying,
Falling asleep.
Putting my hand
On my mouth,
A pillow covering my face,
Gasping for air
And for comfort,
Looking for answers.
But I try not let anyone
Hear me cry,
Hear me gasp.
Hear me ask for help.
And I think it worked.
I wake up,
And it’s another day.
4 pm,
In the afternoon –
I thought my alarm clock
Was right that it was 3 –
Because I thought to myself
It couldn’t be that late.
But the clock was wrong.
Time had changed
Because it was spring now,
Winter gone –
But discontent still here,
With me.
I told myself that I can’t live
Like this anymore;
That I can’t live like this.
That I don’t want to feel small;
That I don’t want to feel
Like I’m trapped;
That I don’t want to feel like
I don’t belong;
That I don’t want to feel
Like I’m invisible.
That I don’t want to be afraid.
I don’t want to feel misunderstood.
The things I want to say.
The things that I want to let you see
And hear.
Wanting to be free.
Wanting to be unburdened.
Wanting to feel like I belong.
Wanting to be open.
And wanting to be just seen.
And throughout the day,
I think that you should leave me.
That you shouldn’t have
To deal with someone
Like me.
And I think of how stupid I am
For not replying back to you,
For how I’m being –
A dramatic soul,
Seeming to
Always have to dramatize.
And I’m sorry.
I am.
And here I am.
The song
“Try Everything”
Comes to mind
From the movie that we
Watched together.
So here I am,
Trying to try everything
The best that I can
And taking the first step
Of getting up again.
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{The Crows’ Cry; August 7, 2015}

I know now why the crows cry.
They sometimes do mock us,
and always seeming to want
to mock us and trick us
as they fly above us
and stare at us with
their heads cocked to the side.

But haven’t you heard them,
heard them cry hoarsely
as their tears and mine
scratch us both with marks.
This sadness too much
to bear for me and them;
that is why we both cry.

They hear me cry like an animal
and I hear them cry
to each other and to the world,
and they’re crying and asking,
“When? When?”
“When will this sadness end?”
Both of our hearts hurting, God.

How do we not notice
the sadness in their eyes
as they stand and stare at us.
See past the mockery
and trickery that they do,
and you’ll find sadness
that hurts and that I have.

“When? When?”
the crows
sadly cry
and ask me.

the dancer

Sweat, blood, pan, you have to sacrifice when you dance; but it’s worth it. Dance is painful, yes – but I love dance.

the dancer 
 
she walks on rivers,
dancing on top
on the tip of her toes;
standing on the very tip
of her toes
and dancing
till her breaths 
and sweat and movement
blend into a blurriness,
which she can see through
and still dance
to the music playing
around her as the world
disappears. 
 
she treads on top of waters,
her frustration 
and stress and sadness,
now out in the open;
just like her
as she twirls and lets 
the world go by her;
she doesn’t care anymore,
not when she dances
because when she dances,
she feels like she belongs,
and it’s the closest
to flying like the birds 
as she defies gravity. 
 
she’s tiptoeing on seas,
and it doesn’t matter
if she does walk
on sprained feet
and if her feet does bleed
and her feet become raw,
showing the skin 
under her skin;
it doesn’t matter
because she’s dancing
as she stretches her arms
and strains to reach
towards what only she can see.

Death

{Death; written on May 11, 2015}

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had a feeling that I would die soon. I don’t know when I started having that feeling, but I was young when I started feeling that; and it’s strange that I started feeling that when I was young because when I was young, I was afraid of death too.

Maybe I started thinking of death a lot because my mother was sick so much in the Philippines, that I was afraid she was going to die. I’m not sure, but for a long time, ever since I was young, I’ve always thought of death.
And maybe it’s good thing that I’ve always had and always have this feeling that I would die soon because it made me think of the question, “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to be doing what I’m doing now?”
Would I? Would I want to worry the whole time? Would I want to be afraid of one man, when I shouldn’t and why should I since God is with me? Would I want to be thinking thoughts of cutting down my arms? Would I want to lose my temper when I don’t have too?
Would I?
It scared me that I wouldn’t be here, but I think what scared me even more, was when I realized that people weren’t going to be here forever. Yet now, I know and understand somehow it’s part of life and there’s a reason. God does things bigger than we know, bigger than I know.
So, I won’t be here forever, but that knowledge of knowing that I won’t be here forever, makes me thankful for the life I’ve had and I have; makes me thankful for the family and friends God has given and will give to me. Makes me not take each breath for granted, makes me think do I want to do this, and makes me hope and try to do the best I can.
Because as someone said, I have only one shot at this. I have only one life, and I can’t keep doing this – I can’t keep having these thoughts that aren’t mine like vaguely thinking of suicide or having these urges to cut straight down my arm; thoughts that want me to be depressed, stressed, not happy.
Depressed, stressed, mad, hurting, disappointed, afraid, sad. It’s okay to feel all of these as long as it’s safe and there’s hope, just as someone said in my church that it’s okay to grieve, just as long as it’s safe and you have hope.
There’s much more, much more than depression, sadness, anger, hurt, disappointment, fear, and all that. There’s light.
And sometimes, as much as I want to just kill myself, I’m not here to kill myself. I’m here for more.
I only have one life.
And that’s my life.

There’s This Girl I Know (a combination of two character sketches)

I remembered I wrote one or two character sketches, though I couldn’t remember when I wrote it. I found them today in my old bag, and I saw that I had written two character sketches about a real person and conflict. I was inspired to write a character sketch or sketches about a real person and conflict when I read one of Cynthia Voigt’s books, ‘Dicey’s Song.’ 

I read them today, and I smiled. I almost always smile when I read something that I wrote a while back. And I decided to combine two of the character sketches that I wrote, together and add onto it a little bit,  and share with it y’all.

I hope y’all enjoy it, and I hope and pray that you all have a wonderful day today. (:

~ ~ ~

{There’s This Girl I Know} Written on May 21, 2014 and March 10, 2015.

There’s this girl I know. She and I are starting to be best friends now. Her last name is Parrilla. Her parents are divorced. Her father left, or that was what it seemed like to her. She told me, she didn’t know. She was just a little girl back then, but that’s what it seemed like to her: that her father left her and her family.

She told me she didn’t know why her father left. All she knew was that he was gone. That he had walked out of her life and her family’s lives, disappearing. That he did not stop to tell them goodbye, only to just wave and walk away to who knows where.

She told me when she was young, she thought something, perhaps a monster had stolen her father. She really did not know, she told me again, pain and confusion on her face. “Either I really don’t know, or I just can’t remember,” was her words to me.

Mind you, it took a long time for my friend, the girl I know, to trust me enough to tell me because she was ascared. I don’t know when this happened, but one day when we were together, she told me something that she used to do almost every night when she was a little girl.

She was afraid whatever had stolen her father would happen to her mother too, and she didn’t want the same thing to happen to her mother.

Almost every night at midnight or after midnight, she would get up and check to see if her mother there. To see if her mother was still alive She would panic if she couldn’t hear her mother breathing. She would get as close as she could to her mother, trying not to wake her up while trying to hear her mother breathe; and when she heard her mother breathe, she would go back to bed a little reassured and a little relieved, but she was still scared and she would still fight sleep just to hear her mother breathing.

She told me of her fears and when she told me of her fears, I saw that she was frightened so much. Very frightened.

She was afraid of her emotions. She didn’t want her emotions and she didn’t want to know her emotions. She panicked when her emotions started rising up . She pushed them down, as far down as she could and she thought that helped if only a little bit. “I was wrong in thinking that pushing down and pushing away my emotions helped,” she said to me with a distant look on her face; telling me her words and thinking about what she said at the same time.

Because when she pushed down or pushed away her emotions, they built up little by little whenever she did that. She tried not to leave evidence or tried to leave very little evidence of what she was keeping inside her. She needed a container for her emotions, but she couldn’t find one. So, she tried to become the container herself, but her emotions would seep out. Trickle out.

She was frightened of so many things, and she was also worried about so many thing then. Fear and worry were one of her constant companions back then. She was worried about money because it sometimes seemed like they didn’t have enough and she worried about food being in their stomachs. She worried about her mother and brother. She worried about their health and her health. It seemed like she was frightened and worried about almost, everything.

She didn’t know to be a child because she had grown up when her father left, but she was still was still a little girl on that day she grew up. She just didn’t how to play, and when her family became broken and her father left that was the final straw. She hid from the world.

Years passed by, and the little grew and grew, but she didn’t outgrow her fears and worries. She was still frightened, she was still worried. She was frightened of death and darkness and sickness for they seemed like the same to her because she was worried that her mother was dying because she was sick so many times. She frightened and worried when ever she became sick because she didn’t want to be sick. All she wanted to do was to look after and care for her family.

She was frightened of love because from what she had seen, love had only just her and her family; and she was frightened when people besides her family loved her because she didn’t know if they were going to leave her or hurt her. She didn’t want to get hurt again. She was also fearful of promises from people she knew or didn’t know and from people she loved and whom loved her because she didn’t know if they were really going to keep their promises that they made. They could be filled with lies and wind, and she didn’t want that.

She didn’t want pain and disappointment, again. Yet she hoped that they would keep their promises, even though she tried not to hope.

“I made myself a prison from fear and worry and pain because I thought I would be safe. How wrong I was. It took a long time to take down the walls of thorns I built, even though they weren’t strong.”

“Besides being afraid of those, I was also afraid of myself. I was afraid of myself because I knew I could hurt someone, and I was also frightened of myself because I once almost killed my brother in an accident. I was afraid of what I could do. I was scared of the power I had, and I didn’t want to use it.”

“Yet,” she said. Yet she sometimes used what she knew she had even if she was frightened of it, she revealed to me.

But my friends, my friend is starting to come out of hiding. She’s showing herself to the world without her mask on her face. She’s starting to heal and become whole. She’s starting to get back her voice that she tried to silence and lose. The spark, the flame that she tried to douse is starting to light up.

She finally gave her life to someone she knew she could give it too.

“I gave my life to Jesus, and even though I gave my life to him in anger and pain and sadness and confusion, he turned my whole life around.”

I knew that giving my life to him is something that I won’t ever take back, even though I knew it was going to be hard. He was there when no-one was there, and He’s still with me. 

I found and I find healing in Him, when someone hurts me or disappoints me. I found myself and I find myself in Him and in the Father, I thought I never had.”

The last time I saw her, she was finding pieces of herself, rejoicing. In joy. She also found her smile, her laughter. Her laughter isn’t forced, and her smiles isn’t broken. Behind her smile, there’s a story.

She was shining when I saw her recently. She’s still shining, and she’ll shine now because she knows that everything’s alright. She’s with her Lover, Jesus. She’s with her Teacher, the Holy Spirit. She’s with her Father, Abba.

“I’m okay,” she realized. She’s alright. She’s safe. She’s becoming the person, she’s meant to be; she’s finding her identity and her calling. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she told me and herself.

My friend’s full name is Nichia, Nichia Lychole Soleille Parrilla. That’s her secret full name anyways, haha. The girl I know is me.

The End 

These Arms Praise the Lord

The branches from the pine trees,

fallen down from the storm and ice;

seeming so insignificant yet really

they are important because their

arms are one of the arms that

praise the One who made them;

their blood whispers of the one,

the one – the Creator who has

created them and fashioned them;

so they dance, they praise until the

days of their life ends in this world

and they go and come home.

[Frozen Trees]

[The Frozen Trees]

You turned pale with delight
last night,
as you stood
in yesterday’s frozen rain.
You gathered the ice in your arms
as you shivered
and woke up today this morn.
The tips of your fingers
were white
and your lips never turned blue
from the cold
as you drop glazed-looking,
small showers
on the top of my head
with your voice rich with laughter
as you frolicked
and ran your fingers
through everything you touched
with wonder
because you’re standing
in a winter wonderland;
you’re the frozen trees
all around my house.