I Don’t Know What To Do Anymore
I don’t know what to do anymore
1. It's 3:29 AM; please let me sleep. My eyes are your prisoners, even my mind is still hanging at the tip of your tongue. I am out of tears, and my throat is dry that I stopped calling your name since midnight, because I know you wouldn't hear me. You painted me transparent. Please, I want to stay alive. Can you share with me the air you have in your lungs once again? Please take back what you said on leaving me. Look at me again. Look back. Undo everything.
2. Why did you give me up?
3. The phone rang a few times this morning. But I couldn't have the courage to pick it up, because I'm afraid that when I find out it's not you who's calling, I might collapse. I'm afraid that when it's someone we know who goes asking about what happened, I will be speechless. I'm afraid that when they ask about you, when they mention your name, I could yell at them. How can they say your name so easily? Because when it comes to me, I cry at once at the sound of the first letter.
4. I tried to kill myself last night. But when I got hold of the gun, I started crying for hours.
5. People kept telling that I shouldn't be like this. They say they understand me. But I know they don't. They wouldn't even try to, because they don't know how it felt to be thrown away.
6. I miss you. I miss you to the point that I hear your voice coming out of my mouth whenever I speak like it's my own. Sometimes I sing to myself with my hands clinging to the air because I imagine you dancing with me. But that makes me yearn more of you. I want you here now beside me. I want you to be here staring into my eyes while I stare at yours. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
7. Mom said she threw your favorite book. She didn't know later when evening came, even when it was raining, I swam across our garden and crawled all the way to where we keep the garbage. I tried to find it hoping that when I do, in the morning, you'll find me. I failed.
8. I remember when my friends said to me, "What's the worst thing that could happen?" And that time, I wanted to believe that there will be none. But now, a few days later, I realized, the answer to it was me.
9. A friend asked about you. I answered that you were dead. Maybe because I thought it would hurt less but instead, it hurt more. Maybe because you weren’t, you’re still alive but you’re gone and out of my life. And I’m the one who’s dying. I’m the one who’s dead. I’m a living corpse.
10. Where are you? I want to come to you.
11. The radio is playing ‘Chasing Cars’ again. Every now and then it makes me think of you. After each song, I cry until the night dies. You’re stuck inside my head again. It’s painful thinking that my thoughts are full of you and yours aren’t full of me. Do you know that the part where it says, ‘Those three words are sad too much. They’re not enough,’ is the one that affects me the most? Not because it’s exactly what you said to me but because I realized it was true. And I realized that ‘I love you’ doesn’t always mean ‘I’ll love you forever.’ You’re the one who taught me that. But I keep on asking myself, why did I do to make you stop on loving me?
12. I am corrupted by you.
13. Every day of my whole life since you were gone has been dark. Every day seemed to be always night. Perhaps because of the black hole inside my chest that you left.
14. I saw the letters that you’ve written months ago. I tried to kiss them one by one but they all turned to ashes. And they got inside my eyes. I cried again.
15. I am scared to look at the mirror. I am frightened to look at myself, and get a sight of myself but see a whole lot of you. I am terrified to see the remains of you that you left in me because it only means you’re totally gone and you took my soul with you. I fear that I’ll finally admit to myself that when I lost you, I also lost myself.
(eusie.)
More Posts from Thsdfnngslnc and Others
gb vkfckxjskhf ;isdujeidhfiLAdH FIEKJFif eihfow can't write anything ielhkdnfoia HGEJDFI J iejfei can't even think straight fheuwljfhdn ; idkhfnd no pun intended
pieces by pieces, pt. 1
i kiss your name to the stars / and i write your eyes on my skin / i wish i couldn’t smell your lips every time they curl into a smile / because even if i can’t taste your love, these feelings just wouldn’t sink / i end up with a pair of dead lungs from breathing too much of you / but too much is never enough, and so i desire more / if i need to be brutally honest, i hereby confess / there isn’t anything in this world i’d rather take in but the endless melody of the pain of you / you’re way too out of reach, these hands of mine are knocked out / and there’s no need to call out your name, you wouldn’t hear me anyway / but still, when i close my eyes, it feels like you’re close / echoing how you love me even if you don’t / your shadow is my moon on a dusky night / along with the dancing smoke coming from your cigarette kissed lips / but your walls are tremendously and sensibly high / will i ever see the sunrise from your eyes?
(eusie.)
Why I stopped writing...
B.raV.O.
Dear (b n),
You’re: another shade of perfect that won’t match with my skin; a walking perfect disaster (a soft, soft sin).
You’re: a little too late — but still a wonderful feel — of autumn bliss; another fairytale worth a poisoned apple kiss.
You’re: pale, yet rosy and gray; midnight rumblings of ‘stay stay stay.’
You’re: a loss of breath; a wrong kind of fret.
You’re: my wrong-timing, my would-have, my what-if; my probably, my maybe.
Yours,
(eusie.)
let’s give up
the ground quakes with our frantic prayers writing our blood on billed papers during wars can you hear the cry from jeremy’s brain? our eyes meet and we know — do we really know? this battle ground will end with the sunset’s kiss but our eyes… our eyes still weep can you hear these troubled hearts’ wails? our eyes meet and nothing — “let’s give up”
(eusie.)
A little bit messy but it’s true
a.k.a. A Simple ‘How I Met You’
The floor made a sound to my feet’s kisses as I hurried through the quiet hallway.
There were whispers breaking out from these thin walls, and I felt my ears bleeding.
One second after reaching the corner, a pair of ocean blue eyes drowned me.
There was a series of a beat of drums, and then it felt as if it was raining.
Maybe his breathing hitched, and if it was my imagination that his eyes suddenly were burning like an ember,
I would never know.
No words were exchanged between us. But I felt like dancing to the music radiating from his sun-kissed skin.
That’s when I realized I was in trouble.
(eusie.)
“Will you still love me in the morning?”
a.k.a. She says, “Yes,” while he answers, “No.”
She arrives at home a few minutes after five, clutching her heart tightly with her fingers. She looks around for a certain display of messy dark hair, her knuckles turning white every passing second. When her eyes couldn’t see what it sought out but meet a pair of amber orbs, she lunges forward onto its beholder.
He’s wearing his favorite navy blue shirt with gray linings on its sleeves, both of his hands clasping a book. His eyes turns back to it, she presumes, as she settles down in a leathered sofa in front of him. He’s seated on the loveseat, half lying on it even; his back resting on one rolled arm, his feet relaxing on the other.
She looks at his face and straightforwardly asks, “Why did you do it?”
He — who understood the question right away without any needed explanation from her to clear what could be a misinterpreted query — simply supplies, “I don’t like the way you look at it, or the way your fingers last a little more unnecessary than it should when you trace it through. I wanted it off right away the moment I couldn’t take it anymore.”
But you love it, she almost whispers. He used to, her mind takes in on account. “Are you okay?” she chooses to inquire.
He only looks at her, his amber eyes slowly mirroring an ember fire. He stands up and closes the material he was reading. She can hear her fingers tapping on her knees. Or maybe it’s the walls pleading in soft creaks. Or it’s her heart, with its great desire to come off of her chest and run away.
She wants to run away from the burning heat of her lover’s stare.
After a few minutes, she finds herself lost in a blurry surrounding. She focuses her vision and sees herself in the same sofa, her hands bleeding from how tight she was holding the end of her dress. Like how she’s holding her pieces together, just for it to not clutter and break into smaller ones.
But when she raises her gaze and find him at the edge of the stairs, she finally lets go.
And when he quietly murmurs an “I’m okay,” she decides she didn’t want to pick herself up. Her wounds will only cut deeper.
He didn’t even ask if I was, she thinks. Later, she stops thinking.
(eusie.)
to the boy who’s in love with the sun
to the boy who’s in love with the sun (and who also seems to be alike with the moon),
one
i am not a dreamer. i do not wish upon stars. they will suck every letter of our dreamy words. they let us taste lies from every glimmer they give for our eyes to hold. they look down on us, laughing. they watch us as our grounds shake, as our souls skin out every last smile we own. i am not a dreamer. i am not hopeful. i do not hope for impossible truths. i do not hope for palpable things to become blur. because reality is right in front of us, taking out every pain in between our eyes for us to feel, and we already can’t do anything about it, but to just accept and take everything. what’s on the tip our tongues are mantras we need to swallow. we need to stop hoping. we need to.
two
this is what i always thought.
three
i am not a dreamer. at least, long ago.
four
once, i found myself staring at the night sky and it was full of stars — full of hope like ones you see on the eyes of people in love. back then i thought, falling in love is an endless prayer of “please, please, please”. falling in love is picking up pieces that were already thrown away but keeping them in hopes of making them fit into the incomplete you. falling in love is wishing upon stars and endlessly hoping for nothing. and i said, i don’t want to fall in love.
five
but then one day, i saw him.
six
he was standing right in front of me, and the day was sunny. and i thought, he was reality’s human form. he was exactly the reason why people bow down to their knees every single night just to whisper wishful things, like for him to realize that the stars have always been singing for them like church bells. like his dreams finally came true and he was too blind to feel them running around him. he was someone i knew i shouldn't get my hopes up for or waste any time fancying of. but i couldn't help but to dream of his voice even if i haven’t heard it yet. i couldn't stop to want him to look at my way every time i feel him passing through the hallways of my heart. i couldn't stop imagining things. i don’t know if he can feel my eyes as they try to hug him every time i look at him from afar. his hair was the night sky, starless because they were showered onto every smile he gives.
seven
and i thought, maybe he’s in love with the sun for his cheeks are rosy pink, yet he was pale as the moon. and i wish that i used to be in love with him. because i want to give up for i realized my love would eventually go nowhere and burn out. but for the mean time, i want to know his name.
eight
i hope you know you’re the one i’m talking about.
nine
to the boy who’s in love with the sun, tell me your name.
from the girl who once told you to the stars (and who also mentioned you in her every prayer) yet she'll soon stop on wishing, hoping, dreaming and loving
(eusie.)
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