XX: We All Need Saving

This is rather cliché, but this is a casual letter to a heart that has grown… tired.

Have you ever been to that point when you realize that being numb is a lot more painful than actually being hurt?

Dear Heart,

 

You’re at the point where you don’t really understand yourself anymore – you know you’re hurting, but you can no longer feel.

You no longer feel because you choose not to – because you’ve grown so tired of the fact that the world doesn’t really care whether you get hurt or not. You just do and you have to live with it. And it sucks.

Because now I have to believe the lies I make for us – and end up having to believe it. Because it is saving us both. You end up thinking you’re fine when you’re not – and somehow that seems a lot better. But for me? It is not. I linger and think and think and think, but it’s a ridiculous cycle and that is a cycle that we should’ve been rid of by now.

I know you’re going through it right now – the cycle. You lie – you lie to yourself to always believe that someone and something is still good for you. And for a while it feels good. But I know – I know better. Why don’t you ever listen?

I think you’ve already realised that you are only dancing with the impossible – your own foolishness. Why do you still have such expectant eyes?  Why are you still so happy – and why do you only care about the little moments, when you know you’re going to be an empty husk thereafter?

You have to realise that you can’t fix people and their twisted sense of mind. And you have to realise that you can’t make things defy their primary purpose. For example, you can’t make a rock jump willingly – but it seems like that’s what you want to do.

That’s fine I guess – the way you’re managing this. But the earlier you realise what I just said, the better. Because the thing with your kindness is that when shit hits the fan, you still think “Well, the fan still works,” albeit the fan having shit all over it. Maybe you should start thinking “This fan has been shat on, perhaps I should clean it.”

As much as I would like to abide with the latter, the same analogy can’t be used on people. You can clean all the shit out of their faces, but they still have shit inside them. And it’s sad because it would be gross if you had to put your hand all the way up their innards just to clean them up. Ick.

So yep, just give up and move on. There are a lot of better things to waste your time on than thinking how to fix someone just so it works for you. If they want things to work for you, they would’ve done something about it and be consistent. Because that’s how things should work. That is my advice to you. Seek the better things, something I’ve learned from school – though I don’t seem to apply it. Don’t settle for fans that have been shat on.  I’ve learned my lesson – it’s high time that you do, too.

This is just me talking. I will never have control over you other than to keep you beating. I’m just hoping that one day, you will finally listen.

 

With the best intentions,

Brain

https://open.spotify.com/track/2L9dSBrh6Gmtna30EKnHRc

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XVIII: Only Good Things

Only Good Things – Spotify

* * * * *

Trapped in a sense of wonder,
tell him once more how you feel about him.
But how will he ask? He thinks.
How will he ask? He thinks.

The cards dealt wrong,
he chooses to forget – and you do, too
But how does that work? He asks.
How does that work? He asks.

Watch the night as it creeps to close your eyes
Good things. He calls the good things.
But how can he do that? He wonders.
How can he do that? He wonders.

He smiles.
He wonders if you still see the good.
But how will he ask? He thinks.
How will he ask? He thinks.

Consumed by his thoughts,
the mind he detests.
But when will it stop? He asks.
When will it stop? He asks.

Good things, only good things…
Run. Walk. Work it out.
But what does the future say? He wonders.
What does the future say? He wonders.

He closes his eyes.
Good things, only good things.
He drifts away.
Drifts as his thoughts dance.

He’s writing like how you write –
he’s writing to you in your words.
Gapless playback and
four seconds crossfade.

He tries.

The songs, they talk.
They mean something.
Good things.
Only good things.

Listen to the sound and you
will hear how his heart sings –
how it resonates:
Good things… think only of good things.

* * * * *

https://open.spotify.com/user/jmatthewvera/playlist/0jAOtr2XDrWSv0Txmq6TGf


XVI: “How do you know when someone matters?”

Follow this story of two people, where their short time together seemingly revolved around the question: “How do you know when someone matters?” This will be quite quick — no lotsawords and all those shimmies.

* * * * *

You walked up to him and gave him a look of modesty. You come around and he called your cell. You spoke through the phone in such a way that he thought you were too shy. He even felt that it was intimidating to even talk back. An eerie feeling rushed through him, as if he knew it was going to be bad if he lets his guard down.

There’s something wrong with him; he’s used to evaluating people in a glance. He was fixated on the thought that you’d be quiet and it would be hard, because he knew he’d be quiet, too. He predicts. He fabricates scenarios in his head that aren’t even going to happen — that it feels almost like a disease. So he tried to spark up random conversations to drown the thoughts — whatever it was that came out of his head — and tried to keep the loop going.

He was surprised to learn you had a lot of things to say, but he kept it quiet with a smile.

* * * * *

“Don’t walk too fast,” you said. “Relax. Slow down.”
He noticed your legs were long so he thought you’d both be on the same pace.
“Sorry,” he said.

A few seconds passed and he immediately declared he can’t walk slowly. You laughed heartily at this, and he laughed at the way you chuckled. This kind of banter went on until you both ran out of things to say.

Only to end up having a mutual desire for food and noodles.

* * * * *

“You should go on your own pace,” he advised you over cups of coffee and tea.
You nodded. You thought that was a nice thing to hear.

He appreciated how he could be of service.

He knew he should say this — because he understood this part better than you did.
You probably thought the same.

* * * * *

“How do you know when someone matters?” He asked out of the blue.
You fell deep in thought for a few seconds, but you came up with an answer real quick.

“When you find yourself… when you find yourself going out of your way to make time for someone… I guess that’s how I know. How about you?” You said.

He thought, hard. But he couldn’t find anything.

Until he went home, he was thinking.

Is it when he thought of someone who had died — and feel a great feeling of sadness?
No. He thought. He rationalized that this was a natural reaction to something as grave as death. So he scratched that off.

He let his brain wander. Of course his family mattered — so he scratched that off as well.

He knew he was supposed to think of a different kind of “someone.”

He scratched his head and proceeded to talk to you through the phone, trying to divert his attention onto something else so he could take a breather and stop thinking for a while.

You said good night and he did, too. He was determined to fall asleep, only to find out he’d be stuck with the same question in mind. As for you — you fell asleep rather quickly.

Days passed and the thoughts kept on going.

Is it when he would always try to save someone from making a monumental mistake?
No. He thought. That’s how humane people think. People shouldn’t drag other people down with them, so they help. But they will probably laugh at you first. He carried on. The thought then ramified to how severe his distaste was of how he was absurdly optimistic.

Is it when he puts someone else’s welfare over his? Passable, he whispered to himself. But there was something off about this thought that he couldn’t put his finger on — so he scratched this off.

He gave up thinking after a lot more attempts, and the days that passed felt very trying.

He wanted to talk to you, but you already seemed so distant.

You’re probably busy. He rationalized.

But the busy days just carried on — even for him. You both carried on with life and you eventually lost touch.

He then realized, after so many days of being busy, how he’d know when someone mattered to him.

It’s when someone makes him think. And when he’s kept thinking, he writes. Someone matters to him when he writes about them. When he writes to you… when he writes about you.

What a dumbass, you’d think. He’d been wasting time running around the question over and over. He never really had to dig that deep to figure that out.

Because by the time he knew the answer to his own question, it was too late to even say the words he should have already told you.

– – – – –
You’re cursed with overthinking.

XV: Anything Else

One
It shouldn’t be so hard, because t
he rest is simple.
Walk. Don’t run so I can follow in a steady pace,
because this could be a feeling we’ll never find again.


Wait for the darkness to alight,
you’ll see that fate and dreams will collide;
we’ve already come this far

My feet are stuck, but don’t tell me that they’re glued.
Give me some time to breathe,
I’ll try to get myself together — get it right this time.


Everything will be okay — that’s easy to say.
But when everything has been tried,
is there anything else left to say?