brownielovers

It’s all painted in soft, golden colors, all my visions of you. I can’t look at things and not see you. You’re in a lot of places but here, but you’re here all the same, in the songs, in the books, in the infinite series of texts that cloud my mind. You are the everything anyone could ever wish to be, sweet and thoughtful, golden and magnificent. The kind of delicate yellow radiance that is not celestial but earthly. It belongs; it’s warm and soothing. It belongs but it also stands out, not in contrast, or with the intention of eclipsing others, but by simply the virtue of being. It’s a fact. Final math. Finish.

~blue strawberries

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All you do is twisted and makes no sense.

You never make sense, you never sleep, you never do what you should do. All you do is think and think and plot out your imagination, all of it so rich and thick and soul-consuming that it verges on being a painful experience. But you have a problem with that too, don’t you?

You invite that pain and then you avoid it. You put yourself in tricky situations and then you refuse to ask for help. You try to love yourself and then you give yourself every reason not to. Why are you like this, what do you want, and how I can I ever cope?

You always took that bet- wanting to live a life full of contradictions that resulted from inviting and accepting every thought around you. Letting it sit for a while before filtering, adjusting it to your lens before any analysis. But it is a smudged lens nonetheless, no matter how hard you try, your grey areas never subside. Your refusal to live in a black and white world and your stupid attempts to win and thrive in a black and white world is a never ending tug of war that drains all your emotional strength, and then you go ahead and recharge yourself by diving into a pool of obsession with something completely irrelevant. It’s a cycle that keeps repeating, and you keep waiting. You keep waiting for that one day to arrive when you can sound sure about something, the one day when you know your place in the world. The one day you don’t feel guilty or think about the million parallel ways the world would dissolve in your arms if you happen to not consider an alternative solution to something. The one day when you are truly, really at peace, knowing that the next day will not result in the obliteration of that peace.

I love you, okay? But you wear me out so much. I love your curiosity, I love your enthusiasm about life, I love your thoughtfulness. But you are so confusing. You burn so bright when you begin something and lose all of that in a matter of milliseconds. You can never decide anything, even a little glimpse on an alternate reality makes you change the gears in your brain as you descend into that version, erasing every other plan that ever existed before. You respect logic but you have never made a single logical decision in your life. Because all you do is dive. You dive but you never thrive. And then you go ahead and console yourself because you can’t stand being sad for long. You move ahead, erase, forget, stamp your made-up philosophy in the faces of everyone who bothers, always distracting yourself and the others with something new to make things painless. And every single time, it has worked, the sorrow subsides, but the consequences pile up. You are stupid, so stupid, so, so, stupid.

Then again, the universe has been kind. Stupidity is a sin that is often forgiven. At least your stupidity stems from your the soil of your own discarded thoughts, at least it’s organic. At least you consider.

I have to say this, I’m just as obtuse as you. Together, we make an individual who is half-functional at best, but like you, I take that bet. It is a stupid world after all, and I’m glad that you try to escape finding definitions for yourself in that space. It is, all in all, a form of compartmentalization- trying to sort and define. Trying to know your meaning in a world as if the world in itself has any meaning of its own. And ok, I will not give you hell about this. Such boundaries disgust me too. You see the grey specks and lose yourself in that vortex while I watch you fall. It’s a necessary ordeal. Maybe you burn and you extinguish soon after, but the world is also the same. It will also burn so bright and wipe out everything the next second. Maybe you have made no reasonable choice, ever, but there has never been a reasonable choice to take up in the first place. Everything is relative, and sometimes it makes you lose your mind knowing that you will suffer because you never allow yourself to suffer. Your suffering is inevitable, and you’ll never even know when it would begin and when it would die out.

Everything you do is twisted and makes no sense. Everything I do is twisted and makes no sense. Everything that happens in the world is twisted and makes no sense.

All I know is that I hate you, my conscience. You always change your stance so easily, but you never really do. Which is also why I love you and nothing makes sense. I love you in all of your twisted glory, and I know that I can’t help it, and everything is doomed, so I’ll keep on loving you like the wretched being I am.

~Blue strawberries

 

My ghosts would be so pleased with themselves, for I’ve been haunted so successfully.

I’d make myself struggle to breathe but  getting strangled seems easier right now.

The noose is slowly tightening and everything is blurring around the edges. It’s chaos and it’s numbing. It’s gentle but it’s aching. It’s horrible but it’s fate. It’s maddening but it’s what I deserve.

I’m sorry I ever let myself get carried away by delusion. I’m sorry I ever thought I could make it. I’m sorry I ever questioned the world’s harsh justice. I’m sorry for trying. Tighten the noose, just a little more, just a little more to knock out the last little bit of foolish hope I clutched on so selfishly to. Tighten it. Tighten it. Tighten it already.

Somedays, it feels like the entire world is plotting against everything and everyone. Those days are very rare. No one is plotting against me. People are nicer than they need be, they love me more than I deserve. Maybe I’m doubtful about a million things about my life and its purpose, but one thing I do know, the one thing I can say for sure is that I’m so so loved. And I’m so so happy that I am a part of this world. I’m so so happy to exist, even if it feels pointless sometimes. I’m so happy that my life, as difficult as it has been in the past year has led me to a place where I can snort and laugh and love and live. The irony is that at this very moment, I feel like I’m hanging on the edge of a cliff. The time I spent writing this out counts as a little fraction of the little time that I have left to literally change the course of my life.

My papa told me to be grateful to the cosmos and pray often. I pray in my little ways sometimes, but my prayers are never expressions of gratitude or lists of demands to any cosmic deity. Sometimes I just close my eyes when I’m laughing too hard and take deep breaths to stop myself from combusting into fragments of emotion, that exact feeling of being there, in the centre of a place, to live a person’s life which scales terrains of all kinds, random tests, ever expanding lists of work to do, just to be there and experience that feeling of exhilaration- everything about this is such a dangerous gamble. But I feel so free and safe.

The world is a pretty place right now. It’s pink and shiny and no one can convince me otherwise, for now. I might be going through some of the hardest months of my life, but people make it easier. They always do.

Some things are beyond the reach of logic, like this moment, right now, was not supposed to turn out this way. I was supposed to open my Chemistry textbook, try to solve a few questions, let out a few groans in the process and go back to sleep only to return to the epicenter of all this bland schedule again the next day. Instead, I closed my textbook and decided to cry about it tomorrow, and take the little borrowed time to thank the cosmos. The reason why I exist is because of everyone in my life. It might not be enough sometimes but it’s always something.

That something means the world to me.

~Blue Strawberries

I exist, but will that ever be enough?

 

Its deeper than the pacific.

It keeps happening, surfaces, escapes and rests-  all in a world, known but unknown. Not being right, not being able to define a moment of clarity, or if being afraid for the first time about whether being lost will ever result in never coming back home.

To plant these seeds of thoughts and to make a choice to only grow bright tulips in this garden involves a process of digging up dirt to make space for a new, more beautiful creation on nature- but what if the surface is concrete?

It’s a stairway that I keep walking on, confident that it leads to something great, despite  getting tired of walking, tired of talking, not allowing my heart to sink by thinking that it might lead to a wrong door, or worse, if it never really leads to anything. An impasse. It is one dangerous gamble after another, but I can’t stop. No one can. We have to keep walking. It’s a maze but I don’t want to solve it. I just want to find my way back home every time I get lost.

I refuse to stomp on the concrete or try to drill it in hopes of finding something substantial beneath it anymore. I will paint my flowers over it if I have to- tulips, periwinkles, roses, everything. I will water them in the world of my dreams.

It’s deeper than the Pacific. A maze of concrete. But its not quicksand.

It will not consume me.

~Blue strawberries