My stages of grief:

• Depression
• Anger
• Depression

Then either:
• acceptance > clear patterned fits of anger for a while > acceptance
• denial > prolonged state of random fits of anger followed by occasional unjustified normal state of depression > masked acceptance

Microphone OFF

I just want to speak. But there is no stage and every platform I have has that percentage of people I don’t want hearing my thoughts and every time I put out honest words, what to me is a concrete bridge for better relationships is egg shells on the receiving end.

Untangling || In decades

I turned 13 and I learned it
Not the title, but the chapters.
I concealed, I acted, I camouflaged.
I adapted.

For half,
I juggled and balanced.
I embraced and sliced.
A pushover to push through.

Mid-decade,
I lost, but I was free.

I turned 19 and I staled
Not a straight road, but a rocky curvy one.
I moved my tongue, my body, my brush.
I faded.

For another half,
layers and masking layers.
Exported animated and stills.
I opaqued.

End-decade,
I lost, but I was free.

In a year of bleakness,
I collected all my pieces, one by one, on my own.
I built a vest without any loopholes
An unconquerable armor that is bulletproof.
I accepted.
I learnt the title.

For a decade,
I was winning, and I was free.

In this year of errors and freeze screens,
I realized I’m standing tall,
Looking down at my pieces again,
For I was blindsided.

No swordproof armor stays indestructible and holds the heart in place.
If you allow a connection that transcends all time, space, language and location barriers, they’ve unlocked the safe without a code.


There’s no resistance,
Again a soul connection

Theirs

I share when writing about the bad I face. If someone relates to it, it can be less lonely.

I don’t share about the good for it can easily add to the loneliness.

Ongoing Uncertainty

June 11th. Past 2 am. Back door closing. Car engine. Kitchen. Blood stains on tiles. Cupboard. The sink. A seen unanswered voice message. An hour of tick tocks. A question. A bandaged wrist. A shrug in spoken words. A whatsapp joke. A meme. A shrug in written text. Silence. Wonderings. Distance. Crushed heart. Anxious mind. An opportunist weakling. I deleted you.

Amorphous

I live in this room without a shape

a universe with an open door and endless walls

A table I work on 24 hours a day.

Living the time of my life on that table.

Endless creations.

Never ending stream of stories, emotions, words and messages.

In my head… loud sounds, fireworks, drizzle, distant bird sounds, cicadas, tree leaves rustling- in my head, even sunrays have sounds.

A nameless soundtrack impossible to put on paper or played with instruments.

A letter to Lain

Today was my friend’s birthday.

Midday, I remembered a talk you and I had in February about your birthday.

I had an idea to draw for you; a short story about two boys by a deck at night on the first days in a new town.
I thought of that in September; several months before your birthday.

Your birthday has passed by now.
I didn’t copy the drawn story from my head to paper, and you didn’t remember that promise.

Untangling || understanding an interaction observed

Sometimes, you have something to say/do for someone and you feel hesitant for an eternity because you know based on past experience and previous knowledge that there’s a layer to that action which could hurt them; something you don’t want to do.

So after much thinking and worrying whether to take an action or let go, you take it and prepare to talk it out and explain if the hurt happen, wishing that it won’t.

But then it turns out that someone has changed so you don’t have an impact anymore, or worse, what you remember from their words, their past actions and reactions are long forgotten by them and you were being thoughtful for things that were erased or replaced.

Untangling || wrong lens

In relationships, there are always instances where one is able to do the right thing but still chooses to do the wrong one, and often times it’s because they don’t want to look a certain way, or sound a certain way, to other people or to themselves, and in the process they end up hurting the one person who doesn’t care however their close one would look or sound. Most times they would accept and embrace it whichever it is.