Self-criticism of a Writer


You write, And nothing’s special.

Look at yourself, You think you’re good? Who told you that you are? You’re not potent. Yes, you aren’t. You’re only dramatic. You’re just full of execration. You’re so talentless. You’re not enough. People will never choose you.

Never.

I pity you. You share nothing. What you do aren’t impressive. Apparently not. You’re just a trash. Your pieces just deserves to be rumpled. You’re words are redundant and irrelevant, extraneous and impertinent . They won’t see anything in you. And they will never choose you.

Never.

You’re just a quite and big dismay. You’re only nothing.

So stop making things you can’t really do. Hypocrite.


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Power of Music


It sings for my ears. But it talks to my heart. It shakes me by my fears. And shoots me like board of a dart.

It brings back all the memories. And wakes me up of things I can’t find. It’s not my happiness. Why I feel like I’m blind?

But I don’t want to stop this melancholy. Even though I am so trap. I’d rather burst totally. Instead of fooling myself by bluff.

Lyrics is heartache. Tune is heartbreak. My emotion is not fake. My mind is in earthquake.

It’s painful. It’s kinda tragic. It’s playful. The power of music.


Bare Feet Gal


Rain was falling as she stare on the window.

She stepped into the soaked road and grasses with bare feet,

Her hair, her whole body got wet.

She walked as she hugs herself in the coldness.

She cried, freely. Nobody could see the tears.

She ran and ran, pursuing the way to escape.

She danced, unpredictably. Nobody could see her moves.

And looking up, she watched the clouds go lighter as the rain falls heavier.

Her feet, her hands, her eyes was washed.

Grief and despair was gone.

Suddenly. She’s done with the pain.

Finally. Her heart and memory. The sky was clean.


The Writer, Unknown


I am fragile.

I am fractured.

I am torn.

I am broken.

But with all that, gave me the power to use my paper slips and ink.

I write down what I feel.

And now, I’m drowning with words. Magic arises.

My mind is full of ideas.

Madness, anger, insanity all broke down into tiny pieces as I convert them into art.

My eyes stops from crying.

My heart stops from bleeding.

And my soul runs away from all the mess that sorrounded me once.

Unstoppable. Unpredictable. Pain is inevitable. But I escape. Alone.

I am. The writer, Unknown.


Questions from the Messed-up Heart


Why do we need to fall in love if it brings nothing but pain?

If it brings heavy weight to carry?

If it leads to late nights of crying and tears?

If it locks us in a cage of hidden feelings and darkness?

Why do we need to fall in love and be broken?

To be torn?

To be hurt?

To be alone?

Why do we need to fall in love with the person who can never love us back?

And believe at things which ain’t true?

And look at the most impossible possibilities?

And think of chances that will never ever come?

Why do we need to fall in love for no good reason?

Why?

Why to fall for nothing?


To Mr. Wanderer


It’s 9:00 , I don’t know why I’m writing this for you but I’ll continue. I only want to say that I’m listening to music and yes, they’re about heartbreaks same to what I feel right now. 9:00 PM, the rain is falling, my heart is in ache, I’m scattering tears, I’m crying, and it’s because of you. Well, I’m not blaming you either ’cause I know that it’s all my fault and I’m the blameworthy in here not you, absolutely not.

I’m hiding my eyes from them, hoping not to be seen, not to be caught. But later, once the lights are out and they are asleep, I’ll burst again like what happened to me the last night. Your name will echo again in my mind over and over. My pillow will be soaked again. And my nighttime will be taken by sadness.

I don’t know why it is like this. I honestly don’t. I know I’m still too young but I feel so messed up, I feel so vain, so trap. I feel the same emotion when I stare at your pictures. Why would I dream of a person who don’t even know me? Why would I fall in love with someone who can never love me back? I know, I know that nobody will love me though. I’m unworthy.

I once wished that you could also feel what I feel, that you could realize my pain, that you could get yourself in this extreme sadness of mine. And that won’t happen. Never ever.

I wrote a lot already and I won’t stop ’til I got tired, ’til I know I’m empty, and ready to let you go. I hope one day you can read them for me. I hope one day you’ll do.

But let me be happy for you instead. I heard you’re in Hong Kong today, and I know you’re enjoying your moments there. Fulfill yourself, okay? And I will always be around as someone whom you don’t know. Someone who truly cares… Mr. Wanderer.


Misconception


I was so confused lately. Messed up. I don’t know what I feel. I couldn’t predict my heart and I couldn’t read my mind. The same question played and tricked me day and night, Do I still love you ? Quitely no, not at all but I was too wrong, I thought, I gave the exact and accurate answer to myself but I didn’t.

I can’t let go of the pain but ’til when ? Until when I’ll be carrying this and add to my burdens ? Once I totally forgot you ? There’s a lot of certain questions that need your responses. I am so frustrated by this, I am so fractured. I can’t understand why there’s really no tears but your name is still the callings. It’s you, you’re the person in every beat of my heart. It’s you, the reason of this ache, ’til now.

Saw you on picture and I found it all out. Saw what I’ve written on a page of my note and I felt the chills. Still can’t get over, still can’t move forward. When is this time I’ll get myself. Again ?

I’m exhausted by all of my pieces. I’m tired of using my pen and paper and grief and ideas and words. Should I now stop ? ‘Cause I’m drowning if you haven’t ask.

The confusion was over, you’re still my world and I’m still the stranger of your life.

That’s it, that’s only it.


Is it the Time of Letting Go?


In my heavy breathing. I can’t see clear, I cant think veraciously, again. I’m facing the outside as I feel the weekend breeze, looks like time really moved so fast.

Why it seems like I don’t miss you anymore? There’s no known answer but I know that maybe, I only learned and it entered my mind that being with you is impossible.

After how many proses that I wrote for you, well finally, I think I’ll be giving it an ending yet. This will be the last, will it be? Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know where is this going as I write with random ideas, with unpicked kinds.

Did I just cry for you?

Did I only destructed myself?

I maybe fell going down to my illusions and overreacting emotions. It’s my sickness of over thinking.

Maybe, my heart forgets. Should I now let you go? ’cause I think I’m empty, ’cause I think my feelings was gone, ’cause I think I’m tired already.

I can’t appreciate you anymore, Can’t really I?

No more tears. No more pain. But at least, my mind is still confuse.

5:36 PM

All I know, is nothing.

All I know, I created a messy wrote of narrative with brevity. For you. For myself. For my freedom.


Whirlwind


I had my amnesia from the past, ’til you came and I saw your smile again. Damn, you look familiar. Then I remember every single thing. You’re the person I loved for years, reason why I cried for years, and had a long nights having you there in my heart.

I can still remember that rainy Saturday when I realized that I have feelings for you but it seems to be blurry now. Two years ago, I could still see myself sadly disappointed, blaming it, and broken. Those times that I would message you repeatedly and I’d know that you’re already annoyed and I’ll feel like I’m much of being an attention-seeker. Those scenes of me inside the class glancing at you at the back and would take it away once you caught me then figure out again your face. It’s still in my mind, the first picture of you I saved and the picture I always stare at whenever I open my phone which also causes me that blended feelings inside.

You reminded me of the time you started about that mystery girl of yours and I was wonderin’ the whole time you’re keeping it a secret, I got myself into obsession with her but then you revealed. The moment you said you’re up on the roof, sad because of someone else. And I ,worrying so much. Those words from you when you called her your princess and my heart was pounded and devastated into tiny fragments, disintegrated.

I could recall the moment when she answered “Yes” and you would stand there in front of me with that glowing face. Those moments that I would see how you wait and send her home every afternoon after class, how the both of you look like with smiling faces and me, torn.

Why you treated me like that?

Why did you have to break my bones?

Why you have to be a part of my downfall?

I can’t think of reasons why I repeatedly broke my own heart and gave it slit. But at least, I learned how to be smarter, I stitched it. Now, I can see you standing tall there under the shed and I’ll watch you like that. Now, I’ll look at you without any shame and with feelings of emptiness. You’re like a photo taken in black and white, you should be totally forgotten. But you’ve been a part of me antecedently and it can’t be change by ease.

And I only want to tell, if I’ll tears again, well that’s definitely not because of you. I will never be that old self again, so if you’re trying to be back, you’re not welcome anymore.