Those freaking fur shedding hyperactive cats that I begged my parents to have a year ago as a counter for my random impulse to shot myself on the head.

That's what holds me back.

Or maybe I am the one that holds me back for making a plan to oppose my own, and for desiring to have a pet that would scratch my thighs and jump over my shoulder to claw on.

Loosing my words,

the value of my tears,

spinning the letters of my vocabulary

Humming in place of voicing words

Paralyzed tounge, unable to sing

Unspoken rhythm for the deaf

Stuttering dissonance

The stage in which the audience are facing backwards

A make believe story for the actor

Loosing my words,

My mislead audience in haywire,

My thoughts spinning in circles

No one will be able to listen

The recoiled thoughts that are meant to be said

The value of my words lost

And each ear could only hear disharmony

Stuttered words, flooding thoughts

Ended the play as a mute

You know....

When you hated everyone,

Every people,

Everything,

Every.

Little.

Thing.

Those blindingly cloudless afternoon sky,

The piled up week's worth of laudry,

The dishes left in the sink for the whole day,

Curtains heavy in dust,

Those neighborhood dogs barking,

Those neighborhood kids playing in youthful bickering,

Your dog's urine and excrement in the corner of the house,

Those birds singing on your window.

That garden in vivid colors looking like muddy water on your front yard.

The way you looked outside beyond the window railings ment for burglars, ignoring how it looked like prison bars.

Those double lock doors.

That peaceful silence within the room.

Everything.

You hated everything.

Until night comes and that peaceful silence broke,

Those accursed repressed noises started eating you again from the inside.

Deafening you in the process.

And when those jarring discordant sounds came to you,

Only then you'll find peace.

Proceeding to exist to be non-existent for the next day.

.

.

.

.

And when you do hated everything in a vexatious unreasonable way.

Then you probably hated yourself the most.

The bare lake ripples,

reflecting a single soul

—'Have you found yourself?'

°•°•°

Playing hide-and-seek,

moonlit veiled playground of woods,

'I'm here!'. . . yells the night

•°•°•

A cliff in plain sight

repeat the voices it hears,

'Who are you?' it asked

The sound

of waves

never sleep,

And the night grew colder

in each

cycle of

breath

Silence, as if not existing

Unhindered

to oblige

for the distant roars

to continuously

lull

in great

crashing echo—

What lingers

are the seaweed

tainted of salt,

carrying

fishy must.

The scent will always

follow the waves

to the shore

and embed

in the sand

Leaving the imprint

of time.

It seems

the night

is longer than

the day before

And in my wake

hopes

for longer slumber

Caution: Unedited.

The following parts are my disorganized thoughts and will have a possibility of the reader not being able to follow my train of thoughts. This is just another attempt of me dumping my emotionally disturbed mind.

_____________________________________________

I've always thought,

'How did I normally live my life? Just like back then?'

'I was on autopilot', is what I would say to my friend.

Doing things as it is. Flowing where the current goes.

Without much emotional understanding, days passed just like a blink of an eye.

Reactions from those time came back to me, haunting me for the neglect.

It was a delayed reaction. The process of me understanding how the world revolves was delayed further.

I killed off the ability of mine to understand myself.

Belatedly realizing that what I mostly needed that time was affection and recognition.

I was starving.

After much deprivation,

I woke up from my self-inflicted autopiloting.

Heh.

Why did I woke up?

Like some dry leaves being carried away, I just landed there where the wind stopped.

I stopped

Not particularly aware of what I'm supposed to be doing.

Oh right!

I'm supposed to go to college after forcing— I mean barely graduating from senior high school.

Get a degree after 4 years.

Graduate then get a job.

And save money.

Sounds easy.

Really.

I just have to be like myself back then.

I just have to not think of anything.

Think later. Feel later.

I just have to endure four more years.

It'll also pass just like a blink of an eye.

Really.

Well it's not.

I was like a good marionette maneuvering a car accidentally stepping on the breaks.

The steering wheel then get stucked, and the good little marionette gave it up so easily.

Deciding to accelerate without holding it.

Everything else didn't matter anymore.

I was headed for a cliff.

It was a beautiful cliff actually, ignoring the fact that jumping off of it will leave the car damaged with no return, and I will probably die.

Still, it's beautiful.

Dangerously beautiful.

Ruminating the past decisions, I was reminded of the consequences several months after.

A brief dialogue with my mom in different days overlapped.

"I did everything I could. We did everything we could! None of it is my fault. It's not my fault!"

Mom reprimanded me in their bedroom.

I was standing near their door looking at her face infused of anger.

Blankly staring.

It's my fault then, isn't it?

Well in common sense, it is, I stopped studying, practically dropping out of college without even informing the school. It's basically my fault. Yes. It's my fault.

"Tell me what's happening with you?! Do you need a psychiatrist?"

Mom suddenly asked, we've been sitting on the dinner table for a while now.

And I was surprised, she opened that kind of topic first before I even suggested it. I was given a false hope.

"Really? Should... Should I?"

It was a mistake.

I shouldn't have opened my mouth like I've always been doing.

Mom suddenly laughed.

She laughed.

"Crazy, you're crazy", she commented on my remarks.

I was dumbstruck and the hole digging deep within me was dug deeper.

On another day in front of the dinner table,

I slowly opened my mouth, in a spur of the moment.

"I always feel like I'm so faraway with you guys"

Blankly staring at the floor with my monotonous voice, I couldn't stop myself from talking.

"I couldn't feel you"

Stop

"I felt a great distance between us"

Stop please

I'm sorry

"It has always been like that, ever since I'm young"

Stop talking

I shouldn't have said that

I'm sorry

"It's like that? So it's always been like that?

So you don't love me? You don't love us? Is that it?"

It's not like that mom....

"No ma, I... I love you...."

I shouldn't have opened my mouth.

I should've stopped talking.

On some warm mornings and peaceful days, it came back to me like winter, leaving me frozen. On a normal sunny day, It's common for me to feel cold.

On some cold and rainy days, I would be laying under the blanket cradling with warmth, coming to me in muddled voices and hazy dream.

On some days like this, particularly feeling empty...or numb, if I could describe it correctly.

It gave me a time to think and analyze it over and over again. Justifying every scenarios to be... a chance of growth.

On a particular days like this,

Are the chances for me to cry rationally.

Perhaps, despite my constant fear of change, deep inside I actually crave it.

And it made me reckless.

While still not having my life together.

I am still left to wonder further.

'Before all of this things turning into a whirlpool of mess, how did I normally live back then?'

It's my name.

Lost in translation within multiple layers of unnamed alter ego.

Jumbled words is my second name.

Derived from homophones, which originated from the month I was supposed to be born into.

I am simply a name lost in thought

Lost in meaning

With a speck of my unhinged identity

I am a subconscious thought, purposely made, of a person whose in the verge of destroying oneself.

It was simply a last ditch resort

of saving a wailing child within.

It was supposed to burn everything down

Together with this subconscious thought

Burn everything

Leaving nothing even passion

And yet

When I light the match stick

with a flick of a hand

—a shriek bombarded me

Piercing me whole

Followed by another wail from within

Desperately

Defenseless, I couldn't fought the cacophonies filling me

And I found this place.

Within the few moments of discord

The wailing child escaped from the cracks

And hid here.

I am the subconscious thought

Purposely made

To protect the neglected child

From my own self

From me

myself

So desperately.