Tag Archives: uncomfortable

Let’s Talk About Not Talking About It

Well I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said
I’m telling it straight ’cause it might be the only chance I get
Just shut up, just shut up, would you stop telling me who I am?
I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said…

~*~

Some people find it really easy to write about themselves.

I respect them for that. For being able to express innermost thoughts and more private sentiments in articulate ways, and for having that certain imbued capability in their writings where other people could read their catharsis and be able to feel all their emotions, sympathise with their plights, and look at the world in another perspective, in their own personal perspective. Of course, even if they can’t exactly relate to whatever situation that person is caught up in, they could still nod their head understandingly, dole out some hopeful dime-a-dozen platitudes, and perhaps even offer some needed advice to them, just as normal human beings should.

Whenever I attempt to write about myself, my life, or my current feelings, I tend to drown it in cryptic nuances and fuck-all metaphors that are so incredibly twisted to the point where even I don’t find any sense in it anymore. That’s why I’m more adept with poetry than prose, and why I find music to be the most therapeutic outlet for myself, above anything else. And also why I hate the shit out of essays and formal writing so much. But in the rarest blue-moon times when I try to abandon that sort of familiar style and write something that’s concise and straight to the point, in simple words that are the closest to the truth, it always makes me so disgusted with myself because I always sound like I’m whining too much and making such a big deal out of nothing. And even then, I couldn’t help but add way too much labyrinthine sentences and complicated head-scratching quips to sugarcoat the naked ugliness of it all. Case in point, this very write-up itself. Sweet irony to further press the point.

I’ve always found it difficult to talk about myself. I don’t know exactly what what happened to me that made me turn out to be this way, but whenever I try to open up, a million desperate hands pull me back inside as a thousand alarm bells seem to scream and flash red lights inside my head, all of these, all at once, giving me a major dose of anxiety that takes a long while to wear off. I never know how to be completely honest without feeling awkwardly uncomfortable, and vice versa, it’s a great struggle for me when people start getting too real and personal with me. I tend to be a very secretive person, and I’m not a great support to come running to when you got problems and need to talk it out, because I’ll probably just intensify the headache that you already have and turn it into a full-blown migraine. Trust me, some of what-unsurprisingly-scant friends I have can testify for that fact in front of a court jury with both their hands on the bible.

(But on the plus side, being a secretive person also means that I’m basically Fort Knox when it comes to keeping the secrets of other people, so…redemption??)

I try my very best to be comforting and truthful when times call for it, but somehow, I could never completely shake off that vague feeling of uncertainty, that constant nagging voice at the very back of my mind that tells me that I’m doing something wrong, or tells me that I’m not doing enough, or tells me that I’m fucking overcompensating, or whatever stupid made-up issues it has with my attempt to act like a decent human being. I’ve always just found it easier to repress everything, every difficulty and emotion that’s going on in my overwhelmed mind, to simply keep it all to myself no matter how dire it is, rather than to bother anyone else with it, and I’ve always found it easier to keep people at a ten-foot pole’s length with acerbic witticism and sarcastic dismissals, because when they get too close, someone would always get hurt, and it always ends in a devastating fallout.

To put it shortly, I don’t know how to be empathetic. And I don’t know how to make people empathise with me. Up to now, I’ve always convinced myself that it was my biggest strength.

But perhaps…it just might be my greatest weakness.

~*~

I know I have issues
But I don’t need to hear it coming from you
It’s something that I’ll work through
The beating of my heart’s not stopping anytime soon
It’s not stopping anytime soon…

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Filed under Prose

Pantomime

Borderline drowning in these messy thoughts
I’ll come down once I get some more
This substance got a hold on me, I’m insecure
I’m hearing voices, what the fuck’s that sound?
I’m going through problems I shouldn’t talk about…

~*~

I put myself in someone else’s heart

And it didn’t beat, no, it didn’t beat at all

My soul’s uncomfortable from twisting

And turning, trying to fit in the desperate crawl

The insecurities taste as heavy as substances

Making my open veins cough up less blood

I just don’t believe in myself as much as I should

And doubts weigh me down when I’ve had

A step away from my eyes and into empty shoes

Which squeaked when I wore them, the laces loose

And the soles were worn down from these miles of walking

I may have gone the distance but I didn’t do the talking

I’m no longer genuine, just as diamonds are always fake

Covering up for my mortalities with graver mistakes

And pretending I wasn’t me, for once I don’t know

What the parts of my anatomy were, how everything goes

The self-hatred whispers things I don’t want to have thought

And my mama tells me I’ve always been what I’m not

Head a mess, anxiety regaled in fanfare intuition

They say life’s not fair without a taste of contradiction

But I’m just trying to regain what I once lost with my pen

Discover all the stories I missed making amends again

I put myself in someone else’s heart, and it didn’t beat at all

But mine only started to breathe when I let myself answer the call.

~*~

I’m not comfortable
No, I just can’t seem to feel at all
I’m not comfortable
So, I’ll take another pharmaceutical
‘Cause I’m uncomfortable…

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Filed under Poetry

Travel Talk

You won’t believe what I tell you
White coats and clever minds will choose
You get a lot from this, loose tongue and arrogance
It’s not appropriate, don’t think that this is it…

~*~

Let’s cease with the

Uncomfortable pleasantries

As if we didn’t share

Flaxen stars that lit up our

Deathless horizons

.

Past the valleys of hell

And in glimpses that never align

Lies wasted letters and unspoken words

Spilling and cascading in shades of

Scarlet and sapphire once more

.

To halt this. So what do you say

Let’s kick the empty bucket

Over such a perplexing nonchalance

And go the distance over the miles

Where our intersections are amass with traffic.

~*~

It’s hard to compromise
When I see through your eyes
It’s just a common view
I guess it’s lost on you
Now I can talk, no one gets off
I know how you like to…

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Filed under Poetry