Words

I have already fallen in love with far too many words you used and I have already taken the liberty of carving those words into my mind, just so that they remind me of you every single day. When you appear at my doorstep wearing nothing but words, I knew that I'm trapped in your eyes.

No, "appear" is the wrong word. Is there a word for sucker-punching someone in the heart? Is there a word to describe the feeling when you sit at the bottom of a roller coaster, and you know that the climb is coming, that you could feel the flip in your stomach from the fall before you even moved? Is there a word for that that? There should be. You can only fit so many words in a message, only so many in a phone call, only so many into letters and postcards before you forget that sometimes words are used for things other than filling emptiness.

It is hard to build a body with words. Instead of lying my head against your chest, I tell you about the boy who stayed up through the night practicing his drum set. The neighbours have complained, "We have long days tomorrow" but he kept on thumping all night long convinced, I think, that practice makes perfect. Instead of holding my hand, you tell me about the sandwich you made this morning, about how the ham fits the bread perfectly.

You could never fill emptiness with words no matter how hard you try. Words are after all, empty. One time you told me that nothing will come in between us again. I took my heart in my hands, the same hands where you left the very words, and I held on so tight to the words that my heart bled. Is there a word for when a sculpture crumbles before the carving is done? When you apologized and made me a promise, I took a mallet and struck my pitching tool into the core of my heart and I carved those words in. Is there a word for that?

Is there a word for when you win a tug-o-war? When the weight finally gives in, when the tumbling rope comes towards you and even though you won, you still wind up with muddy knees and scratches over your hands. Is there a word for that? I wish there was, then I would have said it when we were both finally alone on your couch and neither of us are left with anything else to say.

摩天楼

Truth be told, I don't quite like myself complimenting others about their looks because I don't want to give the idea that I like them because of how they look. Like wise, I don't really like people constantly complimenting me on my looks because it makes me feel that people like me because of how I look, but not who I am. Cheesy as it sounds, I'd rather people like me for who I am on the inside. After all, looks will fade away with time. Of course I'm just talking about the frequency of the compliments, not that I don't like giving it or receiving it. I just don't like that too often.

Oh and that reminded me of this spoken word poetry I chanced upon.

Little heart, don't cry.

Perhaps it's just part of growing up, or it's just me, that I might be more prone to annoyance by the trivial things around me rather than the personal stuff that happens to me. I mean there isn't much personal things that will affect my mood as easily as before. Don't know if it means good or bad, but I hope at least that is good even in the slightest way.

The week has been... Well, challenging... I feel so much awkwardness just being there. She seemed to be close to desperate, to the point that it was uncomfortable for people around her. Or at least for me, I feel a little weird to be there. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't wanna get involved but the there is just something wrong in the air. It's either the aura exuding from her, or just my pits that smell.

I don't really wanna talk about it, but I guess I see a little bit of myself in her, of such desperation at wits end, clinging onto a rope that she made from pieces of her heart, and hoping to get a little recognition. Things never really go the way she wanted, and as her soul sank deeper into oblivion, she struggle to breathe but finds herself being dragged deeper into the quicksand.

I wanted to tell her not to cry. I heard the voice inside of her. I didn't.

I just thought it would be better when she accepted it willingly.

And I'm not getting any younger too.

Sometimes I wonder if I really am that screwed up as a date or a friend. Because everytime things fall apart, I think it might really be me being the root of the problem than others. I have yet to say "I screwed up" all these while, probably believing that I'm not the one that's wrong.

Perhaps after being single for so long, I'm starting to believe that something is really wrong with me.

So tell me truthfully, is something really wrong with me?