book of the pray

i have a lot of hate in me

and yet everyday i pray, and hope

that all of you work yourselves into being a person that treats everyone nicely.

i've always been a believer of doing good things and good things will happen to you
or sometimes in a case where i think that maybe if i dont talk bad about other people, they wont do the same. but ive come to a realization that the world isnt kind.

and it will be okay

book of the chest

hello,

i almost feel like i'm at my breaking point. or maybe not. whenever i think about it my blood boils. i can't believe this, and i never expect such things would come from you. from what i see, i didn't even break your heart, but you did.

this is ridiculous. because i didn't think much of what we had, i even regretted it because all i felt was second best. and to think that you could do all of those things to me and not think of the consequences of those things.

we were done, but i still felt obligated to not go around telling people of what we were, that is, even if we were something. i wasn't the one to kiss and tell. because i know you have good in you, although what you did was not right.

i look back and is was nothing that i felt. i just needed comfort. but i still held back my words, because i'm not one to soil your name. or anyone's.

and yet all i hear is this.

i can't believe all of this. i talked to a lot of people about this. close friends, that is. and they all tell me that i can no longer be nice. "nice" wasn't the right word, but i bear all of this disappointment - all of this taint of name because i keep giving chances. fucking chances.

i always think that the first to forget, apologize or give in is always the better person. but i'm starting to think that i'm just this stupid and timid.
there is so much hate in me, there is so much regret in me for you. i'm sorry.

best regards,

book of the horizon

dear,

i know, i know i might not be the person right now. the person you want me to be, the person you expected me to be.

i can say that i am still young, but you can say that you are wasting my youth away when i can be so much more.

neither of those i gravitate towards. i just know for now i want to live in every moment i possibly can, because i am afraid one day i will wake up with a mortgage and bills to pay, grey hair and mouths to feed - and not remember any part of my life when i was actually alive.

i'm sorry, i really am. everyday there's this war in my head - i'm trying to be a better person, i'm trying to get myself closer to God, i'm trying to be a better child, i'm trying to be a better partner, i'm trying to be a better friend, i'm trying to be a better student.

i'm still trying to figure this out. some days i wake up and think if this is what i want. some days people ask me of my plans and i answer the ones i have set for myself but i ask myself again - is this what i want?
but some days i think that God has sent me here for a purpose, and my existence is this world is to just give a go at everything and try, and try, and try.

i've made so much mistakes. i fucked up a lot. sometimes i tell myself it's okay because it's only human to make mistakes. sometimes i tell myself none of this is okay because i keep doing the same ones over, and over again.

whatever, let's not talk about this right now. the other day, khai and dhiya took me out for nightfest. it was okay, but one part that made my night memorable was this performance/installation of poets. people order poems and we can enter a dark room where the poets were making the piece for people they've never met on the spot. in that room too were people - actors i might say, that ran the place. and it that place itself - of which we were watching the poets writing piece after piece, with many other people doing suit makes the whole chaos an installation in itself. it was beautiful. i have always liked those kinds of art - of which the audience becomes part of the art.

but it made me think of how everything that was consumed has evaporated into nothing, it's like as if nothing here has value anymore. not in the monetary sense, do you get what i mean? the man in the suit was saying how he will make franchises, factories of the same, and he mentioned of how production was the key of this whole system - and none of the poems actually have value. it's just created because of the demands of consumers.

of course - none of those were real, just an installation telling us a story of the worth of words these days. i hope mine don't evaporate into nothing, i hope.

thanks for reading this. it feels like a small weight got lifted off my shoulders. i don't know who to tell this to but i'm glad i shared this with you.

with best intentions,