atl4st

[atl4st]

“what do you want to say to your younger self?”

if i had the chance to say something to my younger self, it would be “i’m sorry.”

because, i knew for sure if i were to meet her right now, she’ll be disappointed in me.

she’ll walk out of the room out of disbelief and hatred wondering how i turned out like this.

i’ll chase her, of course. i’ll hold her wrist and tell her to wait and she’ll look back at me with so much pain.

“where did it go wrong? what happened to me?”

“when did we become so hopeless, huh?”

“tell me, tell me where did it go wrong!” she’ll beg me, crying. she doesn’t want this. i don’t want this either.

in the end, i won’t be able to answer her. i’ll meekly answer, “i don’t know, i’m sorry”.

she’ll look at me with disdain while i look away from her judging eyes.

we both hated ourselves. we cried to sleep with the thought of it. we both wanted a brighter future, a tomorrow where we’ll be both proud of ourselves for the first time.

“but, hey, don’t you think we have done well for keeping ourselves sane?” i’ll ask, trying to change her mind, to get her to place her hope in me, to trust me.

“if we are even sane then we will not be like this.” she’ll answer me, breaking my heart.

i’ll laugh out of pure hopelessness. will we even see the light of day or will we just live in the light of how people see us?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’ll beg her as she continue to cry, kneeling down out of pure disappointment. the only thing i could ever do is to put her into my arms.

she’ll hold onto my clothes, her incoherent sobs filing the room. her screams of agony will only pain me as her anticipation slowly fades. we will never be like we used to, living in the shadow of the person we once were. we both know that, and it will haunt us for the rest of our lives.

with that, a tear will fall out of my eye as i stay silent, i couldn’t console her of a brighter tomorrow, i really couldn’t.

for now, her only solace will be me. she’ll cry herself to sleep with the sounds of my apologies as she hopes for better days.

i will be a reminder of a future she’ll try to change and she will be the reflection of my bright past.

we’ll continue hating ourselves, universes apart. she’ll pretend she didn’t meet me while i’ll be haunted by her disdainful, tearful eyes.

“i’m sorry”

[atl4st]

if ever happiness finds me again, can it stay a little bit longer?

[atl4st]

screw it!!! im going to savor every moment!!! im going to appreciate the trees!! im going to live!!!

[atl4st]

i was washing the dishes we don't have a dishwasher in the place we live in and i accidentally broke an old plate.

the plate was older than me. it was once a thick white plate, now it has a tinge of yellow in it, since it was always sun-dried every time we wash it for many years. one might call it vintage, even. my lola has that same exact plate hidden in their cupboard and she's still using it to this day.

after seeing its once round figure turn into pieces of sharp glass, a bitter feeling dawned me, a feeling of regret, a feeling a bit similar to mourning, but not too strong. i carefully picked up the pieces, thinking of what i could've done to at least prevent it from breaking. there was no point in doing that, though. not even a prayer could bring a dead person back, how can it be different from an inanimate object?

yet, i've thought of its yellowish color, a sign of once a glorious past. how many foods have it served? how many washes did it go through to be this clean?

the plate has witnessed more dinners i could have. it must've heard the most genuine laughs and the most gut-wrenching sobs in our table. as i wrap it with a paper towel and disposed it, it felt like i was burying a once living and breathing person. it was alive in its broken state, at least for me.

i whispered 'sorry' to it. silly as this sounds, i've felt sympathy for a broken plate.

maybe, this is what makes a human, human. we are sentimental creatures that grow in each other's presence. we hold importance in what is deemed "useless" for it holds memories. we hold onto it because it was an evidence of the past—that it exists and it's not a fragment of our imagination.

we want to be remembered, even in the smallest things.

even in a piece of kitchenware,

or in a marked assignment back in 5th grade,

even in a patch of grass,

or in a tree trunk with our names carved on it.

like that piece of broken plate, i hoped for everyone to be remembered dearly, to mark our existence in this world, to prove that we thrived amongst the complexity of the cosmos.

so, the future generation will have the thought of everything we went through, the lives we lived, and the happiness it brought us. may they venture life with the same sentiment we shared, to build communities centered in belonging and care.

no matter how much they evolved physically and mentally, if we ever did see them with our eyes, i wish to see a trace of us in them. a piece of compassion, a piece of love, a piece of being human.

—the plate's eulogy // amos

[atl4st]

— David Cronenberg, Consumed

[atl4st]

maybe i'm not meant for love,

and i'll forever mourn it,

that i have to keep my own roses,

that grow more torns,

than fragrant petals,

or that i'll be left like a home,

with its soul intact,

rotting in wild grass,

and green mosses.

—death // amos

[atl4st]

it'll kill me, loving you.

with a butter knife with a blade of the deadliest swords, i'll let it pierce me.

i'm not scared of dying. i'll let you bring me to my eternal peace, even if in the expense of you holding the blade.

the only thing i'm scared of is how messy will it look on your hands.

the redness of it all, the metallic scent of blood, the smile on my face as you twist the knife into my heart, will you think of my love as a gift or a nightmare?

will you remember how my heart pulsed in delight of your presence?

will you be disgusted of how my blood warmed your cold hands?

will you remember how my eyes looked at your for the last time?

will you regret not loving me?

—blood // amos

[atl4st]

When I was graced upon by your presence, it was beautiful.

Being your friend was the biggest privelege I could flaunt to everyone who got their eyes on you. They will never see your eyes turn into crescents whenever you're with me nor will they feel the epiphany whenever you speak to me softly. They have no idea how you rest your head onto my shoulder whenever you yearn for a quick escape, a quick remedy from the world.

In my head, I was your solace. It has always been like that to me until he came into the picture, like a villain that hinders your path to me, to my embrace.

I resented him silently as you talk about him with such a loving voice. however, by the moment i saw your smile glow differently, I knew i was wrong. I lost. I lost to him.

Though, I am lucky to have been graced by your affection, if anything.

I felt like I was the chosen one, but perishing alone won't take my sin away.

Perishing was never enough for a sinner like me.

I now understood what Lucifer felt when he was banished from heaven. The feeling of pride that you were chosen, that you were loved, was anything but useful. Your fragile back will crack with your wings as you fall to your defeat, feeling nothing but remorse.

But, I will never be mad at you like he did. You should never be blamed for my foolishness. I was stupid for thinking I deserve you.

I crossed the line I promised to stay away from. I craved for something forbidden, so sweet it could kill me. I am greedy, ill-driven. I wished to be in his place, to be the one to receive your most gentle words and longing glances, to be the one to kiss your tears and to hold your dreary calloused hands.

I'm sorry. I know my place, really. I know where I belong; I know where I should be. I was wrong.

If loving you was a sin, I would be your prisoner with a life-long sentence. Just like Eve, I bear to carry this guilt with me until I've breathed my last.

And, you will never know.

My love, you'll be clueless to it all. You don't deserve to see the chaos that thrives to engulf me or how my what-ifs haunts me to every song i listen to.

You will only be met with a smile that soothes you. You will only feel the sincerity of my feelings that stemmed out from the very depths of my heart. You will only see love in its purest form, not its ugliest and dullest parts.

Maybe, if I do that, I could be finally forgiven.

Maybe with that, I could finally look at you without feeling the crawling guilt inside me.

Until then, I will repent. As soon as I've paid my debts, I will go to you with only your goodness in my mind.

I hope that the day will come that I will be able to love you without crossing the line.

—thoughts and prayers (i'm sorry i love you) // amos

[atl4st]

heavens, if i must kneel

please let me be held by love's palm,

so that i could be treated so fondly,

so gently,

that healing a large wound,

won't have to leave a large scar.

—beg // amos