nagkayawa

[nagkayawa]

trigger warnings: gore imagery.

exercise caution when reading.

if i could, i'd offer my heart to you,

hidden in a pretty, red chocolate box;

deep enough to hold the fist-sized organ

if i could, i'd offer my heart to you,

and be surrounded by your favorite chocolates.

revealed from underneath a sparkling silver cloche;

cooked and seared to a perfect medium rare,

if i could, i'd offer my heart to you,

complete with mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli.

wrapped with a beautiful, crimson red bow;

held out by my bloodied hands for you to take,

if i could, i'd offer my heart to you,

as i await for you to accept my gift.

but if i do, i would not be able to continue to love you.

so i'll harvest other hearts and offer them to you

just to show how much i adore and worship you.

[nagkayawa]

i know you're radioactive.

i need to keep a safe distance for too much exposure to you will melt my poor heart. i need to protect myself completely in the hope that i won't poison myself with too much of you, because you're no good for me — all saccharine smiles, besotted gazes, and casual disinterest.

and yet, that makes me want to be closer to you.

so i let down my guard, and i let you come close. i let myself hold you and love you without barriers of any kind. you glowed so bright between my fingers, dazzling and mesmerizing. little did i know, you shone so bright because you made me the fuel — i didn't even notice my skin peeling off as you burned through me.

but even then, i still loved you as much as i did at the beginning.

i know that you're radioactive, and now i have the scars of a chemical burn. (and they reopen ever so often.)

[nagkayawa]

religion is the opium of the people. marx uttered these words once, or at least a variation of it. a drug consumed to feel peace and pleasure, religion was its spiritual variant.

as much as i abhor the placebo effect it gives its consumers, the illusion it casts, the false sense of hope it implants -- the gaping void in my soul still craves it, looks for it in every place i stumble into.

i am an addict running into constant bouts of withdrawal from the drug that is religion. the only thing that keeps me sober is the weight of reality that flows in my bloodstream.

religion does not solve the countless problems of the world, does not give true unconditional love without the looming hand of fear, does not let me explore the depths of the human psyche within my own self -- that is enough to deter me from coming back into the fold.

religion is the opium of the people -- nothing but a pleasant sedative.

author's note below (bit of a trauma dump).

i made the piece to finally address the struggle i have had in my journey towards becoming an atheist.

i strayed from religion during the last two years of my secondary education. perhaps it stemmed from the fact that my grandparents, who were the fuel behind my angst, self-depreciation, and self-destruction, were very religious. the mere fact that god allowed my soul to rot away and my heart to shatter into a million pieces is a testament to how cruel he is -- just like my grandparents.

but as they died and i go into a crisis about my own journey of grief (which is a whole different story), i find myself doubting all the hatred i had towards god. the void in my heart left by religion made itself known. i had doubts, a part of me wanted to go back into the fold.

but i realized that i am not the only person who feels that god-shaped void. matty healy feels it, ellie chu feels it, even marx felt it at some point -- but that void is not something that can be filled with some social construct like religion. if there were a god, then life would have been as perfect as he (or they) are. that belief strengthened me on my own journey.

my journey of leaving is far from over, but i have travelled far already -- and i think i have made progress i can be proud of.

[nagkayawa]

trigger warnings: graphic/violent/triggering imagery

exercise caution when reading.

i heard that when you get stabbed, you shouldn't pull the knife out because it's the only thing keeping your blood inside. when one wrenches the knife out, blood will spill until nothing is left — like a warm, running faucet.

you're that knife.

you're lodged deep between the spaces of my ribs, serrated edges cutting into my skin and tearing it open. you wormed your way back into my mundane life and planted yourself there, only to wrench yourself away once you've dealt enough damage.

now i am left to bleed dry with nothing to stop it. the beating of my heart begins to slow down as my blood weakly trickles out of the gaping void you left. the last wisps of life dances across the bow of my lips, attempting to escape into the frigid air.

i bleed to death, and yet...

as much as i abhor you, i can't help but ask, perhaps even beg, as tears prick the corner of my eyes. my hands grasp the edges of your clothes, pale fingers aching to hold you back from your escape. i know nothing will come of it. i know that no matter the choice, it will end up with my death by your hands.

and yet, i still ask as i let the last bits of hope cling on to my voice — can't you stay?

[nagkayawa]

and it starts again.

why?

why do you compliment me and treat me like a girlfriend when i'll only end up as your late night, last choice call? why do you come crawling back to me after ignoring me and cutting off all contact cold turkey, as if i was a bad habit? why do you say you like me, enough to be tied down to me, but act repulsed by the thought of it?

why do i live in your drunk memories, but never in your sober thoughts?

i know i shouldn't let you under my skin, yet you burrow your way in. past through my defenses, past the hardened concrete and the stone walls that i've built in the months you were gone.

rather than paining me like it did last time, i am left with a sense of numbness, melancholia, and emptiness. you emptied my heart again, leaving absolutely nothing.

no love, no pain, no emotion. just an empty vessel and cracked pieces.

and while i abandoned the gods i believed in when i was a child— tonight, i pray. eyes closed tight, hands clasped in a desperate plea sent to every cosmic being willing to hear the pleas of my dying soul:

erase me from his thoughts. erase me from his mind. erase me from his life.

so he can't crawl back to a weak-hearted me anymore.

and it starts again — the cycle of pain.

[nagkayawa]

how cruel is your love?

i ask myself this as i feel your arms wrap themselves around my waist, hugging me as you talk about your day.

i ask myself this as i listen to you make plans for us in the future, the oath of everlasting devotion hanging from your lips like a prayer.

i ask myself this as i watch you hover over me, our bodies colliding and melding into one another as if it was the universe's will.

how cruel is your love — i ask, poisonous pain filling every crevice of my being and hot tears pricking the corners of my eyes as i finally found the answers i sought.

your love is cruel enough to delude me into believing that our time together was willed by the cosmos. a divine, one-in-a-million moment of serendipity that would be immortalized in the songs sung by the angels above.

your love is cruel enough to fill my being with love and affection, only to become the fuel to an ever-burning, ever-painful inferno that resides in the spaces between my ribs. i desperately gasp for breath, only for the fire to grow with every lungful of air i take in.

your love is cruel enough to cut me open, causing me to bleed to death while you abandon me, holding another girl's hand as promise her the same cruel love you've shown me.

[nagkayawa]

soon.

soon, i can peacefully sleep at night. soon, the night will not remind me of you anymore. soon, i would not imagine what would be if it was you and me.

soon, this will all be over.

soon.

[nagkayawa]

"keep sweet."

you whisper these two words in my ear, the pads of your fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps across my skin. your lips travel down the side of my neck as your hand makes its way around my throat. fraction by fraction, your hold tightens around me, cutting my air off, while you whisper sweet nothings in my ear to break me.

"keep sweet," you say, as you lull me into a sense of security enough to keep me tied down for you to use like a doll when you get bored. "keep sweet."

maybe, in another lifetime, i would have been your sweetest doll. i would have catered to your needs and wants, i would have sacrificed my entire being just to be close to you, to be with you. i would have been your best girl, your baby — i would have been yours. i would have kept sweet.

but here, in this lifetime, i am not. i resist — i turn and make you look at me head on, eyes burning with defiance, while my hand wraps around your wrist as i hold you down. my palm rests against your chest, burning my own mark on you the way your fingers burned on my neck.

keep sweet — sorry, but i cannot. i am visceral, i am carnal, i am evil — i'm just like you, a monster hidden behind sweet smiles and gestures. i'm not your sweet girl, nor would i ever be.

[nagkayawa]

religion was never for me.

and yet, you came to me like an angel, sweet words of gentle power falling from your lips like waterfalls. each letter, each syllable, each word — it became the doctrine that encompassed my soul.

and before i knew it, i was baptized into your congregation. i clung on to every message — spoken or unspoken — as if it was an irrefutable mandate from the heavens above. i bore witness to the vulnerability that you usually hide away behind a mask of egotistic alcoholism and tall tales of your love-driven conquests.

i was irrevocably indoctrinated by you and in you.

my friends were non-believers. they constantly ask why i keep listening to your nonsensical preaching, why i remain with you. i turned the other cheek, perhaps even asked for forgiveness on their behalf. they do not know what they are doing, they did not understand the belief i held for you. they did not understand how your words captured my heart, planting the seeds of hope within it to give me comfort in the unforgiving expanse of the universe.

little did i know that they were right.

those were not sprouts of hope that you planted. they were squirming, relentless parasites that ate away at me until i believed that you were my only salvation. every message was specially crafted to become a lifeline for my weakened soul, every show of humanity a bait to lure and keep me under your fold.

i was indoctrinated to a false god.

so now, i excommunicate myself from your church. go on, find another unfortunate soul to delude with your devilish, empty whispers. go on, find worshippers that would kiss the very ground you walk on. go on, try to find the ghost of my unconditional devotion among the sea of women out there. but none will compare, because none of them are me.

and when you realize that you have lost the single person that was willing to believe in you, i would already be on the path to my salvation — a path that i made for me.

religion was never for me, anyways.

[nagkayawa]

we're each other's manic pixie dreams.

could manic pixie dream boys exist? a parallel to the ethereal women that solely reside in the minds of men within those films i see on television, a literary device to move the development of the male lead forward — could a male version exist?

in my world, perhaps they do exist.

they came in the form of a boy whose lips dripped with sticky honey that entrapped me. they came in the form of a boy who made my heart flutter with a vulnerability that knew no bounds. they came in the form of a boy who made me feel special, like i was one-of-a-kind in a sea of mediocre people.

they came in a boy who broke my heart and shattered all the pieces over and over, a boy who i kept welcoming back despite knowing that this cycle will never end once i do so — a boy that taught me how love works this day and age.

he's a manic pixie dream boy. and perhaps it's time for me to move forward with my own story — with or without him.

[nagkayawa]

could manic pixie dream boys exist? a parallel to the ethereal women that solely reside in the minds of men within those films i see on television, a literary device to move the development of the male lead forward — could a male version exist?

in my world, perhaps they do exist.

they came in the form of a boy whose lips dripped with sticky honey that entrapped me. they came in the form of a boy who made my heart flutter with a vulnerability that knew no bounds. they came in the form of a boy who made me feel special, like i was one-of-a-kind in a sea of mediocre people.

they came in a boy who broke my heart and shattered all the pieces over and over, a boy who i kept welcoming back despite knowing that this cycle will never end once i do so — a boy that taught me how love works this day and age.

he's a manic pixie dream boy. and perhaps it's time for me to move forward with my own story — with or without him.

[nagkayawa]

wasn't i doomed from the start?

the last option, the back-up, the ego booster — you've used me countless times to fuel your selfish desires, as if i was a lifeless, soulless toy in your basket. you play with me over and over until you've had your fill of my attention, and then you throw me away.

an emotional vampire that feeds off the ennui of your playthings, a pathetic attention whore desperate to feel something — that's what you are!

trying out an angrier sound, instead of the melancholia i usually write.

[nagkayawa]

there's nothing here.

nothing is left in this heart of mine. no tears are left to be cried. no words left to wreak havoc. no sadness left to wrap around me. no person left to leave me with that kind of emotion.

and yet, why does it still ache so much?

inspired by juan karlos' new album, sad songs and bullshit.

[nagkayawa]

kabugnaw sa gabii karon.

nagtindog ko karon sa atubangan sa dagat, kung diin ang tubig kay gahalok sa akong tiil nga nakalubong sa balas. ang akong kamot kay naggakos sa akong kalawasan sa pagtuo nga makasagang ni sa hangin nga mamaak sa kabugnaw.

sa una, ang dagat mao'y gapahilom sa akong kalag nga dili mahimutang. ang tingog sa pagkayab sa tubig mao'y gihimo nakong uyayi, ang kabugnaw sa tubig sa akong tiil kay mao'y gapakalma sa akong panghunahuna.

pero karon, ang dagat mao na hinuon ang gapalungutlungot sa akong kasingkasing. kesa sa uyayi sa balod, gahampas kini sa baybayon, puno ug kakapoy ug kalagot. ang bugnaw nga tubig sama na sa pipilang mga dagum nga gatusok-tusok sa akong kamot ug tiil.

maskinag ingon ani — nga nasakitan na ko ug sugod, naa ra gihapon ko sa dagat. ningpadayon ko sa pagtan-aw sa dag-um nga kalangitan sa unahan, ug didto nako nasabtan. naa'y bagyo sa unahan.

kalit kalit lang, niabot ang bagyo ug dala niini ang kagubot nga dili mapugngan. dala niini ang walay hunong nga luha, kalagot, ug kahuot sa kasingkasing. dala niini ang sakit nga sama sa uwat — magpabilin nga sakit hantud sa hantud, ug dili na mawagtang.

kabugnaw gyud sa gabii karon.

maskinag kinahanglan nako muhaw-as kung dili ko ganahan maabtan sa epekto sa bagyo, nakalubong gihapon ang akong tiil sa balas. hinuon, gibuka nako ang akong mga kamot ug gisugat ko kini, gahuwat hantud gakson kos tanang kasakit.

diri lang ko, maghuwat hantud muabot ang ang bagyo.

ang bagyong gihinganlag ikaw.

[nagkayawa]

sike i just made a new one

been so unmotivated to write longer microfiction (i'm basically writing single sentences right now) or fanfics (though i keep reading them on ao3)

as much as i want to write, i just can't right now... sighs.

[nagkayawa]

been so unmotivated to write longer microfiction (i'm basically writing single sentences right now) or fanfics (though i keep reading them on ao3)

as much as i want to write, i just can't right now... sighs.

[nagkayawa]

memories after death

pairing: soohyuk x fem!reader genre: angst summary: death does not define you. it is the memories that you left behind that does. word count: 478 warning(s): death, mcd, grief, mentions of sickness & disease author’s note: first imagine on tumblr but quite sad. apologies. anyway, hope you enjoy reading this.

Soohyuk always remembered.

He remembered the way she smiled whenever he brought home cookies from the cafe they frequent. He remembered the look of adoration she had on whenever she watched him do amazing things from afar. He remembered her sweet embrace and soft kisses when times were tough. He remembered the way she danced and hopped out of glee when her favorite Kpop group had a concert and he made sure to get tickets. He remembered the warmth of her love and the way she would brighten up his days just by existing.

Soohyuk will always remember.

He will always remember her enthusiasm. He will always remember the way she smiled when they reached the top of a mountain after a long hike. He will always remember how her food tasted and the love that went into each dish. He will always remember the dancing, lots of dancing, to the songs of every genre. He will always remember the joy on her face when he surprised her with the puppy she always wanted to adopt. He will always remember how happy he felt just to have her around even from afar at events and shoots. He will always remember the I love you’s. He will always remember how the spark faded but she still chose him and stuck by his side even as the days grew darker.

Soohyuk wished he could forget.

He wished he could forget the pain she felt when the disease caught her lungs. He wished he could forget the days in the hospital. He wished he could forget how he always prepared himself in case it was time to say goodbye. He wished he could forget the look of hopelessness on her face whenever the doctor said another treatment they tried had failed. He wished he could forget the way she sobbed her heart out thinking no one was listening while he was just outside the door.

Soohyuk’s memories of her replayed in his mind when he visited her grave. 

He giggled at the happy ones and frowned at the sad ones. He held onto the teddy bear he brought for her the way he would have held her if she was present. Tight and gentle all at the same time. As he looked at the gravestone that bore her name, he could not help but wonder about the what-ifs and what-nots. He wondered about the things beyond his control and how things would have been different if he had prevented them from happening. He sighed and tried his best to accept whatever it was that fate threw their way. It had been the worst year of his life. But, somehow, he still felt grateful. A sense of renewed peace washed over him as he walked away. She may not be by his side anymore, but he knew he will never be alone.