How Do I

Recently I've been sucked in the world of words. I don't think I've really experienced a full-blown epiphany in my whole life but I think the realization of wanting to entrench myself in a thousand, colorful worlds has been the closest I can get to something like that.

You see, I don't really know why but I've been having the hardest time expressing myself verbally. I swear it's like I have these things I want to say but when they escape my mouth it's like they ooze out languorously, and it's deeply saddening sometimes that I have to think about how immersed I used to be in the meaning of my sentences, and not how I deliver them. Because these days I'm definitely too careful about how I can further improve my grammar at the moment and not about how my emotions can bridge to others by just letting them transform into vocabulary. I guess this is what they say about how life changes and how it changes you and how you change over time. I've been noticing things but most of them are external and not a lot of them are very introspective, frankly, and it worries me that I won't ever get back what I could almost always do before -- write passionately, write figuratively, write on my own terms, write because I desire to express. There's a lot of things inside me that I wish I could express but I find it troubling to find any other way than this to release the tumult in me, or, when I'm happy, the sun bursting in my heart, eating me alive with its rays of elation.

Cold

I'm not going to say I'm skilled enough to deal with my emotions, a tangle of debasing complexities. I myself do not think I'm as complex as I wish I were, and I know that I can marginalize my entire self into a black and white anatomy, a melange of narrow and wide, fat and thin muscles. What is so depressing about me? Is it my unwillingness to accept reality as it is? Is it the way I perceive what I observe? Most of the time I haul myself into razor sharp danger zones, toxicities in the air, in the earth. God, I'm so lost for words. And to lose myself is to lose my future, is that it? Will I ever transform into art itself? Isn't the way my lungs suck air in and shepherds it out an example of art? Tell me why the heart aches so badly. Tell me why the mouth bends downwards. Tell me why the day seems so short, and when night finally meets with the sky I am so wastefully useless, curling into what is the travesty of a fetus into a bed that feels like it was made out of the bones of the monsters that haunt me while I am awake. Or is it the net, the online forums and web pages, that cause such disturbance in myself? What do I block? Is there an accurate portal I need to seal? Like the spaces in my keyboard, or the holes on the horizontal sides of my heads. How will I ever complete what is missing if I am blind to what is lost.

Lo

HI HELLO.

I'm supposed to be doing my Filipino project right now but I got distracted by the Internet once again and now I'm back here. I mean, I can't really apologize for blacking out and ignoring this for almost, what, FIVE/SIX/SEVEN MONTHS, but after realizing that I'm not so far into losing myself I have "risen from the dead." It's quite funny that there are only three days left before Christmas and so MUCH has happened lately and you can assume that I am actually doing okay.

So yes I plan to write more and more. I've missed a lot.