coffee reads

it’s miserable and magical

I’ve got millions of words left unsaid as the emotions in me try to wrestle with the memories and the reverse nostalgia that adds to the weight of my canvass.

I’ve always believed in the dreams I used to plot on my little diaries back in grade school. The weight was pretty light as I don’t know how heavy they will become if they can’t be released when time commands it to go. Indeed, we cannot go back to the past.

That’s why we write, for it is savoring the moment twice. I had difficulty finding the right words to express my inside voice, though I knew I could. It’s hard to tame the words, especially if these words inside you are absurd. Also, people do not like reading long articles, so maybe I will end this writing in a short while.

Still, I am but an empty canvass. No matter how I tried to color and recolor it with different glow hues, it gets the fangs of blues at the end of every brush. I tried finding the right metaphors to describe the voidness, but maybe the concept of a black hole will be a simple voice of this person inside. As some religious people would conclude about a lack of faith or caused by sin, no, it is not.

It is more like being too poetic with a touch of a dark theme academia concept, like sitting in a pew of a hundred-year-old cathedral church or getting hit by the waves on the shore while standing still looking at the beautiful seagulls. I don’t want to call it a chemical imbalance, no.

It is a mess—a beautiful poetic one.

Only those who can understand what voidness means will be able to cross that understanding.

I am still gasping for air.


…and gasping for air means one wants to live despite the reality of the harsh atmosphere that is a silent killer of nostrils.

maybe ms. swift was right after all.

We’re happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time.”

“It’s miserable and magical.”

hebrews 11:16

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