before.i.come.undone.

The pull of  pen and push of fate account for several journals I have made, attempting to stem the flow of seemingly pathetic tears and gush of repetitive emotions. I was supposed to benefit from the rumored cathartic effect of writing. For some time I thought the rumor is true, but I forgot benefitting is a matter of choice as well. For the longest time I’ve been negligent of writing, luring myself to believe the ink of my pen has dried up, and I’ve got nothing left to give.

But here I am, not really back from the dead. Benign immolation never leads to that glorified end. The prolonged agony of uncertainty is not that much different from the medicine being worse than the malady. Hence I’ve decided, what the heck, I chose to be here and I owe it to myself to make it easy on me, impossible as it may seem. So once again I succumb to writing.

I’ve decided to once again feed my journal with the day to day idiosyncracies that I am, with the absurdly exaggerated drama that is my story , with arguments blown out of proportions, with fears that’re constantly keeping me company, with moments that are undeniably real, with love that has never been right… with life.

I’ve been keeping everything buried deep within, like Pandora’s box threatening to let all demons go. And like Pandora’s box, I’m keeping the hope intact, and maybe now I will let it all out. Though even my words are unsure, and I find it doubly difficult nowadays to be certain of anything, I would be trying.

I owe it to myself to lighten things up, or merely speak up. Though I know I’d be talking to an inanimate screen and would be lending my thoughts to the keys of my HP, it is better that bottling it all up, and then blaming everything that comes my way afterwards.

Once in my life I really believed I’ve had the most soul-wrenching part of my existence. It was late when I realize how dead wrong I was. Once I thought the most difficult time of my life was over and done, never had I thought it was only the beginning.

I’m holding on to prayers now, waiting for a miracle amidst tests of faith…
I am hanging by a thread.
Breathing. Living.

So before I come undone, I am now turning to a dear friend, and once again embracing my pen’s ink.

Heart of Sword (Before Dawn)

When I’m alone, tomorrow feels far away.
And I must go over still into the darkness of dawn.
If I try to play it straight, it will no doubt fail,
And tonight it won’t go well between us again.

You can’t see all of my hard efforts, because it’s only result
Is that it makes no sense. It really is a “tightrope”.
More effort, more damage–this is my daily life.
Taking a cynical attitude may give me some comfort…

Hiding myself, heated and irritated; living only a short time.
When I’m alone, tomorrow feels far away.
And I must go over still into the darkness of dawn.

If I let my emotions free,
My dreams will once again not go well.
I think the balance sheet of my life is imperfect.
If I add up the plusses and minuses, will it really equal zero?

I want to control all my luck
That may be used up before my life is ended.
you don’t know–you can change logic at your will.

I hurt myself because of you, over and over;
But my love didn’t go away–it kept coming back.
The toughness gained from my damage is unbelievable.
I won’t be able to sleep at all tonight either.

However many times it’s repeated,
It revives again and again–because it’s love.
You can’t blame my emotion,
Because you should know it will never fade away.

When I’m alone, tomorrow feels far away.
And even though I’m in the darkness of dawn, I have to go.
I don’t care about “bad affinity”.
Even if our love is not doing well,
Nevertheless we have deep ties.                                    -heart.of.sword.
                                 ost.rurouni.kenshin