Self-diagnose: Hole / hollow

I joke about heart a lot.

A whole lot of it each and every day, to the people I find comfort and even to the ones I just meet with. It has been my trademark. They know that that kinda joke is mine.

But little did they know that it's no joke for me. Not entirely.

I always wonder if they sometimes give it a think, connect the dots and conclude the state I'm in.

But it's such a useless riddle that takes too much time to solve, and not worth it in the end.

Most of the jokes are true, though.

I am currently heartless.

If there are metaphor body scanner, my result would be obvious. I metaphorically live without the presence of a certain mental body part called "heart".

There would be a hole in my chest, precisely where "heart" supposed to rest.

I mean, it's not even fatal. I can still feel things on that hollow place. Happiness, slightly. Fun, a little. Pain, a lot and occasionally overwhelming. But I can live with that. I can also still enjoy things around me. I can still enjoy food, even though the taste is decreasing rapidly the moment it touches my tongue. The world is not turning grey for me. I can still see colors, but they're now lack of meaning. It's like the sky without clouds. Beautiful, but hollow. There are not much deep meaning in any of them, even the brightest ones. And speaking of the sky, I can barely feel the warmth of the sun anymore. It's either really cold, or burning my skin to almost crisp. 

Living in the world without a heart is rather strange if I must say. You either turn blunt or live in the hell of extreme jolting pain that jab you repeatedly in that exact hollow place, then all over your body. You'll find it hard to open your eyes at times, and would rather offer your sanity to the static state that people dare to call "sleep". But in the other occasion, you would open your eyes all night, grabbing your chest tight and hold back a scream because even the smallest sound will pierce through your skull, adding an extreme amount of pain to your already hurt body and soul.

Living as a people without a heart is also full of perplexity if I must say so myself. Because you grew with morals and norms, just to question, and even ditch it later on.

I know I hurt people, but I managed to find excuses to get my mind free of my doing.

I know I mess things up, but I managed to find a way to get my mind off of the consequences.

"It's okay, people make mistakes" is one of my common reasoning.

"I'm not there to make things convenient. I'm here to make things work" is another explanation for my heartless action and words. 

At times, I wonder that if this life is worth living at all. To live as a heartless person, without the beating, the added sensation across your all senses, feels too useless. I wake up every morning, counting hours and roles. I have plenty on the first, but running out of the later. There are no roles I hold that people could not replace. I am a child of happy parents, and so does my sister. I am a worker to an advertising company, but there are people who are more ready and more capable to take over my position. I am a friend for some of the people that stumbled their path across mine, but the world is not lacking 20 years old or so girl that loves metal or book. 

There are nights where I lay myself on my bed and close my eyelids, wishing not to wake up to see another day.

There are days where I walk absent-mindedly on the edge of the street, questioning whether to dash myself in front of the swift cars on the street just to eliminate one more burden this world had to endure.

But I wake up either way, and I still on the sidewalk until I get home.

Deep inside my heart, I question why do I still force myself to get up and put on colors on my face

And dress myself until I meet society's standard.

Is it because I still crave to the beating of something that I used to call "heart"?

Or is it because I still wish that someday, it will grow back and fill the void that has been in my chest for so long?

I don't know.

I never fully understand what do I want, nor what am I waiting for.

What do I expect to meet in the future, that makes me want to keep on moving,

and keep on living?

Ms. Hypocrite

You said you deserve all the pain,
But you flinched upon seeing steel and metal
Is there a name I should call you with, Miss?
or is 'hypocrite' friendly enough for your ears?

Monochrome Rainbow

She's there but not quite alive
Putting colors to her face, but her heart is monochrome deep inside
Framing her eyelids white, but her eyes are hollow and lack of light

Whispering to herself, "it's okay to fall apart"

But her fate is going downhill and she's running out of reasons to hold on
The world is spinning still, leaving her soul broken.

Some said she fakes her smile 

while truthfully, her being alive is all a lie
Because when the night falls and she lays on her side,
The façade is over and she's dragged back to the havoc in her spine

Where black lights and white noises reside.
Wrists to her cheeks,
Palms covering ears
Eyes half-lidded, but there's no rainbow on both sides of her eyes

Had her hair done and head crowned

While tongue meeting cheeks, reciting voices they programmed to her mind

Suffocated as she feels, lungs are still working normally

She may look like one, but she's not the queen as they believe

She is the kingdom that lost its king

Without heirs, guards, and the land is shaking

The castle is burning but the gates are raising

Pulses echo in the room where she gazed at the ceiling

Where artificial stars are dimming.

Blood rushes to the emptiness that filled her body

She's sinking to the silence that sings her lullaby

Fear That Keeps Her Awake at Night

Part 1

“I’m not blaming you. I’m not even blaming those who went away... 

I’m blaming my incapability to accept the fact that someday, someone will finish their part in my story and just stopped being one of the supporting role,

That they will cut themselves, and let the hole they left be filled by someone new.

I can’t accept the fact that someday, someone will just wake up and decide that I am not good enough to be a supporting role in their story, so they just stopped writing my name in their book. 

I can’t have that. 

I love them. 

We used to be so important to each other. 

I don't even want to wonder why are they cutting me.”

Son of Ares

You're no General,
Not even a soldier
But your thirst of blood is out of control,
your favorite song was the drum of war,
Son of Ares, you're out of your mind
The Situation will soon be out of your hand
Bite your tongue to bleed,
Hold the tremble in your feet
A heart will always wants more,
But know this; the world can't provide every man's desire

Decision of Three

They Say to be able to write,

You need to be able to read first

And to be able to love,

You need to be able to loved first

The concept of life is a circle

For deaths there are births

For loss there are founds

And for wounds, there are remedies

There are “you” for every “me”

This is dedicated for my remedy. For patiently fix and appreciate me.

For being there consistently, listening to me when everyone is tired already

I wish I have loved you right, because whether you did it intentionally or not,

You sure show me so much compassion; it leaves trails in my heart

There is nothing I wish more than for us to meant for each other

But love is a decision of three: You, me, and the hands of destiny

Tiny World around The Wrist

We're in tiny world around the wrist,
Where every move leads to counter move
Thousands of piece live in harmony, ticking the needle of history
We're in an eternal machinery

The tiny world around the wrist,
Dividing fate based on what they see fit
Beneath the needles that could only count to twelve,
There lies the wheels and analog schemes
Big wheels are turning lazily
While the tiny ones dash uneasy

Tiny, tiny wheel,
You might been on place where you felt
that you're nothing
"Among billions that have lived, how could a little me mean?"
"How could a mere creature like me will keep the world alive?"
"The world is huge, and my hands are small,"
says you.

Tiny, tiny wheel,
You may thought that you are a forgotten piece of art
A disposable part
Little did you know, you keep the wheels turning
Every sins and actions keep the story moving
Tiny, tiny wheel
You may be small, but your role is equal

(to be continued)

Homeless

When did the sun stopped delivering warmth?

When did red stopped being the symbol of fire?

I didn’t remember when this winter end,

But I do remember how it started.

It was when I heard a soft sound of a closed door

And woke up to a goodbye note left on the mirror

I didn’t recall how my heart got broken

Or how did my mind started to change its default mode to sullen

But this ache in my chest, they’re reacting to every spark ignited

To every memories unraveled

I waited to another letter, another words to live on

But there’s no more address to our home,

The streets are gone,

The bridges are burnt,

How come a series of your small steps out

End up being the destruction of my world?

Baby I've gone past blaming your leaving

Right now it's just a war for surviving

The world that gone colder without shelter