Monday, February 26, 2018

disorientation.

Let's talk about the cycle of emotions that has been going on lately.

First of all, I decided to fuck myself up by giving away everything I could to an asshole for a few hours. Straight into it, huh? Not my best, reached my low. Was I fine with it? I was... Until people decided to tell me otherwise.

Second of all, I came to a point where I needed emotional comfort. I couldn't seek it from my friends, so I seek it from a stranger who didn't feel like a stranger in the beginning, but I truly was just kidding myself. While I thought I found someone I could talk to, all my powers were stripped and I felt myself changing for someone else. Followed his demands just to please him, and what's worse is I used his weaknesses to make myself stay. It's clear that his strengths just pushes me away. I don't know why I sympathize. I still do.

I've also indulged myself in the holy trinity; dicks, drinks and drugs.

I've stopped having motivation. I've stopped getting inspired. I've developed more anxious thoughts. I've developed more and more thoughts on how to completely destroy myself. I wonder what the limit is. How far can I push myself? I'm also thinking...

Have all my emotions turned into numbness?

It's a Sunday night- Well, early Monday morning now. I'm feeling empty. More empty and hallow than I used to feel. It scared me a little bit. It's actually frightening me right now. Will I ever get out of this? I actually miss having to do something I enjoy and love, but unfortunately I can't remember what those are anymore.

Not only emptiness, not only hallow. It's also very lonesome. Maybe I'm just longing for something, but I can't pin on what it exactly is.

Is it happiness? No. It's probably more of contentment, but what sort? These are probably questions I won't find any answers to.

Friday, January 12, 2018

first.

It was her first.

She went into the bar at 2:30 A.M. looking for a good time. She was greeted with a few boys and a few drinks. She hesitated to touch them, the boys and the drinks, but she stayed in her position because all she wanted that night was a good time. It didn't matter what sort, she just wants to start the year with something she could remember. And she did remember. Because she hesitated to touch them, and she was sober. She wanted to stay sober.

One shot of glass. Smoke. Two shots. Smoke. Three- Her two friends passed out as lightning. She wanted to look out for them, but the situation was chaotic that she didn't know how. In a blink of an eye, the two of them stayed (slept) on the couch. She felt relief. This wasn't the good time she was seeking, but she forced herself to have a good time anyway. On her own.

It was her other friend's first time too. Two glasses of vodka and coke slowly poured down her throat. And once those mixes touched her bloodstream, her nuttier version comes to life. She sees her dancing to her own boom boom with a boy swaying to her hips, and a pang of jealousy appeared.

Jealous? Of the boy? No. She's jealous that her friend is having a good time.

"Come dance!" shouts her nutty friend. Even after multiples of invites, it was her own problem she dealt with being uncomfortable. But that's another story.

The music kept playing. Her hips kept moving.

And out of nowhere, she was approached by a gentleman reaching his hands out to her. At first she kindly rejected, but seeing her two friends passed out and the other getting her ass grabbed by a boy who seems interested, who else was she supposed to spend the first night of the year with? She grabbed his hand, but little did she know that in that moment, it was the beginning of a story she'd tell for days on. Any moves she had was just a copy of her friend's because she's never had a boy touched her. But his touch were addictive, she wanted it for the whole night. She wanted more...

She wanted more, so she opened her legs. He got on top. His hands on her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Their foreheads touched. Eyes closed. Nose touched. It caught her off guard, but his warm lips finally met hers. She didn't know what to do, so she just let him. His lips were warm, thick. She felt his stubble tickling her upper lips. She felt his teeth lightly biting her bottom lips. It's a new sensation. She kissed back for a moment, but then it ended. Way. Too. Soon. Her lips felt cold again.

Let's keep the details short here; he gave her a good time, one that she didn't expect.
As soon as the night was over, the sun had risen but everything turned grey.

Days went on and she still thinks about it. Not the gentleman, but the kiss. Well, sometimes him too. So, she didn't really stay sober that night. She was intoxicated too. And she remembered everything.

Saturday, January 6, 2018

good and bad.

Her days were crept with emptiness and loneliness. Ideas were put into her head. She's always wondered. And she brings her thoughts to life. The good ones, though. The ones that fills her head with "What does being held by a person feels like?" or "How does it feel to just be natural and laugh along with somebody?"

The good thoughts are the ones that she brought to life. What about the bad thoughts? It is now kept deep in the far back. It's been surfing around at the front for long enough. She's succeeded in doing things that would never solely because of the bad thoughts within the first week. She's happy. She's proud.

But, how can one be so sure that she's separated the good and the bad of her thoughts? What if the good and the bad are one? Doesn't her thoughts indicate emptiness? Loneliness? Is that bad? Is that good? How can one be so sure?

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

new year's Day.

Get.
2:30 A.M. // Stressed. Intro. Boys. Dance. Drinks. Firsts.
3:00 A.M. // Tipsy. Boys. Dance. Touch. Sing. Calm.
3:30 A.M. // Drunk. Boys. Dance. Grind. Vomit.
4:00 A.M. // Blackout. Boy. Smile. Dance. Eyes.
4:30 A.M. // Boy. Red. Lips. Dance. DJ. Thighs.
5:00 A.M. // Sweat. Kiss. Bite. Grope. Wet.
5:30 A.M. // Warm. Neck. Hump. Alone.
6:00 A.M. // Hungry. Blackout.
6:30 A.M. // Debrief. Mamak.
7:00 A.M. // Sober. Awkward.
7:30 A.M // Lost. Exhaust.
8:00 A.M // Home.
Fucked.