Excerpt From A Book I'll Never Write - Blog Posts

The Essence of Time

Time is defined as an indefinite continued progress of existence and events of the past, present, and future regarded as whole. How wonderfully ambiguous is that?

I’ve not known another person more bothered by time than myself. Maybe, because I lost plenty along the way, I started running alongside it, trying to jump onto the next thing before whatever was before was ever done. And maybe, I didn’t care, as long as I could run and keep up, it didn’t matter. But how does one run without failing and falling? I set myself some of the most absurd and unrealistic expectations in life and I’ve come to understand why it’s been so difficult, why I’ve struggled so much with pretty good results and absolutely zero satisfaction. Maybe finding that answer was perhaps the best thing I have ever done for myself and it’s crazy because it’s something I have always known, it’s common sense, and yet I’ve been ignorant.

A professor who is very close to me once said that I had a void that needed filling and every time it was empty, I sought something or someone to fill that space. It sounded presumptuous, completely ridiculous and at that moment, even though I listened to her, I did not quite take it to heart or mind at all. Because it’s so much easier to believe that we are without faults, that we are not the reason for our own downfall and imperfections. So, I let myself believe what I needed to, that I did not have any such voids in my heart that needed filling. The thing is, she never told me where this void was, so why did I believe it was in my heart and not my head? Because I knew better and I’ve always known, that I have been a little more broken and empty, but it hurt to admit that aloud, let alone be told by someone who knows me a lot less than my best friend. It only makes sense for her to be wrong even though she was completely right.

So, I let that fact slide even though every single time I made another mistake or close to one, needed something more than calls and texts, every time I couldn’t differentiate a friend for something else, I remembered my void. I tried filling it with music, with gardening and books and poetry and sleep and every damn thing I could get my hands on. But I’ve been just about broken as I was and maybe there is no fixing this. Maybe, sometimes, you can’t fix everything and that’s okay. Maybe you’re not supposed to fix everything. And sometimes you need to tell yourself whatever helps you sleep better at night, right? It bothered me a little too much and once I started acknowledging my void, I started to realize I had tendencies; things I did because I thought I should, things I believed defined my existence and gave me purpose. And these things that have been hurting me were things I did to myself, things that have tortured my very soul were of my own doing. And I’ve had a hard time letting them go, but no, it isn’t a perfect fix because I don’t know how to fix myself or anything broken about me. I don’t know how to put myself back together without tape and glue that showed I’ve been broken before and scars and wounds that won’t heal sometimes so it always looks like I’m fighting a war on my own. I don’t know it all but I am trying.

It’s like this, for as long as there is soil and water and sun, plants will grow even when the pot may be broken. It’s amazing how they thrive even in the most excruciating weather and maybe I grew so accustomed to the weather and conditions that I let my survival depend on constant fear, pain, and paranoia. It’s been frightening that even when everyone let my reigns go, I couldn’t lose control, that I had to keep running and chasing the next thing without letting myself breathe. And I’m worn out, I’m exhausted so I slept every waking hour of my life these past few months. The irony of that sentence… 

I did, I slept every moment I got enough time to breathe, because I didn’t want to think anymore, I didn’t want to care anymore, I didn’t want to interact or exist. I just needed to stop running, and sleep. I was tired of time and how it never seemed exhausted of chasing it’s own tail over and over again every day. So, I took the clocks off my walls, I stopped wondering when the morning sun settled into afternoons and when the moon came up to greet the evening sky. I simply did not want to think about the time that was running out, I wanted it to stop, I needed time to standstill with me. Because I couldn’t go on anymore. But what was I running out of time, is something I’ll never know, but it was the feeling of losing faith, wasting days and precious hours that’ll never quite come back. I was getting older by the hour, and I hadn’t done that which others may have and I was in this insatiable competition with absolutely no one and I was exhausted. I gave up.

In sleeping to forget how the world moved on without my presence, I missed quite a lot. I missed all the quiet mornings I used to wake before the world where I had coffee and was alone with my thoughts and words. I missed the many sunsets that colored the walls of my room in deep shades of amber. I missed the smell of my books, the kind of subtle hints of fresh print and maybe a little bit of mint that tells you just how old the pages were. I missed the way my pen felt in my hands when thoughts flowed and turned into words on every page of my journal. I missed losing the voice in my head and when everything got really quiet every time I sat on my own at the park, mesmerized by the million lives that unfolded around me where I existed enough but not too much. I missed the rain and how cold it got with every breeze and watching the raindrops trickle down my windowpane, it was simple yet fulfilling. I missed things that made me, me. In running alongside something I could never control, I lost control of the things I had. The world seems different now that I’m awake but the chaos that existed within seems to have subsided. For now.

I got so consumed with a lot of things and maybe I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I chased that which I couldn’t have in hopes of avoiding a void I knew I couldn’t fill. I let myself believe otherwise, and I’ve looked away from my shattered pieces for a long time now that I don’t quite recognize my own reflection anymore. I’m learning, still growing and maybe I am broken, and maybe there’s nothing I can possibly do to fix that. Maybe the time I’ve come to hate so much will never change for me, maybe there will always be a void in me even when I’ve had much to love and do. But in this very moment, I’ve learnt to live with my void. That’s the only thing that matters, not time, but this moment right here. Stay in it, dwell within this moment and everything that’s to unfold will eventually happen but this moment will never come back. This moment here is all that matters and that is the essence of time.

© Raina Rose.

Every morning I awaken in hopes of finding you under the covers, perhaps on the other side of the bed but our reality keeps us miles apart. I can't help but wonder what coffee tastes like on your lips, if you'd like them silky smooth, or bitterly burnt. Every inch of the day closes in on me, keeping you a constant in my thoughts. Every breeze carried by the wind has a hint of whisper, giggling your name. I long for a warmth I've never felt before, I ache for the touch of your skin, for familiarity, to truly know you. I wish I could come up behind you and hold you close whenever it felt like the world was too much for me, to savour the smell of your cologne that’ll keep me company while you were gone. I wish I could curl into your arms every single day and night, seeking refuge in a love never before seen, to lose myself in you, to lose myself with you. I like to imagine we belonged together in another lifetime, perhaps even one of the past, I like the way we think together, the way you complete my sentences and oftentimes, me. I think of nights spent drinking wine on the streets of Italy and Paris, getting lost in places between the allies and perhaps, in your eyes. Whenever I’m alone again, consumed by the thoughts of us, I hold myself together, praying no one else gets to touch and kiss you the way I do. The way I would...

I like our odds my love, I truly do. 

With love,

Rose

© Raina Rose.

It's a choice to be in love, as it is to be hurt by the ones we love. It's often those we love, that hurt us the most, because we've given them the ability to do so. We let them have special places in our hearts, prioritise them, their needs and wants, maybe get a little addicted to their company with more time and similar routines and let ourselves merge as though the process often completes us and makes us whole. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. But it is a choice, all of it is. And as much as it hurts, that's the beauty in love, to choose to be vulnerable with the ones we love, to give them the ability to see us whole, to see us naked, for all that we are, the flaws and beauty, saints and sinners. We choose to be in love knowing it might just wreck havoc before it's all over. We choose love over and over again, because despite the pain, there is beauty in vulnerability, there is beauty in being hurt by love, by the ones we love. This was our choice, to love and to hurt.

© Raina Rose.

Sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder, had I been a lot like her and less like me, perhaps you'd have fallen in love with 'me' too...

Sometimes I see her down the hallway and wonder, why you loved someone like her? Was it her hazel brown eyes that glistened amber under the Sun or was it her crystal smile and endlessly long hair?

Sometimes I see you sitting in that bench alone, floating away into another paradise, completely consumed by your thoughts. In those moments, I wonder if it's sadness that I feel when I see you, hurt that I couldn't be there too or love for the man who even in pain would choose silence and serenity over everything else. In those moments, I completely lose myself all over again, falling in love with you.

Perhaps I need not be anything like her, for to love a dream like you, one must be something different altogether...

© Raina Rose.

I tried getting you off my thoughts, out of my head and burned all that's left with sage. It was supposed to be refreshing, it felt like murder. I was supposed to be clean again, I had blood all over me. It was supposed to be soothing, I've never felt my heart rip apart this way. It was pain and agony. It should have been white but all I saw was red. Was it anger, love or hatred? I stood there frozen with blood all over the floor, memories dying one after another. I'd given you up in exchange for a life I'd be living dead...

© Raina Rose.

white sand, waves crashing on the shoreline, wind blowing from the west i decided to allow the sand to drown my feet as i walked across the shore appreciating the tranquility in the air, i lingered in a spot once in a while to rejoice in the breezy weather with the sound of waves splashing and the 1975’s fallingforyou

for a moment i got lost in the ocean’s ethereal beauty and i envied the moon for being able to see it everyday, i lingered there as the moon vowed its love for the ocean wishing i could do the same to you but i knew better than to break my own fragile heart like that as unfortunately the feelings aren’t reciprocal

i looked down catching the moment where the waves kissed the shore over and over again more passionately each time as if it were its last time every time and it reminded me of the endless love i had to pour all over you if only you’d let me

snapping back to reality i realized it was foolish of me to turn that euphoric moment into a melancholy one so i continued walking with you on my mind still i thought of how impeccable this moment would be with your presence just you, me and the ocean...

white sand, waves splashing, wind blowing

for a moment i got lost in the ocean’s ethereal beauty and i envied the moon for being able to see it everyday, i lingered in that state of serenity as the moon vowed its love for the ocean wishing i could do the same to you but i knew better than to break my own fragile heart like that as unfortunately the feelings aren’t reciprocal

— my heart

Her

‪i could talk about the way she made me feel all day long, i had spent days and nights day-dreaming of the spontaneous adventures i longed to have with her‬

with my bare imagination, i could outline on a blank canvas the shape of her torso all the way down her hips

or the way her face lightened up when she shyly smiled

god knows how jolly my days would be with her divine presence

god knows she would be the cause of my sanity as without her, my heart turns wild and i lose my sanity unable to control my emotions and endlessly longing for love only she could give me

joy, only her eyes could give me, and freedom only she could grant me.

for her i would steal the sky a million times and over

for the joy she gives me has no price,

i would leap over mountains and cross oceans to simply listen to her speak of all her anime fantasies and all her favorite characters, to listen to her dreams and all the weird food combinations she loves.

Deep down the core within this big heart of mine lies an unhealed wound that when touched aches as if it was stabbed a million times right at that moment but that’s not what’s peculiar about it, the fact that the pain seems to satisfy my soul is what’s peculiar. When the pain comes, it’s like a reuniting with a long lost friend. I welcome it with all my might.

My heart

When will you realize that you and I belong together

We may be toxic for one another but living another day with you is painful

The pain eats me away day by day

The moons calls to me at night, reflecting all our memories

The frosty cold night breeze prickles through my skin, reminding me of our romantic walks by the park and how you kissed me breathlessly as if I was your oxygen

I caught a glimpse of her dark soul and a taste of her poisoned lips ever since then, my soul has been mourning her absence and crying for more

my dark and lone mind

Jocelyn Flores

I never really obtained the privilege to see or meet the wonderful soul that makes this beautiful tunes yet after knowing of your death my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Even on this present day your music, evokes a nostalgic feeling in me as if I had known you or been with you before. I wonder why and how is it possible to feel such a deep connection with someone simply through music. Your death was a tragic one, how I wish you were still with us. Rest easy Jah

Her

Poetry is when a heart aches of love, pure genuine love, an offspring of happiness. It is when tears run down your cheeks due to the amount of love one can feel. it allows you a moment of pure ecstasy, so hypnotic to the eye of one who has once felt that pure love. Poetry is art. Art that creates ethereal imagery in your heart, and mind.

28/10

My best read Highschool drama with murder and twists ! I'm sad and happy at the same time because I finished it way more faster than I should 😋

Now, I'm gonna cry in self pity because I have an online biology test and not being able to read the sequel sucks (ㄒoㄒ)

love quotesexcerpt from a book I'll never writeliteraturelitalt litwordsspilled inkquoteofthedaydepressivelostlifelovepoetrywritingquotespoets on tumblrwriters on tumblrheartbreakjuansendizon7 billion broken smiles and yours was the one I fell in love with the most.

Juansen Dizon (via juansendizon)

Treasure. (Necesito un título xd)

Su relación es imposible. Sus mundos son opuestos. El es odiado y ella es amada. Ambos son buenos. El siente de más. Ella escucha de más. El se oculta aunque nadie lo ve y ella es invisible a pesar de que todos la observan. Son claramente opuestos pero se complementan. No se entienden pero se aceptan. No se besan pero se aman. Ni ellos mismos se conocen. Así que se descubren. Juntos.

El siempre valiente, serio, audaz pero triste. Su escape son las estrellas, la astronomía, la inmensidad del mundo que lo hace más pequeño a el y, especialmente, a su tristeza; que a comparación no es más que algo completamente irrelevante e innecesario. Teniendo en cuenta todos los astros, los planetas y universos. El tiene el pelo rojo. Tan rojo que a la luz cobra una intensidad tan anaranjada como el fuego, un fuego que de solo observarlo ya quema. Arde. El es una llama ahogada en una tristeza a la que se acostumbró. Es un guardia prestigioso, siempre serio y solitario. No hay nada que lo distraiga. Tiene una coraza ardiente que parece indestructible pero que no lo es. Sensible de alma y tan apasionado, nadie pensaría que después de todas las cosas que vivió y prescenció aún sea capaz de sentir algo. Si solo supieran que siente todo...el problema es que está apagado para mantener la imagen. Porque un hombre que siente es un hombre débil. Y un hombre débil no sirve para luchar, ni para nada. Aún así el parece fuerte pero es débil y eso no quita que sea uno de los mejores luchadores y protectores. Es un guardián. Es un ave fénix. Es una llama. Es una lágrima de fuego. El está maldito. El es Nikolay Yikantrovich. Mejor conocido como Nytro "el demonio de oro"... según ellos.

Ella es hermosa. Es luz. Es amable, es arte, es reina, es pasional, alegre y triste. Posee una magia incadescente. Ilumina de tal manera que mirarla parece un pecado. Un pecado que es necesario cometer porque nadie es capaz de resistirse. Es puro color. Es una estrella caída del cielo. Es un ángel. Es plata en estado puro. Representa la pureza y genera admiración y adoración. Ella tiene el pelo más blanco que la nieve pero los ojos más negros que la oscuridad. Verla duele porque observar sus ojos es un viaje de ida hacia un universo desconocido no solo para el, sino para cualquiera. Es un hoyo negro. Todo el mundo la observa siempre, no hay nadie que no la conozca. Pero la realidad es que nadie la vio nunca en realidad y no existe persona que la conozca de verdad. Es una joya esperando ser descubierta. Es el alba. Es música. Sus pies son alas y sus manos son notas. Es un ángel plateado. Un tesoro sin mapa. Es única. Es la sonrisa constante y es la lágrima contenida. No demuestra nada pero siente todo. Está vanagloriada y bendecida. Ella es Veryána Ketiré. Mejor conocida como Ryán "el ángel de plata"... según ellos.

El está dispuesto a descubrir nuevos universos y ella está dispuesta a enseñarle el propio.

Ella está dispuesta a atravesar el fuego para enseñarle que es un océano que no conoce. Y el está dispuesta a navegar en las llamas.

¿Una estrella de fuego? ¿O un fuego estrellado?

No lo sé, al fin y al cabo quizás sea necesario unirse para conocerse a uno mismo.

Forgive and forget

Every summer brings heartwarming memories of your previous summers and you achingly miss those days!

This sums up my summer!

This is the summary of my summer days!