Thoughts - Poem by Biscuit Collection
It’s my best time of the year. Everything seems to be in place.. well, almost everything except one – myself. Everything has changed. And I guess I’m seeing things a whole lot differently from when I was younger. But this new life, this new love, these changes couldn’t quite satisfy me. I seem to still want something I know not what. And even if I try hard to ignore this emptiness, I am still not able to overcome the pain that’s inside of me. Day by day, I exist with one thought, “happiness is what’s in front of me… I only have to open my eyes to see, ” hoping that somehow I’d understand. Easier said than done. The more I try to open my eyes the more I did not want to see. It’s enough for me to know and see once. I need not have to see again and again, for every day of my life. Torture. Each day finds a new way to torment me. And I haven’t changed one bit, in heart and soul. Not one bit, except that I’m much stronger now and much much more wiser. Faith and courage is what keeps me.
Life had always been beautiful and kind. In spite of all the pain, in spite of all the emptiness I would still choose to go on, even if only for being alive itself. I’ve been blessed with so much of what life has to offer. A good mind, good heart, good family, friends, love, education but still, it doesn’t seem to fill in the emptiness. Life is not perfect – never was and never will. I did not want it to either. All I ever wanted was all I could never have, all I could never be. Sadly. I, of all people, was never perfect. I am imperfect in every way. But I do not yearn for perfection, only completeness.
There’d be no fairy tales for me… no fireworks, no love-at-first-sight, no chemistry, no sunsets – no one. I’ve grown out of my childhood fantasies, of wishing stars, and forever. And time would never heal my pain and keep me from hurting.
Destiny is one thing I never understood. How could one feel one thing and yet, be destined for another? Is there anything more depressing than that? Life is full of meant-to-be stuffs. People say, “If you find the right one, you would know it’s the right one by feeling.” And maybe, they could be what they seem. But I could not say what I could not comprehend. As for me, what’s meant to be wasn’t meant to be.
I would never be known. My story would never be heard of or ever be talked about. My existence would never be of significance to any one. I would still walk to school everyday, pass by strangers, continue existing, and no one would ever know that it was I, who loved and lost that love.
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