The You?niverse

Here I lay helplessly as I try to count the stars sparkling with such grace on a melodramatic sky. Have you ever wondered who sprinkled them there? Or do they just come out of nowhere?

And as for tonight there's this one star that just couldn't stop grabbing my attention. It's bright and it looks like as if it's not too far from here. But truthfully it's a few light-years away from the tip of my forehead. And I feel like I could reach that star and tug it under my pillow, give it warmth that lacks in the outer space.

Then again its years from where I stand.

Funny how empty space could make us think that things that supposedly lay thousands of miles from us is just standing bare on top of our heads.

Maybe it's the way we view things, that humans tend to simplify and choose to ignore the complicated facts behind just about everything.
                                                         
But, then again I could be wrong.

I've always wondered what it feels like to live billions of light-years away from something or, someone; how such a tremendous space exists.

It is though, the real distance of where we live to planets out there that we haven’t discovered yet. Imagine knowing someone who lives that far.

But then again, we don't seem to know a lot about people in neighboring countries or even our very own neighbor who lives right across the street.

Well, how about you? How many years do you stand from this very moment? How many more years will it take to finally meet the love of my life?             

I know this seems silly and I'm shouting into the darkness here. 

But I really do want to know, 

I really do. 

Like Tasting Defeat for Dessert

Like Tasting Defeat for Dessert

by Nabilla Utami

So you say life’s a drag but you've only been living a few seconds outside of your mother’s warmth. You haven’t taste the slightest bitterness of “life” I presume? And yet here you are complaining as if you were going to explode in mere seconds and your head would be a fine piece of art, hanging on top of my bookshelf. And your tangerine skin turned pale red, as if there was such a color as pale red. Your screeching voice, echoed through the hollow halls of this deserted asylum and your cries, desperately trying to fight its way out.

I know this is not the dream but it’s not too bad once you get used to it. The painful needle would only sting once and that… won’t probably be enough. Once you’re here, you would kill for freedom. And I might as well tell you, freedom feels like a heavy bag of all your sins.

It is now time for them to hold you down with that big belt that’s probably never been washed since the last time a person has spilled his darkest secret, and his internal organs. You keep on shouting, and helplessly throwing kicks into mid-air, thinking it will free you somehow. But it just won’t work. Shouts of mercy comes flying from your mouth as they try to shove “the system” down your throat.

Its noon and the pain is now unspeakable. Tears crawl slowly from those emerald eyes of yours, as if they’re trying not to wake you up. But you’re not going to wake up.

You’re not.

You lay there, tired.

Tired of carrying all these things you've been keeping to yourself.

All these things you could never share to anyone else, because they just wouldn't understand.

You carefully peek through your now-soggy eyes, trying hard not to make a sound.

Your hands shiver while you grab the mug that’s been sitting a while beside your bed.

You take a sip, and finally tasted defeat.

Happily Depressed

To my conclusion, it seems to me that I am struggling with depression. Or more like, living with depression since I don't really feel like I'm struggling with it.
I like it's company.
Depression keeps me occupied for a thought or two.




But sometimes I wonder, why do I feel this way?
Why do I constantly find myself drowning my joy into a painful thought of life, death, and all the other things in between?

I am not suffering from any chronic disease, nor any economical crisis. To be honest, the house I rest my head during the night is pretty nice. And the material pleasure that surrounds me during the day is, pleasurable.
 
Safe to say that my life looks perfect.








Perfection bores me.









I want my life to be an adventure, and as cliche as that sounds well it is the truth.
I long for the taste of freedom. But I'm finding myself more and more like a house pet each passing sunrise.

I'm afraid some day I'll wake up, not having the urge to seek freedom and finally surrendering to whatever it is that's always been tying me down.

Or maybe the blame for these sensitive moments are in the absence of a lover? (Here we go again, blaming love and all)

Well, there has been some days where I find myself wishing there was someone who I can call in the middle of the day just to tell them how beautiful the sunlight is and how I can't wait for the moon to come in during the night to match the sun's beauty.

But such person could only exist in my most childish thoughts. Because grown ups don't think about love, all they think about is 'how much money will I be taking home to my wife and kids tomorrow?' Well maybe that is some sort of love, but too often have these adults get trapped in such quest for material things that they tend to forget that true love lies from within.






Love.
What a depressing emotion that is

Awkwardness, et cetera.

Tonight the stars thought it might be better for them to stay hidden
They told me something big is going to happen
And two days later there was a dolphin knocking on my doorsteps

I told them, "this is madness!"
They told me I was too blind to realize sooner
They told me the world has gone mad

Where have I been all this time?
Was I too busy trying to disguise myself?
I cannot face a world like this
As far as I could remember, I was only twelve

But that was a thousand and ninety five days ago

I looked at this new world in awkwardness
I have never felt more alone
Everyone looked very sad
and Everything looked almost dead

A sunflower was as cold as winter
and winter became as evil as our dying love

I cannot help anyone here
They all resisted me
I cannot be anyone here
For they refuse to look at me

What have we all become?
Have we lost our hearts somewhere yesterday?
Have we all forgotten what it's like to be human?
Are we even living?

I know I'm breathing
But there is no life.

Should we all die like our love
Or should we try to live?

I have looked down and under for an answer
Left and right, there was no one who would bother
I tried looking up
I saw the stars, but their eyes are all shut