Lose It All

What started out to be a random rant about not being able to move on, turned into a summation of the year that passed. It's quite early for a year-ender, but this post basically sums up 2017 for me. Just had to look for a soundtrack other than Ellie Goulding's Still Falling for You.

Nom de Guerre

Born on 20th of October 2009, a pseudonym I penned for myself. 

Victor : from Latin victor, from victus, past participle of vincere, to conquer

Saudade : from Portuguese saudade, from soidade/soydade, an intimate feeling and mood caused by the longing for something absent that is being missed

He's born to conquer my feelings of longing for erst-while lovers.

Yet, it feels he's not living up to his name.

Shower Dyshporia

As the cold water drizzles over his skin, he stands in the shower with his head lowered staring down at the pooling water at his feet. Words from old conversations echoing in his head. Then it struck him in a raspy whisper, "Unworthy". The feeling of rejection swamping over him, as his self-worth slowly pouring down the drain. He lathers his body with callous hands, gently but firmly running his hands down his shoulders, locking into an embrace. Water or tears, it all keeps flowing down his face.

Questioning Heart

I've been questioning myself, constantly,
Do I even know how to love?

With what we went through, I keep questioning myself,
Did I even love you?

Because I've been hearing from others, in failed relationships there are lessons learned...
And I keep on reflecting on ours...

I thought that I did not know how to love, but perhaps I did not make you feel loved at all.
So that question lingers.. haunts me...

Do I not love you at all?
When all I wanted was only the best for you, even knowing I'm not that one for you.

Isn't it love, when all you have in heart and mind, and even in prayers,
are the best for that one person, despite being out of their mind, out of their sight, and out of their lives?

House Chore Epiphany

He looks at the mess that is his house; his worn clothes scattered all over the place, as well as papers and documents on top of every surface. He takes a long look at his mess, and starts picking up the laundry a piece at a time. At that moment, it struck him. All this time, he's been yearning for release from his shackled past, and that all he's been doing were all for naught. Every step he took, every deed done, were all but a glimpse of escape, and not much of the freedom that he's thirsting for.