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I honestly don't know how to sit still and breathe peacefully when I know something is supposed to arrive. Something that I cannot set aside with my endless sulking and slacking off together all summertime. It's like a hurricane no one can shoo away despite having an attention span of a kid. And it creates clamor in my head. A baffling cry of injury somewhere intangible.
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What should I do? What must I consider?
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Unfortunately, a teenager cannot attend to such questions when the world is made up of thin scraps and rotten garbages. Unfortunately, I cannot.
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I have long chewed the burden of something immense and grave. I've tossed it like a paper fist and kept it piled up in my mind. But they call it responsibility. Others say it's the pressure of the eldest sibling. To be able to comprehend the abyss of pain, sorrow, sacrifice, and an upset heart even in the form of physical discipline and lifetime profanity.
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I am not well. I am not capable of facing the world upside down without a parent yet I am so deep and heavy underneath the struggles of life. I want to grow up and be better than what I'm expected to be. But long was when I felt the serenity of being safe and sound. I am barely breathing. I am barely there. My limbs were as if abandoned at that moment I learned how to walk. My mind is the abstract art of a ballpoint pen as if I must excel the moment I can think of my own. And I haven't been the girl I thought I used to be since I realized this.
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This burden is a burn in my heart I cannot kill with tears alone. It's the weight of my worries altogether that no one sees. The anxiety of the unknown. The attempt to ingest the bile of life that I will never accept just as how it seemed a legacy from my ancestors.
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I've seen how this tradition went from a grateful gift to a curse in disguise of something we desire. To live is as costly as dying in my sleep. What's supposed to be the necessities I take on every day, takes greater necessity to achieve. It takes more value than what humans have to sacrifice that it's futile and void.
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What steps should I take to not fall into a fiasco? How should I ever recover from something vague, something indecisive, something ugly—without losing half of my journey to get to the good side of life?
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I believe I am way past that route with the way I am rewriting my time today. You see, my mind is my enemy when I believe none of what I store in my head speaks to comfort. I feed myself with exaggerated thinking and swallow them back like heartache. And I cannot even distinguish what typical adolescence should look like from life with nothing but tired souls. So what is the point of trying to resurface my sanity? It's a completely broken feeling. A simple phrase to summarize everything with the weight of something unclear. It's the load of emptiness in my head that throbs as if knocking my skull 24/7. Not even medicine can withstand the numbness in existence. Nothing.
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They are coming all at once at an exhausting pace that even my young mind cannot rest from. I guess this is the consequence of being awake, of having to see the world in a different light. My childhood scars were not as pure just as how I remember them. They were multiple warnings of what must come. I will see the universe a little too filthy from the hands of a blissful kid.
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But it never occurred to me that growing up is a priceless kind of torture, not even luxury can forestall. It's a scary one-around ticket with sufferings from a distant relative and the wounds of having my life indebted as freebies. And yet I am incapacitated like a starter murdered by the things I haven't even thought of but I must do.
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As if I am not worthy to best the unexpected. As if all my life, all that I am worried about is the price of cheating the living for once.
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But you must know that I am just a wary and torn-stricken teen. These somber-looking eyes are as heavy as paranoia that if I am to gamble the eternity for a day, my life is on the line.
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@rks.wuhdrelis
A warrior of liberty. With ink stains on her mind and soul. Maayong adlaw! This page contains the information you might want to know about the author. She goes by the name Arques and is under the username @rks.wuhdrelis. She lives in Cebu, Philippines, and is a proud Bisaya. She is a listener of music and is currently drowning in the rhythm of her pop-punk playlist. And she reads too, either depressing or hilarious books. Words from MJ, btw.
Arques is an 18-year-old girl, on a mission to her dream college and a writer wannabe is her reputation. There's a thin line between writing and music that enthralls her mind to scribble every time she has a chance to. To write is to dream and to dream is to be free. Except for nightmares, she believes so. She fancies writing prose poetries that is usually about childhood, life, love, tragedy, something peculiar, or even unnamed emotions. Stay tuned!
If you have reached this far, thank you for giving time. : )
