Pending Passions

It started before it ended When the news broke before the waves reached the shore When the tears never fell and the words never spoken But the lives go on as if good-bye has been spent It started before it ended Though I'm still here, it's as if I'm not Though posts still exist and likes still persist It's as if the distance has already separated us It started before it ended When the laughter burns and the conversations flood But the moments are fleeting and the nights are longer And the songs are louder in the silence It started before it ended When the routine is broken and built When the habits and promises are safe in the treasure chest of time In the forgetfulness and fickle memory of time It started before it ended When the hellos are empty and the small talk is all there will ever be And the good-byes have finally been said As if good-byes were meant by saying hello As if good-bye was what was meant to be said from the beginning It star...

Halfway into darkness, I found myself grasping. The edges of the pictures, the faces, the brightness fading. The heaviness of darkness blanketed my head, embracing my skull with the warmth of suffocation. It was daunting. It was undeniable. It was irresistible. Halfway into darkness, my eyes could no longer carry the burden of seeing. I fought. I fought as valiantly as any knight would against the dragon breathing fire. But my dragon breathed darkness. My eyes were swallowed slowly into oblivion, drowning, now seeing, now blinded. Halfway into darkness, I heard the rush of life. The cries of faceless people, identities never shared. I felt their hurry, their eagerness to move on, as if the darkness never threatened them---as if I were the only one engulfed by it. Halfway into darkness, I could not fight. My mind felt numb, my body paralyzed but for fleeting jolts of resistance. I dared and braved the ancient paths of those who tried and failed but lived to tell the tales---the st...

Out of the darkness, the music came. Calling, capturing those who dared to listen. Like sirens to the sailor lost at sea, the music allured the people, except me. It didn't matter what song it played, what movement it was, which instrument it used. It didn't matter that after every song came the devastating emptiness of silence. I knew it would come again, and with its return, the cries of longing unfulfilled. The strings softly strummed sang an intro to the sun. The drums beat deaf the wooden floor below. The keys depressed rang deep beyond the walls. The walls could not contain it---the walls of human hopes. I cast aside desire, knowing well the pull of want. The voices call me crazy to give up and take a stand. The music, the instruments, the humming, and the songs, they were of no use outside. They held no allure, no symphony, no harmony to a rider of a broken vessel. And yet. The songs came again, inching, whispering to me. The strings that sang to the sun struck...

11:00 p.m. She lies on the bed and stretches. The bed sheet crumples under her and the pillow flattens, forcing her to fold it just to make it appear plump. She stares at the ceiling and decides to clean up the cobwebs in the morning. Maybe. She waits for sleep to come. The light remains on. Midnight She turns the light off. 1:00 a.m. She turns the light on and decides to brush her teeth. She considers reading until she falls asleep, but her eyes complain. Her left eye fights to keep closed in the sudden brightness. She weaves around the mess that is her room, brushes her teeth, then goes back to bed. She stares at the ceiling again. 2:00 a.m. She watches a cartoon series. She goes through four or five episodes when the Internet stops her. The video fails to buffer, and she gives up refreshing the browser. She decides to read a few chapters of a book she considers boring, hoping to fall asleep out of boredom. She finishes one chapter. 3:00 a.m. The light is still on. She...