inbetweenwhims

[inbetweenwhims]

Dear J,

I know that you’re prepared to do almost anything to cope with the harsh realities of the world, even if it means losing yourself in the process. So let this be a gentle reminder of the person I see you as. (And here’s to hoping that you’d remember her, too.)

You’re….

A dreamer.

With your head in the clouds, you’re not too far from wishing to be among the stars. There’s always a light skip in your step as if there isn’t a thing that you carry upon your shoulders. It isn’t because you need a facade to hide your troubles away; you merely refuse to believe that it should weigh you down.

A child.

It may be a little hard to hear, having been treated like a precious thing who could do no harm all these years, but there’s more to it than that. Take it as a compliment because despite the darkness, the wonder in your eyes never seemed to lose its spark. You’re always so eager to explore the land before you. In your eyes, the world remains to be a strange newfound realm filled with fascinating creatures and the most breathtaking sights. Anything is possible.

A flower.

Not in a sense that you sit still and look pretty. Hell, no. You are one because you do not pretend to be something you are not. You’re comfortable in your own skin. You’re nothing close to perfect, and you don’t dream to be.

This is how I see you.

Sincerely, J

[inbetweenwhims]

The Show

I’m just a little girl lost in a moment

I’m so scared but I don’t show it

I can’t figure it out

It’s bringing me down I know

I’ve got to let it go

And just enjoy the show

I’ve always longed to see more. More of the world, more of people, more of me. I do not want life to simply pass me by. That much I’m certain of.

But whether or not I’m on the right track is a complete mystery. I’m scared out of my wits because there is a possibility that I would wake up one day and realize that I had been following somebody else’s path, that I’ve strayed from what was meant for me.

I hate this feeling. I hate the doubt that fills my head before, during and after making a decision. I hate the prospect of being in deep regret because of all my past choices.

These days, the idea of remaining a spectator can prove to be a little more enticing just to be able to escape those gnawing thoughts.

[inbetweenwhims]

I drift to and fro.

Every now and then, I’d ride the waves of life, enjoying every minute of it. I’d paddle out to the sea, in an attempt to find the next good one. I’d wait and wait, letting the gentler ones pass by. When I do find the most promising one yet, I’d face the shore, starting to paddle again as it drew near. As soon as I’d feel that certain push, one big “Surf’s up, yo!”

Most of the time, I just float about. I’d let the waves rock me instead, not minding where it would take me. Literally “going with the flow”. I might drift too far from my taste, but that’s okay. I could always swim back to a distance I’m more comfortable with, then go back to floating.

I paint words and worlds.

I couldn’t always flow; I had to be rooted. I had to ground myself.

Writing. Poetry. Snippets. I learned to love weaving gardens with words. Because of this craft, I could travel to lands far and wide, having the chance to witness the lovely, the bizarre, and the remarkable, on a whim. I could be anyone I’d like to be, may it be a frustrated ballerina or a remarkable swordsman. Through writing, I could go beyond the four walls in which I live in without really needing to move at all.

Art. For as long as I could remember, I’ve made use of brushes and pencils to convey what words cannot. My art speaks for me when I couldn’t find the right things to say. In a way, what I create is an extension of myself. I want to immortalize how I see the world. It might simply be a matter of creating illusions of permanence, but these are ones which I will wholeheartedly repeat over and over.

Music. Is. A. God sent. I cannot emphasize this enough. When both words and brush strokes won’t suffice, borrowing other people’s words or not having any at all seems to do the trick. Perhaps that can explain why in the 525,600 moments we have in a year, a good portion of it is devoted to such euphonies.

P.S. Nowadays, I rarely have time to enjoy these little things (sadly). I miss the days when I would be so confused whenever I have to decide whether to write, draw, or play first. I missing feeling genuine, unbridled happiness.

[inbetweenwhims]

Human

Will you share your soul with me?

Unzip your skin and let me have a see

Paint me in trust

I’ll be your best friend

Call me the one

This night just can’t end

Oh I’m so human

We’re just human

To feel everything there is to feel which is human. What a concept. This area... isn’t exactly my strongest suit. How do you do this? Is there a manual or a recipe for it? Real life doesn’t really seem to emulate the moments in movies. I know, I’ve tried so hard to understand. As a frustrated hopeless romantic, I am at a loss.