#randomlfe

[lucas-xx]

Shadows are at their thickest under the brightest of the light. One may look behind them to see the sharpest formulation of their curves, crevices, and shapes and see all the movement that its entirety will mirror from the body to which it belongs. Along with it comes the possible dawning of a realization of the amount of space they take under the intense glares of luminescence, as well as this very phenomenon's embedding into their essence's hearts.

In the spirit of a Being's creative pursuit, Shadows are a tool of fortune in telling and retelling the adventures that the Being's body played, which is told to the space upon which the Shadow lays. In the stillness of the Being, one will stare into its Shadow only for one to see how the flower in front bends down sorrowfully. It bends because the sun's rays, parried by the Being's body, failed to reach its petals. And the Shadow's owner may see it as an act of unwillful deprivation enacted by its mere presence. Eventually, as the body moves, the eyes can never once again turn blind against the images of flowers and plants and everything bright in the face of life bending downwards. Jolly skipping over green grasses will slowly turn into steps upon eggshells. Limbs flowing freely with the gush of the breeze will be bound close by fear and guilt. The head held high in facing the facets of reality's differences is now cast down to the truth of contempt felt by taking space.

'A damnation. An abomination. The epitome of error in Creation,' the Shadow of Being will perceive itself as, until a lone puny beast lies underneath the Shadow for a rest from the sun's heat and radiance. For a moment's whim, the Shadow has become the solace of a new identity - a stark contrast of significance from what was preconceived. Titillating notions of curiosity and confusion disrupted the balance of the scorn that settled itself deep within the heart that constantly interprets the world—the world that had just seemed to have grown a little bit bigger after the encounter. The very entity that withheld light from those who took life from it is also a haven for those weary of the light that also diminishes life. 'Such an astonishing paradox!'

And the world had grown even more so when one met a fellow Being whose Shadow swayed along in telling and retelling adventures. In quick strides, the slow dance of two Beings intertwined. In what felt like an impeccable interpolation of two destinies's ends, the waltz of two Beings' feet explored and created beats, tempos, and melodies that passionately laced each of the Beings' clashes, which are now created and played by the Shadows of two Beings sharing and uniting the spaces from where they're are eternally bound.

Images upon images, they formed stories from their Shadows, holding each other's hands. Sometimes, it's each other's necks. Some days, they'd go up to the top of the hill and play upon a bed of daisies. Crowns will be made out of them, and a coronation will be held. Together, side by side, they'd stand on the edge and see the world from up there, with their Shadows resting upon the ground growing larger the deeper the slope gets. Backs against each other, they'd watch both ends of the world be filled with their Shadow without a single care about which being suffers and which finds solace underneath the existence of their shade. It is in these moments that their reign feels like the only thing that matters in the world.

But on some days, they'll be bathed in daylight as their Shadows tightly hold one another's limbs on a bed of roses filled with unforgiving thorns. And, they'll dance. They'd dance the waltz of anger and torment and pride and sadness and fear, with each step evoking a yelp or a scream from them for the scratches of the thorns so ruthless upon their feet were almost unbearable if it weren't for the petals raining over them as they move with painful grace.

In the evening and in all the evenings, underneath the moon's lucent glow and in the cradling of the night's cool breeze, there the Beings lie still. They'd be unstirred along with the world within their embrace or with just their hand holding onto each other. Both Shadows are caged within both Bodies, and not a thought about existence's essence and how it's forged upon the earth will matter during that moment. Everything under the moon is sound asleep, and everything breathes out the life of the day about to pass. Everything is still, and everything is quiet. Everything wouldn't matter but the warmth that each of the Being's bodies emanates—the warmth they feel from each other. And with that thought, they would smile.

Because it is in those moments that they'd feel alive and at peace with just their Bodies. To feel the warmth of an existence so bare beside you during the night feels like the epitome of a life free from the constant demand of placing your Shadow properly in a world filled with all shades of grey. 'By simply being there as I sleep, the justification that my beating heart needs has been given,' both Beings whisper, hoping that the wind would carry their words to each other's ears.

-

The Sun is eternally unforgiving when we wish for ourselves to cease and always merciful when we're grateful for the Shadows we emit on the grounds of this world. Its shining light cast upon us is nothing but a projector lighted against a canvas waiting to be filled with stories of meaning and virtue and the complete lack of it. Underneath the vastness of it all, we are nothing but Beings emanating our Shadows, along with other Beings emanating their own Shadows. What is right, wrong, what is proper, what isn't, what is unsightly, what is pleasant, and all of it basking underneath the Sun's rays turns grey under the Moon.

[lucas-xx]

—of conversations with the wall

[lucas-xx]

—of conversations with the wall

[lucas-xx]

it sits on your shoulder. at first, it feels like a hand with a firm grip on your left shoulder that you can brush off easily when you need to attend to the matters at hand.

it was like that, at first, like a hand.

i brushed it off, day by day, and i thought i was easily laying it aside, until i looked into the mirror and saw that it had grown another hand. it was latched in my other arm like a sleeve, and it has been the one that's controlling my arm's movement.

i haven't been really putting it off, after all. maybe that is why my steps have grown so heavy these days.

the following weeks, it finally covered both of my arms. they were pitch black now. and i have grown extremely pale in comparison. it's like a snake that constricted all the blood flow from my limbs from then on. i couldn't feel my arms anymore, but it moved, nevertheless. it attended to matters at hand. i can see it moving, but all the space where its touch must land, they turn to ash.

a week later, it got to my legs. maybe that is why i felt like i wasn't moving at all despite seeing my body in different places.

my skin has grown even paler this time around. and my eyes screamed in a slow burning death that everyone is blind to.

however, they hear my voice.

my voice. goodness, my voice. it has grown coarse throughout time. it was constricted, my neck, and it has turned black, too. i forgot what my melody sounded like before this pitch black entity covered my limbs. the hymns by which my movements dance into became monotonous wails of plead for mercy that reaches the hearts of others like a spear that was made to only tear things apart.

but i was crying for help. this entity turned every flower, every leaf, every sprout of life into vines filled with thorns that everything i touch end up being filled with holes too big and painful for both me and the world.

and now it has spread all throughout my body, plagued both my mind and my heart and i still do not know what it is. maybe, i do. i just can't face it. but how would i face it when all i see when i look in the mirror is a void - a vastness of emptiness that were once a kingdom of impossibilities being turned into reality?

where did it come from? what is it?

what have i done wrong?

—of conversations with the wall.

[lucas-xx]

As you watch it wither,

Pray to the gods in the heavens above to keep you warm in the face of the snowstorms—snowstorms too strong and endless that made the home feel like a wall-less shelter of sand whose grains pool at your throat, gnawing on every flesh.

Pray for the strength of your seemingly limbless body for it to stand up, move, and swim in the ocean of its own blood, sweat, and tears—all of which that can only be brought into existence in the eyes of others through the muttering of curses by the body's mad, tainted tongue.

Pray for the miracle of a mirror that changes the trajectory of the shadows where your soul is encased into a light that proves the existence of a life that once came from you. Should it shatter into a thousand pieces as it draws nearer and nearer to your void—let it, for the shadow would need all shades of light to bathe into.

Pray for the hands of love from the heavens above to pull you up from the mud of your own demons, whose faces are named after every suffering your eyes remained wide open to, both in the fulfillment of your virtuous heart and against your eyes' own volition.

Pray for the patience to make your soul wait for the blooming of the nelumbo nucifera in the eternal stillness of the lake frozen in the coldest snowstorms—snowstorms that may turn into calm breezes of breath in your lungs and caress on your skin if you keep praying.

[lucas-xx]

...like, it's all wrapped up together. twist and turns and tangles. twist and turns and tangles. you can't pin down which is wrong anymore. which one is right? what does right feel? maybe it felt right because at first, a part of us were completed? until we saw the other puzzle pieces. the puzzle pieces that show we're from different worlds that can never be one. like oil and water. precisely like oil and water. it's immensely beautiful seeing them inside a lava lamp, creating mesmerizing figures underneath different lights, but that's only what they're actually useful for. eye candy. figures. images to be admired. nothing else. tell me, what else are they useful for?

[lucas-xx]

Ignorance is bliss, they said, but I've always despised mine. It's such a pivotal point of change to yearn it back. But of what facet am I extremely knowledgeable about, exactly, aside from my own head? None. Mere ticking seconds are yet to be experienced, which implies the abundance of ignorance, yet I've got no space left for it because deep within me, time has stopped.

[lucas-xx]

Everybody talks about how amazing love is. Everybody knows how it makes your soul soar through the highest of transcendances an individual can ever reach. It's always about how divine it feels—that instant connection, that magical click of two different individuals in a world of 7 billion random chances. It's surreal, isn't it?

But nobody talks about when that click starts to hurt the most. Almost nobody talks about how afraid it makes you feel. Love does give us courage, but it also embeds in us the biggest of fears that, perhaps, nobody is courageous enough to admit to themselves.

...like the fear of seeing the look of disappointment in your Love's eyes when it meets yours. The fear of seeing their worn out souls because of the pain and challenges that comes along with carrying the relationship. Do you know the fear of being vulnerable? Have you met that fear of being so broken in front of your Love that even your Love looks at you so helplessly? There's the fear of not being enough, too. And the fear of becoming too much. Nobody talks about how often it makes you feel like shit about yourself, just as much as how it makes you feel like you can conquer the entire world. Finally, there's the fear of not loving your Love strongly enough that your fear of losing your Love overrides your love that also hopes for nothing but the fulfillment of the other half's heart—even if it means letting go. It'll be such a shame for your fears to win over your love.

Your Love deserves everything the world can offer—the best of everything, even if it means freedom from you, you know that for sure, and it's so easy for us to say these words in the heights of joy, but nobody talks about how painful it gets when this possibility is only a tear or a fight away from reality. Almost all of us will back out. The few who decides to sacrifice are at risk of losing their sanity for who knows how long.

Such a crazy phenomenon, this thing is. It's exactly how you know it's the real thing because all of these fears taking a tightly good grip at your heart and your neck, it can only happen if you know it's something you can lose. It can only happen if you truly gave a piece of your heart, and have let your walls down for someone. It can only happen if your heart knows that the world isn't just about you anymore. Fear and pain and suffering only exists because we're not alone. So are the antonyms of those three. And boy, does that feel nice.

—of conversations with the wall

[lucas-xx]

Something interestingly painful happens in my mind as I lay myself down every night. The inner child goes berserk and panicking, recalling all the pain and all the memories it went through. And thus, the process begins. It would see how everything might've gone right – or at least, the parts where the child could've defended herself and fought back. It sees how everything is rooted in one another – interrelated and interconnected, influencing and concurring with each other – as it manifests itself into the tiniest of details found in every whim of thought and action of the present self. Then, it would hurt. It would hurt for itself and blame the entire world for the pain it carries. Bitterness grows within, rooted deep, and for a moment's whim, the child will be embraced by coldness. Thoughts of solitude hold its heart strong until the very idea of seeing her love slip her hands flashed before her eyes.

That is when it will click. The fact that none of what she thought was actually true enough to be the basis of an entire decision that would turn her life around completely. She'd come to the realization that all of it was rooted in her fear of being looked at with eyes brimming with disappointment. She longs to be seen as a human being who's learning to walk on different kinds of paths her life will take her, not some deity trying to uphold and implement utopia in reality – she knows very well that it's already within us, so there is no need for that intricacy. She longs to be seen as an ignorant child of the world, but not of herself, no. This child longs to be forgiven for not knowing any better, and she longs to be seen for trying to be better. She longs to be seen not for how she fell but for how she stood up and tended her wounds. This is not to excuse her for causing pain, no, she admits to it. It's what she's always done.

And that's when the pain would start to flood her. Contrary to what the child intended to do, her heart begs to be with everyone and longs to be seen by everyone. She longs to be understood, just like everyone else does.

And then, a woman comes up to that child to remind her that she doesn't need the eyes of others to feel seen. She doesn't need the recognition of other people, even the people that she holds so dearly, for her to feel complete and worthy of being here.

Breathe and look in the mirror. Look at your own eyes and see through you.

No one else can ever understand the depths of that child but the child itself because no one can feel the same way, see the same thing, and hold the same value as the child's heart does. As long as the child sees itself, then she's seen. So, she doesn't need to worry that much. Stand up, keep doing what the heart is great at doing—to love. The world is out there to receive and give in its own way, too.

—of conversations with the walls

[lucas-xx]

step out of your head and see the world as it is. people value things differently. therefore, it's only natural that people might take on a surface level the values you hold so dearly. that doesn't mean they don't care. they just see it differently.

showing the world compassion the way you know how to do it is kind, but it's definitely a whole 'nother level of kindness to show compassion based on how THE WORLD will appreciate it.

unpopular opinion—ruthless, even—but people have to step out of their little world and actually take the responsibility of finding a common ground with all the different "truths" of the different kinds of people. everyone is equally relevant and worthy.

and just because it doesn't sit right with you, doesn't mean that it's actually wrong. what brings so much chaos and divide in society nowadays is that people like to impose their "truths" on each other, but aren't willing to set their egos down and settle for a compromise through a proper, ad hominem-free, discourse with the people they don't agree with.

[lucas-xx]

time check. 3:44 am.

-

figurative language. it's a love and hate relationship that we have with each other. it's such a beautiful thing, and i've held its hands throughout my entire journey of exploring the world of literature. it provided me home that consists of an entire world which i visit every day or every night. it gave me the power to even create countless worlds of my own. it's always an adventure with it.

but the world sees it as something insignificant. as time passed, it became fragile. it speaks only to a few soul, and its often discouraged by many because it soars too high. they think its delusional, but i think its because world just couldnt understand it. so i kept fighting for it, because i see its worth, and while holding our adventures together close to my heart, i kept it close to me as i wage onto the path of grounded reality.

it got harder, because figurative language grew weaker and weaker as i get older.

...

...

i'm confused.

is it growing paler, or i'm just losing my ability to see color?

my world is slowly being filled with greys, and i do not know what to do. i'm scared. i wish to tell stories again, and describe the adventures of the places and the mind and the heart within the joys of life with fugurative language but i'm becoming too stiff.

i want to feel again and i want to make people feel again. i dont want to make them think, like what i've been usually doing now.

...

...

—of conversations with the wall

[lucas-xx]

i feel like a fraud.

but maybe it's also the people's fault for thinking that i'm smart even if i keep on telling them that i'm not.

i'm not smart. intelligent. whatever adjective people use to describe actually smart people.

i just read a lot. like, a lot lot. and what i read just sticks for reasons that i, myself, am also completely unaware of. i read lots of topics, concepts, and ideas about the different.. things.. the world has to offer, but i could never really master any of it. i just scratch the surface level of those concepts—barely, even, with most of them.

the smart people are those who have an expertise at something, even with just one thing.

i don't think i could ever reach their level of consistency and committment when it comes to mastering stuff. it's... a completely different level, y'know? imagine the things they went through just to be so good at something—the patience as they slowly build their skill, the pressure and expectations from the experts in their chosen field, the battle between their determination and their self-doubt whenever they're met with that expertise gap, and that godforsaken feeling of a slump when they're progressing so fucking slow they start to wonder if they're actually doing any progress.

hell, i think i'm barely scratching the surface of what their experiences actually are! it's insane! no, i can never do that. i'm scared of facing all of that.

so, i find it really stupid when they say that it's what they can only do.

no, it's not what YOU CAN ONLY DO. it's what ONLY YOU CAN DO.

damn, they're amazing. you're amazing.

—rei x

[lucas-xx]

things are always too tough to understand when we define it based on what society dictates. it becomes too scary, or it becomes too foolish. and most of the time, it wouldn't make any sense at all.

the greatest risk here is... to listen to what your heart says. even if it seems like you're gonna go against the world if you do what your heart tells you to. it's.. a scary step. and you will fall for SO many times that there will be days when you would want to just.. give it up.

which is why it's important to find a place where you can rest. a home where u can go back to after the adventures u've taken.

but it doesnt always have to be another person. it's just a plus, u know. to have your "person." having yourself as your home is enough.

[lucas-xx]

I enjoy the subtle sound

     of the leaves rustling against the wind

Without the familiar fear

     that usually lurks so nearly

The fear of my peace shattering

     because of my mother's impending screams

I enjoy the soft cradling

     My grandfather used to love.

Without the guilt knawing

     At my soul that was once numb.

The guilt that should have been buried

     Alongside his casket of defeat.

I enjoy the time being stretched

     Whilst immersing myself in nothing

Simply staring at leaves dancing

     Forgetting that the sun has set upon me

Waiting for another night of complete darkness

     Not knowing the new patience helps me avoid it

I enjoy laughing so heartily

     It resonates within the entire house

Drowning down the lingering memories

     Of me screaming silent curses

Curses that poisoned my reality

     Reality that life is beautiful for its simplicity

I enjoy this slow, arduous phase

     This quietness that I face

Something I never thought I'd experience

     Because of the lie that I made

The lie that I was made for complexity

      Incapable of seeing things as it is

[lucas-xx]

"You reek of insecurities. Self-hatred and disgust have enveloped your heart whole for a long time, leaving it as nothing but a hollow, dull shell deprived of any color of self-esteem. You feel empty—it clearly shows, because you started feeding upon the euphoric sense of pride after stepping upon other people's flaws.

It became like a vacuum—your heart, sucking in every dust of imperfections of bodies that you come across the street, or those that you see on a casual day. Even those you interact with using your mask of friendliness fell victim to your void.

I hope to gods that light will shine upon your rotting soul for you to see all the poison of misplaced beliefs eating at it."

[lucas-xx]

happy crush

Oh, I missed it certainly The feelings of the heart swelling With warmth whenever you come across A certain face in your timeline Or when you're daydreaming

Oh, I missed it indeed The sensation of the soul Beaten with fatigue and anxiety Being lifted up with just a smile Coming from that certain face

Oh, I missed it truly The joyful thrill of self-loathing Because of the failure to muster up The courage to talk and befriend That certain somebody

Oh, dear, I am overflowing with excitement As I once again remember the fun Of not having your feelings reciprocated By that somebody who barely knows Your existence

Oh, truly, it is fun To not worry about not ending up together To not worry about disappointing the other To accept only the joy that the face gives And to ask for nothing more