biibob

[biibob]

Unspoken Longing

It’s late on a Sunday night and I started thinking about what you said at Thursday evening. I’m laying in bed with Autumn by NIKI blast through my speakers. Some of the lyrics she sang were like mental beating to me. I wanted to break my phone just so I don’t have to look at it every second to check whether you wanted to fix us or not.

But here we are, skin and flesh and beating hearts, and I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong.

Everything is suffocating me, filled with echoes of unsaid words. I'm lost in the labyrinth of 'what ifs' and 'maybes', trapped in a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

You know all my dreams, you were one, so it seemed and I love you but with you, it's heartache I breathe. You gave it your all, just with everything you took from me.

[biibob]

A Cycle That Repeats Itself

It was 1 am on a Sunday and I’m longing for your embrace. I’m laying in my bed — crying. I threw my phone somewhere to the corner of my room because I can’t keep checking my phone every ten seconds just to see whether you texted or not. I don’t want to cling to you as if I mean anything. I want you on my clasp knowing holding you feel like holding shattered glass.

I long for you, I long for you, I long for—

The more I try to let you go, the more I yearn for a glimpse of you. You physically left, yet the memories still haunt me. I feel like I no longer have the energy to let out an audible scream — raging inside and can’t do anything about it. Ache consumes me — an ache that reverberates through the cosmic tapestry, longing for an encounter that’ll be unfulfilled.

— biibob, 09/20

[biibob]

Silent Farewell

The month has change and we’re still watching my grandfather die gradually. This time, I would very much like to say I’m just saying that metaphorically like all of the things I’ve said. We are all mourning we haven’t lost, but we know we would eventually. He’s quiet yet he’s not. If you do realize, he’s rattling his pain silently in his sorrows.

— biibob, 09/16

[biibob]

Fading Echoes

I’ve spent most of my days lately thinking about my funeral. How I want it to be, what color will my casket be, who I expect to be there, what will they say about me, and how long will people forget and move on afterwards. I’ve been scripting this for quite a while now.

I’ve also been planning on how I’ll die. For instance, I have a vision where if I decided to hang myself, I’d probably play High and Dry. I might even put a few notes for whoever’ll find me hanging. Or I’ll slit my wrist with a pretty knife, grasping it with all of the consciousness I’ll have left , literally.

I want my death to be a moment, a single moment. I don’t want it to resonate with people in the upcoming years. I don’t want people to mourn about the ‘loss’ of me for half of their lives. I don’t want anyone to end up like me.

For whoever is reading this far, I’m very much sorry.

— biibob, 09/14

[biibob]

Me and The Hopes That Perish Within The Wind

The ocean aggressively washes the shore off with its waves, but the sand thinks of this as a short embrace. I was pensive as I peered at the soothing swells in the ocean, wondering about each of the things which might have crossed my path up towards this point. I want to love you as much as I love the ocean. Cherish, infatuation, yearning. I want you to drown me in your tsunami of emotions — love, hate, interest, anger, all of you. The breeze brought me back to reality.

All of my ideas vanish — like the way of sands blown away by the waves. I see you, but you don’t even know my existence. My heart beats fast, but yours remains still. I watch how you sat on the sand, feel the sand on your skin, and smile as the wind blows through your face. But my heart feels it has been massacred as I see your eyes overflow with emotions when you see her. Clutch her in your arms as if she’ll turn to embers if you don’t. A broken heart, melts to horrible suffering, resembling the flesh flooded with blistering fire.

— biibob, 07/30

[biibob]

Disposable Camera

When we walked pass each other on a Monday afternoon is an encounter I’ve been waiting for. A disposable camera looped around your neck wasn’t so hard to notice. You stopped — Can I have a picture of you? I froze. Everything seems to be going in slow motion. You backed away, took my picture, said thanks, smiled, then walked away. Do you think I’d forget about it? It was just yesterday when you send me the result of the picture you took. The text message I got from you made me think it’s a sign — it wasn’t. It was just an illusion I created. Thank you — I said regarding the picture. I asked for your camera type only because I want to talk with you more. I guess I need to lower all my expectations.

— biibob, 07/24

[biibob]

Tears Of Blade

Glass shattered in our kitchen. Cake we baked is remained smashed on the counter. Water kept running from the tap in our pantry. Our screams were heard. Shouting off over each other’s. You ripped apart the bracelet I gave you — the one I made. My gloomy eyes stared at yours for a second. Looking for an answer I know you wouldn’t give me. I hate you for what you did, but I know I’ll miss you like a little kid.

— biibob, 07/23

[biibob]

Nightfall 2.0

Hold my hand and I'll keep you warm — the night is still long and cold. We may have all the time in the world on the palm of our hands, but we'll savor every second we spend together. Your eyes shine under the night-sky. I looked at you and that's where I see a glimpse of us. Our hearts collided like celestial bodies, setting the universe ablaze. You held me tightly in your arms. Letting me listen to your heartbeat — making me feel like it's pumping blood through your veins as if it's pumping mine too. You're the one thing I swear I can't outgrow. My feelings for you can be unsure sometimes, but I'll make sure to not fall out of love as long as you keep drowning me in the tsunami of emotions.

— biibob, 07/20

[biibob]

I Wouldn't Say 'I Love You,' So I;

Bake you a tray of cookies / write poetries all about you / give you handwritten letters / make you a playlist / change the current song I'm playing to listen to yours / share my other piece of earphone / send you songs that make me thought about you / pretend to never watch a movie so we could watch it together / watch all season of your favorite show / give you hugs even though I hate them / "I'm so glad we met" / let you have the last bite of ice creams / read your favorite book / remember every little things about you / relish every moment I have with you.

— biibob, 07/19

[biibob]

Nightfall

I was ready to give you my hand but not my heart. Dance with me, the earth is spinning and we can’t just stand on it — he said. He looked at me, played his favorite song. I’d let you grab my arm and dance with you under the moonlight. But I wouldn’t give you all of me to let you clutch in your arms. I buried my face in his shoulder as he held me tightly. I looked at him, baffled in love and hate. He kissed my forehead. We were just two broken souls scarred with wounds and playing a game of love and trust. I’ll love you forever even when I can’t and even when I shouldn’t — he told me. He smiled, spin me around, then kissed me fastidiously whilst having me in his arms. And after that, I realized — I’m ready to give him my hands and my heart.

— biibob, 07/19

[biibob]

The Weight of Sins: A Journey Through the Seven Deadly Sins.

“Did you want a trophy?” The question ricocheted in my skull. I was standing on the stage under the spotlight. The applause roared through the theater. The gold trophy glinted in my hands, heavier than anticipated. Yet, a smirk pulled at my lips. A voice whispered in my ear, reminding me of my extraordinary genius. But the voice sounded more like a roar in my head. It was my own voice, fueling the flame of my pride. Who needed humility when I was at the top, basking in the glory that I fully believed I deserved?

“But I can’t just leave it alone.” A familiar itch spread through my veins. I had enough, I knew it. I was wealthy beyond reason. But my gaze couldn't leave the glinting jewels in the store window. The whisper of silk, the clink of gold, the feeling of power they conferred — they called out to me, singing their siren song. I found myself stepping forward, ignoring the weight of the gold in my pocket. The desire to accumulate, to own, was stronger than any rational thought.

“I would burn the house down just to hear you say my name.” I remember the smoky eyes of her, the intoxicating scent of her hair, and the velvet touch of her skin. She was a temptation incarnate, drawing me in with an intensity I couldn’t resist. My world was burning, consumed by a fire that couldn't be quenched. Her name was the fuel, her touch the oxygen. The very thought of her was an all-consuming inferno, threatening to reduce me to ashes. I didn’t care; I was ready to risk it all, just to be with him.

“Can I be her?” The question slithered out before I could suppress it. I watched her from the shadows. She was the object of everyone's admiration, the object of my obsessive desire. I coveted her grace, her beauty, her life. I was envious of the adoration she received, the love she was surrounded by. The bile of jealousy rose in my throat. I wanted to walk in her shoes, live her life. The feeling gnawed at me, a worm in my heart.

“I stuff myself with lies.” The words came out in a half-choked whisper. I was seated at a table, an extravagant banquet laid out in front of me. The food tasted bland. The drink was bitter. I gorged on the feast of deception, engorged by the hollow platitudes and fabricated accolades. The falsehoods were cloying, suffocating, yet I kept indulging. The more I consumed, the emptier I felt. The insatiable hunger for validation was a beast that couldn’t be tamed.

“Hurt people, hurt people.” The realization struck me like a blow, leaving me breathless. I was the perpetrator, the victim, the cycle of pain embodied. I saw red, felt the bile rising. My anger was a raging tempest, leaving devastation in its wake. It was a chain reaction, a wave of destruction. I felt the sting of hurt, then the surge of fury. The cycle repeated, the scars deepening with every rotation.

“What does exhaustion look like to you? Can you personify it?” The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. I was the embodiment of weariness, a husk drained of vitality. The weight of the sins bore down on me, an unbearable burden. My pride had waned, my greed unfulfilled, my lust was a burnt-out flame, my envy dissolved, my gluttony unsatisfied, and my wrath had left me broken.

I was tired, oh — so tired, a shell of the person I used to be. The reflection in the mirror was a stranger, worn out and defeated. I was lethargy personified, weighed down by the seven deadly sins. The trophy in my hand felt like a leaden weight, the applause echoed in my hollow soul. I closed succumbing to the enticing pull of oblivion.

— biibob, 07/18

[biibob]

Echoes of Absence

I reached your hand, but it slipped away like sand. Pulled myself away when I realized you’ll never love me like the way it was. The silence of the night echoes louder than my heartbeat, I’m left drowning in my own defeat. I reached out my hand to the side of my bed only to meet the emptiness — reminder that you will no longer be there. Your absence feels like a never ending ache — a wound that refuses to heal. My heart shattered into a million pieces, and I'm left trying to pick up the debris of us. The love we shared was a fairytale, until reality came to unveil. The memories of you linger like a bittersweet taste in my heart, haunting me like an empty void. With each passing day, I'm reminded of what I've lost, and the pain never seems to exhaust.

— biibob, 07/17

[biibob]

Seven Sins, One Redemption

The embers in the hearth flickered and crackled, casting dancing shadows on the grandeur of the regal library. I am not just a man; I am the embodiment of the Seven Deadly Sins, each one woven into the tapestry of my existence, like a novel written in the ink of vice. Pride was my favorite sin, a sin I wore like an ornate cloak. As a celebrated author, I relished in my vanity. My words were not just adored, but worshipped. Every book launch, every signed copy, every adoring fan fed this insatiable monster within me. I was convinced I was better, smarter, untouchable. Yet, a solitary letter changed everything. An anonymous critic wrote, "Your words are nothing but monotonous thunder under an empty sky." That hurt me, chipping away at my towering vanity.

I was also consumed by Envy. I envied my friend's talent for painting, the way he captured emotions on a canvas like catching fireflies in a jar. I was resentful of the ease with which he could enchant an audience, a skill I lacked. So, I schemed and stole one of his masterpieces, hanging it in my mansion, silently claiming it as my own. Greed found its home in me too. My immense fortune never satisfied me. I wanted more — more money, more power, more control. I had been presented with the opportunity to exploit my employees for extra profits. In my relentless pursuit of wealth, I didn't hesitate.

But gluttony, oh Gluttony, was a beast of a different kind. I dined on the finest delicacies, drank the most exquisite wines, hosted the most lavish parties. It was never about the pleasure of taste or the joy of gathering. It was about excess, about drowning my insecurities in an ocean of indulgence. Lust was not just about the carnal desire, but the lust for life, for experiencing every forbidden pleasure. I desired everything I could not have. It led me down a path of broken relationships, empty promises, and a void within me that kept growing.

I was a ticking bomb of Wrath. My anger was an inferno that consumed all in its path, leaving scorched trails of regret. I had lost friends, tarnished relationships, and created a wall of isolation around me due to my uncontrollable rage. Lastly, Sloth held me in its lethargic grip. Despite having the potential to create and inspire, I spent my days in idle contemplation, procrastinating, wasting away my talent.

The Seven Deadly Sins had weaved a destructive path through my life. It was an evening of reckoning as I confronted my distorted reflection in the mirror, acknowledging each sin. I felt a spark of something I hadn't felt in a long time, a longing to change, a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, I thought, it wasn't too late to shed these sins. Perhaps, there was still time to write a new chapter, a chapter of redemption.

— biibob, 07/15.