Some things are better left in our heads. Whenever there’s an attempt of saying it out loud or writing it out, it never comes out right. I’d like to call those as imagined words.
Suppressed feelings and overflowing happiness, can never be described in just one word. I’d like to ask some help from a dictionary or a thesaurus but seemed like nothing would match the extremeties of the least and the greatest.
No matter how I describe, no matter how I do sign language, I just can’t say what’s going on in my head. What’s even worse, is if I’m already ready to give my heart to someone I would call my better half, would “mine” be right thing to call you mine?
Those imagined words, that were never meant to be spoken. Never meant to be uttered nor to be murmured, or even to be written by the most lovely hands in the world. I’d like to keep them here, here inside the innermost part of my head. Though I still want to say things to you, there’ll be no way of saying it as long as it remains imagined words.
Tonight, I can’t seem to resolve a lot of things in my head. The only thing it’s prompting me to do right now is to write. Write things I’m not suppose to publish. Things that are not supposed to be shared for a wider audience.
Things like these don’t need sympathy. But, I just can’t fight the urge to post it.
My head’s spinning. Unsure, always confused of what to do. Too afraid to take risks and too brave to dream so high even though I’ll end up falling. Even my sentences, my words, my thoughts right now in this writing doesn’t have cohesion.
My feelings are unresolved.. trying to point at someone to blame for my weary feelings and odd actions.
Confusing it is. The roads of my thoughts are intertwined.
I hope as I sleep tonight, I wake up at the sight of an unconfused aura of me standing in front of the mirror. Slowly, picking up the pieces of me that once had been torned by no one but me. Hopefully I stop blaming others for my misfortune and be responsible of my actions.
said my student last Thursday. He was discussing about this “writing a story on Wattpad” thing with his classmates. We’ve heard that one of the students in the school was able to earn money out of it. And because of the word MONEY, everyone in the class seemed to have a drive for writing all of a sudden.
I passed at the hallway of our school. I saw my reflection at the glass window of one of the rooms. I made a second look. I thought I saw my dad’s reflection. I guess they’re right. I do look like my dad.