My LogBook

FOR THE LONGEST TIME, I'VE BEEN PUSHING MYSELF TO GO OUT AND EXPLORE THE HAPPINESS THAT OTHERS ARE LIVING. TO GET THE LIFE THAT MY FRIENDS TELL ME ABOUT. BUT I FELL FOR SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T EXISTS AND IT BRINGS ME JOY AND GRIEF SIMULTANEOUSLY. HERE IS A POEM ABOUT IT... I love her for the way that she's drawn on the canvas of my mind, And her grin like that of a Cheshire cat is one of a kind. Let me apprise you of this deep and furtive amour that I possess, She’s illusory and I fell for her, a million times over her, I obsess. You might think we are quixotic and you’re right in thinking so, But as funny and weird as it seems to you, to her, my last breath, I’ll bestow. Now, if I say that I’m bewitched by thoughts of someone inanimate, Will you laugh at me while ranting that I’m not thinking straight? For the longest time, I’ve wondered of things unbeknownst to me, She binds me to this realm and she’s the one who sets me free. I could keep exalting till this day, burns itself...

SOUVENIR: A REMINDER OF EVENTS, PLACES, OR A PERSON. IT CAN BE ANYTHING AND FILLS YOUR MIND WITH THE MEMORIES UPON ONE LOOK.  BUT ONCE A HAPPY MEMORY CAN TURN INTO A PAINFUL ONE.  IT WILL ONLY HURT TO REMEMBER IT. HERE IS A POEM ABOUT IT... There it laid, ripped apart, the card she made, reminiscing us. Years have gone and I've held it close, this piece of cardboard laden with dust. It had the warmth, the love in it, like the kiss we shared in that pleasing place. It's hard to go there now alone, as it reminds me of how your lips would taste. It contained the fights, the anger behind, and the apologies that were never enough. Walking out vexed and coming in ached, thus, came the moment and we rebuffed. Your name is now a distant memory, whether happy or painful, I cannot judge. And if forgetting myself means remembering you, for a million lives, I won't budge. People like us, we turn to stone, when we yearn to love with our hearts open. Still, we hold that look in our eyes,...

 A WOUND HEALS. A SCAR FADES AWAY. IT'S POSSIBLE TO RECOVER FROM AN INJURY. BUT ONCE A MIND AND SOUL IS HURT, IT STAYS THERE FOREVER. NO AMOUNT OF REHAB CAN MEND THEM. HERE IS  A POEM THAT CONTAINS THE CONFESSION OF ONE SUCH BROKEN MIND... I can't be your strength anymore, as you are my sole weakness. We are inches away from each other, yet our feelings, we can't confess. I ask myself - What are you? And in this mess, how did we arrive? You've killed me over a million times, and you're the one that makes me alive. You've stolen all the warmth from me, now I can't give it to people I love. It's a parasite that eats me up from within, which you say is all flowers and dove. Ever so often, I laugh hysterically, and pity the sorry state I am in. I tell myself - it's wasted on you, this affection for you that I hold within. For a mind so broken, it's awfully bright, to think such words for the one who was untrue. It spends its days collecting the shard...