Who am I?

It’s hard living with mental swirls in my mind,

Some days would be better than others,

But I can never make it till evening.

Many times I doubt myself, my existence

I can’t truly recall every detail of the past,

Or should I say my mind refuses to unlock the chains bounding my memories.

It’s too difficult to be alive.

I would think I am a degenerate, a mad man.

Everyone is shifted red, further from me

Or maybe I’m the one accelerating away from them.

Ever since this started, I cannot truly present myself.

Or maybe I always had this, or maybe it’s the result of many unspoken traumas.

If only there was a way to restart again, but then again maybe I would walk the same paths.

Just wish to have peace of mind, to have the burden lifted from my soul.

I don’t know or trust who I am. Even when the best person to guide me tells me too I cannot accept myself.

Who am I

Who am I

I feel like an unreal loop.

If there ‘s a God above,

maybe It won’t give a damn

maybe It would

I can only hope for It to end my pitiful and torturous existence.

If there’s a God above, do me a favour if you may, to end my misery in any ways.




For why do we grief? What is that bitter feeling in the heart, the lump in the throat?

We grief when a being dies, a life that once could move but then became motionless. What is the grief? Is it a feeling of confusion or fear? Or is it the fruit of a soul within us? All of us intricately, inextricably linked, all feeling a universal understanding of the language of life, and death. Why do we cry when our parents or pet dies? Why do we feel melancholic when death of strangers and fallen souls flood the news, when we see a character fall still in a movie? It seems in a moment in time, we coexisted with death, with the lifelessness we see. We place ourselves in somebody else’s coffin. Grieve is really an incomprehensible feeling, a concoction of pain, fear, sorrow, regret, …

It shoves aside our daily hustles and reminds us the frailty of life, of every existence. Of how we are weak and still lost, even as we have tried not to be. It reconciles our reality which we often neglect such that we do not indulge or drown in grief.