ghosts

i.

they say the unexplained sensation from phantom limbs can be quite excruciating. like the ghost of the missing body part, the hacked nerve endings give off confusing signals to the brain, signaling danger. signaling pain.

but how do you handle the danger from a part of you that isn't there anymore? trying to shake it off with involuntary twitches. attempting to use the missing limb. numbing the mind and body with morphine. scratching the itch. denying the loss.

ii.

funny how he puts a ring on another's hand and you take off what's on yours.

iii.

do you call a ghost what should have been there but isn't (wasn't any longer)?

subsisting on digital crumbs, you try to trace the path back to the promise from a decade ago. but the crumbs are sparse and the path almost gone. do you still try to find what refuses to be found?

iv.

Burning bright right 'til the end
Now you'll be missing from the photographs,
missing from the photographs (x)

v.

you never had encounters of the supernatural kind, whereas everybody seems to have a ghostly experience or two. sometimes, you wonder if it's because you have shut your consciousness from the unexplainable. maybe it's your cynicism. maybe it's your unwillingness to concede to what you can't understand, let alone control.

in these experiences, people have different ways to cope. some cry. some scream. some run. some can't wait to tell others. some pray to the divine. some close their eyes and will the bad away.

maybe, some choose to forget, erasing everything from their minds, leaving no trace.

vi.

the phantom limb hurts because the brain is having trouble coping with the loss. the void hurts, but the opposite can also be quite true: suffocating, unnerving. grasping, clutching, hanging by a thread. reaching out for that sliver of rationality–why, why, why?

vii.

without the ring, lighter is the hand. but heavy is the heart.

Untitled [19]

The night of poetry and music was a tribute for la lune. The muse, however, was shy that night.

I am blessed beyond measure with the people I have in my life. The (secondhand) emotional turmoil of the past week made me appreciate how constant family is. How harmony at home is such a huge factor in my daily peace of mind. Conversely, a little domestic dissonance impacts me hugely even as I try to separate the personal from the grind at work.

I am also amazed with the quality of friends I have. Extended friendships are awesome. I feel wonderful to have been able to bring together people from different phases of my life, and who are just as comfortable with one another as they are with me. Time and space make no difference in the joy to be had when we get together every now and then.

Sometimes, though, a gust of cold wind hits you and you double over. Friends and family can't see the storm, and you only have yourself as you brave through the tempest, plodding on through. The brightest of days ends up being gloomiest after all. You just never know with other people sometimes. Or the moon. Or your mind–it's fickle. But then again, it's yours.

Like the mantra I have chosen for this year, I am reminded to be kind to myself first and foremost. I am reminded that I am my longest commitment. I could only ever bank on what I have promised myself that I would do or become, because people are fallible and no contract will ever be as binding as it purports to be. In the grander scheme of things, you can only do so much for people. And they can only do so much for you.

The moon was the reason we were there that night. It drizzled instead. The moon hid behind the clouds, barely casting its light. And so we left. 

broke down / nothing else left

Get up, get up, pressure, pressure
Run away as fast as you can go
Every day our friends and lovers
Give the answers everybody knows 

– Bastille, Lethargy