[Immobilis]

[Alezander]

I wrote this on a night when I couldn't sleep and the fever had fried my brain so instead I pulled up Denpa Onna to Seishuun Otoko's OST by Fanz Maxwell I. and got stuck on the track titled Crying. Denpa Onna is my favorite anime of all time. It just means a lot to me. It presents itself as an easygoing everyday life story but it keeps reminding that Erio is going through a lot... okay, I should talk about (my love for it) it another time...

 

The music just sounds so... needy. I imagined this is what it sounds like when you want to tell a person something very intimate and important but every time you try you just can't bring yourself to.

 

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I want you.

 

Eyes meeting so suddenly

I caught you and you caught me

Staring at each other from across the room

We both burned from a fire we can't put out

I cannot tell you how much I needed

To go over and tell you so badly

"I want you."

I want you.

So much I can't help dreaming of you

Every single night

Even in my daydreams

I've grown impatient

All this running and chasing we do

Be mine. Be mine.

Please.

I want you.

 

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I admit, I was thinking of a certain person while I was writing this. Not because I still want that person to be mine, just that he was the only person I liked that I actually considered confessing my feelings to. I convinced myself that it didn't matter to me if he liked me back or not, just that I wanted to tell him my feelings so I could thank him for making me happy, even if he never intended to. On the last day of high school before we went our separate ways, I stood in front of him opening and closing my mouth like a fish, just staring at his face and thinking "c'mon girl, you can do it!" but in the end I wimped out and I just deflated while watching his back as he left. I still dream of him, though, and every time I do he kisses my hands before I wake up.

 

Erm. Okay.

 

Although I don't have anyone like this for now, I do hope that one day I can have feelings for someone so strong that I just feel like bursting, the bittersweet feeling of it diffusing in my chest.

 

What about you?

[Alezander]

[RED]

 

Good God, am I glad I woke up from this.

 

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Killings. There was no blood. At least they said. Only a thick, yellow liquid. Or was it solid? A viscous liquid of some sort. He was shot in the head. There was an agonized wail. It was shot in the head. Three men from behind it, two in the front. I an unknowing bystander caught in it. It wailed but I heard the inhuman sound as if it was projected from a speaker. Like I wasn't there because my mind couldn't take it. I saw the corpse through a scope of the man who spoke to me, saying "It has to be taken down!" A bang later, the man said "Shit! The yellow!" And I was yelling "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Through the scope I saw his corpse. There was the large hole of the bullet on the forehead, cut clean. No blood. But no yellow either. There was nothing. The wail is back. I feel sick. It looked like one of those uncles I'd casually say "Good evening" to. The three men closed around it while it wailed. The man with the scope scuttled away to avoid the line of fire. Fire. I didn't even see the bullet. Not the blood. Nor the yellow. They had looked at me unusually. I didn't understand. I kept doing what I was doing, getting data. I didn't know. The wail. I feel sick. The loud bang, then the thud. Its face in the scope had only tired lines left. Fuck. I feel sick.

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I felt horrible once I woke up because the first thing that came to my mind was

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

. I know, this is a sensitive topic and personally I have been one to flippantly dismiss it, not even attempting to give it much thought. Then I had this terrible dream of a man, it being killed because of the yellow had infested his head and that there was no salvation for him anymore. One of my friends once asked me what I thought about this subject before and I (stupidly, naively) answered him "Well, at the very least I think it's at least something? At least an attempt to purge this place, no matter how wrong and unjustified, is being made." And he answered me, restlessly: "People can actually die on the basis of a single rumor."

.

.

.

My heart is heavy now because I have been living under the sunlight all these years after all. I was, am and still blind to the sufferings of others. It's like some almighty Power above thought "It's time Alezander opened her eyes to these sort of things" and purposefully gave me the nightmare I had this morning. Or maybe I was given a glimpse of the horror so I could appreciate my life better?

[Alezander]

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round the corner, darling.

 

Apparently I don't deserve to be loved. I don't deserve love. Maybe. I don't know. I have been trying to be patient. All this time, for years, I have been patient. I looked out for signs, for the correct signals telling me if I should e fighting for something that might just become mine if I held it tight enough in my hands. Like sand time slips through my fingers. The clock ticks on my daily life and I keep looking around, waiting. Always, always waiting. In a moment's spur, or so it seemed, I have declared myself incapable of falling in love. I tell people I am jaded and calloused, hoping that they won't judge me to be of selective standard. Really, I'm not. At this point, I'd be happy to fall in love with a plant, if that is allowed. Deep in my heart I hope I am not so, one of elective standard, I mean. It's frightening to think of, and very curious indeed as I ask myself from time to time. What do I lack? What is it, that vital something that seems to be completely absent from me? I turn to my peers, me friends around me. Many of them, even if their feelings aren't reciprocated, even if they haven't invested yet, have that special sparkle that let's them look at another person and say "ah, I do like this fellow".

 

Plenty of times in the past, I have mentioned how I like to see the good in people, give them the benefit of the doubt unless proven otherwise. As a result, I seem to like a lot of persons, but never enough to fall in love with one of them. It is tiring to be always waiting. Sometimes a simple observation of a pair, or prospective pair, gives me the sunniest of moods and the heaviest of pains. I long to be feel that connection. I am jealous of the people who have experienced such life defining encounters for a considerable portion of their lives, regardless of how genuine the attachments are. I am afraid that perhaps I am too idealistic, fooled by the picture perfect beginnings of stories. If so, I feel wretched and sorry for myself. No one taught me how to love so I tried reaching myself, and unfortunately fell into a misleading trap.

 

Bittersweetness.

 

Even if it hurts, I want to feel it. Even if it's too much, too energy depleting, I wan to taste it. Somehow I feel embarrassed to be so desperate over something so hopeless, but at this moment I am being most honest. I could clutch at straws at the slightest of promises. I would hurl myself to the sea and trudge across ridges at the faintest of possibilities. Why, is this thing that I ask something so expensive? Must I give up a large portion of reason and privacy to have a glimpse of it? My pride? I don't know what works anymore. In the past, I have been a natural closed shell. I didn't have friends but I knew how to like a person. I was lonely so I wanted to be with someone so intimately that I could tell him my deepest of secrets and darkest of insecurities. Over time I learned to be more open, more accepting. I gained friends and even strangers could become enjoyable company. But I am still lonely. That part hasn't changed. There is a small difference though. I have realized some years back that I might have a preference for people who hurt me, oppose me and overpower me. It may sound perverted, but I want to be dominated. Right now, I blame this on the fact that I am a very introspective person. Almost professional, if there is such a thing.

 

Knowing myself so well has led me to believe that there are few things that I must be mistaken with, thus making it believable as to why I yearn to be cornered helpless. If in the past I sought comfort, now I want pain. Yet truthfully it doesn't matter to me anymore. All I want is a pair of eyes completely mine. A pair of hands, warm and solid in mine. A voice of soothing gruffness calling my name in the dark and lulling me slowly to sleep. Maybe a pair of soft lips in perpetual cockiness, pressing kisses with one-sided firmness. An entire existence, a single person this world crafted just for me. I don't want anything more. I just want to be loved. I want to love someone so much and so completely that I hurt. Is that too much to ask? I do 't want to be told that it is impossible for me. I'll work hard. Anything, everything. Just a single person, nothing else. No one else. As long as that fellow comes, I'll be patient. I can wait.

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[Alezander]

Nobody cares about a broken girl unless she's pretty. Or cute. Or hot. I don't care about the whole "beauty is in the inside" shit. It's all bullshit. All play pretend like sugarcoated sweets for shallows. This is the truth and you'd have to kill me twice and feed me pig's shit to convince me otherwise.

[Alezander]

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I'm tired of being around people.

 

Not that I'm through, no.

 

I am tired of having to consider and reconsider the things I say, the stuff I do, the images I create inside my brain. I admit. I'm confused. I wouldn't say I'm completely innocent of the matter that is happening to me right now. Maybe perhaps I am guilty, I cannot tell. But I have to say, I feel alone. I want to go away, far away where I can choose not to think of my direct surroundings. My neck hurts, my back even more. I want to be able to restrain my consumption and I want to be free.

 

I don't want this headache anymore. I want to live in peace. I want to leave and stay somewhere I can smell the moss and feel the rain on my skin, touch the soil with my bare feet. My hair pulled by the wind, my clothes torn from my chest. I don't know anymore. I don't want to understand and I want to keep running away from this forever.

 

At this moment, I need something unfamiliar, yet something steady and unpredictable. I need a stranger, and maybe a pair of super bass earphones. I need a new batch of music, I say. I wanna run, but I wanna run to things that I know but no one else knows. My books, my stories, my music. My secret wish. I don't know why, but lately I've been having the feeling that I am losing my self the more I talk about myself.

 

Restraint. I should relearn it, as hard and as fast as possible. I don't want to lose another moment in this damned violet confusion. My head feeling pumped to the brim. I need sleep. I need to rest, close my eyes and stop dreaming. I don't want to think.

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[Alezander]

You know when you just graduated and now you're a potato and whoops, four months passed by in a flash and you're still on your unemployed ass... Okay I'll stop.

 

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There is a monster living inside me. Every night it eats me from the inside out. The evidence is a hard lump of acid pain in my throat. I hurt for every single second I try to breathe. But that is not the worst thing this monster does. Eery time I am about to fall asleep, it floods me with images and words, flashes of light in the back of my head and a lingering taste of loneliness. This monster fills me to the brim with emptiness. Ironically, it lives more when I am just about to choke.

 

The monster is ghastly but at the same time a little ball of fur and sunshine, hope. It doesn't speak but it never fails to remind me that I am a disgusting child. It tells me to leave the hamster circle and walk alone. At least there is meaning in leaving all of it behind, it seemed to say. Let go of your body, your fancies your pleasures. This thing you want to do should be work instead of play if you want to succeed. Sell your sanity to the powers.

 

Nothing else is supposed to matter. Take this seriously. And don't give up.

The monster. It is neither a friend nor an enemy. It is a rule to live my life, even for just a short time as three minutes out of twenty it takes to prepare breakfast. Do more, write more! If you don't want to lose yourself or regret the future, do it! Do it now! Now, at the end of the day, the monster is my muse.

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[Alezander]

Something happened today. Upset, I listened to this beautiful music by Aurora and Askjell.

 

[video=youtube_share;h2bjTFdezG8]

 

I felt extremely dissatisfied with myself so I wrote this. I'm not sure if I want to feel better yet. I'm such a mess and I want to be saved but the world isn't kind enough to do it for me.

 

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I am angry at myself. There is so much unspoken thirst inside me that even I deny. I long and I ache, and then I look away. I curse myself for wanting something that I know I will not ever attempt to have in my hands. I have given up before I have even tried. I am tired of pining and feeding this desire. Once I convinced myself that I was capable of living without the hole in my chest only to cling to hope again. I am pathetic. I am so greedy and I hate myself. How many times must I hurt and feel small before I learn? Somehow I manage to fool myself. Over and over, as if I find gratification in the pain. I feel empty and yet it is all my fault.

 

I dream of love appearing in front of me one day, easy and selfless. I am so childish to want to be loved wen I know that no one ever will. Nobody knows me and no one ever will. My fingers turn white clinging so hard to my own skin. Inside my head I scream for someone, anyone to rescue me from my loneliness. I am so lonely. I hate how I am so scared to go out and search for love myself, to reach out and fight for it to be mine. I fear pain because I am familiar with it and I know that it is merciless and ruthless. Rejection is not an answer to give to my fragile heart.

 

I must be so idealistic. Maybe I am a hypocrite. Desperation eats me slowly every day that passes me by. I want to touch and be touched. I want to be loved. This is my deepest, rawest wish.

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[Alezander]

Real question: do you think liking someone for nearly seven years can be considered love, or is it still infatuation?

 

I am annoyed at myself because I know that love takes hard work, it's not going to happen all by itself. So I tried to put initiative. It didn't really work out. But I wasn't rejected, and I didn't confess either. I could've tried harder, but I might have been a nuisance to the other person and my friends told me I was being creepy so I stopped.

 

I admit that it wasn't like me to act that way and I felt like I was pretending. But maybe I say that because trying to connect was making me go out of my shell? Is that a sign of being in love or desperation? Aren't we supposed to abandon pretense and give our all to pursue a love which may be true?

 

Where the hell do you draw the line?

 

I can't. I can't tell.

 

 

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Hi, how are you? I miss you and I want to see you. Talking to you before has been so stressful to me, but tonight I wonder how that would go now that we have both changed. Truthfully, I haven't changed much. I'm still secretive, a bit indifferent. I am a lot more honest now, and I still lie without hesitation. But you know me. If I'm pushed to a corner I start to crumble. You used to do that to me, testing my patience and making me angry. You annoyed me countless times, you picked fights and called me ugly. I miss you for that, but I also hate you because of that.

 

I wonder if you're doing well, if you've grown a lot both outside and inside. You used to have trouble gathering your courage to talk in front of a crowd. Have you fixed that or are you still shaking in your boots whenever you have to present a report? Have you experienced your first depression yet? I think you have. From the short conversation I had with you months ago, I figured you already have. I'll be honest, I've been waiting for it to happen. I'm so selfish. I wanted to be near you, to experience your development with you. I wanted to watch you as you grew into the person you are now. It doesn't matter to me if you're perfect or not. I just really needed to see you, to talk to you. And if I might add, to have you.

 

I dream about you a lot. So many times, in so many scenarios. Many, if not all of them, we are either platonically involved or there is moderate attraction between us. It might be my biased mind, but we aren't the awkward, quarrelling pair that we are in real life when in my dreams. You are always so kind. You take my hand, grasp it in your warm and big ones. I like your hands. I like your shape. I like that I have to tip my head back to look at you, and I secretly wish you like me too. What if the thought of stealing a kiss from me crossed your mind during those times that I had to look up to face you? I would absolutely melt and turn into goo if you did. You can have that effect on me. I'm sorry that my helplessness is directed at you.

 

I try not to imagine you with another girl. Sometimes the image of you with a guy occurs to me too, and that is easier to swallow. But still, the thought makes me bitter and sad. If I will never have you, if you are not meant for me, then I just pray that the roots of you in me disappear without injury. I might have pinned you as love itself subconsciously in my head, when maybe you are not my love. I want to ask, I need to know. Do you think of me too? Do you trouble yourself with memories of me before you sleep? I wouldn't even be offended if you touch yourself thinking of me. I know I need closure, but it's so hard to have one when you're so far away. But if fate allows that we meet and you turn out to be the wrong answer, then I just hope I passed the test, and that I'll be free of you.

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[Alezander]

I feel quite impatient for that exciting storm that life promised me.

 

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Vast

 

Wondering if there's anything for me out there

High above where the skies touch a glass ceiling

While I am here with both my feet on the ground.

 

Everywhere I turn and wherever I may end up

I taste the sweet, spicy scent of home and comfort

Feeling all warm and snuggled up, safe from everything.

 

Maybe one day I'll finally understand all of this

Then I will spread my wings, bearing my own song

Whistling the words out of my mouth, into air.

 

I will be free, someday.

Somewhere.

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[Alezander]

[video=youtube_share;kHCTl5V-zV4]

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My heart feels full and empty at the same time. I feel as if I have sold my time short and that I have mistaken my days to keep on going without consequence. The same lunch breakfast, the same bedsheets. I haven't forgotten saying my prayers every night and today I dream as well. I run with the wolves again and again, yet I am still so dormant. I know I am not failing, but by not doing I feel as if I'm dying. Closing my eyes gives me momentary peace. Pulling my blanket close to my face does nothing to hide this everyday emptiness. Hours slip by as if they will never run out. I think and think and think. I know I have a duty to give back someday, but I never do. And am I truly obliged? This position that I have placed myself in, this state that I am currently on, did I do this to myself? I feel like I want to fly but then to do so I must do this first, and then that next, and then another is coming up after the following thing. The work, the pressure, duties never stop. I placed all of them on my shoulders, without regard for anybody. I have held myself back for the sake of prolonging my release. I talk about setting myself free and yet here I am, running away again because it is easier. Cowardice is a defense mechanism but perhaps it is time I let it go. Push myself, challenge the rules and pave the road. I don't remember what I am waiting for. Love? Opportunity? Intervention? Maybe. I'm not sure, I have forgotten. But there is something I can undo now, the shackles I have tied around my wrists, my eyes and my mouth. Nothing should stop me now. I should stop for nothing now. Help me, my dear self. Tell me to be strong.

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Translation: I gotta write more, sleep more. Then get a job.

:Sad:

[Alezander]

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I don't like being this way. I feel so tired. My chest is always heavy and it hurts to breath. I feel sleepy all the time but my mind is too noisy to let me rest. Like Zico's song, sometimes I want to be hugged tight. To be crushed in a pleasant way, warm and secure. To feel safe without pretending. My skin is cold from being outside. I want a home. In my life, there are friends that talk to me about their problems. If it wasn't me, then it would be someone else. I have people that I love and open up to. I tell them my insecurities and dreams, a piece of my secrets and my suspicions. There is a fragment of me in everyone else.

 

But no one has ever seen me, known me as I am.

 

I want to be seen. God, I wish I had one person. Just one person who I can be vulnerable to and not be judged, taken advantage of, and still feel safe. I want a home. A hand to hold onto, a warmth to return to. In my weakest moments when I need a pillar to hold me up, to tell me that it's alright to rest. A person so absolute that being with them will complete me.

 

Is it so wrong to wait? To find chance and let it drift to me. All in the name of fate. Falling so deep that I don't notice, becoming silly but happy. Trying to function as one but knowing that I can't because I'm too in love, too honest that denying myself doesn't matter. This person, my home, will consume my thoughts for always until my senses are satiated. Feeling this person's lips, this person's kindness and strength. Their flaws making them imperfect in the most beautiful way.

 

I want a home.

 

My most important person.

 

My best friend.

 

My home.

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[Alezander]

Phew...

 

Just when I thought I was finally free from a certain person, I dream of them again. I never seem to have a good two weeks of my life without somehow seeing this person in my dreams. Almost all of the time, the dreams have a recurring theme: hands. Whether it's hand holding, kissing of hands or squeezing. Curious, I've begun to check out dream interpretations a while back. Apparently I'm a very lonely person. I couldn't agree more.

 

But hey, loneliness helps me with my writing so it's not all that sad.

 

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reaching out towards you, sapling-like.

 

Fingertips grew colder the moment a whisper brushed my cheek. There is a stillness inside, such as the silent bubbling of emotions. The air feels charged whenever I think of you. It's no wonder my hands start to wrap in cold sweat. Lying to myself was easy, convincing myself was almost. Maybe it was apparent from the start that cutting you off was impossible. I dream of you so often that sometimes it's so weird to think that I haven't told you what I feel yet. You know nothing, but in my mind you have read me inside out.

 

I was lying on my back, peacefully vulnerable. You were sitting on the space beside my limp body. I had fallen asleep but I could see your face through my eyelids. You were smiling as you watched my frowning face, my mouth murmuring nonsense in my sleep. Surprisingly and for the first time, you weren't a boy. In my dream, you are your present self. Your arms were long and lean as always, your hands seemingly always touching my skin. At some point, my fingers slipped into the pocket of your shirt. You laughed and leaned down, letting me pull you to me. Later on you shifted, wanting to lie down with me. Instinctively, my left arm moved to accommodate you, and soon your warm body was brushing against me. Your right hand found my left and you laced your fingers through mine. Loosely, like you were uncertain if it was alright to do this to me. Through my lashes I caught you sneaking to take a picture of our linked hands.

 

Then I woke up.

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Anyone else who keeps dreaming of their crush here?

[Alezander]

This journal entry was written while listening to this beautiful track entitled "

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

" by NΣΣT from his lovely album Dream Keys. Give it a listen if you have the time! I promise it will be worth it~

 

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If someone went inside my heart and saw it, what would it look like? Closing my eyes and focusing while listening to sweet music, I thought I caught a glimpse of it. My heart looked like a lot of places.

 

Dark and windy, the pressure stops me from moving forward on my bare feet. My clothes are pulled back as I am, my arms in front on me. The wind howls wildly, forcing me backwards. Then the scenery changes, my toes brush lush grass. Wet and cold with dew, a morning so fresh and early that no sign of the sun could be seen yet and the sky was a dark, hazy grey, cloudy vast.

 

I am facing the ocean now. The air is still but damp on my cheek. I step forward from grass to sand, the grainy feel comforting to my soles. A flash of a vague image, a lad with his hand offered to me. In a second he is gone, projected off to the horizon. My breath catches in my throat as an unknown urge to follow seized me, but the black water is frightening, wild and merciless. I dared not step in.

 

I looked back from where I came, turned my eyes away from the water. Behind me sat a weathered shack, a sad looking box of old wood. I made my way to it and in the blink of an eye, I was sitting on a corner within it, my body curled tightly and my knees pulled up against my chest. I felt lonely then in the dark. The howls from outside battered the planks of the structure, and I gathered myself closer.

 

Not long after, the door opened and a pool of light splashed in. The backs of my eyes hurt as I raised my head, taking a moment to realize that it was the lad. Head returned and was again offering his hand to me. I stood, allowed myself to approach him. I wanted to be embraced, to be held so tightly and carefully as if I was precious.

 

I do not know what happens next because then I opened my eyes. I no longer could see what was in my heart.

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[Alezander]

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this scenery, i wanted to share it with you.

but now i guess i never will.

 

Amazingly, the thirst and desperation, along with the incessant worrying and loneliness drifted away with the holidays. It was like I yearned for you simply because the seasons obligated me. Now that the excitement has died down, my perception of our possibilities dwindles with my affection. It's like I have gotten over you, as if all that fussing was just me choosing to be miserable. I am able to look at your picture without feeling anything now. I can think of you, dream of you without mulling over it so much that it sours my mood. I think, for the most part, that I am free. Maybe I have never been chained to you in the first place, but because I preferred the look of attachment on me, I had accepted myself to be imprisoned in the imaginary cage I set myself in. Today I write as I listen to a track that is titled how I thought I felt. I am still in love with you. I am unsure. Maybe I am, maybe I should start over and look at you for who you are now. Not as the bully, not as the secret I made you out to be, not as the genteel person in my dreams, but as your one, true self. I have been looking through rose colored glasses for too long. Maybe it's time to move on. Maybe I am ready to move on. With this, I hope I can be better, so that I can look at you and tell you that you have made me so much stronger, so much deeper as a person. Thank you and I love you.

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[Alezander]

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Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

listen.

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