Judge Me.

My closest friends are inanimate objects.
I’ll just name a few.
Her name is PS3.
Now, before you judge me, let me explain myself.
She helps me reach the depths of creativity.
Allowing me to travel into worlds that only exists virtually.
Lets me shoot an M16, or drive faster than laws allow me to.
Get into a car crash and walk away without missing a single tooth.
PS3 lets me live in a world where I am not bound by mortality.
Where I can snipe a civilian without worrying if the police will catch me.
It helps me indulge in my wildest fantasies without leaving my chair.
Experience a world where you can save and load, now that’s a life fair.
My next best friend is my lighter.
Which helps me breathe in the toxic smoke of cigarettes.
Something that I know I’ll live to regret.
This occasional opportunity helps me run free from the shackles of stress.
Living smoke free was impossible ever since the Philippines.
And I know using it as a means to run from stress isn’t best.
But it works, with a side effect of nostalgic feelings of Philippines.
My notebook is my other close friend.
Holding in stories that I write out.
The bridge between who I am and what I doubt.
A link between what I think and what I show.
It’s a tradition that’s begun since I was one.
But back then, I was writing scribbles no one could understand.
My camera is my most intimate friend.
We share the same views about life and the world.
I know for a fact I treat her better than I have any other girl.
We’ve only known each other for a year.
But she’s been with me through the tough times of this year.
And these four walls are the friend that knows me best.
Unlike the people of this world, these walls don’t think of me less.
No mistake can ever change the fact that they’ll be with me.
To lend an open ear and their silent response is all I ever need.
These four walls have provided me shelter when my world tore apart.
Helped me realize the pros and cons of having a hiding heart.
Never judged me when I had a session of addiction with human beings.
And they’ve never told a soul to the events that they experienced seeing.
Someone to keep me company while I struggle to sleep soundly.
A friend who’s never complained at how often they’re around me.
These are my closest friends, are you curious to why they’re inanimate?
Because they don’t fucking judge me.

Insomnia.

It’s two o’clock, and I’m stuck in a zone where insomnia kicks in.
The thing is, I’ve been battling this inability to sleep since I was six.
Kicks in whenever my thoughts wander farther than the counting of sheeps.
Thoughts seep through the walls I placed whenever I’m trying to catch sleep.
Conversations partake inside my skull between yesterday’s reflection and todays.
Arguements take place because I reminisce of what was in the good old days.
One name is constantly thrown into the mix, but why does it have to be yours?
Looking back to these memories have begun a chore, I thought these were closed doors.
What more could you possibly want? Haunting me in my thoughts late at night.
And I might just throw the memories of you to a place where there is no light.
In plain sight, it seems like my insomnia is a result of a nocturnal sleeping habit.
But in the limelight, it’s the result of pondering what if we never did split.
We both quit a little bit too quick, if only deleting memories was done in clicks.
It’s 2:01, and I’m still stuck in a state of insomnia.
Paranoia has crept up on me, ever since we unhooked your bra.
Ever since then, I felt like that’s when the problems would start.
Ever since then, I felt like that’s when I would wish to restart.
But life’s not a game system that you could turn off at any given moment.
It’s more like a volcano erupting after millions of decades being dormant.
I wish I had a list of things to say that might’ve changed your mind.
Instead of not even figthing and leaving what we had started behind.
And I remember when I use to call you mine, that was so long ago.
A lot has changed since we last talked. My heart’s gone cold.
2:02, the life of an insomniac, left to think about you.
Do you still think about me? Did I mean as much as I you?
Cupid, you have a sick sense of humour, plauging my heart.
Shot me with a dozen arrows, none of them missed their mark.
I’ve been forgotten, like pharoahs once they’ve lost to mortality.
I just wish to ask you one question. Just one question.
Do you remember me?
2:03 AM. Zero, Two, Zero, Three
The former date of our anniversary.
Now I’m left thinking of how we use to be.
I know now that trying would’ve been the key.
We broke it off in order to preserve what we had.
Fuck it, we should’ve tried, we lost what we had.
Regrets will only kill me, so I pretend to not care.
Forget about you and me, it’s a story I dare not share.
Fuck insomnia! Fuck Cupid! I just want to sleep!

I am Tired.

I am tired.
Of open ended relationships going nowhere.
Chasing a girl to simply see if she's the right one.
Hiding my past because I know it can't be undone.
I am tired.
Of being the ventilation system that helps air out your life.
Placing a girl before my priorites because I am her friend.
Doing so much for an individual because my time, I always lend.
I am tired.
Of trying to please every single person in the world.
Making sure that my life fits accordingly with their plans.
Speaking out my mind but they can never understand.
I am tired.
Of repeating myself over and over to a crowd not even listening.
Trying to improve on myself as a human being in general
Attempting to make life worth it, before my final burial.
I am tired.
I am tired.
Of living my life so cautiously, every step matters now.
Life has a cruel sense of humour and I am his test subject.
And I fear that being happy is something that I will never perfect.
Of hearing the break up stories every other month.
Bending over backwards to try and find the common ground.
Because my life is on a train with no conducter around.
I am tired.
Of listening to people talk about how my life is worthless.
Knowing that other people are out nurturing their education.
While I am still here, sitting down, waiting at a station.
I am tired.
Of seeing my friends grow up, while I am left behind.
Envying the happiness of those who were once mine.
While I am still here, waiting patiently in line.
I am tired.
Of getting addicted to seeing the smile of those around me.
Watching my life slip right through these hands God provided.
While I am just watching as my dreams and reality colided.
I am tired.
Of having to rely on the adrenaline I feel around friends.
Building up anger as I wait by the sidelines while life goes on.
While I am just dreaming, hoping that this nightmare moves on.
I am tired.
Let me sleep.