Tag Archives: confessions

Chat rooms are church confessionals.


Confessions are always easy to make among strangers. You don’t know them and they don’t know you. I have always wondered why it’s easier for us to pour our heart out to millions of strangers on the internet. Chat rooms are like church confessionals for people and especially the modern day youth. I cannot confess the things that I have done to the people around me. We live our life but majority of the thoughts go unheard like the sentence I just erased to write this one.
I want to tell them that I just realized the worst feeling in life; that I want to change the person that I am but cannot. I want to tell them that my habits might be taking a toll on me for the worse.
I guess, giving people bits of yourself without unveiling yourself fully, provides you with a self of anonymous power. You won’t see them and they won’t be able to see you so that makes chat room confessionals perfect. Don’t get me wrong, there are worse feelings that people encounter everyday and you can never weigh yours with them. However, knowing that you’re not right and wanting to change but not having the courage to feels more fucked up to those who have been there.
You can tell strangers about things that your best friend would probably never know. Heck, there might be a best friend in every category of your life.
“It started as a result to impress my friends.”, you say, “I never realized the long term impacts until, now.”
“Approval meant that world to me back then,” he says, “Now, I cannot give less a fuck about what society thinks.”
But it’s too late. Now when you’re off to bed or to a lovers embrace there lingers more remorse than peace in your soul.

I’ve tried quitting but it isn’t that easy and I’m sure you’ve tried calling quits as well. You’ll never really understand addiction until you’ve been in the shoes of an addict. It isn’t in our control when self medication turns into self-abuse. When “it won’t hurt” turns into “I will destroy your fucking life.” Everything is in control but nothing is in grasp.
Digital. Cold. Not dead. Hopeless. Impulsive. Fake.
It’s a basic definition of modern day man if you ask me.
I’m young enough to know that things might change, this I call the shimmer of hope. I’m old enough to know that this phase of life will haunt me forever, I call this darkness of my past. In an online forum, people talked about how messed up their life is because seems like we have no control over anything except our phones. A cloak of anonymity gives you the power to say things that you might otherwise, not say. People talk about lost lovers and uncaring parents. I’ve heard them cry over things that meant the world to them but didn’t mean anything to me. I’ve felt more empathetic towards them because I know that feeling of helplessness. I’ve spent days locked in my room tightly tugged in between sheets not knowing what is wrong. I’ve spent days laughing and grinning with people. It’s a swing between high and low.
Addictions can take you to the top of the world in a moment and the very next drop you from cloud nine. Until, you’ve been in this dark place there isn’t much I can say to explain it to you. Consider seeing yourself from the opposite side of the room. You want to stop yourself-do not-but the voice falls on deaf ears. You can’t do much about it except for make constant efforts to change. You’ll fail a lot but also succeed. I dropped from three to just one to get me by. I don’t know who will read this but if you’re going through an addiction that is hard to shake off, then know you’re not alone. If anything, this digital entity is here suffering the same thing. Confessions are always easy to make among strangers. You don’t know me and I don’t know you so in this digital world, we are all free. Maybe this is the only freedom we will ever know.

My body isn’t a temple


I have read a lot of books
That tell me
How my body is a temple
I should consider it sacred
Worship and respect it
Because, if not me
Then who?
I’ve read a lot of poetry
On intentions and aspirations
How positive energy heals my temple in rubble
I wish that I could tell them
I do not consider
This body of mine
A temple
My body is no shrine
No place for the holy
It is a forest
In between is a swamp
You will find only twisted pathways
Wetlands that will drown you
A bottomless pit
For an excuse of a heart
A shallow hole that only wants
It functions on parasitic needs
The canopies have poisonous snakes
Spiders hide in the ground
If you think this is
Young, wild and free
I am sorry
To deceive you with my words
It is a forest
That does not give birth to life
It is overshadowed by rage and cruelty
Left by inhabitants that once tried
To make a home of it
It is not free
The vines will trap you
Hang you in mid-air by your throat
If you dare venture in too deep
There is nothing saintly cherished in the atmosphere
So, if you think that this body is a temple
Go look somewhere else
Because, this is a forest
Thick and Cruel
It will devour your heart
Make you a fool

Home and I.


I keep walking and along the way meet strangers who speak more of soul than just bodies.
I take one step forward and two back ending up in lone corridors with demons who speak of wisdom never spoken of before.
I dance in the muse of the night under the sky with no moon and only stars while looking up hoping to find God.
I hear lies on the lips of priests who have black hearts preaching to the crowd of goodness in the world.
I stare back into empty eyes and find stories the world never knew before.
I have seen broken wings take charge of the air with a single struggle.
I open up like a book to whoever shows me kindness and a bit of love.
My inside is rubble and my outside is just the same. I carry scars like warrior marks and my heart chained to the walls of my ribcage.
I howl at the moon and see through the mountains the dimly lit city below waving “hello” to me.
I hear sirens when the lights go out and screams when people surround me.
Nothing is audible to the world around me but I hear the thud of a broken heart and screeches of a dying soul.
…Everyone speaks of home as a destination and here I am trying to carve one on spot.

A chase


Its like I’m always running. Running from myself at times and mostly from others. I’ve been running for so long that I have forgotten the touch of others. Even my body feels foreign to me. I am numb inside and out. My soles are bruised and wounded, when I take a step away from others I feel nothing. I like feeling nothing.

I run and run in hopes of never encountering anyone.

Under the star filled sky and the shimmering moon or even the blazing sun in the vast desert, nothing stops me.

I don’t mind it now. I have split skin and torn lungs. My heart withered into a corner. I don’t bleed now from places where he jagged his claws. I don’t shed tears now in pain. I smile and run. I don’t give them the chance to tear me open and see my hollow insides bathed in memories. I even run from memories. I’m always running away and to be honest, I don’t mind it.

Its like I’m always running. Running from myself at times and mostly from others.

Lets call it love


You and I, became “we” but not suddenly it was gradual. You were there to listen and I was there to guide you. Those evening spent in empty parking lots kicking cans and smoking cigarettes became the best memories. I remember, you told me how crowds scare you. I told you that you won’t ever be scared again and I’ll hold your hand. I told you how I’m scared of the dark and you said that you’ll always be the light.
I was just me, not pretending to be someone. You knew I acted in front of the whole world but not you. You talked and not just superficially because I knew you never talked much in people but you talked about the world with me.
I became your shoulder to gain strength from and you became mine to cry on. This was not sudden. I really haven’t seen a movie or read a book that showed this bond we share.
It happened gradually and with time. Between the first time we talked to where we are now, I felt for you what I’ve never felt before so for now lets just call it love.