Snow Flower pt. II

The only pride I always keep and take of myself is how I really sure, for everyone that I’ve fallen in love so deep with, that no one could ever love and fight for them as much as I do.
The only pride that makes me feel like a loyal soldier, who will fight to the death because my bound with blood to the country that I served for I remember every bits of beauty and happiness that I felt while I lived there despite the public workers were a bunch of assholes.
The only pride that always stays, that every time I come back to life, I’ll reincarnate to the same soldier, only to serve different country.

But the eternal return was never easy, as Nietzsche calls the idea “horrifying and paralyzing”, referring to it as a burden of the “heaviest weight”, while I, still don’t have the amor fati,
for every time I was dying all I could think of is when the cycle will end,
for training so hard was exhausting,
for fighting, having the gun pointed at my head, and get stabbed at, meant so much pain,
for all I could think of is when will the universe just let me die in peace after struggling so hard, never to live again.


Suicide Note

“It’s November all over again.
I was sitting on the terrain.
And in my heart there’s rain.
Mourning over things that are bland, mundane.
Talked about pain and how I have no brain.
Trying to look of what I’ve gained.
Only to found out that everything was in vain.

It’s November, all over again.”


Once again, for the second time, in a completely different kind of relationship, I was told that I’m trying too hard, that I’m doing too much.

I was also told, somehow, I am an excessive answer for every hope ever held.

And once again, for the second time, in a completely different kind of relationship, I was told that I’ve built too strong allegiance, too binding that it feels like I occupied too much of their time and it wasn’t something that they desired to experience, yet.

All the endless introspections I’ve made, I still can’t figure out which part that always went wrong.