Stuck in reverse

Fix You by Coldplay

I used to hate that song. I don't like the idea of someone else, especially a guy, trying to "fix me" like I'm something broken that needed someone else to do the fixing.

Last year though, for some random reason I started looking at it from a different perspective - sometimes, it gets to a point where you're so tired of it all, the idea of someone fixing you for you sounds like a good idea.

I'm so tired.

I hate this job. I hate how I love it and care for it so much that I hate it. I hate how it took so much away from me - my confidence, my courage, my passion, my direction. I put so much of myself into it that I feel like nothing of me is left. I feel abused and unappreciated. It stormed inside me so much as if it was the Big Red Spot in Jupiter and left me alone with self-doubt, feelings of incompetence, frustrations, and unhappiness. And it didn't leave. It comes back in waves, making sure it hits every spot multiple times.

I hate how it's taken away from me how I viewed the world. I have become someone like the Grinch hating everything and everyone.

I'm just so tired. It's been more than 2 years of talking to walls but getting hit square in the face and in the end it's still your fault. Everything is your fault. You didn't work hard enough. Your ideas are not good enough. It's not enough. You're not enough.

I feel so lost. I feel like I don't even have options.

The verses of Fix You are so spot on.

I hate this. Imagine me screaming into the void because I am just so fucking tired of it all.

Until I have somewhere else to go, and a plan in my back pocket, I will sing this song and make it my anthem.

Until I figure out what's next and probably get a little courage to take a leap of faith.

But if you never try, you never know, right?

on adulting, birthdays, and growing old

Twenty-one tastes like freedom
I'm sure you know that feeling

As if you can conquer the world

Twenty-two is a party on a weekday night

Pushing the limits of a hangover

Moving to another job when things don't go according to plan

Twenty-three is the same thing

Just a little bit wiser, though

Not falling for the wrong things Twenty-two did

Twenty-four is re-evaluating your goals before it's too late

And chasing after dreams

While "adulting" tries to tie you down

Little by little

Twenty-five is too pretentious to be called a proper adult

But Twenty-six is like you're trying too hard

Twenty-seven? Now, Twenty-seven seems just right for this thing called "adulting"

Twenty-seven sounds sexy

Hell, it feels sexy

(I feel sexy)

Now, Twenty-eight seems like the rest of your life is looming in the distance

As if all the moves you're making starting today can never be taken back

The "adulting" feelings have settled down, making you its home

Twenty-nine is waiting for the panic to set in

The panic for when you turn Thirty

When all the questions you've been dodging come in...

Seriously, when are you getting married?

What about kids? Won't your eggs dry up?

Why don't you have insurance yet?

You don't have savings?

You didn't take up a Masters Degree yet?

Why do you still live with relatives?

Why don't you have a driver's license?

But you're Thirty!

Life is funny most of the time

We're all just really winging it

Trying not to drown while fighting the current

So I say, "Ahh, fuck it.

Life starts at Forty anyway."

Dense, pretense

Dense, consience cleansed
Unaware of the pretense
Let's not mention this
Feelings I miss

Hands, holding tight
To nothing, not a sight
Giggles turned to laughter
No, not even a bother

Silence, no cares
Ignored, not mentioned
Waiting for you
Your love that feels rationed

Look at them happy
Sweet letters in the mail
Wanting, wanting that too
Soft petals on a trail

Yearning, always
Always but never a clue
You never notice
Maybe I'm blue

Perhaps what I needed
Actions unexpected
Your attention, indeed
No words unintended

But I'm okay
I'm happy, I'm happy
Do you believe me?
Maybe, just maybe
I don't believe me
I'm happy

I am

Careless

The thrill, the rush, the excitement. The not knowing what's next or who the hell cares whatever happens after. Like a morning hangover that you'll never regret. I want all of these things. The mind numbing, finger numbing feeling. That moment when your heart palpitates so much to an extent that drives you ecstatic. Manic.

I want that cloud nine feeling. That certain kilig.

The thrill of ditching the good, and going for the bad.

Maybe I just need alcohol in my system. Is that so wrong?

Yearning

Yearning. It's the song you play on repeat. Over and over. Until the words stumble over each other like the drunken legs you have on that one frustrating night.

Yearning is the long night - watching the clock tick by; waiting for that first ray of sunlight.

Yearning is wanting to hear you're told that you're beautiful. Sweet, like the lies you tell yourself in an attempt to convince.

It is the soft caress at your waist, suddenly evolving into an urgent, restrained grab. It is the arm enveloping you at night, under the covers on a hazy night.

Yearning. It's all of the words left unsaid, words held back by gritted teeth, fingers closed in a fist.

Yearning is wanting to be told "I love you, too". To feel loved. To feel consumed. It is wanting to drown in the sea of you and letting the waves swallow me like the love I want from you.