Trying to remember how it feels like to be fine, having a kind of peace and security within myself. . . What really makes a man? a strong sense of self or just simply the strength to move on?



I don't know how or why I became like this, there are others who told me that I was getting better each time they see me but deep inside I just feel really rotten and jaded. How come everyone just seems so 'okay' and the days just kinda pass them by with ease, with every setting sun they moved on to better ground and I can only see myself still stuck in the place where you last left me. I'm unmovable.

I have run out of excuses and reasons to tell myself that I'll be alright, I suppose with every plan I make is a sub-conscious effort to get better inside but it just brings me back to the same old place. . .

I got out of a crowded room to another one with just me beside myself, those sappy love songs that I constantly stumble upon through performance by others(gig,radio) just brings back so much memories and it seems like everywhere I go I see the silhouette of what seems like the perfect lover. So I just close my eyes and pray that it will all go away but when I open my eyes it just got clearer, their expressions, laughters, tears and the very touch they both once shared. . . Maybe from where I'm at I'm the only one in this who is feeling this way. I don't wanna stay on because It's too draining and painful but I cannot run away my feet are stuck to the ground and with every pictures and words I just sink deeper.

Encouragement are used too often and I finally ran out of words to speak of. . .

Closed my eyes, take a deep breath and hope that it'd be gone when I finally muster the strength to open them up again. . .

You may tire of me as our December sun is setting because I’m not who I used to be.
No longer easy on the eyes but these wrinkles masterfully disguise,
The youthful boy below who turned your way and saw,
Something he was not looking for; both a beginning and an end.
But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize,
When he catches his reflection on accident.

On the back of a motor bike,
With your arms outstretched trying to take flight;
Leaving everything behind.
But even at our swiftest speed we couldn't break from the concrete,
In the city where we still reside.
And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men,
'Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides,
Like brothers on a hotel bed.
Like brothers on a hotel bed.
Like brothers on a hotel bed.
Like brothers on a hotel bed.

You may tire of me as our December sun is setting because I’m not who I used to be.



"well, It doesn't really matter anymore..."