I can’t write right.

Sometimes I can’t write,

my mind’s being deceived.

Not sure if it’s right,

don’t know what to believe.

 

A blank piece of paper

stares intently back at me.

I can’t even bother

to write meaningfully.

 

It’s as if every inch

of creativity has been taken.

Maybe I just need a pinch,

or  a life-changing awaken.

 

Take me back

to those days,

when I don’t lack

the words to say.

 

A few drops of inspiration,

something to set the mood.

Using my imagination,

to write something good.

 

Perhaps, my talent is missing.

But, I can’t seem to discern why.

I used to long for writing,

letting every word go by.

 

I am thirsty to create anything

that will leave your literary soul

hanging, banging, jumping, craving.

Will I achieve my goal?

 

 

 

 

Inadequacy.

Have you ever had the feeling of not being good enough? That you’re never worth it?

 

Well, this day is one those days. Where I feel as if I’m running away from something that’s not there; something abstract, invisible. Lately, I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions. Questions mostly about self-hatred, dispute, and scarcity.

 

“Why am I not good enough for writing?”

Is one of the questions I ask myself. I have always been fond of writing ever since childhood. I used to make fan fictions for my friends, one-shot stories, and even “imagines”. Currently poetry is the bloodline of my writing “career” (if you can even call it that) and I still feel like my poems are shit. They’re absolutely no good, not well-constructed, a mess. Yet, I see other people my age who can write beautiful pieces with or without breaking a sweat–still, the point is, that if they can do it, why can’t I seem to? Is it because I don’t actually have the talent? Or maybe I wasn’t just really gifted with talent of writing? I guess I’ll never know. While typing this, I feel sick. Because I can’t use fancy terminologies or fix my train of thoughts appropriately and because of that, I know I lack the important skill of writing.

 

“Why am I not good enough for painting and drawing?” 

This one’s pretty obvious to me. I am aware that I am not great at painting (and drawing for that matter) yet I keep doing it. Just shows how much how hard-headed I am. This is kind of upsetting because I genuinely enjoy painting and drawing but my passion for it isn’t enough to fuel my creativity to be able to make mesmerizing art. I’ve realized this thought as I was watching a person paint a realistic painting of a person, with shading, lighting and everything, which is one of my greatest weaknesses. I kept comparing myself to her over and over; “how come she can do it perfectly?” “how can she do that?” “why can’t I do it?”. In fact, I can’t paint without a base or copy–which she can do just fine (but if I do it, my piece will surely turn out as trash). Sometimes, I can’t help but doubt my love for art. Maybe art’s not meant for me after all, considering all the weaknesses and cons I have whenever I make one.

 

“Why am I not good enough of a student?” 

As a student, I frequently ask myself this question. Why I’m never able to be the best top-notcher, why I can’t perfect an easy exam, why I can’t recite in class properly, why I can’t perform speeches or performance tasks in front of people. I’m always anxious, queasy, easily pressured even when I’m not supposed to be. I study all day and night because I want things to get done the soonest. Once they announce quizzes, exams, homeworks, activities, I do them as soon as the words leave from my professors’ mouth. But still, I don’t get the grade that I think I deserve. I even once considered myself to be homeschooled because people terrify me (since I go to a bigger school now than before). I feel them judging, criticizing, stabbing me in my back. I can hear their whispers, the roll of their eyes as I walk past, the uncomfortable shift of the world as they turn to look at me. I lack social well-being. In relation to this question, I ask myself, “I think I’m only good at memorizing stuff. But that doesn’t make me smart, does it? They have a difference, I know.” And I admit it to myself in the mirror. I’m not smart, I can only memorize–and there’s a goddamn difference.

 

With these questions, I tend to question myself and my abilities. In line with this, I scrutinize myself in the meanest way possible. I am my own enemy. Either I meddle with these demons, or I break free. There is no in-between. But meddling with them is much more fun because I don’t see one positive thing about being talentless. I want to be good enough, to be worth it, to be okay. Will I ever?

Having that said, I hope you find what you truly love doing, and being good enough for that. I hope you find yourself worth it, amidst the negative things that are choking you. Stay strong, reader. Stay strong, self.

 

xx

 

 

A magnet attracts a non-metal

I let my walls down 

For a guy who wouldn’t bring me up.

He said he likes girls who like pink;

But I’ve always liked black.


He searches for the sunrise, 

While I await for the twilight.

I let my feelings flow

For a boy who wouldn’t let go of his past.


I love his smile,

But he hates his own smirk.

He prefers his coffee plainly brewed,

I want mine with milk.


I spend my time alone;

Quietly.

He spends his in a bar;

Loudly.


But lastly…

I was attracted to a magnet, 

But I was non-metal.

I knew I stood no chance.


I still had my hopes,

My wishes, my dreams.

But, alas, I accepted it;

He will never be mutually attracted to me.


 

Seasonal changes.

It’s summer
The brown leaves fell off the trees
In unison with how I fell for you.

It’s halloween
The kids are terrified of horror movies
As much as how terrified I am of losing you.

It’s winter
The streets are filled with snow and the breeze is cold
Kind of like how you talk to me now—cold and blunt.

It’s all souls day
The day to remind us of the people who are dead
But in my state, it’s a day to evoke that you and what
we used to have is long dead and gone