Perspective of Home

This morning Phillip Phillips' song came on. I've always loved that song. It triggers the membrane for some awesome journey in life I had somehow. Telling wounded souls that they'll be fine and just bear with me so we can heal together. But then somewhere in the song, I felt broken.

Home, the title of this song, came into air in the late 2012 and early 2013. I was so hopeful to keep him in me. Him. The X. Then. Funny how after so many years all these memories still come to haunt me and make me feel broken like a wave hitting the rocks, and the rock that holds all the other rocks in the sea, breaks in the bottom. Yes, that is exactly how it feels. Broken beneath the sea. A place where no one can see or feel. 

I pushed myself to sing the song again, line by line. The crack ran deeper. I decide to stop the cracking and changed my own perspective. The song was about telling MYSELF to bring MYSELF home - which I did, and therefore blessed and thankful for.

Funny ain't it how smell, sight and sound can make or break your day? 

But then again, you too can make the change by turning into a different degree of your perspective. Only sometimes, you need time to gage and find ways how to bring yourself out of the waters. 

Funny too how in current times, nothing else is affected. It's just my brain calling. Emotional growth. Emotional range and understanding of how far I've expanded, experienced, learned, grown and healed.

Like how it is said, God will not test you for something you cannot carry.

It was never a lie.

Getting Off

In the silence of motion, my memory triggers all that hurt me. All that was in the past but feels like brand new. I know in my heart that Satan is pulling my leg with it. But the wound feels fresh and gently throbs through my heart.

That day in chaos of the mid morning. When he came and tried talking to me to just be settled with his decisions. Me doing my best keeping him there. But through and through, I no longer live in his heart. It belonged to someone else. It was a blank wall with volatile colours of black, red and thorns in the chest.

I made the journey to the registrar's where he files in petition to separate. Stupified by the sight of support of his brother there, but I came with my mother, my bestfriend, siblings and uncle. My uncle had a bypass few months and his chest was hurting throughout the whole ordeal. He couldn't get through the lobby. Best he waited in the car.

Made me feel zero. Everything felt stripped from my skin down to my bones. But these were the flashes of memories that pains me every once in a while.

In current times, we are past all that. But this INFJ in me does this self torture on auto mode.

Happily holding hands and kisses in codes that we only understand. The other minute all these things come flooding through.

It is not with feelings of resentment. It's just something natural to feel. But then again, I'm tired. Who knows what I'm talking about right now. My eyes are seeing double.

Must leave.

Good night.