a pectus pectoris quod est haud diutius idoneus of sensus..

What use of the heart is where it is incapable of feeling?
What is a heart for?
A heart is made to feel..
When a heart is incapable of feeling..
what more use is this heart..
just waiting for the moment to come..
just waiting for the time to pass..
seeing the wear and tear of all other parts around it..
waiting for it to expel its last breath before it ceases its existence..

This heart is no longer capable of feeling any emotion..
no longer able to feel sad..
no longer able to feel angry..
no longer able to feel pain..
no longer capable of feeling love..

Being able to feel is the strongest emotion of a human being..
everything begins with feeling..
everything form of relationship begins with love..
without it, it is the same as being incapacitated..
without the ability to feel love, it is the same as lifeless..
no feeling, no love..
no more love, no more life..

- M.Y. -
20 July 2009

meus vita est amo moonless nox noctis..

Someone asked me..
tell me one interesting thing about myself..
I thought for a while..
I can't think of anything..
nothing interesting about myself comes to my mind..
pathetic, one might think..
which is true..
however, it does not bother me anymore..

Nothing interesting about myself..
so?
it does not matter anyway..
I am not much of an interesting person to begin with anyway..
I come from dust of this earth..
I return as dust to the earth..
there is nothing I can bring with me to earth..
nothing which I can bring with me in memory..

I have slowly emptied myself of memories..
over the years..
empty as a shell..
nothing which I am worthy of to be in memory to be..
I am nobody's gem anyway..
I am just a nobody..
maybe just an abnormal living being who is just part of this world..
I have never thought my death will be much of a big deal to anybody..
death should be a relief to me..I think..

There is nothing left in this world for me to do anyway..
I am just waiting for my time to come in this world anyway..
living each day as a routine..
maybe letting people around me be happy, by just hanging around..
maybe letting my parents be happy, by just hanging around them..

Pathetic, sad, I am, thinking like this..
guess so..
at least I lived before..
at least I was happy before..
at least I loved before, or I thought so..
so I guess, I should be at least contented with those..
having no meaning left in life to live on for..
maybe I have none to begin with in the first place..
all those I thought I had was just illusions..
nothing is real..

My life is like the black hole..
bleak..
bottomless..
empty..
black..
hollow..
nothing is seemingly possible to fill it at all..

My life is like the moonless night..
very dark..
I am just hiding in one corner..
rocking myself fore and back..
wrapping myself in the black velvet sky..
looking up, seeing nothing..
not even stars..
knowing only the silence of twilight keeping me accompany..
till I become the part of the twilight..
ceasing my existence along with the night..

The greatest fear in life is not death..
it is being not able to fear death..
it is having nothing else to fear for live..
death is easy, it is the meaning of living which is hard..

What is forever when there is nothing to begin with?
What is life when there is nothing to die for?
What is happiness when there is nothing to be sad for anymore?
What is the heart for when there is nothing to be beat for anymore?
What is living for when there is nothing left to fight or die for?

- M.Y. -
18th July 2009

nusquam videor contineo mihi anymore..

What happens when your heart stops feeling..
stops feeling anything at all..
no happy, sad, pain, fear, cruel..
feels no more..
you can call it numb..
yet it beats as norm..
just not being able to feel anything..
no love, no sadness, no pain, no fear..

The heart seems to have grown a layer of shell around..
like a cocoon, hiding itself..
hibernating underground..
behind the thick layer of wall..
creating a barrier around itself..
preventing anything to enter..
locking up everything inside the cellar..
the key to the door is lost..
the auto-locked door expired as time goes by..
growing layers and layers of thick black vines around it..
the sharp thorns on the vines stop anything from touching the most tender part of its center being..
not even the most lethal knife in the world, cannot cut through the jungle to the pure red rose withering in the midst..

The single red rose stops growing, stays pure and withers to its last breath..
the blood stops the circulation towards the heart..
it stays forever at that ice stage..
cold, lonely, still as the icy breeze during the winter..
nothing seems to penetrate or disturb its mundane and monotonous stage..
nothing else seems to matter it anymore..
nothing else seems to touch me anymore..

- M.Y. -
11th July 2009