#46


I wish people could easily read my signals; how I am terrified of crowds, how I get intimidated by the attention yet desperate for reaching out, how I wish for not having the urge to vanish, or simply how I try not to break into panic cause the songs I put on repeat just remind me of those who disappear.

I wish people could see me through the correct lense; notice how I keep haunted by the past, but not ready to forget yet–not so fast.

I wish I could stop drowning in the ocean of blames. For regret is never a key to erase the mistakes and life is only a mournful hospitality once you forget how limitless the word “enough” is.

I would never be good enough, though. I would never be the star people try to find when the night comes. I may be the last dew in your garden, always that fragile tiny spot giving in to the heat of the day–not stubborn enough so people would never notice.

But above all, I wish to keep swimming. I wish to keep moving with force of the violent stream of present and future, make my past disappoinment as a living nightmare.

That way, when my eyes are pained and painted with nightmares, would you come and wake me to the present? I wish, I could wish so.

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