All at once

I don’t feel so good…

It feels like something is consuming me from the inside. My thoughts, eating away at me. I tried to quiet my mind. But the silence isn’t a better alternative.

It feels like like gravity’s pull got stronger. My feet, dragging behind me as I try to move forward. Stuck in bed, without an ounce of strength left in me.

It feels like I’m underwater, way deep where the pressure is unbearable. Any deeper and my body might succumb to the crushing weight of my subconscious.

It feels like I’m high in the clouds, where the air is thin and it’s hard to breathe. Gasping for sustenance yet my futile efforts do nothing to help my cause.

I want to be free. But at the same time I don’t. Help me. I want to help myself. I’m sorry. I keep making mistakes. I’m lost.

What ifs I think would bes

I wonder if things could’ve been different… thinking back, I was such a coward back then. Nothing’s changed.

Whenever a huge problem comes, I try to run away from it.

When you were sick, I took it for granted. Maybe part of it was due to my bitter feelings. But that’s not an excuse. There are things I really do regret. My thoughts are all over the place again. But… what if..?

What if I was livelier back then? Would it help you feel better?

What if I encouraged you to eat more?

What if I took care of you more?

What if I came out of the closet earlier? Or later?

What if I tried to stay at home more?

What if I followed everything you said back then?

What if I was a good son?

Would a happier you lead to a longer life?

I honestly believe so. You were so stressed and sad back then…

I feel so bad for taking it all for granted.

And I’m doing it all over again. With mom. I’m running away from all of it again.

I’ll try to be better dad… I’ll try. It makes me so sad. But thank you. I think I get the reason for this dream now.

I should try harder. I don’t want a repeat. I don’t need any more regrets.


Lately I’ve been less afraid of the monsters under my bed and more afraid of those in my head.

Feelings are overwhelming.


Hi dad… I had a dream of you again. You didn’t look so well this time… you were in bad shape. You looked pained… but you were trying to hide it, but were unable to. Not even having enough strength to muster up a smile. When I saw you, you were just coming out of your room, and I was with a friend. Immediately, you went back inside. You never did like interacting with people much after you got sick. I understand. You were tired a lot plus you probably didn’t want them to see you.

I followed you back inside the room. Tried to cheer you up with a smile and a hug. “Hi dad. How’re you feeling?”. Stupid question Karl. But you didn’t feel so well. You almost threw up. You held it in until I led you to the bathroom sink. Then you did. I cried.


None of those ever happened in real life.

I kept apologizing. I don’t know why… but I did. But this dream was weird. This time, the dream had subtitles(?). And at the last three frames of this dream, you got mad at me. You blamed me for everything. Said it should’ve been me. I cried (In my deam)

Then I woke up. My eyes were dry.


None of those ever happened in real life. It must’ve been my internal dialogue speaking. Not you. I was blaming myself.

In bed getting extreme anxiety attacks.

I actually kept saying “what the fuck?” Out loud.

My consciousness. My life. Me.



It’s happening again. A downward spiral. Everything comes down at you all at once. And you can’t find it in you to enjoy anything. Everything is a problem. Everything makes you feel guilty. Everything.

As if my happiness is dependent on someone. No– I said that wrong. My situation is different.

My happiness needs permission.

Being comfortable in my bedroom is a waste of time. Turning on the AC costs money. Eating makes me fat. Playing sports when I can’t afford it. It’s as if being happy is a sin when you know someone else is suffering. Like breathing needs to be paid for.

And I am paying for it. Suffering. This too shall pass. I believe in that. But so shall it return. And that’s the harsh reality of it all. How much longer can I last?

A lot of the times I fear not waking up. It’s inevitable. But I know it will happen someday. And that scares me.

My head is messed up.

I know my mom’s having a hard time. She needs someone to talk to. So I try to absorb it all for her. She needs to vent. I become the sponge. But it hurts..

The distance between us

You see me as a challenge. But I’m not a game.

You see the difficulties as obstacles. But it’s not a competition.

We love for love. Not because of the conditions it comes with.

If making an effort feels like making an effort, how can you enjoy the reason you did it for?

Maybe I’m just not worth it.

If something is already broken, is it still fragile?

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