Escaping Reality

June 25, 2008

there are certainly days when you wish you were someone else and living a different life. during these days, i consider myself on an ‘escapist mode’. although some people may think that i am thoughtless and irresponsible for being like this, i believe that it helps me cope with everyday stresses.

for me, i usually escape in five ways: watching a movie, reading a book, blogging, checking out gossip sites and of course, there is my ever dependable poetry writing. i actually have done this even when i was still in high school. there is no better way to feel more alive than imagining yourself anguished and tortured because of love.

and so, i offer to you some of my poems. Enjoy!

EACH DAY

i live each day as if in a dream

and in a moment, i will wake up

with you beside me.

i take each day as a step closer to you

and maybe in a blink of an eye, i will find myself

with you in front of me.

but

i also cry each day as i realize my foolishness

because in reality,

it will never be you and me.

———————————-

REALITY/FANTASY


Where does fantasy ends and reality starts?
Does reality ends when you are about to throw all caution to the wind and follow your heart?

And by doing this,
you find yourself entering a world of fantasy
where nothing will be gained except pain?

Does fantasy ends
when you finally face the fact that however right it feels,
it is not real?

Ultimately, you will decide which is the reality or the  fantasy -
and once you have done so,
deaden your senses to everything
and suffer in silence.

———————————————

SMILE

I went out last night
to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

Amidst laughter and friendly banter,
I found myself thinking of you.

Wondering what you were doing at that time
and hoping  you were enjoying the night as i was.

I can’t help but smile.

Love is such a powerful emotion
and I would not want to use it carelessly.

It is too real
and too pure
to be tossed around with such disregard.

But I think, I am.

In love, indeed.

And the smile is proof enough.

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