I am the kind of person who would 

stay up all night

to listen to you

talk about 

whatever’s on your mind

and to help you

confront your obstacles

and here you are

leaving me on hold

talking to other people

and making me feel


and it’s sad to see

that I am ready

to walk through the desert

for someone

who is not willing

to cross the backyard

on a hot summer day

for me. 

The Forgotten

There’s something strange and disturbing about the sorrow growing in my heart.

What’s strange is that the sorrow is delightful. I don’t know. Oddly, I don’t mind it.

Perhaps it’s because I know the reason behind it. I looked at my phone, no messages. Of course. Who needs me anyway?

That’s the problem with people nowadays; you could spend days waiting for that message, but you end up facing the biggest disappointment ever.

That’s the thing about us humans. We expect too much from people. We become delusional. We expect them to talk to us first, to remember us, to remember the tiniest of details, to call us just to say they miss us, to surprise us with trips to the Caribbean, to love us without betrayal, to always be honest with us. The even funnier part of the story is that we always create the drama because people forget us, or because we think people don’t care.

My problem, however, is that I expect too much, I care too much, and I love too much.


Love: an intense feeling of deep affection.
Care: the provision of what is necessary for the protection of someone or something.

Love and Care. The two most beautiful things in the world, yet the two most awful pains. I remember how much I cared, how much I loved, how happy I was by the compassion I displayed, as well as remember every thorn that was planted in my heart in return.

“I’m done with this crap,” I said to myself, about a billion times. I fall in the trap every time.

The worst thing is finding out people ignore us on purpose, or forget to send a message saying they couldn’t talk at the moment.

Admit it. People like you and me are born to be the forgotten. The ones who aren’t invited to concerts, or to parties, or to gatherings or whatever. The ones whose phones are believed to be dysfunctional because their sound is never heard. The ones who cry themselves to sleep because they think it’s their fault for caring.

Remember what I said? That sorrow was delightful? Well, it’s because I got used to it.

Remember your very first cigarette? How awful it tasted? Do you hate it now? That’s what I thought. You got used to its taste, so you find pleasure in it. My sadness is the same thing. Was atrocious at first, but now that it’s been growing on me like a vine, it’s part of me from now on. I find it delightful.



“I checked my phone: I had no messages. That’s what cell-phones are used for; realizing no one thinks about you. Before, we could always dream that someone wanted to find a way to contact us, to talk to us, to love us. Today we live with that object that materializes our solitude.” – David Foenkinos.

Left Alone

Here I was, room 72.

I wasn’t there by myself…Peter was in there too; he was my roommate.

Peter had a little heart stroke, but thankfully, he survived. I, on the other hand, had an open-heart surgery yesterday. It was my third surgery this month, and I survived, I guess…just not thankfully.

Look at the people in this room. They all came to visit Peter, whether in the morning, at noon, or in the evening. Look at them, all concerned.

I was alone. My kids are spread in countries all over the world. My daughter is in Scotland, my son is in Germany and my other son is in China. Do they know I’m here? Do they even remember me?

My wife, Elsa, would have come…but she, too, is far gone. She’s in Heaven. Must be nice up there.

Look at Peter’s family. They seem worried about him. They were afraid he was going to die. Hah, pathetic. I bet none of them paid him a single visit when he was healthier. Now that he almost said good bye, everybody’s suddenly compassionate. Heartless phonies. Peter doesn’t need any of you.

I thought to myself that it would still be nice to have someone to talk to. I wonder how Julie is doing in Scotland. She’s a doctor. I guess she has patients to take care of. Carl, well as an engineer, he must be busy. Germany’s been giving him a tough time. And, Mike. He’s an entrepreneur…easy to invest in China and to make a fortune. But how could you possibly forget about me you sons of the Devil!
After all I did for you, I hope you all rot in hell! You don’t even bother to visit your poor dad while he’s in the hospital.

Soon, I closed my eyes and fell in a deep sleep. The thing about that nap was that I didn’t wake up.  Indeed, the surgery had failed, and I was now reunited with Elsa.

I’d like to see you kids come for me now.

And, as a matter of fact, they were at my funeral. Seems like they’ve waited for my demise to check up on me.

Yes, even when married to a loving woman, and after having three kids, I never felt complete. I was alone. I’ve always wanted to be happy, but deep inside me a battle between loneliness and hate on one hand and serenity and happiness on the other was raging. Let me tell you one thing. I raised my kids the best way that I could, and they all left me. And one last thing. As a kid, I was left alone. As a teenager, I was left alone. As an adult, I was left alone. And in the hospital, I was not simply left alone, I was forgotten.



I want to know, am I good enough?

I am?

Then tell me, why is it so easy for people to succeed, when it’s so easy for me to fail?

Why is it that others are gifted with undefined beauty, and all I have is a face that’s tired and pale?

Why is it that others always have it right, and all I have is disappointment?

Why is it that they’re all loved, when I’m the one who made a commitment?

I want to know, is it all worth it?

Why is it that everyone seems so happy, when I’m drowning in my own grief?

Why is it that all of the others can express themselves so well, when all I can say comes out quiet and brief?

Why is it that others can handle everything, when I’m sinking in a little stress?

Why is it that everyone feels so confident, when I feel like I’m worth so much less?

I want to know, who am I?

You’re someone special, you might say.

Well, I see people around me, but I feel like I constantly push them all away.

You’re someone smart, you may add.

Well, I work hard, but many things I do can go terribly bad.

You’re amazing, you continue.

Well, thanks. But I always feel inferior to you.

My Biggest Fear Happens to Be…

My biggest fear happens to be
life, now and later on
the decisions I have to make,
the steps I’m about to take,
the changes I have to face,
not sure who will be there
to confront it with me,
or at least take my hand
and walk forward.

My biggest fear happens to be
disappointment, in all its forms
the failures I will encounter,
the tension I will suffer.
the words I’m unable to utter,
and the results that’ll unravel
expose the truth.

My biggest fear happens to be
rejection, whoever it is
from a friend, to a foe
to an unknown
rejection possesses you,
uses you,
and breaks you.

My biggest fear happens to be
loneliness, at any time
not having anyone around
not an essence to say a word,
not a being to share my hurt,
not a soul to pat my shoulder.
loneliness is the silent killer,
the silent abuser.

my biggest fear happens to be
me, myself, my mind
the person I have become
not the same as yesterday
not an animal, no
but definitely not the same,
and that is, what I believe
truly paralyzes me.



One little seed
Grew up,
Unaware of what it would be,
Or even look like
Just providing what we need.

It grew up and bloomed gracefully,
Life was fruitful, painted colorfully,
It was always there,
Offering care, shadow and refuge
To every cold and broken soul

But you know, no one really cares
They grab it by the arms,
Get it on its knees,
Cut open its skin,
Until it lies down, shivering and thin

The story of my life;
Seeking to be the best I can be,
Giving out whatever I owned
Trying to be there for the alone
And never taking back

But you know, no one really cares
They grabbed the arms of my soul
They sought to destroy it
And eventually destroy me

And bit-by-bit I fell down
Shivering, frail, and weak
And this was my story
Started out well,
Faced a horrible demise.

I’ll be there

You know,

It’s okay if you want to leave me in order to meet someone new. I understand. I don’t mind no longer being the one with whom you share your problems, regardless of how serious or little they are. I have absolutely no problem with not being the one who makes you laugh when you need it. I’m not asking you to take me to prom, mainly because I know you wouldn’t even think of inviting me in the first place. It’s okay. You moved on and made new friends, and I’m happy for you. You found someone who is much better than I am…prettier, smarter, funnier.

But just know, I’ll always be there. I know that you might have forgotten everything we shared in the past few years, but trust me, I’ll always be there. Not because I’m a clingy, emotional wreck, but because I never stopped being there. Sometimes you didn’t even need me, but you just wanted to talk…to anyone. And so we did. You see? Even for trivial matters, I was there. So, go ahead and take a step forward…move on with your life and forget about me. But if you ever decide to come back, I’ll be there.


(credits to the Twitter user who tweeted this picture.)