Jung Yong Hwa

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Jung Yong Hwa

My first portrait! Really happy for how well it turned out!

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To the Infinite

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Lonely silhouette of your being,
The pixallated view of your most cherished dreams,
Caged walls of your beating heart,
The broken promises of a beautiful start,
Void in your gray soul,
The regret for not making that last call,
Finding your way in a labyrinth,
The warmth of the fire you hold within,
Those darkest secrets you hide behind those eyes,
The rules your existence defies,
Numbness pressed in your bones,
The soul deep fears of different colors and tones,
Tears that taste like feelings and little salt,
The humid summer night’s fault,
Unhinged recklessness from the fabric of your being,
The dust you are of everything selfish and mean,
Smiles and laugh are temporary delusions,
Reality is what kills you, while you survive illusion,
You’ll become one of those,
Those who live with daggers hanging on their heads,
Whose forte are dark room and cold beds,
You’ll always be out of place no matter the site
Because love, you belong to the infinite.

Gone before you came

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Don’t love me,
I am not here to stay,
One day I’ll disappear,
Like that sunset’s last ray.

My wings have tasted freedom,
I only know how to fly,
Touching the stars,
Breathing in the midnight sky.

I am the bird returning home,
Forgotten to walk,
Broken wings,
Too tired to fly,
So here on the ground I lie.

Let me be on my own,
Don’t try to heal me with the galaxies in your eyes,
I might pay you back with coins of stories,
Of fireflies and wasps,
Dolphins and sharks,
And how light consumes the dark.

I’ll let u have a peek into my little adventures.
But that’s all you’ll ever have of me,
Just a glimpse,
In return for a bucket load of stars from dust of your being.

I’ll listen to your dreams,
And make them mine.
But I’ll live them in my own time.
And not with you,

While you’ll sit on that table,
Dinner for two,
I’ll pack my heart and leave you behind.

You’ll wait as it’ll seem too unjustified,
But I don’t care love,
For I might be the love of your life,
You will never be mine.

My heart goes places,
You will never like,
So stitch up your broken pieces,
As soon as you realize,
I was gone,
The day I came,
I was like that stupid rain.

Nostalgia

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As I walk down these streets,
I feel these withered walls against my fingers,
Nothing has changed except my fingers, they are a little bigger now,
Or the bricks a little smaller.
I stand on the roof of the house,
Taking in the air of my hometown.
People still live in that next house,
Except the girl I played with is no longer here,
His brother too lives in another city now.
Only people left are the ones who are too old to settle themselves in a new place,
Reminiscing their last days here- familiarity their only salvation.
As I unlock the door to my parent’s room,
I remember how those doors were never locked,
Not until my mother passed away last summer.
The bed inside is still the same,
I didn’t let anyone touch it as it was the place i spent my nights in,
Listening to stories I still remember by heart.
The linen although a bit dusty still smells like mother.
As I walk down the stairs, I see my daughter holding her grandfather’s hand,
Complaining about how I scolded her last night.
She grew up too fast for me to really notice,
But I am glad I never missed out on her childhood.
My father’s room down the stairs is empty now.
My mother asked me to clean his things when he passed,
They made her miss him more.
She must have felt lonely in this house.
I excuse myself for washroom before heading out,
To stand in front of its gate and complain to mom about how difficult things have become and how I don’t want to grow up- ever,
It was a habit i took up as a kid,
Not wanting my mother to see my cry I used to stand there while she bathed,
And complain about everything that was wrong.
I turn back to leave again,
Lock every door to every corner of this house,
There are too many memories here.
I am going for now, until I am ready to come back again and live it all.
If not in time, but in my heart.
I miss my Home.

Holidays

Since holidays are going on I decided to renovate my room and as I was doing it a friend told me to consider interior designing or something art related as my profession rather than Economics (that I am currently pursuing) and this made me remember my father’s words
” Take two things you love doing the most. Pick the one you love the most as your hobby and the second one as your profession, for when the days are tuff and your second love becomes difficult, you can always go to your first love and re-energize.”
Here a sneak peek in room!

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P.S. – Any ideas do comment! 🙂

Pain

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What is pain?
Does it look like your worst nightmare,
Or does it have a face full of scars?
Each scar a sign of new heartache.

How does it smell like?
Does it even have an odor?
A scent that always give it away?
To its ghosts of past,
And if it has one,
Does it smell sweet?
One that help one troubled soul locate the other,
Or does it smell really awful?
One that ensures no happy soul ever associate with its host?

Does it have a home?
A place it always return to when no place seems right?
And if it does have one,
Is it welcomed back in that place?
Are there any arms waiting for its return?

Also,
Does it have a work place?
Where it follows the night shifts?
When no one is around,
And one is left alone with their haunting thoughts?

Does it even like its work?
Or does it also despise its boss?
The guilt and sin,
Flowing like poison in one’s veins,
Every shade of black pumped into one simple shade of red.

Does it even know its importance?
Flowing straight from heart,
Through ink to the pen’s tip,
And staining papers with its sins.
Leaving bare one’s darkest secrets for the world to read,
To sympathize,
Associate and feel as humanly as possible,
Bringing together all kindered souls.

Or is it as oblivious as every being on earth?
Comparing the beauty of spring of happiness,
To its dry winter like nature,
Or standing on the weighing machine,
Hoping to be more and more weightless,
Taking less space in body and flesh.

Does it love someone?
The one it will even die for?
Is it possessive?
Not wanting to leave,
Finding new excuses to stay everytime its time to go?

Does it have a language?
Or it believes in no dialogue policy
Always focusing on action,
Oozing out of every cut,
Letting those wounds speak louder than any words.

But whatever it is,
I believe pain is as much in pain,
Wanting to escape its own nature,
And when it does find a way out,
It will run places and explore hearts,
But won’t stay longer in one place to make a person completely fall apart.

P.S.- I am currently not able to come up with anything new. Writer’s block i guess! This piece i wrote long back but been lying in my drafts. I didn’t edit it but I felt I need to post something to feel a little motivated to write more! By the way those who wished me good luck for exams thankyou they went well! Fingers crossed for results!! 😀

On the scale of 10

Exams are close and while everyone is trying to go through as much syllabus as possible I too had some doubts and decided to ring my friend up for the same.
What wasn’t surprising was her stress and worry. Although she studied round the semester she is still not at all confident. Given how the University is famous for its ‘marking scheme’ what caught my attention was her statement ‘If I don’t score this time I’ll be really discouraged!’
I could immediately associate with her as at some point in my life I too had been at her place and have felt the same when I have worked really hard for something but was not able to get the results I expected. When you are working on something the good results work as an encouragement as its often said, “once you see results, it becomes an addiction.”
But while trying to encourage her I too came across a realization.
I realized how easy it is to discourage oneself. One should know their weaknesses but only seeing the weaknesses and letting the good side lose its shine is something we tend to do more often.
I realized how we should sit and tell ourselves “It’s okay you didn’t get those marks, you can work more next time!” And yes sometimes there is no next time but are those exams the only thing in your life?
Yes, exams are an indicator of how well you have understood a topic but given the current education system I believe marks are not and cannot be the real indicator of one’s knowledge. I believe unless you never really tried to learn something and you can’t apply what you have learned, no matter if you can frame a certain answer or not, no matter if you can pull an all nighter before the exam and put your cramming capacity to test, no matter if you have just the right amount of topics covered to fetch you enough marks, its all useless. Those marks are useless. If you really want to learn something you will learn it but if you are not getting marks for it then don’t be discouraged because one day that knowledge will help you out, that last minute study won’t last a lifetime.
So forget those social standards, those so called scales and boxes tying up your imagination. Learn, but not for those marks and degrees and diplomas, but for the sake of learning, for discovering something new. Let your curiosity run wild and I am sure one day even without an A grade degree you’ll pull something off because there will be many with those grades but not many with same knowledge.

P.S. : It is out of context but I have decided from today onwards to not to worry about future and take 24 hours at a time and learn and live them as much as I could! To learn something new everyday and follow the 10% rule. 🙂 Any comments suggestions welcome!

Numb

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I feel nothing,
No sadness,
No joy,
I am numb,
astray,
Losing more of myself  everyday,
Too weak,
Thinking about dying,
Leaving everyone else behind,
Destroying,
Stealing their peace of mind!
And still,
I am afraid,
Of what others might think of me,
When I am gone,
Shredded,
Soul long lost.
I am a coward,
Or just a child,
Made to grow up,
As numbers are right.
Don’t know how long,
I’ll survive,
But I’ll wait and see,
If it’s really worth my while.

Growing up!

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When even little seems too much,
While your world becomes your room,
And your window panes turn dark with dust,
And expectations turn into a burden you carry.
When the walls of your heart crumble hard,
Your pillow your secret dumpyard.
As you slowly start hating your smile,
Falling more for your darker side.
And no one knows the battle you fight,
Just to fall asleep at night.
When your heart is rotting inside,
And
You bleed filth,
Your tongue curls only into swears.
When you have to count your breaths and every next one seems harder than earlier.
The only peaceful times are when you are asleep.
When your thoughts are more death than life,
Your smile no more reach your eyes,
When pain is too much to hide,
And you fear drowning
In your own thoughts,
You disappearing seems like no loss.
Your monsters feeding off your soul,
But you still refuse to give up on life,
That’s when you grow up!

Drowning

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I am not scared that I am not myself,
I am scared that I am,
a little too much,
My thoughts are now
Rusty frames of memories,
And worthless pieces of puzzle,
Lying scattered,
Unarranged, unwanted, unwilling,
Too dark for any amount of white,
To turn them into grey.
I know of my demons,
A little too well.
They are
Too powerful a dancer,
Running all around in my mind,
Giving a performance of a lifetime.
Thoughts too unreasonable to say out loud,
Thank god i am too good at lying,
If only they could find,
What parts of me are real and true,
and what are more refined but a lie.
A warrior i am,
Of darkness and all that is wrong with this world,
From insecurities to lies,
And world of cries,
Come watch me drown,
Every inch of my skin is deep in sorrow,
And remorse,
I am grieving for who i was yesterday,
I don’t have the energy to bear it anymore,
But i will.
That’s how i survive,
If only i could live a little while.
And not just exist.
I hate myself too much to stay alive,
But i love myself enough to not end it yet.
This is when i tell myself i can handle this,
I am strong.
And that’s how it all turns out right,
When i don’t even know what tomorrow might be like,
But then who does?