"it's hard to start a new chapter of your life but putting an end to it was the hardest..."
wala lang. bigla na naman kasing may pumasok sa utak ko at yan yung mga katagang yan...
It's a long weekend but i'm here stuck in my room, lying and watching movies.
Di pa ba ko sanay?
Yan ang tanong ko sa sarili ko..
One year na since I've been here in Manila. But still I'm longing for my friends. I'm missing them so badly.
Normally, with long weekends like this, we normally hang-out, drink ourselves to death, chat magdamagan, at asaran ng walang humpay. Hindi boring pag kasama mo mga kaibigan mo.
Kaso, hindi laging ganun ang buhay...
Hindi laging saya,... We need to take responsibilities as we grow older.
Hindi man for our family, but for our own self na rin.
Ganun talaga. We need to face the fact that life will not be forever happy-go-lucky.
We need to sacrifice something before something good happens.
Life is full of tradeoffs. If we don't sacrifice anything, we will not receive any.
Kaya ngayon, kailangan ko harapin ang mundong ito.
A world full of surprises.
Maybe one day, God will surprise me...
It's just a way of God to test me.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
He is the past. You are the future.
The first one to give in to his/her feelings, doesn’t necessarily lose, but is the person prone to get hurt. There’s nothing wrong with this. Just keep in mind that giving yourself to that person already gives him/her the right to hurt you. So be careful, don’t give in too easily. (Take it from me, it hurts like hell.)
Every moment of pain, weakness, and discomfort puts you in a positon to choose how you will react and how you will alleviate your condition. Calling him doesn’t make it better.. it only pulls you back into the cycle of heartbreak. He is the past. You are the future. -
It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken(by Greg Behrendt and Amira Ruotola-Behrendt)
Every moment of pain, weakness, and discomfort puts you in a positon to choose how you will react and how you will alleviate your condition. Calling him doesn’t make it better.. it only pulls you back into the cycle of heartbreak. He is the past. You are the future. -
It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken(by Greg Behrendt and Amira Ruotola-Behrendt)
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sugar Packets
Contributed by soultrainchick (Edited by blue_kuko)
Sunday, September 03, 2006 @ 12:00:07 AM
(from peyups.com)
She watched the rain through the glass panel. Some hurled themselves against the pane then splashed off as tiny pieces, some came down as rivulets that formed little roads and branches. She watched the world go by below her as she sat sipping a cold, chocolate drink amidst Billie Holiday’s mournful coos. She stared as people huddled into the nearest shelters. A few went inside the coffee shop as the horizon turned into gray ink, spilling over the streets and turning into sheets of water. Soon, save for the cars, trucks and public commute, the road was bereft of life.
She had sugarless coffee back at her office desk that morning because she ran out of those packets she stole from coffee shops and restaurants. She helped herself to a handful whenever an opportunity presented itself. Maybe she wasn’t the only one because the shops have stopped giving out complimentary cream and sugar substitutes too. But she invested P120.00 on coffee. Surely, the packets don’t cost half as much.
She sipped her drink in a languid manner as she stared at somewhere and nowhere in particular. A car’s roof, top of peoples’ heads as they ducked for cover. She loved to space out this way sometimes. She’d take a seat with a good view of the street to just watch.
She’s not the type who’d take the smallest table in an inconspicuous corner at all. She always preferred those big coaches that occupy a large space even when she was alone, this way she’d get maximum comfort and elbowroom. She started doing this when she noticed how people avoided those who sat by themselves, particularly those that stared into space --- and occupied the largest space. It’s as if they half expected her to rock back and forth and start crashing her skull against the nearest wall. But who cares what they thought?
And nobody cared about what she thought either. Not anyone she had hoped would. Not the man now, not the man before him. She’d try to tell them something, anything she thought would be of interest to them as a way to deepen what they had, but they always met her suggestions with a shrug or a mumble. The only topic that seemed to get their undivided attention was sex. And she’s so tired pretending to be somebody’s whore just to get her hands at some connection. She’s tired having to play at that game, yet that was the only way they would pay her any mind. They never listened to her when she told them of her frustrations, or of the latest book she has read nor of the latest movie she saw.
”There is nothing for me but to love you, and the way you look, tonight”, Tony Benett said about someone. At a far corner, a man looked deeply into a girl’s eyes as they grappled for and engaged each other’s hands. ”Get a room. That’s what all that attention’s for, lady. Believe me.”, she mused. Meanwhile, Tony Benett insisted on true love. She couldn’t care less. She couldn’t understand where all this love is coming from anyway.
She had once believed in it. She thought that if she pampered a guy enough and set aside her own strength to be submissive to one person, that if she gave her whole being to it, she’d be loved in return. She had once dreamed of becoming a princess in one of those storybook lives she grew up with. She once thought she’d bask in the glow of someone’s undivided attention one day. That people someone cared for actually kept their promises. But no, her heart was never enough.
Not for the former guy to whom she was willing to give up the whole world for, never mind that he wore hearts on a string and that hers was not even one of those hearts but a mere joke. Not even the guy who offered her honesty. This same guy who somehow managed to melt her heart and made her believe in the concept of love after that terrible fall with the practical joker. Whether they drove a car or took the public transport, whether they were tall or short, whether they took her to some posh restaurant or to an open field on a star-filled night, it didn’t matter. They never were genuinely interested in her.
She had wanted to tell this recent guy that she thought of him often. She had wanted to be like Tony Benett and tell the whole world she has found love or at least pretended she had, but all she could ever do was to sing the blues with Billie Holiday. So who cares if she had anything important to say? Not the group who discussed networking to her left, not the two giggling girls in front of her, not the couple who made out at the farthest corner, not the drenched, long-haired guy who spat near a post below. And certainly not him. Not after he made it clear he didn’t want to take their relationship further (she always knew he was sincere). Not a single man she had wanted to take seriously.
Or maybe she hasn’t found real love yet, that’s what her friends always tell her anyway. But maybe she never will. Maybe she will never be taken seriously. But who cares? She hadn’t come to this coffee shop to brood about it either. Nor to assess if she was strong enough to walk away from him and that star-filled night he gave her. And his promises. And his soothing words. Not the way he traced his fingers along the sides of her face, not even the gentleness by which his lips met hers or the way his strong arms warmed her during so many rainy nights. No, she wasn’t just struggling to keep herself intact as she braced herself for another relationship that is doomed to crash against a solid wall. Not now. Not when she has learned to believe.
She sat transfixed at nowhere in particular not to think about anything at all. She never even had an idea what brought her there. She felt at her pocket for something that stung her waist. Ah yes. The sugar packets. She needed a fresh supply of sugars and cream for her morning coffee.
The droplets now came in drizzles as hints of bright blue plastered themselves across the horizon. She took a sip from her drink without taking her eyes off the street and managed a long, slurping sound. She stared down at her plastic cup as if seeing it for the first time and placed it slowly down the table. Nothing but ice. The rains have let up, she figured it was time to get going.
Sunday, September 03, 2006 @ 12:00:07 AM
(from peyups.com)
She watched the rain through the glass panel. Some hurled themselves against the pane then splashed off as tiny pieces, some came down as rivulets that formed little roads and branches. She watched the world go by below her as she sat sipping a cold, chocolate drink amidst Billie Holiday’s mournful coos. She stared as people huddled into the nearest shelters. A few went inside the coffee shop as the horizon turned into gray ink, spilling over the streets and turning into sheets of water. Soon, save for the cars, trucks and public commute, the road was bereft of life.
She had sugarless coffee back at her office desk that morning because she ran out of those packets she stole from coffee shops and restaurants. She helped herself to a handful whenever an opportunity presented itself. Maybe she wasn’t the only one because the shops have stopped giving out complimentary cream and sugar substitutes too. But she invested P120.00 on coffee. Surely, the packets don’t cost half as much.
She sipped her drink in a languid manner as she stared at somewhere and nowhere in particular. A car’s roof, top of peoples’ heads as they ducked for cover. She loved to space out this way sometimes. She’d take a seat with a good view of the street to just watch.
She’s not the type who’d take the smallest table in an inconspicuous corner at all. She always preferred those big coaches that occupy a large space even when she was alone, this way she’d get maximum comfort and elbowroom. She started doing this when she noticed how people avoided those who sat by themselves, particularly those that stared into space --- and occupied the largest space. It’s as if they half expected her to rock back and forth and start crashing her skull against the nearest wall. But who cares what they thought?
And nobody cared about what she thought either. Not anyone she had hoped would. Not the man now, not the man before him. She’d try to tell them something, anything she thought would be of interest to them as a way to deepen what they had, but they always met her suggestions with a shrug or a mumble. The only topic that seemed to get their undivided attention was sex. And she’s so tired pretending to be somebody’s whore just to get her hands at some connection. She’s tired having to play at that game, yet that was the only way they would pay her any mind. They never listened to her when she told them of her frustrations, or of the latest book she has read nor of the latest movie she saw.
”There is nothing for me but to love you, and the way you look, tonight”, Tony Benett said about someone. At a far corner, a man looked deeply into a girl’s eyes as they grappled for and engaged each other’s hands. ”Get a room. That’s what all that attention’s for, lady. Believe me.”, she mused. Meanwhile, Tony Benett insisted on true love. She couldn’t care less. She couldn’t understand where all this love is coming from anyway.
She had once believed in it. She thought that if she pampered a guy enough and set aside her own strength to be submissive to one person, that if she gave her whole being to it, she’d be loved in return. She had once dreamed of becoming a princess in one of those storybook lives she grew up with. She once thought she’d bask in the glow of someone’s undivided attention one day. That people someone cared for actually kept their promises. But no, her heart was never enough.
Not for the former guy to whom she was willing to give up the whole world for, never mind that he wore hearts on a string and that hers was not even one of those hearts but a mere joke. Not even the guy who offered her honesty. This same guy who somehow managed to melt her heart and made her believe in the concept of love after that terrible fall with the practical joker. Whether they drove a car or took the public transport, whether they were tall or short, whether they took her to some posh restaurant or to an open field on a star-filled night, it didn’t matter. They never were genuinely interested in her.
She had wanted to tell this recent guy that she thought of him often. She had wanted to be like Tony Benett and tell the whole world she has found love or at least pretended she had, but all she could ever do was to sing the blues with Billie Holiday. So who cares if she had anything important to say? Not the group who discussed networking to her left, not the two giggling girls in front of her, not the couple who made out at the farthest corner, not the drenched, long-haired guy who spat near a post below. And certainly not him. Not after he made it clear he didn’t want to take their relationship further (she always knew he was sincere). Not a single man she had wanted to take seriously.
Or maybe she hasn’t found real love yet, that’s what her friends always tell her anyway. But maybe she never will. Maybe she will never be taken seriously. But who cares? She hadn’t come to this coffee shop to brood about it either. Nor to assess if she was strong enough to walk away from him and that star-filled night he gave her. And his promises. And his soothing words. Not the way he traced his fingers along the sides of her face, not even the gentleness by which his lips met hers or the way his strong arms warmed her during so many rainy nights. No, she wasn’t just struggling to keep herself intact as she braced herself for another relationship that is doomed to crash against a solid wall. Not now. Not when she has learned to believe.
She sat transfixed at nowhere in particular not to think about anything at all. She never even had an idea what brought her there. She felt at her pocket for something that stung her waist. Ah yes. The sugar packets. She needed a fresh supply of sugars and cream for her morning coffee.
The droplets now came in drizzles as hints of bright blue plastered themselves across the horizon. She took a sip from her drink without taking her eyes off the street and managed a long, slurping sound. She stared down at her plastic cup as if seeing it for the first time and placed it slowly down the table. Nothing but ice. The rains have let up, she figured it was time to get going.
One year
One Year
Contributed by ako-si-eica (Edited by blue_kuko)
Tuesday, December 19, 2006 @ 02:27:00 PM
(from peyups.com)
Dearest,
Tomorrow, it will be a year. 365 days, 12 months, 52 weeks since the 18th of December 2004. It was a year ago on this day, that I was anticipating tomorrow. It was a year ago on this day that I was sure, very sure, that you loved me back. I kept thinking, tomorrow will be the day. It was a year ago, on this day, that I was sure I had made the right choice. I was in love, and for once, I wasn't going to regret it, because you loved me back, right?
It will be a year tomorrow when I was bursting with love, happiness, contentment -- every good thing imaginable. Everything was perfect that night, unless you count my mother getting mad at me (what's new?) because I arrived home late.
How you gave your Christmas gift to me was spectacular. Who would have guessed that a perfect day would end with a perfect night? Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a simple thing like that was to be given under the stars. The only thing that would have made it more perfect than it already was was if you told me that you loved me, and will for all eternity. Sadly, that didn't happen.
A few months later I decided it was time to let go. I've waited for too long and nothing ever happened, so why should it happen then?
A few months after that, I found out that you fell in love with my ex-best friend. Well, you can just imagine how I felt after I found out. Like murder a thousand times over. I couldn't help thinking that if I hadn't left, would I be the one you loved and not her?
I look back on this time last year and I suddenly sigh involuntarily. Life now is so different from life back then. I don't even feel like I know myself anymore. This year just pales in comparison with the last.
Last year I helped put up our Christmas tree. This year, it is a week before Christmas and I have yet to feel its spirit. Last year, I became a better person because I met you again after I once did. This year, my attitude deteriorated. Last year, the glass was half full. This year, the glass is half empty.
Last year, I had love. This year, I have only memories.
Mere words cannot express how I felt for you. Truly, you were the first after he who I swore was the last. But who knows, maybe you aren't the last one. Maybe the last is somewhere out there, someone I'll meet on a busy street corner, or someone I've met ten years ago in the sandbox. Or, he's just a figment of my imagination, and love doesn't really exist.
I have moved on. Moreover, I have let go. Of you, of me, of what once was, and of what never will be.
But I have yet to find closure -- and I will when you answer just one last question. Call me what you want, but I sincerely refuse to believe that 'no' is not the answer.
Did you, even just for a split second, love me back?
Or were all those times you called, those love quotes you sent me, those endless, somewhat annoying text messages, those letters, meaningless?
Just answer me with a yes, and I shall forever let us go.
With all the love I can muster,
your Lilo
###############
Contributed by ako-si-eica (Edited by blue_kuko)
Tuesday, December 19, 2006 @ 02:27:00 PM
(from peyups.com)
Dearest,
Tomorrow, it will be a year. 365 days, 12 months, 52 weeks since the 18th of December 2004. It was a year ago on this day, that I was anticipating tomorrow. It was a year ago on this day that I was sure, very sure, that you loved me back. I kept thinking, tomorrow will be the day. It was a year ago, on this day, that I was sure I had made the right choice. I was in love, and for once, I wasn't going to regret it, because you loved me back, right?
It will be a year tomorrow when I was bursting with love, happiness, contentment -- every good thing imaginable. Everything was perfect that night, unless you count my mother getting mad at me (what's new?) because I arrived home late.
How you gave your Christmas gift to me was spectacular. Who would have guessed that a perfect day would end with a perfect night? Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a simple thing like that was to be given under the stars. The only thing that would have made it more perfect than it already was was if you told me that you loved me, and will for all eternity. Sadly, that didn't happen.
A few months later I decided it was time to let go. I've waited for too long and nothing ever happened, so why should it happen then?
A few months after that, I found out that you fell in love with my ex-best friend. Well, you can just imagine how I felt after I found out. Like murder a thousand times over. I couldn't help thinking that if I hadn't left, would I be the one you loved and not her?
I look back on this time last year and I suddenly sigh involuntarily. Life now is so different from life back then. I don't even feel like I know myself anymore. This year just pales in comparison with the last.
Last year I helped put up our Christmas tree. This year, it is a week before Christmas and I have yet to feel its spirit. Last year, I became a better person because I met you again after I once did. This year, my attitude deteriorated. Last year, the glass was half full. This year, the glass is half empty.
Last year, I had love. This year, I have only memories.
Mere words cannot express how I felt for you. Truly, you were the first after he who I swore was the last. But who knows, maybe you aren't the last one. Maybe the last is somewhere out there, someone I'll meet on a busy street corner, or someone I've met ten years ago in the sandbox. Or, he's just a figment of my imagination, and love doesn't really exist.
I have moved on. Moreover, I have let go. Of you, of me, of what once was, and of what never will be.
But I have yet to find closure -- and I will when you answer just one last question. Call me what you want, but I sincerely refuse to believe that 'no' is not the answer.
Did you, even just for a split second, love me back?
Or were all those times you called, those love quotes you sent me, those endless, somewhat annoying text messages, those letters, meaningless?
Just answer me with a yes, and I shall forever let us go.
With all the love I can muster,
your Lilo
###############
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
kuwentong sabit
(from the blog of my favorite writer- noringai)
the whole story here
"ang tunay na pag-ibig, madalang lang ang biyahe niyan. kaya pag dumaan sa iyo, parahin mo, sumakay ka, kasi baka di na bumalik iyun, siguro nga, babalik pa, pero pano kung may sakay ng iba, sasabit ka na lang ba?"
finorward ito sa akin two years ago. hanggang ngayon, naka-save pa rin siya sa akin sa cellphone ko.
hindi ako sumasabit sa jeep pero last year, pinilit kong sumakay kahit na alam kong may nauna na sa akin. puno na ang sasakyan pero nagpumilit ako. baka lang kasi maka-puwesto ako. baka kasi mag-decide iyong driver na pababain iyong pasahero na nauna sa akin at ako na ang piliin.
for 14 months, i had a colorful ride, kahit na hindi ako sigurado kung ano mangyayari sa akin. basta masaya ako, that's what matters. di bale na nauuntog ako o nahihirapan dahil sa pakikipagsiksikan sa nauna na sa akin. di bale na kung maraming beses na syempre, dahil sabit lang ako, hindi ako ang priority ng driver. nag-kasya na ako sa hanggang san niya lang ako puwede ihatid, o kung gaano kaliit na space lang ang puwede niya mabigay sa akin. di ako puwede mag-reklamo kasi, pinili ko iyun. magtiis dapat ako.
pwede naman kasi ako bumaba at maghanap ng iba, pero hindi...kasi, umaasa kasi ako na baka magbago ang ihip ng hangin.
pero habang tumatagal, naiinip na ako. hanggang kelan ba ako sasabit? tapos, nalaman ko, aba, hindi pala ako nag-iisa. may kasama pala ako sa paghihintay na bumaba iyong isang pasahero. kaya na-threaten ako. and i decided na hindi puwedeng magsawalang-kibo na lang ako.
kaya nung tumagal-tagal, nagiging demanding na ako. na gusto ko, ako lagi nasusunod. sabit nga lang ako pero ako ang lagi nagde-decide kung san kami pupunta. tapos, nagagalit kapag hindi ko nakukuha ang gusto ko.
ang ending, dahil sa pagpupumilit kong sumakay, nahulog ako... nasaktan. pero ang mas masakit, iyong driver, pinababa ang pasaherong nauna sa akin, pero may iba naman na pinasakay. hindi iyong kasabay kong naghintay. iba pa! sabi, nauna daw sa amin iyong bagong pasahero. hindi ko lang napansin kasi nakasakay siya dati sa ibang jeep, lumipat lang.
pero ngayon, naisip ko, magaan kasi siya kaya siya ang pinili. para hindi mahirapan ang driver sa pag-pasada. leche. ako daw kasi, literally at figuratively, mabigat dalhin.
minsan nga naisip ko, sana, nung una pa lang, nilaglag na lang niya ako. sana hindi na umabot ng ilang buwan. di na sana ako pinaasa na ako lang ang magiging pasahero niya until the end. eh di sana, di nasayang ang oras ko. di sana, nakahanap ako ng ibang jeep na masasakyan. eh di sana, hindi ako masyadong nasaktan.
pero on the other hand, dahil sa nangyari, natuto ako na hindi na ako sasabit kahit kailan. maghihintay na lang ako ng bakanteng jeep. kung walang dumating, puwede naman mag bus o magtaxi, o kaya maglakad mag-isa.
-----------
darn,. i can relate!
the whole story here
"ang tunay na pag-ibig, madalang lang ang biyahe niyan. kaya pag dumaan sa iyo, parahin mo, sumakay ka, kasi baka di na bumalik iyun, siguro nga, babalik pa, pero pano kung may sakay ng iba, sasabit ka na lang ba?"
finorward ito sa akin two years ago. hanggang ngayon, naka-save pa rin siya sa akin sa cellphone ko.
hindi ako sumasabit sa jeep pero last year, pinilit kong sumakay kahit na alam kong may nauna na sa akin. puno na ang sasakyan pero nagpumilit ako. baka lang kasi maka-puwesto ako. baka kasi mag-decide iyong driver na pababain iyong pasahero na nauna sa akin at ako na ang piliin.
for 14 months, i had a colorful ride, kahit na hindi ako sigurado kung ano mangyayari sa akin. basta masaya ako, that's what matters. di bale na nauuntog ako o nahihirapan dahil sa pakikipagsiksikan sa nauna na sa akin. di bale na kung maraming beses na syempre, dahil sabit lang ako, hindi ako ang priority ng driver. nag-kasya na ako sa hanggang san niya lang ako puwede ihatid, o kung gaano kaliit na space lang ang puwede niya mabigay sa akin. di ako puwede mag-reklamo kasi, pinili ko iyun. magtiis dapat ako.
pwede naman kasi ako bumaba at maghanap ng iba, pero hindi...kasi, umaasa kasi ako na baka magbago ang ihip ng hangin.
pero habang tumatagal, naiinip na ako. hanggang kelan ba ako sasabit? tapos, nalaman ko, aba, hindi pala ako nag-iisa. may kasama pala ako sa paghihintay na bumaba iyong isang pasahero. kaya na-threaten ako. and i decided na hindi puwedeng magsawalang-kibo na lang ako.
kaya nung tumagal-tagal, nagiging demanding na ako. na gusto ko, ako lagi nasusunod. sabit nga lang ako pero ako ang lagi nagde-decide kung san kami pupunta. tapos, nagagalit kapag hindi ko nakukuha ang gusto ko.
ang ending, dahil sa pagpupumilit kong sumakay, nahulog ako... nasaktan. pero ang mas masakit, iyong driver, pinababa ang pasaherong nauna sa akin, pero may iba naman na pinasakay. hindi iyong kasabay kong naghintay. iba pa! sabi, nauna daw sa amin iyong bagong pasahero. hindi ko lang napansin kasi nakasakay siya dati sa ibang jeep, lumipat lang.
pero ngayon, naisip ko, magaan kasi siya kaya siya ang pinili. para hindi mahirapan ang driver sa pag-pasada. leche. ako daw kasi, literally at figuratively, mabigat dalhin.
minsan nga naisip ko, sana, nung una pa lang, nilaglag na lang niya ako. sana hindi na umabot ng ilang buwan. di na sana ako pinaasa na ako lang ang magiging pasahero niya until the end. eh di sana, di nasayang ang oras ko. di sana, nakahanap ako ng ibang jeep na masasakyan. eh di sana, hindi ako masyadong nasaktan.
pero on the other hand, dahil sa nangyari, natuto ako na hindi na ako sasabit kahit kailan. maghihintay na lang ako ng bakanteng jeep. kung walang dumating, puwede naman mag bus o magtaxi, o kaya maglakad mag-isa.
-----------
darn,. i can relate!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Crash Into Me
Contributed by bad_moon (Edited by amplifier)
Sunday, September 24, 2006 @ 12:02:07 AM
It started with a crash.
I guess everything somehow starts out this way, that, as mortals with brains that can only grasp so much, we're just not aware of the complexities of nature and physics and everything that we know that influence the lives of men around this blue sphere we call Earth.
Things colliding with varying degrees of force, it is in the heart of everything. It is in the heart of both creation and destruction. (Though it is said that matter cannot be created or destroyed; only transformed from one form into another, or so states the Law of Conservation of Matter, yet one can only be skeptical about these "Laws". So in this piece, with your permission, I move to suspend this Law and thus I continue with my almost incoherent rambling.)
Everything in this world is borne out of things bumping and smashing into each other. Immense quantities of energy are produced by the swirling, chaotic dance of atomic particles crashing into one another. Lives are ended when bullets and shrapnel run into vital organs.
The universe is one big bumper car ride and more often than not, these collisions leave marks that would last us for the rest of our forsaken lives. (I'm not really bitter, just being borderline psychotic, neurotic, and manic-depressive but not bitter. No, Good heavens, NO.)
This epiphany happened when your existence first crashed into my reality. You are a bowling ball bringing disorder to the orderly group of ten pins that is my life. You suddenly appeared without warning, very much like Germany's blitzkrieg invasion of Europe, and there's no way in hell that your commanding presence could go unnoticed. And like a Frenchman caught with his drawers around his ankles, a muffled "Sacre bleu!" was all I can utter in the face of such inevitability.
Pretty much like introducing a bullfrog to an alien ecosystem, everything was thrown off balance. Every routine, every habit, schedule, every time table I've planned you turned conveniently to crap. Instead of being alarmed, I was drawn even more so to that magnificent source of distraction, destruction and pain.
My days were soon filled with the constant bickering (You always looked so cute whenever you're annoyed so I tried to piss you off as best as I can), the smug swagger you'd do after I've given up and surrendered to your whims, the shrill, ear-piercing shriek as you sang, and the way you playfully smack the back of my neck for no apparent reason. Curiously though, these are the high points of my day.
Despite the harrowing carnage that you've wrought, I started to rebuild around you. I made you the agora of my new metropolis, very much akin to how a tree's bark grows over a deeply-driven nail.
Oblivious to the painful fact that deeply-driven nails can be forcefully removed, leaving the bark disfigured, and dying.
As sudden as your arrival was your departure, effectively transforming everything in my world into one beautiful, putrid, decrepit, twisted and twitching mass of emotional trauma. Such was your power over me. Someone who didn't take bull from anybody, you turned into a sniveling little boy. Someone who defied authority, you made into an obedient machine. Yet something tells me that I wouldn't want it any other way.
Now I believe, neurotic as it may seem, our time together was really brief, almost a split of a split second in a cosmic time scale of the universe. As instant as the moment of contact a bullet shares with a wall before ricocheting away. (Though some walls are lucky enough that some bullets get stuck). Our encounter was so brief and quick and instant that it shouldn't really matter. To further dwell on it is just a waste of time, oxygen and brain cells.
Why the title then? Why all the talk about crashes, collisions and impacts?
You are a 460mm shell fired off the massive guns of the legendary WWII battleship Yamato.
I am a wall of the first little pig's flimsy straw house.
And while you have decimated and obliterated me completely,
I wasn't able to manage even the slightest dent on you.
Sunday, September 24, 2006 @ 12:02:07 AM
It started with a crash.
I guess everything somehow starts out this way, that, as mortals with brains that can only grasp so much, we're just not aware of the complexities of nature and physics and everything that we know that influence the lives of men around this blue sphere we call Earth.
Things colliding with varying degrees of force, it is in the heart of everything. It is in the heart of both creation and destruction. (Though it is said that matter cannot be created or destroyed; only transformed from one form into another, or so states the Law of Conservation of Matter, yet one can only be skeptical about these "Laws". So in this piece, with your permission, I move to suspend this Law and thus I continue with my almost incoherent rambling.)
Everything in this world is borne out of things bumping and smashing into each other. Immense quantities of energy are produced by the swirling, chaotic dance of atomic particles crashing into one another. Lives are ended when bullets and shrapnel run into vital organs.
The universe is one big bumper car ride and more often than not, these collisions leave marks that would last us for the rest of our forsaken lives. (I'm not really bitter, just being borderline psychotic, neurotic, and manic-depressive but not bitter. No, Good heavens, NO.)
This epiphany happened when your existence first crashed into my reality. You are a bowling ball bringing disorder to the orderly group of ten pins that is my life. You suddenly appeared without warning, very much like Germany's blitzkrieg invasion of Europe, and there's no way in hell that your commanding presence could go unnoticed. And like a Frenchman caught with his drawers around his ankles, a muffled "Sacre bleu!" was all I can utter in the face of such inevitability.
Pretty much like introducing a bullfrog to an alien ecosystem, everything was thrown off balance. Every routine, every habit, schedule, every time table I've planned you turned conveniently to crap. Instead of being alarmed, I was drawn even more so to that magnificent source of distraction, destruction and pain.
My days were soon filled with the constant bickering (You always looked so cute whenever you're annoyed so I tried to piss you off as best as I can), the smug swagger you'd do after I've given up and surrendered to your whims, the shrill, ear-piercing shriek as you sang, and the way you playfully smack the back of my neck for no apparent reason. Curiously though, these are the high points of my day.
Despite the harrowing carnage that you've wrought, I started to rebuild around you. I made you the agora of my new metropolis, very much akin to how a tree's bark grows over a deeply-driven nail.
Oblivious to the painful fact that deeply-driven nails can be forcefully removed, leaving the bark disfigured, and dying.
As sudden as your arrival was your departure, effectively transforming everything in my world into one beautiful, putrid, decrepit, twisted and twitching mass of emotional trauma. Such was your power over me. Someone who didn't take bull from anybody, you turned into a sniveling little boy. Someone who defied authority, you made into an obedient machine. Yet something tells me that I wouldn't want it any other way.
Now I believe, neurotic as it may seem, our time together was really brief, almost a split of a split second in a cosmic time scale of the universe. As instant as the moment of contact a bullet shares with a wall before ricocheting away. (Though some walls are lucky enough that some bullets get stuck). Our encounter was so brief and quick and instant that it shouldn't really matter. To further dwell on it is just a waste of time, oxygen and brain cells.
Why the title then? Why all the talk about crashes, collisions and impacts?
You are a 460mm shell fired off the massive guns of the legendary WWII battleship Yamato.
I am a wall of the first little pig's flimsy straw house.
And while you have decimated and obliterated me completely,
I wasn't able to manage even the slightest dent on you.
Third Eye
Contributed by istaRr
(Edited by amplifier)
from peyups.com
Sigurado raw na mararamdaman mo kapag may multong malapit sa iyo. Tatayo ang balahibo sa batok mo... Biglang lalamig ang paligid... Iikot ang tiyan mo... Para kang biglang may kasama. May mararamdaman ka sa paligid mo kahit alam mong ikaw lang mag-isa.
Bata pa lang ako, matatakutin na ako. Takot ako sa dilim, humihina ako kapag mag-isa. Hindi ko rin kayang manood ng mga nakakatakot na palabas sa TV (gaya ng taunang November 1 special ng magandang gabi bayan), o mga pelikula (uso noon ang shake rattle and roll). Ang palagay ko, bakit mo pagdaraanin ang sarili mo sa nakapanlalambot na hilakbot? Mas lalong ayokong makakita, o makaramdam, o makaengkwentro ng multo. Hindi ko yata kakayanin. Baka himatayin ako sa takot. Hindi ko nga maintindihan 'yung mga taong sumasali pa sa mga workshop para buksan ang third eye nila. Bakit di ba? Bakit?! Pero siguro, ako lang talaga 'yun--- kulang sa tapang, liglig ng nerbiyos.
Hindi ko naiwan sa pagkabata ang takot ko sa dilim, at sa multo. Sa paglaki ko, nadagdagan pa nga ang mga takot ko--- tumaba, magka-cancer, bumagsak sa mga klase ko, at marami pang iba. Pero higit sa lahat ng mga ito, ang magmahal at masaktan. Natuklasan ko na hindi gaya ng takot ko sa mga multong ni hindi ko nga alam kung gawa sa hamog, o sa usok, o basta gawa lang ng imahinasyon ko--- mas nakapanghihina, mas nakapanghihilakbot pala ang magmahal at masaktan. Naranasan ko na iyon. Ang magmahal, mawalan, at halos mabaliw sa sakit. Nang mawala ka sa 'kin para akong sira-ulong ayaw maniwala at ayaw tumanggap, parang praning na ipinipilit sa sariling "babalik siya.... babalik siya."
May mga namamatayan ng kapamilya o kaibigan na sa tindi ng pangungulila, hinihiling nila na magmulto ang namayapa na. Hindi na mahalaga kung kahibangan ito--- mabigyan lang ng kahit isa pang pagkakataon na makausap o masilayan man lang ang mahal sa buhay na inagaw na ng kamatayan.
Nang nawala ka, handa akong ibigay ang lahat, ang kahit ano, bumalik ka lang kahit sandali. Kahit sa anong paraan. kahit isang maikling text lang, o e-mail, o friendster message. Maramdaman ko lang na kahit tapos na ang lahat, mahalaga pa rin ako sa iyo. Pero walang dumating. Ni hindi ka man lang nagparamdam. Kahit na parang ritwal ko nang tinatawag ang pangalan mo gabi-gabi, wala. Wala ka na talaga. Naging mas madali nga ang pagtanggap sa pumanaw nating pagkakataon, pero kasabay nito, mas naging mapait naman ang aking pag-aayuno.
Tuloy ang buhay. Kailangan e. Natuto akong magmahal ng iba at unti-unti ring nawala ang lungkot. Naniniwala rin naman akong mayroon akong karapatang maging masaya, at mas gusto kong ngumiti kaysa umiyak. Nariyan naman ang ala-ala mo, nariyan ang pag-ibig na kahit kailan ay hindi ko na maibibigay sa iba bukod sa iyo. Pero sabi nga ng idol kong si Sharon Cuneta, "once you love someone, you never stop loving them. you just love them in newer ways." (mula sa "kung ako na lang sana"). Habang nagmamahal ako ng bagong pag-ibig, patuloy pa rin kitang minamahal. Alam ko iyan. Naroon na rin siguro ang kaalamang dahil patay na nga ang panahon natin sa paningin ni kupido, hindi ko na kailangan buhayin pa ang sakit. Tanggap ko na. Paminsan minsan nga, dinadalaw pa ng diwa ko ang mga nakakalat na lapida ng ating nakaraan. Kapag nakakarating ako sa mga lugar na noo'y nakasama kita, kapag naririnig ko ang mga awit na pinili ko para sa 'ting dalawa--- para na rin akong nagtitirik ng kandila at nag-aalay ng bulaklak sa ala-ala mo.
Hanggang sa nagmulto ka. P*ksh*t.
Ang sabi nila, hindi tumatawid sa kabilang buhay ang mga espiritung may mga hindi pa tapos na misyon sa mundong ito. Pakiramdam nila, may mga transaksyon pa sila sa kanilang buhay na kailangang isara at maisakatuparan. Ang iba nga raw, hindi pa tanggap na patay na sila kaya ayaw pa umalis. palutang-lutang sila, patuloy ang "buhay", ginagawa pa rin ang mga pinagkakaabalahan nila noon. Ang iba naman, sadyang naghahasik ng takot at pangamba. Sadyang gustong makarinig ng mga tili at makakita ng nasindak na mga mukha habang nagsasabog sila ng lagim.
Simpleng text lang, umikot ang mundo ko. Hindi ko alam kung magdiriwang ako o manlulumo. Nakakatuwang nakakatakot e. Sa tagal ng panahon na hinintay kong maramdaman ka, hanggang sa nalimutan ko na nga kung bakit, hindi ko na alam kung ano ang reaksyon ko. Pero, napatunayan ko noon na totoo pala: kapag minulto ka, tatayo ang balahibo sa batok mo, manlalamig ka, iikot ang tiyan mo, at sigurado ka sa presensiya ng multo sa paligid mo.
"Nabuhay" kang muli sa mundo ko. Lagi ka na namang nariyan sa haraya ko. Pa’no, dumalas ka mag-text, tumatawag ka pa, paminsan minsan nagkakape pa tayo’t tumatawa habang nilulunod ang ating mga sarili sa venti mocha frap with mint syrup. Matagal na panahon akong nangulila ako sa iyo, kaya ang saya saya saya ko sa tuwing nariyan ka. Kahit paminsan-minsan. Kahit paunti-unti. Dahil nga mahal naman kita, tinanggap ko ang pagmumulto mo. Sabi ko, wala naman sigurong masama, pakiramdam ko pa nga ang tapang ko. Hinayaan ko nang bukas ang third eye ng puso ko.
Lubos na sana ang magiging kasiyahan ko kung tuluyan ang iyong pagbabalik... pero lagi ka rin namang nawawala. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ginagawa niyong mga multo iyon, parang gustong gusto niyong nagpaparamdam, manggugulat, tapos mawawala naman. Hindi ka naman nagtatagal sa mga dahilang ikaw lang ang nakaaalam. Noong simula hinihintay pa kita lagi, pero nakakapagod rin. Mahirap pala 'yun. Mahirap pala magmahal ng kaluluwa--- hindi kita mahawakan, hindi kita mayakap, hindi kita mahalikan. Malamig na hangin na lang ba talaga ang magiging katumbas ng pag-ibig ko?
Para sa mga taong may kakayahang makakita ng mga espiritu at ibang nilalang, wala raw ibang mas maiging gawin kundi tanggapin ito. Sumpa man o biyaya, hindi na mahalaga. May dahilan lahat ng bagay sa mundo. Baka nga paraan na rin ng Diyos na buksan ang ikatlong mata't ikaanim na pandama ng ilang tao sa mundo... mabigyan man lamang ng pagkakataon ang mga alagad ng kabilang buhay na marinig at maintindihan.
Mahal pa rin kita. Pakiramdam ko, alam mo naman iyon e, kaya ka nga matapang magmulto. Pero magkaiba na tayo ng mundo, marami nang nagbago. Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit kailangan mong magparamdam gayong wala ka na rin namang kayang gawin na paraan upang tuluyang magbalik, upang muling mabuhay sa mundo ko. Nang-aasar ka lang ba talaga sa pagdalaw mo? Kung hindi, ano ba ang "unfinished business" mo? Ano bang maitutulong ko? Sapat na ba sa iyo ang ganito--- ang mahalin natin ang isa't isa sa magkabilang mundo, sa magkaibang paraan? Iyon lang kasi ang maibibigay ko. At alam ko... hanggang du'n lang rin ang kaya mo.
Patuloy na tatakbo ang buhay ko. At sa tuwing mumultuhin mo ako, ngingiti na lang ako. Oo, tatayo pa rin ang mga balahibo ko sa batok, manlalamig at iikot pa rin ang tiyan ko... Pero hindi na ako matatakot.
Hindi ka totoo.
(Edited by amplifier)
from peyups.com
Sigurado raw na mararamdaman mo kapag may multong malapit sa iyo. Tatayo ang balahibo sa batok mo... Biglang lalamig ang paligid... Iikot ang tiyan mo... Para kang biglang may kasama. May mararamdaman ka sa paligid mo kahit alam mong ikaw lang mag-isa.
Bata pa lang ako, matatakutin na ako. Takot ako sa dilim, humihina ako kapag mag-isa. Hindi ko rin kayang manood ng mga nakakatakot na palabas sa TV (gaya ng taunang November 1 special ng magandang gabi bayan), o mga pelikula (uso noon ang shake rattle and roll). Ang palagay ko, bakit mo pagdaraanin ang sarili mo sa nakapanlalambot na hilakbot? Mas lalong ayokong makakita, o makaramdam, o makaengkwentro ng multo. Hindi ko yata kakayanin. Baka himatayin ako sa takot. Hindi ko nga maintindihan 'yung mga taong sumasali pa sa mga workshop para buksan ang third eye nila. Bakit di ba? Bakit?! Pero siguro, ako lang talaga 'yun--- kulang sa tapang, liglig ng nerbiyos.
Hindi ko naiwan sa pagkabata ang takot ko sa dilim, at sa multo. Sa paglaki ko, nadagdagan pa nga ang mga takot ko--- tumaba, magka-cancer, bumagsak sa mga klase ko, at marami pang iba. Pero higit sa lahat ng mga ito, ang magmahal at masaktan. Natuklasan ko na hindi gaya ng takot ko sa mga multong ni hindi ko nga alam kung gawa sa hamog, o sa usok, o basta gawa lang ng imahinasyon ko--- mas nakapanghihina, mas nakapanghihilakbot pala ang magmahal at masaktan. Naranasan ko na iyon. Ang magmahal, mawalan, at halos mabaliw sa sakit. Nang mawala ka sa 'kin para akong sira-ulong ayaw maniwala at ayaw tumanggap, parang praning na ipinipilit sa sariling "babalik siya.... babalik siya."
May mga namamatayan ng kapamilya o kaibigan na sa tindi ng pangungulila, hinihiling nila na magmulto ang namayapa na. Hindi na mahalaga kung kahibangan ito--- mabigyan lang ng kahit isa pang pagkakataon na makausap o masilayan man lang ang mahal sa buhay na inagaw na ng kamatayan.
Nang nawala ka, handa akong ibigay ang lahat, ang kahit ano, bumalik ka lang kahit sandali. Kahit sa anong paraan. kahit isang maikling text lang, o e-mail, o friendster message. Maramdaman ko lang na kahit tapos na ang lahat, mahalaga pa rin ako sa iyo. Pero walang dumating. Ni hindi ka man lang nagparamdam. Kahit na parang ritwal ko nang tinatawag ang pangalan mo gabi-gabi, wala. Wala ka na talaga. Naging mas madali nga ang pagtanggap sa pumanaw nating pagkakataon, pero kasabay nito, mas naging mapait naman ang aking pag-aayuno.
Tuloy ang buhay. Kailangan e. Natuto akong magmahal ng iba at unti-unti ring nawala ang lungkot. Naniniwala rin naman akong mayroon akong karapatang maging masaya, at mas gusto kong ngumiti kaysa umiyak. Nariyan naman ang ala-ala mo, nariyan ang pag-ibig na kahit kailan ay hindi ko na maibibigay sa iba bukod sa iyo. Pero sabi nga ng idol kong si Sharon Cuneta, "once you love someone, you never stop loving them. you just love them in newer ways." (mula sa "kung ako na lang sana"). Habang nagmamahal ako ng bagong pag-ibig, patuloy pa rin kitang minamahal. Alam ko iyan. Naroon na rin siguro ang kaalamang dahil patay na nga ang panahon natin sa paningin ni kupido, hindi ko na kailangan buhayin pa ang sakit. Tanggap ko na. Paminsan minsan nga, dinadalaw pa ng diwa ko ang mga nakakalat na lapida ng ating nakaraan. Kapag nakakarating ako sa mga lugar na noo'y nakasama kita, kapag naririnig ko ang mga awit na pinili ko para sa 'ting dalawa--- para na rin akong nagtitirik ng kandila at nag-aalay ng bulaklak sa ala-ala mo.
Hanggang sa nagmulto ka. P*ksh*t.
Ang sabi nila, hindi tumatawid sa kabilang buhay ang mga espiritung may mga hindi pa tapos na misyon sa mundong ito. Pakiramdam nila, may mga transaksyon pa sila sa kanilang buhay na kailangang isara at maisakatuparan. Ang iba nga raw, hindi pa tanggap na patay na sila kaya ayaw pa umalis. palutang-lutang sila, patuloy ang "buhay", ginagawa pa rin ang mga pinagkakaabalahan nila noon. Ang iba naman, sadyang naghahasik ng takot at pangamba. Sadyang gustong makarinig ng mga tili at makakita ng nasindak na mga mukha habang nagsasabog sila ng lagim.
Simpleng text lang, umikot ang mundo ko. Hindi ko alam kung magdiriwang ako o manlulumo. Nakakatuwang nakakatakot e. Sa tagal ng panahon na hinintay kong maramdaman ka, hanggang sa nalimutan ko na nga kung bakit, hindi ko na alam kung ano ang reaksyon ko. Pero, napatunayan ko noon na totoo pala: kapag minulto ka, tatayo ang balahibo sa batok mo, manlalamig ka, iikot ang tiyan mo, at sigurado ka sa presensiya ng multo sa paligid mo.
"Nabuhay" kang muli sa mundo ko. Lagi ka na namang nariyan sa haraya ko. Pa’no, dumalas ka mag-text, tumatawag ka pa, paminsan minsan nagkakape pa tayo’t tumatawa habang nilulunod ang ating mga sarili sa venti mocha frap with mint syrup. Matagal na panahon akong nangulila ako sa iyo, kaya ang saya saya saya ko sa tuwing nariyan ka. Kahit paminsan-minsan. Kahit paunti-unti. Dahil nga mahal naman kita, tinanggap ko ang pagmumulto mo. Sabi ko, wala naman sigurong masama, pakiramdam ko pa nga ang tapang ko. Hinayaan ko nang bukas ang third eye ng puso ko.
Lubos na sana ang magiging kasiyahan ko kung tuluyan ang iyong pagbabalik... pero lagi ka rin namang nawawala. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ginagawa niyong mga multo iyon, parang gustong gusto niyong nagpaparamdam, manggugulat, tapos mawawala naman. Hindi ka naman nagtatagal sa mga dahilang ikaw lang ang nakaaalam. Noong simula hinihintay pa kita lagi, pero nakakapagod rin. Mahirap pala 'yun. Mahirap pala magmahal ng kaluluwa--- hindi kita mahawakan, hindi kita mayakap, hindi kita mahalikan. Malamig na hangin na lang ba talaga ang magiging katumbas ng pag-ibig ko?
Para sa mga taong may kakayahang makakita ng mga espiritu at ibang nilalang, wala raw ibang mas maiging gawin kundi tanggapin ito. Sumpa man o biyaya, hindi na mahalaga. May dahilan lahat ng bagay sa mundo. Baka nga paraan na rin ng Diyos na buksan ang ikatlong mata't ikaanim na pandama ng ilang tao sa mundo... mabigyan man lamang ng pagkakataon ang mga alagad ng kabilang buhay na marinig at maintindihan.
Mahal pa rin kita. Pakiramdam ko, alam mo naman iyon e, kaya ka nga matapang magmulto. Pero magkaiba na tayo ng mundo, marami nang nagbago. Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit kailangan mong magparamdam gayong wala ka na rin namang kayang gawin na paraan upang tuluyang magbalik, upang muling mabuhay sa mundo ko. Nang-aasar ka lang ba talaga sa pagdalaw mo? Kung hindi, ano ba ang "unfinished business" mo? Ano bang maitutulong ko? Sapat na ba sa iyo ang ganito--- ang mahalin natin ang isa't isa sa magkabilang mundo, sa magkaibang paraan? Iyon lang kasi ang maibibigay ko. At alam ko... hanggang du'n lang rin ang kaya mo.
Patuloy na tatakbo ang buhay ko. At sa tuwing mumultuhin mo ako, ngingiti na lang ako. Oo, tatayo pa rin ang mga balahibo ko sa batok, manlalamig at iikot pa rin ang tiyan ko... Pero hindi na ako matatakot.
Hindi ka totoo.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tugon
M**: Glad to have you in my life... even for just a while.
My answer(SILENTLY):
"i'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not to have you in my life at all,"
...lumilinya! haha. mabasa mo kaya to? so what. hahaha =))
sabi nga ni Paulo Coelho:
"FORGIVE BUT NOT FORGET, OR YOU WILL BE HURT AGAIN"
My answer(SILENTLY):
"i'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not to have you in my life at all,"
...lumilinya! haha. mabasa mo kaya to? so what. hahaha =))
sabi nga ni Paulo Coelho:
"FORGIVE BUT NOT FORGET, OR YOU WILL BE HURT AGAIN"
Thursday, August 12, 2010
You Never Knew (from peyups.com by tingkerbell)
I stand in front of the sunrise today, filled with awe at the beauty that lies
before me. I wish I could have at least an idea of what falls beyond the horizon, just as much as I wish the sea will open up to me and eat me whole. Yet the sea seems to bear a somewhat unexplainable message I couldn’t decode. Something perhaps everybody knows about, something I should have known a long time ago just as much.
I stand here between the sun and the sea, both of which existed since time immemorial. I lay still, nursing my cup of coffee that turned cold, as cold as your heart has become and my pack of cigarettes, as stale as my love for you. The love you never knew existed.
The wind blew right into my face, sending shivers to my spine. It gently flew away my hair that covered the tears that I have unconsciously cried for you. I did not notice how strong the wind has become until I felt it leaving a dry saline line upon my face.
Suddenly, like a dream that has been haunting me in my sleep, I see a familiar event flash right in front of me. I could see myself alone in a room crying till there’s no more tears left to cry, holding on to my pillow that has become my faithful companion in the advent of my trying to put you to oblivion. It has never been easy for me to have always fallen asleep with pillows still soaked with tears as I wake up. Yet, you don’t have the faintest idea of these all, do you? You never knew.
So here I am, escaping from the bondage of you. I am a hundred miles away from the past that I am painstakingly trying to mend. This journey is for the part of me I wish to redeem, for no other reason but to put you all behind me.
These will be the last tears I’ll cry for you. It won’t be easy, I know. But just as the sun that never fails to rise each waking moment of every day and the sea that forever links one landmass to the other, this decision wouldn’t fail me. You will now be just a past worth smiling about as I think of how much I will be capable of loving another, in time. I did love you, you know. To the point of surrender. But then again, you never knew.
You were then my entire universe. Its time you ought to know.
before me. I wish I could have at least an idea of what falls beyond the horizon, just as much as I wish the sea will open up to me and eat me whole. Yet the sea seems to bear a somewhat unexplainable message I couldn’t decode. Something perhaps everybody knows about, something I should have known a long time ago just as much.
I stand here between the sun and the sea, both of which existed since time immemorial. I lay still, nursing my cup of coffee that turned cold, as cold as your heart has become and my pack of cigarettes, as stale as my love for you. The love you never knew existed.
The wind blew right into my face, sending shivers to my spine. It gently flew away my hair that covered the tears that I have unconsciously cried for you. I did not notice how strong the wind has become until I felt it leaving a dry saline line upon my face.
Suddenly, like a dream that has been haunting me in my sleep, I see a familiar event flash right in front of me. I could see myself alone in a room crying till there’s no more tears left to cry, holding on to my pillow that has become my faithful companion in the advent of my trying to put you to oblivion. It has never been easy for me to have always fallen asleep with pillows still soaked with tears as I wake up. Yet, you don’t have the faintest idea of these all, do you? You never knew.
So here I am, escaping from the bondage of you. I am a hundred miles away from the past that I am painstakingly trying to mend. This journey is for the part of me I wish to redeem, for no other reason but to put you all behind me.
These will be the last tears I’ll cry for you. It won’t be easy, I know. But just as the sun that never fails to rise each waking moment of every day and the sea that forever links one landmass to the other, this decision wouldn’t fail me. You will now be just a past worth smiling about as I think of how much I will be capable of loving another, in time. I did love you, you know. To the point of surrender. But then again, you never knew.
You were then my entire universe. Its time you ought to know.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
The Starting Line
you said you like me.
but after a year, we're still on the same place
the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
you said i was fun to chat with
but every time I'm starting to have a conversation
you tend to be naive...
the moment i realize you're silence, i looked back to you
then i saw you standing still
on the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
you said you want to hold hands with me and hug me in the cold night
but every time i step forward holding your hand and act as if I'm hugging you
you let go of my hand just like that
and you're stuck there
on the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
you wished to be near me
but every time i made plans for us
you're being silent again
the moment i realize you're not on my side, i looked back to you
then i saw you again standing still
on the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
how can we go on the road we're about to go
when every time i step forward
you only look at me and smile
Then i look back to you wandering why you're stuck on that line
Are you having regrets?
Are you afraid i might turn you down?
Isn't it obvious?
I like you too.
So take risks.
Walk with me on this road.
Then we'll find out if we're going to reach the finish line
or make this road lasts forever
but after a year, we're still on the same place
the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
you said i was fun to chat with
but every time I'm starting to have a conversation
you tend to be naive...
the moment i realize you're silence, i looked back to you
then i saw you standing still
on the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
you said you want to hold hands with me and hug me in the cold night
but every time i step forward holding your hand and act as if I'm hugging you
you let go of my hand just like that
and you're stuck there
on the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
you wished to be near me
but every time i made plans for us
you're being silent again
the moment i realize you're not on my side, i looked back to you
then i saw you again standing still
on the place where we met a year ago
the starting line
how can we go on the road we're about to go
when every time i step forward
you only look at me and smile
Then i look back to you wandering why you're stuck on that line
Are you having regrets?
Are you afraid i might turn you down?
Isn't it obvious?
I like you too.
So take risks.
Walk with me on this road.
Then we'll find out if we're going to reach the finish line
or make this road lasts forever
The people that you never get to love...
Personal Thoughts : The people that you never get to love
Contributed by groucho (Edited by karl)
Tuesday, December 31, 2002 @ 02:56:24 PM (read 28041 times)
Many of your friends have a lot of things to say about this chance encounter and they have stories of their own. Each one more magical and eternally more exciting than the last. But you have a real story of your own that is quite similar to the situation mentioned in the first paragraph.
You were riding the MRT on your way to Makati one early evening. You were with your good friend who you share a lot about your life than anyone else. You always enjoy this friend's company because of the discussions you usually have in the long train home. While your friend tells you about his current obsessions, you tell him that almost everyone in the train does not smile, or they look sad, almost melancholy, as though dreading the things they will find when they reach home.
You were at that point when the train stopped in busy and people-ful Cubao/Araneta station, and in came a goddess so beautiful you both were transfixed. She was obviously an angel who lost her way when she was heading to some celestial place, because of her uncommon beauty and a lack of awareness of her beauty.
You try not to look at her but your friend was mouthing poetics about her. You observe her vicariously through your friend's avid and postmodern description and assessment. You look at her surreptitiously to catch a glimpse of heaven, but you sense that she notices the fakery of that single gesture of yours so you try to examine the darkening sky with rapt attention -- something you don't usually do -- inorder to cover up your highly curious nature.
Then you feel that your pulse is quickening to such an alarming rate, and your palpitations began to loudly announce your embarrassed but unabashed admiration for such an ideal beauty. Then you try to really look at her once and memorize all features in that sweeping glance. Although you tried to commit things to memory when you were a student, this new memorization is nothing academic -- while admittedly visual it is also purely transcendent.
You notice small things about her. You notice the angelic face that is an absolute perfection. The pallor of her skin reminds you of women you see in gloss magazines and you decided that make-up or no make-up she possessed such an innate beauty that repeated glances is imperative. And if that wasn't enough, you notice that by sheer alchemy, pure sorcery and magic, she is glowing to such nuclear proportions. Her arms were most delicate. Her neck with such swan-like proportions distracted you from the small cascades of her hair. Her dress is "businesslike chic" but you think she is just trying to dress down -- afraid that her unspeakable beauty will cause a riot similar to that in 1913 when Stravinsky's "Rites of Spring" was first heard in France.
You are unwilling to admit that your attraction has very little lust value. Its as if, she is an object of beauty best placed in pedestals and not touched. You realize you are overly exaggerating in your mental descriptions but you try to imagine what your life would be like with her. You suddenly imagine scenarios where you introduce her to incredulous friends who thought that your average, plain Joe looks are inversely proportional to this hideously beautiful woman. You laugh at their reactions, at the same time vicariously imagining the torment they are undergoing when they reach home and analyze how you were able to get this deliriously lovely woman to fall for you.
Your reverie was interrupted because your friend had to step out of the train, and you were left behind with this creature of immense attractiveness. You friend enviously looked at both you and Venus-personified when you realize that she is still with you on the train. On the station in Ayala where you normally get off, you decided in split-second decision that you will want to follow her and see what station she will step out of just to give a closure to your unattainable goal, then your superego told you to just get on with your life and eventually forget her.
You watched with mounting excitement as her poetry-in-motion movement made for the same door you are headed. Probably crimson with love coupled with the stupid belief that life ends happily ever after, you got so close to her as to really really smell her when the door opened and both of you and the rest of the populace spilled out of the train and went to the nearest elevator. Unable to contain the excitement the you are with her at least in one air-space, you suddenly remembered to pray. So vigorously it shocked you. You prayed that a miracle will happen that night.
Then just like real life, she went to the different direction while you were taking your own path to nowhere. You try to nonchalantly ignore her departing figure, then you realize that happy endings are only in fairy tales created by the Grimm Brothers. Your own fairy tale was obviously written by the greatest masochist of all time -- Hans Christian Andersen whose fairy tales always end unhappily.
You took one last lonely glance at a person that you will never probably know in your life, when, by some divine intervention, she looked back and looked at you. Directly at you. Only you. You swear there was no one else. And you both instantly felt that instant connection -- as people who are in love can search for her/his partner in the foggiest of rooms and jungle-like of places. You don't know what to do, and you instantly fell in love all over again. With such intensity it scared you. No other feeling came close -- not even the heady feeling when you got your first pay check. Her look was so shy and fleeting and direct. Then she looked straight ahead and went on her way. Just like that.
And you, a fool, stood longer than necessary amidst the cinematic flow of the people. You did not follow but you wished she would come back and pretend to buy something so that you can have your cue and muster courage to approach her at last. She didn't. She turned the corner and disappeared and became a statistic.
But for once in your life, you felt blessed and oddly enlightened. As though it was God or someone all-powerful. You felt momentarily dejected, you couldn't believe the somersaults your heart did in the very brief span of time that you met a person who never even uttered a single word to you.
And even if you know it happened only yesterday, you still can't get her out of your mind. Somehow you wish she would read this and get in touch with you. You know you are fighting an uphill battle because you will never see her again unless you wait trains for the rest of your life. And in time you will forget her just as you will become a memory to her if at all she had those fleeting but strong feelings for you. But you know what and strangest of all, you will probably look for her in every corner, in every face, in everything for the rest of your life and wonder why you willingly let her walk away.
Contributed by groucho (Edited by karl)
Tuesday, December 31, 2002 @ 02:56:24 PM (read 28041 times)
Many of your friends have a lot of things to say about this chance encounter and they have stories of their own. Each one more magical and eternally more exciting than the last. But you have a real story of your own that is quite similar to the situation mentioned in the first paragraph.
You were riding the MRT on your way to Makati one early evening. You were with your good friend who you share a lot about your life than anyone else. You always enjoy this friend's company because of the discussions you usually have in the long train home. While your friend tells you about his current obsessions, you tell him that almost everyone in the train does not smile, or they look sad, almost melancholy, as though dreading the things they will find when they reach home.
You were at that point when the train stopped in busy and people-ful Cubao/Araneta station, and in came a goddess so beautiful you both were transfixed. She was obviously an angel who lost her way when she was heading to some celestial place, because of her uncommon beauty and a lack of awareness of her beauty.
You try not to look at her but your friend was mouthing poetics about her. You observe her vicariously through your friend's avid and postmodern description and assessment. You look at her surreptitiously to catch a glimpse of heaven, but you sense that she notices the fakery of that single gesture of yours so you try to examine the darkening sky with rapt attention -- something you don't usually do -- inorder to cover up your highly curious nature.
Then you feel that your pulse is quickening to such an alarming rate, and your palpitations began to loudly announce your embarrassed but unabashed admiration for such an ideal beauty. Then you try to really look at her once and memorize all features in that sweeping glance. Although you tried to commit things to memory when you were a student, this new memorization is nothing academic -- while admittedly visual it is also purely transcendent.
You notice small things about her. You notice the angelic face that is an absolute perfection. The pallor of her skin reminds you of women you see in gloss magazines and you decided that make-up or no make-up she possessed such an innate beauty that repeated glances is imperative. And if that wasn't enough, you notice that by sheer alchemy, pure sorcery and magic, she is glowing to such nuclear proportions. Her arms were most delicate. Her neck with such swan-like proportions distracted you from the small cascades of her hair. Her dress is "businesslike chic" but you think she is just trying to dress down -- afraid that her unspeakable beauty will cause a riot similar to that in 1913 when Stravinsky's "Rites of Spring" was first heard in France.
You are unwilling to admit that your attraction has very little lust value. Its as if, she is an object of beauty best placed in pedestals and not touched. You realize you are overly exaggerating in your mental descriptions but you try to imagine what your life would be like with her. You suddenly imagine scenarios where you introduce her to incredulous friends who thought that your average, plain Joe looks are inversely proportional to this hideously beautiful woman. You laugh at their reactions, at the same time vicariously imagining the torment they are undergoing when they reach home and analyze how you were able to get this deliriously lovely woman to fall for you.
Your reverie was interrupted because your friend had to step out of the train, and you were left behind with this creature of immense attractiveness. You friend enviously looked at both you and Venus-personified when you realize that she is still with you on the train. On the station in Ayala where you normally get off, you decided in split-second decision that you will want to follow her and see what station she will step out of just to give a closure to your unattainable goal, then your superego told you to just get on with your life and eventually forget her.
You watched with mounting excitement as her poetry-in-motion movement made for the same door you are headed. Probably crimson with love coupled with the stupid belief that life ends happily ever after, you got so close to her as to really really smell her when the door opened and both of you and the rest of the populace spilled out of the train and went to the nearest elevator. Unable to contain the excitement the you are with her at least in one air-space, you suddenly remembered to pray. So vigorously it shocked you. You prayed that a miracle will happen that night.
Then just like real life, she went to the different direction while you were taking your own path to nowhere. You try to nonchalantly ignore her departing figure, then you realize that happy endings are only in fairy tales created by the Grimm Brothers. Your own fairy tale was obviously written by the greatest masochist of all time -- Hans Christian Andersen whose fairy tales always end unhappily.
You took one last lonely glance at a person that you will never probably know in your life, when, by some divine intervention, she looked back and looked at you. Directly at you. Only you. You swear there was no one else. And you both instantly felt that instant connection -- as people who are in love can search for her/his partner in the foggiest of rooms and jungle-like of places. You don't know what to do, and you instantly fell in love all over again. With such intensity it scared you. No other feeling came close -- not even the heady feeling when you got your first pay check. Her look was so shy and fleeting and direct. Then she looked straight ahead and went on her way. Just like that.
And you, a fool, stood longer than necessary amidst the cinematic flow of the people. You did not follow but you wished she would come back and pretend to buy something so that you can have your cue and muster courage to approach her at last. She didn't. She turned the corner and disappeared and became a statistic.
But for once in your life, you felt blessed and oddly enlightened. As though it was God or someone all-powerful. You felt momentarily dejected, you couldn't believe the somersaults your heart did in the very brief span of time that you met a person who never even uttered a single word to you.
And even if you know it happened only yesterday, you still can't get her out of your mind. Somehow you wish she would read this and get in touch with you. You know you are fighting an uphill battle because you will never see her again unless you wait trains for the rest of your life. And in time you will forget her just as you will become a memory to her if at all she had those fleeting but strong feelings for you. But you know what and strangest of all, you will probably look for her in every corner, in every face, in everything for the rest of your life and wonder why you willingly let her walk away.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
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