Living in a glassbowl…

Should love be precise or should it remain imperceptible? Will I ever find the motivation to love anew? Will it be right to mend… preserve and love again… him again? When will it be right? Or should I let his face fade with the wind and in the long run… my mind, my heart…

Romanticism as you might call it, of billion draw backs and untiring returns… I’m saving myself for that one person who owns me, by fate and by choice. All I needed was a constant reminder… and then nothing was left unsaid, even if I refused to do the talking or even if I pushed you enough to shut me up and pin me down. Tell me everything that I never needed. .. vanity and cravings… then let me throw it in front of you. I had my own light even before you came, more luster could blind other people but to me it’d be nothing but air. I just wanted this one justification of the point you wanted to make. Grab me then never let go for letting go for you is pride and I’m asking you to strip it off and be enslaved. Be damned by your highest level of self-worth and then embrace me. You have been a GOD for too long. Be confined by what we have and grow with me… teach me new things for I am eager to learn and am eager to LOVE you ONCE AGAIN. Let this be your conceit. You look much delicate, wiser, closer…when you’re tamed. We have been through a lot of tough times, the roughest so to speak and I have watched you through out perfection, I have witnessed them humiliate you. I have been there, even in those moments where you didn’t want me to feel. I have perceived and it has been my pleasure. ..and to you, I am grateful. I have never seen a man falter in front of me; I praise you for your weakness, for allowing me to benefit from it. Cruelty? You have fooled a lot of them just to fall into my arms… and they will never understand the greatness of your vulnerability. You are a man, above all false Romeos, who knows how to love, when to love. Let them curse me for this luck. Be mine.

“I am not who you think I am”… this has defined you all this years. I was drawn towards you and this was the first share of beauty that welcomed me, an omen of an upcoming glee. A premonition that more of your perfection was yet to come, set to be let loose given the right soul.

“I am not who you think I am”…I am now a shadow of this truth. I have been the key to my own joy and I’m locking myself up. I am captivated. Let me own what I have seen. Be mine. If the world should pounce on this lovely beast, to possess or to conquer, it is not worth my attention. Holding you is too much flattery, you holding on is too much vanity. Let them try and I shall be graced by this attempt. We have gone through a lot and I am surprised by your strength.

You were right when you said I was perfect. You are the cause. Looking at myself now, I have mirrored the l

ife

Now laugh at your own whim, cry when you must. You have been a God for too long. You have me. Now that you have seized the days with me, after being my ubermench since I last felt myself breathe, let me stay here. I have no regrets. Don’t try to please me, you have faltered enough. You have given me even the delight that never reached my imagination. Now let yourself know my oath… I am here…

To see more of you, breathe more for you…

You have me…

when you’re perfect…

and when you’re not…

It’s been a thousand years I’ve known you, a thousand years of looking through your eyes and seeing a life that is deeply wanted but was never meant to be mine. Sinking from this enthralled abyss, I found both torment and peace, a reason to excuse myself from feeling and a reason to curse myself for creating a crossroad that I myself cannot decipher.

I just want to close my eyes.

Martyrdom is noble not to the self but to imminent havoc that takes pleasure in crushing the soul. It feeds it, slowly and unnoticeably, saving space for rancor that will soon chase every bit of what you tried to build… a haven of ghosts, impassable to your feelings and impenetrable to reason. Whatever’s made of sand is still sand. It shatters at the attempt of holding it, falters when you play with your hands, blinds when examined with light and drifts when you try to embrace it. It’s sand and nothing but sand. These tears are caused by its glit. If time be turned towards the moments that I forged, I would save myself from my disguised indecisions. I should’ve faced hatred when it came. Little did I know that the will to burry it was the same thing that planted it. Now I have to taste the bitter fruit of my own generosity. I should’ve loved myself more than what “myself” had… “once had”…

Just take me away.

So I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of my faithlessness. I have suffered enough guilt Let me sleep. Let it be a time for me to dwindle. I have loved you and now I’m thinking of ways on how to push through. I long for you but more than anything, I long for my self. Where is the girl that once caused your smiles, once held you out of your afflicted world, showered you with seraphic songs, gave you all?

Lost.

If I have the chance to construct once again, I’ll make sure that whatever it is that’ll sprout from my creativity shall stand amidst the ravaging waves of the seas, shelter me from my uncertainties while uncertainty itself molds me. Should love be precise or should it remain imperceptible? Will I ever find the motivation to love anew? Will it be right to mend… preserve and love again… him again? When will it be right? Or should I let his face fade with the wind and in the long run… my mind, my heart…

                I wore a green shirt today, I have always been fascinated with beauty and there seem to be no connection between this two thoughts yet I’m certain that there is something superior among these two none related fabrications of my fickle mind.

                Today is a revelation. At last, turmoil came to an end.

If I could only scrape a bit of inattentiveness off my psyche, it would be a relief, for days have passed and I was offered the taste of freedom that was mine all along yet I didn’t dare notice it. Or was I too preoccupied with things that didn’t deserve a bit of my interest?

                What kind of freedom? Of what sort?  from where? what for?

                Let’s just say that today I have faced the fact that I need to leave things undone, not some but a whole lot of it. People do change or maybe they just don’t for them themselves are but products of minute changes that occurred long before they became who they are, long before they chose to become what they are. Changes change course. They get tired of flowing in the route of a single stone. A desire is not concrete and as I have recently learned, I hope someday I’ll be proven right, in what way I wouldn’t wish to know… Desire is of no consequence and there are times when its none-pertinence needs to be tinted. Sometimes impossibility could be real and you have to accept it. Things happen and for once I will make them happen, now that I came to this awareness, now that I finally found the source of the tumult that disturb-ED me… It’s time for me to rest.

                Diffidence is not mine to resolve and treason is not mine to seize, for even when they existed, or as they still exist, I am living in my own world and it hasn’t been my predicament. Forgetting was not as easy as I thought it would be, especially if it means closing your door and looking towards a new direction to face a new combat… but nothing makes it harder than the ignorance of not knowing what door needs closure, what wounds need absence to heal, how to do it, how to undo it and how NOT TO DO IT. It seems to me that I have lived in seclusion for the longest time now that I have already lost the art of involvement, for when I finally tried to arbitrate, just at the thought of doing it I already did wrong. If truth be told, being lost is tiring and I’m glad that finally… I understood.

                Smile and relish the moments of your own make believe. Forge everything until your heart gets weary. Hang on the thin cord of falseness that you chose to imagine, force everything until you finally see that they aren’t real. If it’s your way of calling time to persecute you and resurrect you then so be it. You will never be beautiful as long as you keep on choosing the thing that you are not. Time will make TRUE amends and if it does come I will be happy for you. I was never good at waiting. For now, I will stop heeding; it’s time for me to delight in the happiness that since then belonged to me. I wish you luck.

                I never thought that wearing a green shirt could be so much fun and I never thought that a day could just come when you’ll finally see the light that you were supposed to be seeing since it came to be yours. Somebody said my shirt was pretty and I knew it was… Somebody owned that shirt before me, someone who knew that life was beautiful and since then I have always been fascinated with life and all its unforeseen realizations. Someone I love, who thought me how to see behind beauty, to appreciate the value of “KNOWING WHAT IT WAS”. It’s time to look at a new direction for him. For now, I will stop heeding…

I wish you luck…

Being the bum that I am, I have seized spilling my heart out for a long long time now… but here I am, still alive and perfectly happy, only a little exhausted because of our STS exam which happened to be the longest exam I have encountered this semester… one word describes it: WHEW… (with all the sweat in it)…

There are lots of nice people surrounding me and my world keeps on getting better AND BETTER. Life is good, so good!

Smile, hug someone (do it when it’s legal), be sincere and drag a good feeling home… if you have the chance to make someone feel better, don’t let that moment pass. IT’S JUST WORTH IT.

TO HIM and to all, thanks for helping me paint my days…

It feels good to be a part of something outside my self. =)

P.S…. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF OUR PT ANGELS, BERNIE CID!!! STAY PRETTY AND PRICELESS!

Gentle whispers of whizzing breeze that’s tinted on a canvas of falling leaves and rough barks, on a familiar place that I have forgotten long ago, It feels like I’m home again. An hour past two I am longing for a shadow that sits silently on a long abandoned bench, under the tree, along with the roars of a few jeeps that route the place. What a contradiction, earth and steel, whispers and roars, longing and a certain unknown. Could love sleep? My senses are at rest for about six months now, and now I’m calling them to bring the pieces back to life. Was love dead? Or has it slept with the months that went by, noiselessly embracing the senses that deserted me?

            Emotions could be very unpredictable and even uncontrollable when held nameless. My scheme is acquainted with changes and it has been built with that startling skill of indefatigably finding the middle ground. In the absence of a face it learns to blind itself, with the lack of smile it befriends other grins, without life it goes on lifeless, in the absence of something, it tends to forget.

            Was it sanity? When you pick something up you let something else fall and then you bend down to escape the sight of regret but all you see is a fallen person and the fallen person is you. Seeing yourself in the middle of nowhere paving your way through a universe of everlasting unpredictability, what a lovely spectacle! I picked something up and I hung unto it. As I hung unto it, I nearly fell but something caught me, saved me. Even memories are fleeting. But moments are moments, figments of yesterday that once created… lingers… I hung unto it and I felt its splendor. I am a part of what it is, of what it has become…

It was fragile… and…Beautiful…

The most beautiful thing that ever touched soul…

I know that we’ll meet again
Fate has a place and time
So you can get on with your life
I’ve got to be cruel to be kind
Like Dr. Zhivago
All my love I’ll be sending
And you will never know cuz
There can be no happy ending

It’s the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do
To look you in the eye
And tell you I don’t love you
It’s the hardest thing I’ll ever have to lie
To show no emotion when you start to cry

I can’t let you see what you mean to me
When my hands are tied and my heart’s not free
We’re not meant to be

One thing more and then my blogsite will soon be nothing but a compilation of old songs… wehehe…

What’s with LRT and JOLLIBEE and FX rides… emptiness… I used to enjoy them until I started with this stupid travesty. SUICIDE as others might call it… but I have a strong feeling that I am right when I chose to leave certain things undone… “UNDONE”, if you’ll put a dot to it that’d be an end, and in that case, PAINFUL. Yet “fate has a place and time”… as the song said… I have nothing more to say… *sighs*

and I’m singing it again…

"there’s just too much that time cannot erase"

No more tides. No more pains. This senseless masochism was finally put to an end. I took it off, as easy as watching a stranger go. But staying alive after an exodus was not as painless as I thought it is, as I thought IT SHOULD BE. Taking it off was like throwing a peace of me to an unfamiliar place and looking back at the remnants of my tattered, shattered self… I am not whole.

I threw a peace of me… on a sea where everybody could be someone else’s fisherman. And I’ll be the one at the losing end, if WAITING shall wane. My mind’s in chaos at a time when I should be already be at ease for something was brought to an end… masochism I chose to call it but something’s dangling in my neck. Hoping is legal and it’s what I mostly treasure now.

Play me another magic trick… and then I shall smile again.

Be there at the finish line… then let me reconsider…

Beauty is fragile. It breaks and it fades as time passes by. It fades as life does. Preferences are made, one blooms as the other dies. These are life’s little tragedies and it feels like I’m gradually reaching that point of creating one. I’m leaving three lives now, a past, a present, and the most tiring of it all, a future. If I am to regret anything, I would only think of one thing, that is, once every moment I’m an all-knowing fortune teller and it has been a very awful curse. We all have the abilities to predict outcomes and at times, instead of helping us out it builds pointless confusions. I know it because, ironic as it may seem, weighing things and predicting outcomes didn’t do me any good, well, at least for now. I wish it’s only for the now.

Once again I’m facing a strange path, a forking path? A labyrinth. Who’s on the other side of the wall? I know her name. Either ways, I know their names. Who’s in the end of the tunnel, it’s all up to me and my ever so unreliable skills. My past and my present are allies and my future, the most inevitable creature in my messed up track, is revealing its “self” to me. It’s beautiful and PRACTICAL. But I don’t think I’ll be able to consider the beauty of pragmatism when the competition lies with the beauty of happiness. And so things are harder now. We all have to live in our presents. We belong to the present. Pasts are pasts and futures are for tomorrow. I kept on telling myself: “Pls. Anna, do yourself a favor, just cross the bridge when you get there.”. My wrong-headedness often conquers my rationality. Nothing happened except for the obvious happening… I’m caught in my own trap. It already stopped raining but I haven’t made my decision yet. I’m asking for signs but it looks like the signs are also lost. Desertion at a time when I least need it. Yesterday they’re for the to and now they’re for the fro. But I guess, we’re better off this way. I’m not ready yet. And I’m surprised, since when did I learn to put so much value on readiness? Oh well, changes… changes…

Four more rounds, five more rips and then I’ll get myself resurrected. As if I have surmounted a great deal of tolerance against the disparaging lives of other people intertwining mine…

At times you have no choice and that means nothing but the lack of choice. Solely that. No meaning to grasp. Nothing at all. Tears are shed and then you fight again. You shed your tears and then you fight again, swimming in your own strange fountain, plainly soaking wet. Life is a crazy carousel. One day you’re a child and tomorrow you’re too old to ride. I’m feeling a bit dizzy now yet my carousel’s still turning. I’m not aware about the reason but I am dizzy about what it does. Are carousels made for riding children’s fights? A child’s battlefield… and unfortunately, I am a child.

Smile and laugh for tomorrow will be well, or so I hope…

Should I be generous through my laughter, for tomorrow’s a ticket for another “riding”. Again. Is it a horse or a beast that I‘m trusting to carry me? Damn! I DO NOT KNOW. It’s supposed to be a horse but I see it through my dizziness, I feel it, it’s not! And then I ask myself again. What makes ME so sure? When you’re dizzy, the world is an illusion, both by virtue of givens and by virtue of choice. But do choices still count? When you’re dizzy and aren’t sure about the “choosing”? It’s when lucky luck comes in. From a carousel to a dart board, very intriguing indeed, why do carousels have dart spines? Mr. Maintenance man must’ve left the flaw for something, very intriguing indeed.

It’s the centripetals and the centrifugals, the radii, area, diameter, the arches and edges, the area that I occupied in this endless circling of inconceivable spheres…spheres that are not mine, these are the things that I’m getting dizzy with and carousels have dart spines.

Am I tired? No I’m not. I’m feeling a bit dizzy now. But tomorrow you have to wish me luck. Tomorrow’s another carousel and I’m going to take another ride…