Unspoken Words and Loud Thoughts

"You seem like a robot sometimes," someone recently told me. He could have added, "You're also rigid and unapproachable," but I told him I already knew what he meant.

It's the second time someone's called me a "robot". A robot who just does her job at work and nothing more. A robot who finds it difficult to make friends because she fears she might lose her authority. A robot who sometimes prefers to be feared than be liked.

I couldn't decide what to feel when I was called a "robot" for the second time. It seemed inaccurate and misunderstood. I think it's funny that at my first job, their major gripe about me is that I was too nice.

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I'm starting to get overwhelmed with the future. I feel it slowly come up to me while I consistently run away from it. I'm afraid that one day, without warning, it'll finally catch up to me. Ready to slap me in the face.

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One thing you probably should know about me is that I was raised to be extremely independent. "When someone offers you something, always politely say no even if you want it," my mom would tell me. This applied to candies, chocolates, food in general, assistance of any kind, etc. My mom is the kind of person who worked really hard on her own for what she has right now.

When I got a bit older, I realized that I was able to turn the independence my mom taught me into something else. I became a good actor. Even if I needed food, I always acted full. Even if I needed help, I always acted like I have it all in control. Even if someone was showing me care, I always acted like I didn't need it.

When I got a lot older, it turned into something else again. It turned into pride. I would exhaust all my efforts before asking for help. Just thinking of needing someone or something else, made me feel weak. I turned into someone who couldn't see the difference between sympathy and love so when one of them is given to me, I'm not able to decipher which is which.

One of my best friends told me that the reason why I didn't have "someone" is because I didn't need one. Or at least it seems like I didn't need one. "People like to be needed sometimes. It makes them feel good about themselves," he said.

So the next time you offer me coffee, beer, or assistance of any kind, I will turn my brain off, take a deep breath, smile, and just say, "Yes, please. Thank you."

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I have a very good imagination. That's why I prefer books rather than movies. I think that's also why I prefer you far away than with me here.

I've conjured up a picture of you in my head. I'm scared that if I see you everyday, I'll find out that the picture doesn't resemble you at all.

Oh, but the thought of having you with me everyday puts a huge smile on my face.

The Perfect Painting

I'm painting again.

I start with a drawing and I put in the colors.
Each stroke of the brush has a story behind it.
Each color, shade, and angles.
Oh, how I miss painting.

Everyday, I look at your pictures.
I try to memorize the edges of your face.
The color of your skin and hair.
The depth in your eyes.

I make the painting as beautiful as possible.
I make sure the edges of your face are accurate.
The color of your skin and hair precise.
The depth in your eyes unerring.

The last painting I did was perfect.
But when I gave it to its owner, he gave it back to me.
He said it didn't look like him.
I stopped painting after that.

He said the painting was not him.
The edges of his face were wrong.
The color of his skin and hair wrong.
The depth in his eyes wrong.

The painting was perfect to me.
But he said it didn't look like him.
That painting is still with me.
But I can't find it anymore.

I'm afraid to continue painting you.
The last painting I did hurt two people.
I need to be careful this time.
I need to paint you exactly right.

I need you to be perfect.

Finally

Twice. I cried in the shuttle home twice. The first time was when I lost my phone for the second time. I hid behind my jacket while rehearsing the spiel for my mom explaining why I lost my phone again. When I got home, I just hugged her and cried my eyes out even more.

The second time I cried in the shuttle home happened this week. It was right after a night of stripping away my mask and ingesting my pride whole.

Pride is such a hard thing to swallow. It gets bigger and bigger as you feed it every single day until it gets humongous enough that you're unable to carry it along anymore. A few weeks ago, I finally took a bite off it so I can survive and live my life. And on the day I cried in the shuttle home for the second time, I finally swallowed it whole.

When expectations are already rooted in your head about how something is gonna go, you try your best to think of the things that would go wrong so you're prepared just in case. And no matter how your expectations and strategies meet inside your head, you never really know how things will end up. And maybe that's the reason why I got so upset. Even though my head knew how the night will go, the reality of it all was still the worst.

When someone special to you makes you feel tells you you're not, it really hits home. When you strip off your mask and show the real you and someone tells you to put it back on, it really hits home. When you love someone too much and he's incapable of loving you anyone, it really hits home. That night really hit home. That's why I cried for the second time in the shuttle home.

Everything went dark that night. Then it got quiet. That's when my head started to talk to my heart. That's when my head told my heart to calm down and stop crying. That's when my head comforted my heart for being so brave. That it was finally done. That we've survived. It's over. Finally, it's over.

Right now, it's still dark. Still quiet. But on the other hand, I feel relieved. It was so difficult to swallow my pride whole. Right now, I'm having difficulties digesting it. But I feel lighter somehow. Slowly it will all be gone and I'll finally be ready to... do it over again. This time, do it right.

Do it right because my head and heart have already been through a lot. Do it right because I finally deserve it.

"Oh, it's just me."

“You’re here for vacation? Who are you with?”

“Oh, it’s just me.”

Most of the people who asked me that question just nodded and said, “Oh…” As if to say, “Oh, I get it. You’re probably doing that That Thing Called Tadhana thing. Aww…” Or maybe, “Oh, you’re soul searching. Like how Julia Roberts ate, prayed, and loved.” Or maybe, “Oh, that’s kinda weird. Stay away from me, you weirdo.”

Honestly, the main reason I wanted to go to Bohol is… I WANTED TO GO TO BOHOL. I’ve always wanted to see the Chocolate Hills and the huge stretch of white sand in Panglao. I didn’t go because I was escaping or trying to “find myself” or whatever. I went because I wanted to.

At first, I was super excited. I AM an independent woman and I was travelling alone. I felt like I could do anything. But as the trip got nearer and nearer, I started getting nervous. Can I really go all the way to Visayas on my own? I don’t even speak their language! They’re gonna hate my weird trying-real-hard-to-be-normal-amongst-strangers-so-I-become-super-perky self! But oh well, I already paid for the flight, hotel, and everything. I just have to put on my normal-human mask and I’ll be fine.

When I went around the city, I didn’t really care about the people (tourists) around me because there were a lot of things to see and learn. I didn't mind the stares they shot me when they find out I'm alone. I like doing city tours because that’s when you truly feel and grasp the culture of a place.  When you see people doing the most mundane things, that’s when you truly know their “patterns”. Boholanos, I found out, are really friendly and welcoming. Tagbilaran, after all, is the City of Friendship. My weird humor is not that well-received though. I keep making the service staffs laugh wherever I’m going, but they seem to misunderstand what I mean. It’s probably the language barrier. They probably don’t understand my jokes. Of course, that’s the reason. I KNOW I’M FUNNY!

I think when you’re travelling alone, you get to experience things on a higher level. Everything is amplified. Food tastes better (or worse if they’re bad), sceneries are more overwhelming, and stares are more noticeable. I think it’s because there are no one distracting you from truly experiencing everything you eat, see, smell, hear, and feel. You only worry about yourself and for me, that’s the most relaxing thing. Whenever I’m travelling with people, I always worry if they’re enjoying my company. I get dragged to adventure-y places to do adventure-y stuff. If something goes wrong, I always worry that they might get pissed off. Now that I’m alone, I’m completely worry and stress free.

Now, I’m finally here in Panglao! The beach is just amazing. The low tide upped my amazement even further! The sand is super powdery, it feels like walking on clouds. Uh, it’s so beautiful!

The thing about beaches though is time seems to slow down. There’s nothing much to do but chill (or it’s probably just in my case since I don’t like water adventure things). Every experience is once again amplified. My thoughts (evil ones, sad ones, happy ones, etc.) got louder. It felt like my day was being written by Haruki Murakami. Suddenly, everything around me and everything I did had existential meanings. I loved and hated it…

I loved it because I finally get to hear my thoughts! I actually have time to listen. I’m usually just tired from the commute every single day after work that I don’t even get to think about things anymore. Now I have the whole day to recharge my thoughts. But too much thinking can lead you to a trap. I suddenly noticed myself crying on the beach because of these unruly thoughts.

Two days before my trip, something happened. I bumped into someone I didn’t see for more than a year. He didn’t see me, but I saw him. I did the double take and everything so I could really make sure it was him. It was him, alright. My initial reaction was pure panic. I started hyperventilating. When I finally calmed myself down, I started asking questions.

What does this mean?! Why now?! I was doing so well. I was moving on! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING, UNIVERSE?! Ugh, destiny sucks.

When I saw him, all feelings came back. Both good ones and bad. I wonder if he felt my presence during that particular moment when I saw him. Scientists recently proved that the “bend” in space and time actually exists when there’s intense gravity present. I wonder if that’s true in an ultimately minute scale, say between two people. Are they able to feel the weight between them? Are they able to feel the unevenness of the weight? Is it painful for the both of them? These were the questions I asked the ocean this morning as it swallowed my tears.

These questions will obviously remain unanswered. For now, I’ll just do my best and enjoy the few hours I have in this paradise. Once I go back to reality, I will do the thing I do best. Fake it until I make it. I think I’m awesome at that. The reason it’s hard for now is ‘cause I’m not there yet. I haven’t MADE it. So I just have to be patient and not ask dumb questions to the majestic ocean and ruin perfectly good sunrises.

Now Playing: Don't Know Why by Norah Jones

I saw you a while ago. Right now I see your name with a green dot beside it.

I can't believe that until now you still make me nervous. You're like a ghost that I'm beginning to get used to. I don't wanna get used to that. I don't wanna get used to you floating around my head everytime.

You're like an open wound on my knee or elbow. The kind that's really hard to heal because it's at a place that's always moving and bending. The wound keeps re-opening and re-opening until it leaves a scar. A scar that will be there as long as you live.

There's a constant battle in my head. I'm beginning to get used to that as well. Constant bickering inside my head always before I sleep. I listen to the argument to justify what happened. I make myself believe that it was the right thing. And that's the only time I'm able to fall asleep.

Pride is such a pain. It's stupid and I wish it never existed. Like ghosts, open wounds, and voices in my head.

Morning/Night Pages 082015

In the middle of August, I read something online about this thing called "Morning Pages". The rule is to write 3 pages every morning about anything under the sun. It doesn't have to be good. You don't even have to read it. Its goal is to eliminate what's blocking your creativity. What's blocking what you actually want to write. It gets rid of your word vomit so creativity can come out and slap itself on paper.

I started in the middle of August. Since it's now the 31st, I decided to read my word vomits for the latter half of August. I wasn't writing every single day (and I usually write every night) so I only had 16 pages to read.

I noticed that in between all the mess (word vomit), there were parts that really made a lot of sense. There were parts that rose above all the shit. There were parts that really hit home.


08-11:
My shit didn't seem as shitty as their shit. My shit didn't even seem like legit shit.

The person causing the problem, I thought, was also the cure for how horrible I was feeling.

08-12: 
...That day felt like his day. It was like he was controlling the course of my day.

I woke up the next day feeling all fucked up. Fucked up but wanting to continue the dream still because sometimes, I'd rather endure hell knowing that he'll be there with me.

08-13:
I always think about him whenever my world stops. Whenever I do the most boring and empty things in my life.

And it kinda slapped me in the face because while I'm forgetting about him, he's also forgetting about me.

And whenever you're breaking a person's heart, I've learned, you have to be cruel.

08-14:
I think at the end of the day, you just gotta love what you decide to do for the rest of your life.

08-15:
There's this birthday card that had resurfaced my desk because Tita Evelyn cleaned it... I actually don't know why I didn't send it... For some reason, I just didn't feel like it.

08-17:
...when your heart breaks, it also breaks your self-worth. It brings you down and crushes your confidence.

08-19:
I was just afraid he'd message me or something. We're doing too well for either of us to contact the other. Glad he didn't. Kinda...

08-31:
I hate surprises. I hate him just popping without notice.

When will the pain stop?! When will time kick in and start doing its job?

Whatever happened between us already makes sense to him. He already learned something from what happened. I'm still working on my lesson to learn from all this shit.


I'm now looking forward to making this a habit this September. Things that come out of these Morning/Night Pages are very interesting. By writing and reading them, I'm getting to know myself bit by bit. It's a start in piecing my self-worth back together. It's a start towards loving myself again.

And I promise I will have different topics to write about this time.

Closure

My gradeschool teacher taught me that there are 2 ways a star can die. [From what I remember], a star can turn into a blackhole or it can explode and be a hmmm some kind of dwarf.

I remembered getting scared because I knew (from the previous semester) that the sun is a star. If it died, it could suck all the 9 planets around it or it could explode and kill us all. When I told my teacher all my fears, he laughed at me and said that it won't happen for a million years. That didn't comfort at all.

Just recently, a particular star had died. It was very unique because it started being a blackhole for a while but then towards the end, it finally exploded.

Blackhole phase: Everything the star touched, it sucked towards its unending revolution. Everything the star sucked stayed around it until it was satisfied. The star felt guilty that it was drawing everything towards it involuntarily. It felt like the star had no choice but to feed off of everything around it. It fed off of everyone’s life, light, and happiness. I guess this was the star’s way of surviving death because a blackhole, you see, is not really a dead star. It’s dying. And no one knows when the blackhole will stop pulling everything towards it or if it ever will.

Explosion phase: Then something happened that made the star stop imbibing everything that had life. It finally got satisfied and exploded. It exploded hard and loud. It was strange because the star that was supposed to be dying, never felt more alive as it was exploding. Another unexpected thing that happened was the explosion did not hurt anything around it because there was no one, nothing. The star had already sucked everything. There was nothing to lose. The star, finally contented, had died.

Death phase: After the big explosion, everything was quiet. The star did not have the energy to shine and twinkle as before. It did not have life. At long last, the star’s life has ended.

Somehow, this made me sad. It made me sad because it was the end. It sucked and obliterated everything around it and in the end, it died. Finished. Now the star that once shone and twinkled for everyone is just a Thing in space. It has no contribution whatsoever to anyone or anything. A Thing that cannot do anything. A Thing that only 2 people on Earth will recognize as Something that was once amazing. Once was beautiful. But now dead.

Goodbye Sad Songs and Isolated Islands

My iPod and book JUST got stolen. My almost 10-year old iPod and my friend's (whoops. SORRY!) mangled copy of The Lord of the Flies JUST got stolen. My two bestfriends during my commute every morning and night. Now gone.

Every morning, I listen to my iPod to drown all the thoughts in my head. Thoughts that make me feel like a zombie again. They say time heals everything. It's been quite a while and I'm still here. I listen to music to make the time bearable. To trick my head that I'm moving along with time. It kinda works because before I know it, I'm already in the office. Without the memory of how I got there.

Every night, I read my book while waiting in line for the shuttle home. I read to transport myself to a world where you don't exist. Where I am just living vicariously with the characters in the book. Where even just for a while, I won't be in pain. I can conquer the world alongside the main character and forget you. For a while. I can't read in the shuttle so I close my book and you appear again. I miss you and I'm back from where I started.

The next day, I do the same. This has been my routine for almost 2 months. I'm tired.

One of my bestfriends (human one) asked me, "What do you want? What do you want from him? Do you wanna be with him?"

"No, I don't wanna be with him. Not exactly. I wanna feel that I'm actually worth an awkward conversation. That I'm worth the effort. Because I couldn't handle not being his favorite person. I want him to wanna talk about the real stuff. The hard stuff. I just wanted to be worth something to him, you know? I wanna say sorry. It was stupid how I broke down and didn't explain. I'm always ready to jump off a sinking ship without thinking who I'm gonna leave behind. I did what I did because I didn't wanna lose him. But I guess losing him was inevitable." is what I should've said. But the too-proud-inarticulate-not-wanting-to-explain me just said, "I don't know."

These are the thoughts that I have to drown every morning and night. Now I don't have anything to drown them with. To the hipster robber who stole my 10-year old iPod with all my sad songs and my friend's copy of The Lord of the Flies, there is a special place in hell waiting for you.

The Ultimate Game and the Zombie Apocalypse

After learning all the rules, I have become a good [enough] player in this game. A game that we play everyday. Sometimes, I play as white and you black. That means I move first, then you, then me again, and so on. From time to time, some snakes appear then I slip down. At times, ladders appear and you climb towards me then move three spaces forward. After that, you draw the reverse card, and suddenly it's not my turn anymore. I have to wait. Wait for everybody else to take his/her turn before participating again. Then unexpectedly, you're in jail and I have to pay or draw a card from the deck to bail you out.

I have mastered all the rules in this game we play everyday. I've gotten real good at it. I like playing it and I know you do, too. No matter how complicated the rules are, we like to play. I know we both like to play.

But there are times that I fail to keep up. That I fail to jump high enough to reach that flag. That I'm outside the game and you have already saved the princess. All along I thought I was the princess. Your princess.

And here's the real deal.

Just so you know, I'm not ok. It may seem I am, but I'm not. I'm a big fan of faking it until you make it. Hopefully, I'm convincing. I think I am.

I hope you understand why I did what I did. I'm trusting your judgment and assumptions on this. I hope you trust them too. I'm sorry for having this particular sickness. Sickness of hating being misunderstood but hating (or not knowing how) to explain myself. I hate not being articulate. I hate hating EVERYTHING.

I hope you get the exact time/moment I did what I did. Yes, it's confusing, but I left clues. I left breadcrumbs for you to follow. I know it's stupid. I should've just told you everything, but I, myself didn't understand it. Or maybe didn't believe it. Didn't WANT TO believe it. I'm confident that you get everything. You're just afraid to confront me. I wish you'd get mad at me. But I know, even that, I don't deserve.

I'm sorry but I can't play this game anymore. I've been addicted and I really think the logical thing to do is to turn the game off. Is it? I wish you can answer. But again, I don't deserve it, I know. And I'm really sorry.

I hate that the airs that were once alive are now dead. I hate that I'M dead. I walk every single day a zombie convincing everyone that I'm human. Sometimes, it's easy. I slap a smile on my face and a loud laugh to hide the sorrow in my eyes. Sometimes, it's hard. It's hardest when I'm alone. Because then, I don't feel the need to perform in front of an "audience". Then, all that shit I smack on my face disappear. That's when I become a zombie again. That's when it's hard to sleep at night.

It may not make any sense, but I know in time I will become human again. But right now, I have to fake it. Every morning, I have to dress up as a human and cover up all this zombie goo. I hope when I'm a real human being, you'll still recognize me. I will be able to explain everything then. I hope you'll be there to listen. Please don't forget me. Please wait for me.

Vicarious Pleasures?

Lately, I've been missing you. Missing you especially because I already constantly do. Just now, I saw a picture of you on my Facebook feed. I miss you again even more. I press Home then I find myself scrolling down impatiently until I see your picture pop up again. I miss you even more.

It all started when I recently received something from you. Something that had meaning. Or not. I don't know for sure. You confuse me most of the time. But I hope it had meaning. So that we will have direction. Or even just a path.

All my close friends say our relationship is weird. "Labo..." is their exact word. Again, I get confused. What's so weird about what we do? But when I actually look at us from their point of view, it is kinda weird. Maybe it's 'cause we have something special? Or maybe we're just two weird people doing "unnormal" stuff even two weird people should not do? I don't know.

But whenever we do what we do, it doesn't seem "unnormal". It feels right. It feels comfortable. Sometimes, it even feels necessary. That's when it scares me the most.

I have absolutely no idea what you're thinking. If you're actually consciously doing all these things to lead me somewhere I'm not familiar with. Not familiar with anymore anyway.

Sometimes, it seems that I'm actually in control. I keep telling myself that I have to wait. To be patient. And I'm ok with that. But sometimes (like this very moment), I just want to go to you and hug you. And cuddle. And stare at you. And kiss you. It drives me crazy that I can't.

I have to see you. Soon. Or not ever.

Not so Quarter-Life Crisis

Lately, I've been having a bit of a quarter-life crisis. I've been keeping it on the DL though because I don't really have the luxury of time to actually ponder on these two things that bother me.

First, the ever-pressuring topic of Le Career. See, I graduated last October 2011. That's three years ago. Three LONG years ago. When our dean was handing me that diploma that I worked my ass off for, I believed that I would be someone somewhere I would be successful in in the future. Yes, my dreams were that vague. Maybe that's why the universe got confused and wouldn't prioritize me until I actually knew exactly what I wanted. Fast forward three years from that moment when it was honestly my first time meeting our dean, I still don't know what I want. Good thing I realized that there is no pressure in knowing what you want out of life.

Some people are lucky that since birth, their parents have inception-ed them to be whatever it is that they want to be. They had direction. And there are those people who had something amazing/traumatic happen in their lives that shaped what they wanted when they grew up. But me, everything was smooth sailing until I graduated from school. Suddenly, I was thrown into the ocean with the ability to float, but not the ability to swim. But I'm happy that through God's guidance I have learned how to swim even if I still don't know where I'm going. I'm gonna keep getting good at swimming so that when I find my path, I'm gonna swim the hell towards it. And I bet you that I will be the universe's priority then.

Second quarter-life crisis issue is having someone to share all these unknowns with. Having someone to give my love to. Who actually deserves it. I got this huge ball of feelings that are spilling out of me which I'm rapidly giving to just about whoever seems to want them. And I have come to know that this is just wrong.

I have learned that in order for you to love someone, to truly love someone, you must have self-worth. Self-worth is like being awake from all the naiveness that love may bring. Self-worth is being conscious. Hence, love in its truest form must be the synchronization of both your heart and mind. Raw love is the devil. We tend to worship it and the grand gestures/martyrdom it comes with. We fall in love with the idea of being in love. But being in love, I have learned, is for those people who are whole, not seeking for completeness, who have self-worth, and who can be with anyone anywhere in the world, but they choose to stay with each other. Maybe that's why it's called being IN love because you're either in it or you're out. It's your choice.

But who knows? In every phase of someone's life, love's definition may change. For now, this definition is what I can accept.

I think self-worth is directly proportional to time. In time, life will be able to introduce you to yourself then that's the only moment when you'll be able to truly love someone. When you can have someone that will spend his/her life with you with content and comfort. When you can both be journeying together conquering the world.

Then again, let's stop defining love and just do it. Make it.

The Dance

I dance but I don't know how.
I step my left foot then my right,
Move my hips then my hands.
That familiar tune I always dance to.
On my own with my eyes closed,
I dance.

You joined me in my trance.
Closed eyes, I didn't notice.
When I opened them, there you were,
Dancing in front of me.

You held out your hand.
I stared at it, confused.
I took it.
My hand fit it in yours perfectly.
We became one.
Oh, what harmony!

We danced and we danced.
You showed me some moves.
I tried some, some I couldn't do.
I didn't wanna stop dancing.
I forgot the feeling,
The feeling of dancing by myself.

One day,
You changed the tune.
Then she came.
She joined us.
You gave your other hand to her.
Oh, she's beautiful.
She's beautiful when she dances.
The grace, the flow, the beauty!

Your hand still in mine.
Her hand in yours.
Then we would all dance.
We would dance to your tune.

You would look into my eyes,
And everything would make sense.
Then you would look into hers,
I would get lost in the rhythm.

There'd be times I'd get dizzy,
But you would hold on to me.
You would hold on to me tight.
It feels like you will never let go.
So I don't.
Oh, the ecstasy!

Sometimes, it would get crowded.
Crowded where we used to dance,
Dance, just the two of us.
Oh, how I want to just dance with you,
Holding both of my hands,
Instead of just one.

Sometimes, I just wanna change the tune,
Or turn it off all together,
But I love the way you hold my hand,
Tight as we dance.
And the way you smile,
When you watch her dance.

One day, I will learn,
How to dance just like her.
But before that, I have to let go.
Let go of your hand,
That is tight around mine.

I hope when I come back,
You'd be standing by the jukebox,
Alone, waiting for me.
Waiting for me to have our first last dance.

Ode to the Sunset

Every time you are there, it makes my day.
It's a promise that everything's okay.
I look at you and forget the past.
What fills my mind is the shine you cast.

I don't mind the distance between us two.
From here, everyday, I'll worship you.
"Forever" always frightens me.
I shut my eyes, you're all I see.

No one can compete with your brightness.
You give more to all those who have less.
You are your brightest at noon.
Oftentimes, you make me swoon.

Repeatedly, you never fail,
Every minute you prevail.
When you're at your highest.
I am my happiest.

Suddenly, the sky turns pink,
You tire and you start to sink.
It poses a threat.
I dread the sunset.

Soon, all will disappear.
All will be left is fear.
Darkness will come.
Bring out the drum.

People must be warned.
Don't fret, it's unarmed.
Sunset's in.
Where's it been?

Is this our fate?
Morrow, I'll wait.
All days.
Always.

Goodbye now.
Keep our vow.
Fate.
Wait.

Sunrise's Envy

Your presence demands an audience.

You're too beautiful to walk into a room unnoticed.

Everyone becomes quiet when you arrive.

Everything stops.

Everyone watches you.

Everyone except him.

He lets the wind torture him waiting for you.

He lets the sand tickle his toes for you.

He enjoys the loud whispers of the birds while he waits.

And the sound of the water as it longs for the shore.

You notice that he's nervous, anxious.

He's beautiful when he's nervous.

Nervous to see you, perhaps?

But you can't show yourself to him. Not yet.

Then she starts walking to him just as you peak in the horizon.

She disturbs the sand around him.

She breaks the silence. Your silence.

He looks at her while you stare at them.

Suddenly, her smile becomes as bright as yours.

Her eyes become his source of light. Of life.

They sit on the sand together.

And her touch becomes the heat that he longs for in forever.

And you rise and you rise.

Giving life and hope to everything that you touch.

The trees and the birds rejoice.

And the mountain wakes up as you kiss its nose.

You shine and you shine because you need to.

You melt and thaw the frozen because you need to.

Then from a distance, you stare at them.

You stare at them while they stare at each other.

Reel Life

Most of the time we're like Crazy Little Thing Called Love. That stupid teenage love affair that makes you giggle. Sometimes we're some Sandra Bullock movie. Old Sandra Bullock movie. Like While You Were Sleeping or Two Weeks Notice or something. Sometimes it's 10 Things I Hate About You. We have an awesome OST, but everything is shallow and predictable. Smart, yet predictable. Very seldom we're A Walk to Remember or If Only or P.S. I Love You. Those moments I don't like. I avoid those moments because I'm always the one getting hurt. Or I always cannot handle when you're the one getting hurt. It's all melodramatic and exaggerated. I REALLY hate it. Sometimes we're all Science of Sleep or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I also hate those moments. It's like we're trying too hard to complicate something incredibly simple that it makes us dumb. I hate pretending to be dumb.

I love our Before Sunset moments where we just talk or be quiet together. I love those moments. I prolong those moments most of the time whenever I can. I like quiet. You seem to hate it, which is very weird.

Speaking of weird, sometimes we're Magic Mike. I don't wanna elaborate. It makes me uncomfortable. (It's not what you think.) Oooh, I also like our Dead Poets Society or Good Will Hunting moments where we have very intelligent conversations and it lasts for hours and instead of being enlightened about something, we actually get even more confused. I like those moments. Those are the moments when I feel that... I don't know. I just get this feeling in my stomach.

But at the end of the day I think we're just (500) Days of Summer. GREAT OST. Lots of Regina Spektor, who I LOVE. Great movie. Different and out of the box. (That's us; different and out of the box.) It's a taste of reality. It's a story of boy meets girl, but is not a love story. That's us. And it feels nice having realized that. It turns all the question marks into periods and exclamation points. It brings some kind of peace.

Now, just like every girl, I'm waiting for my Beauty and the Beast moment. I get impatient sometimes, but the Beast had to wait years for Belle to come so that puts things in perspective. (So I'm the Beast? :/) And to think, all the Disney princesses had to wait for their princes to "rescue" them so who am I to question Messrs Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm and Mister Walt.

But then sometimes I wonder. Maybe I should write my own story so I can be the main character of my own movie. I can be the leading lady (or the princess) and you can be... I don't know. I guess we'll have to see as a write it.

Touch, Hold, Cling, Grasp

A touch of pink.
A touch of a butterfly on Winnie the Pooh's nose.
A touch of a furry creature.
A touch due to curiosity.
A touch to a life.

The Touch of a hand.
Of two hands.
The playfulness of the Touch.
The feel of the Touch.
The inappropriateness of it all.
But the wanting of the Touch.
The feel of the Touch.
The feeling.
How it lingers.
How it still does until now.

A hold on to the wheel.
A hold to a glass.
A lasting hold of styling gel.
A hold to thought.
A hold of you.

The Hold of hand to arm.
The wish of the Hold of hand to hand instead of hand to arm.
The fear of the Hold of my sweaty palms.
The settling for the Hold of hand to arm or wrist.
The fear of the thought of Holding hands.

The Holding on to the memory of the Touch.
The going back to the Touch.
The wanting for the Touch to become a Hold.
The fear of dependence.
The lingering fear of dependence.

A cling of a monkey to a tree.
A cling of a baby to a mother.
A cling towards you.

The Cling of thoughts.
Oh how good the thoughts Cling.
The Cling to memory.
The wanting to forget.
The exhaustion of the wanting to forget.
The Cling that makes the scene repeat over and over again.
Over and over again until I feel that pain in my stomach.

The Grasp of idea.
The Grasping of the idea of impossibility.
The Grasping of the idea of a small window opening.
The window shutting up again.
The Grasping of the idea that everything is an illusion.
The Grasping of reality vs. expectations.
The Grasping of the idea of wanting to forget.
The Grasping of the idea of boredom.
The Grasping of the idea of repetitiveness.
The Grasping of the idea of distance.
The Grasping of the idea of transparency.
The fear of transparency.
The letting go.

The Grasping of the idea of the Touch, the Hold, and the Cling.
The Grasping of it all.

The Impossibility.
The Impossibility for now.

"That was hard for me to say, I hope I said it right. Whichever come what may, you see I need to know tonight."

Putting All Eggs in One Basket

[Selects playlist. Shuffle. Go.]

(Now playing: Just a Little Bit by Maria Mena)
Just a little bit stronger. Just a little bit wiser. Just a little less needy. And maybe I'll get there.

I was carrying a dozen colored balloons. Pretty balloons. Full of air. Colorful. The sky got dark. It rained. It rained needles! All my balloons popped. All my pretty balloons. All my balloons full of air. All my colorful balloons.

[Next. Next. Next. Go.]

{Now playing: Always by Atlantic Star)
Come with me, my sweet. Let's go make a family.

Today, I met up with my friend who was pregnant with her first child. She was sleepy. She was ranting. She was tired. She told me all her husband did were hug her and tell her that everything will be ok. She smiled. She was ready to go to work.

[Next. Go.]

{Now playing: In Repair by John Mayer)
I'm in repair. I'm not together, but I'm getting there.

Tornado. A tornado entered my room. I know I invited you over, but I have to clean my room first. I'm putting the Do Not Disturb sign on my door. Please keep yourself comfortable outside. It's pretty messed up in here. It'll take time to clean all the shit up. Tornadoes.

(Now playing: Your Guardian Angel - Acoustic Version by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus)

[Listens for a while.]
[Next. Next. Go.]

(Now playing: I Can't Make You Love Me - Cover by Adele)
I will give up this fight.

[Sings along.]
[Go again.]

(Now playing: The First Cut Is the Deepest by Sheryl Crow)
I still want you by my side. Just to help me dry the tears that I've cried.

[Tries to harmonize.]
[Shuts up and focuses. Go again.]

Last night, I saw someone crossing the street in the rain without an umbrella. I was standing across him with an umbrella in my hand and my bag on the other. I was staring at him. I wanted to share my umbrella with him. The rain was pouring hard. I felt bad. Guilty. I was about to cross when the cars came fast in front of me. I stopped. It caught his attention. He was frowning. He was soaking wet. He was pissed off. I smiled. He forced a smile a back. It was all we could offer each other. The rain finally stopped.

[Next. Next. Next. Next. Oh.]

(Now playing: Tulog Na by Sugarfree)
Tulog na, mahal ko. Nandito lang akong bahala sa iyo. Sige na, tulog na muna. Tulog na, mahal ko. At baka bukas ngingiti ka sa wakas at sabay nating harapin ang mundo.

[Go.]

(Now playing: Honestly by Bethany Joy Galeotti)
I'm so glad you're far away. Is that a terrible thing to say? Well, I wonder if you're okay.

As I open my eyes in the morning... As I commute to work... In the middle of the meeting... As I do my actual work... As I commute home... As I have my dinner either alone or with my sister... As I hangout alone in my room... In rainy days... Whenever I'm lost... Whenever I see others... Whenever I hear the fucking song, "Cable Cars" by frickin' The Fray... Whenever my bag gets way too heavy... Whenever I watch a movie about love... Whenever I have a bad day... I hear you whisper. But I can't understand. You're way too far away. Perhaps in another continent. Please speak louder. Are you there? Do you still exist?

(Now playing: Last Flight Out by Plus One)
Although it's hard and scares me so, a life without you scares me more.

[Battery empty. Charge. End.]

Chloe the Clingy Monkey

Chloe the Clingy Monkey loves to cling to lamp posts. Not trees. Lamp posts. For some odd reason, she always fails to cling to trees. She may be allergic to the leaves of the tree, or the tree may be way too tall, or she may be way too short, or she just plainly fails to reach the tree. She tries and tries to reach the tall luscious trees but her leap is just not enough. So she decides to settle for the lamp posts. The lamp posts that are comfortable. The lamp posts that give her light but are cold in the middle of the night. The lamp posts that she loves to talk to but don't always respond. The lamp posts that pretend to shade her whenever it rains. The lamp posts that are good enough for now. She settles for them. For now.

Bipolarity, Randomness, Sleepiness

TAKE ONE:
[I used to think I had nothing to say. That I could handle everything on my own. But I actually wanna scream. I wanna burst out in tears. I actually wanna talk. And now that I have something to say, I find myself talking to a wall. I've been talking to a wall all this time.]

TAKE TWO:
[I've been on this Merry-Go-Round (which by the way is my favorite ride in amusement parks) for so long now. I'm already very dizzy. I wanna get off so bad, but I wanna get my money's worth. But is it really worth it when I already feel like vomiting?]

TAKE THREE:
[I'm not gonna fall for that bait you're dangling. I'm gonna keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Swimming, swimming.]

TAKE FOUR:
[It's funny when a dog chases its tail. It'll try to catch its tail around and around and around until it can't anymore. I like it when it stops and gives up. That implies that the dog learned it's impossible to chase your tail. I don't like it when it does the chasing over again.]

TAKE FIVE:
["CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" I hear a soft reply. Then I say even louder, "IS ANYBODY THERE?!" I can't quite make out the reply. I decide to listen very carefully as I screamed for the last time, "HELLO??!" I hear a faint, "Hello, Hello, Hello, Hello." Just an echo. No one's here.]

TAKE SIX:
[Jelly melly felly kelly celly nelly delly pelly. I wanna turn into jelly.]

(This is what I get for listening to Jason Mraz in the shower.)

I miss your THE touch. I miss THE hugs and kisses... I miss THE affection.

I don't know if it's just a sign of ageing or something, but I'm now feeling the need to have a "certain someone". The need for someone to hold me whenever it's frickin' cold at night and tell me that the storm will eventually stop. The need for someone who I can cuddle with and hold my hand all thru the night. The need for someone...

These feelings are at their worst every night. (I don't really notice them in the morning.)

I sometimes fantasize about you. (Not the ew-kinky kind of fantasizing.) I fantasize you lying down next to me. Talking to me. Holding me. Listening to me. Laughing with/at me. And then we eventually fall asleep together...

I fantasize that you're here, beside me. Not in another continent.

It's insanely crazy that I'm still hanging on to you. I can't even remember how you look like anymore. We barely even had time alone together. I don't know why I hang on to you still. Maybe it's 'cause you were the last one. Or the one after the last one. The very last one who made sense.

I wish I could go there. I wish you could come here.

Then again, you probably don't even remember me.


Love is blinding when your timing's never right
Oh but who am I to beg for difference
Finding love in a distant instant
But I don't mind


Oh love at least I tried, well I tried...