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.

Morning Rituals and Keeping Up with the Awesomeness

Alarm goes off at 4 in the morning. I hit snooze. I hit snooze 348756 times until it's 5:20am. I stand up. Finally.

I go to the bathroom. I bring my iPad and phone. I check my messages. I read. I think. I make most of my life's decisions in my bathroom. I finally take a bath. All this takes about 45 minutes to an hour.

I dress up. Oh, the dressing up. I seem to always love matching pink and green, green and brown, and blue and green. I either end up looking like a watermerlon or Mother Earth. I comb my hair and hastily grab all my stuff since I'm probably already running late because I couldn't decide which fruit I will dress up as that day. One quick glance around my room checking if I've forgotten anything, then I'm off.

I go to my parents' room to say goodbye. They're all still sleeping so I just sneak in to kiss my parents goodbye. My sister's stuck in the middle of my parents with her mouth wide open so I leave her alone.

I go down and eat breakfast. 10 minutes tops, then I'm off to my daily commute.

Tricycle. As the wind blows on my face, I put day cream on it. Sun block because... climate change.

Shuttle/FX. Oh the FX and its infinitely limited space. Once I reach the place where I take a jeep to the MRT, I check if my legs are still connected to my body. If they are, I continue.

Jeep. EMERTEE EMERTEE EMERTEE EMERTEE EMERTEE.

MRT. The stairs. The stairs are my morning enemy. Even if I DETEST how the MRT is being run by whoever, I actually love this part of my morning. Once I'm in the train, I put my earphones on, press Shuffle in my iPod, and finally I'm in a bubble for 30 minutes.

Bubble time. Oh, how I maximize those 30 minutes I have "all to myself." I put my earphones on and suddenly I'm bestfriends with Beyonce, Hayley Williams, Adele, Ingrid Michaelson, Armi Millare, Sara Bareilles and Regina Spektor. I suddenly have a concert and the #HumansofEDSA are my audience. Even The Script, Jason Mraz, Coldplay, The Smiths, Ed Sheeran, and Two Door Cinema Club attend my concert. It's AWESOME. Everyday, they attend. Everyday, IT'S AWESOME.

Today was different. Today, my earphones broke. My earphones broke and I didn't have my Bubble Time. My Bubble Time that I always look forward to every weekday morning. My 30 minutes "all to myself." No Beyonce...

Have you put Mentos in a newly opened Coca-Cola bottle? Have you watched an eruption of any volcano? Have you ever blacked out in a plane due to intense anxiety/anger because a baby is crying on top of his/her lungs? Or have you blacked out in general? All these happened to me at the same time in 3 seconds.

But after that, my perky/always positive thinking/taking control/won't-let-anything-ruin-my-day/I-can-always-turn-shit-around self kicked in. And I sang. Not out loud. Not out loud, but with conviction. I damn well sang my Beyonce and bobbed my head along with the bobbing of the train. I sang. I sang my frickin' heart out.

I sang my frickin' heart out because sometimes, when life breaks your earphones, you just gotta close your eyes, own the stage, and sing acapella to the #HumansofEDSA.

After all, they came all the way from wherever, sweating under the heat of the sun just to see you.

To-do list:
- Make life buy you new earphones!

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.