"Kuya, tabi lang ho."
The jeep was cruising along the then empty roads of Commonwealth. It was enjoying its freedom to reign the highway even for a little while. However, the rather dilapidated vehicle abruptly swerved, weaved across several lanes, and ground to an abrupt halt in response to my call.
St. Peter's Parish was quite the distance away from the usual place where I end my commute.
It was a few minutes before midnight when I arrived. I was desperate to find a sincere feeling of peace as I looked up at the cross that was a cerulean beacon of hope. Overwhelmed by the amount of fear from the uncertain, I lit four candles without any intentions of prayer. My eyes vacantly stared at the flames that persevered on the chilly winds that battered them. They burned with vigor at the beginning, but slowly waned as time soldiered on. Cold gusts mocked and reduced their presence, but the four small icons of hope never gave up. They patiently kindled their inner strength and fought bravely not to lose their brilliance. Not letting go, flickering to the point of being extinguished -- they were doing it for my sake.
It was then and there that I found a piece of the peace of mind that I was looking for.
A few minutes past twelve, despite ensconced, I bade farewell to the four candles and thanked them for showing me a glimpse of peace I tearfully wanted to see. Heading home, I passed by the entrance only to be transfixed by the kingly image of the cross. Rays of white illuminated the surrounding darkness, just like the four modest candles that gave me a serene sense of solace. No words escaped my lips, but my heart was overflowing with words of gratitude.
With a humble step, I held onto the peace that I have obtained. My confused mind calmed with each and every stride. My eyes lit up with each new sight I saw. The slow and steady pace of my journey made me once again appreciate the littlest things that made me content before. Everything that passed reassured me that whatever may and will happen, I can always go the distance and take the long walk home.
Showing posts with label A Separate Peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Separate Peace. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
Memories
The nights have suddenly turned cold. The weather, to my surprise, was now giving my weary visage kisses that sent icy tickles playfully rippling down my spine. Albeit late, I enjoyed the wind's cold fancies as I walked to Philcoa from work. With happy thoughts keeping me warm inside, I slowed my pace to think what I have achieved for the year that has passed.
With an unknown presence, my many thoughts unsettled me. Deep inside, I knew something was wrong, but can't figure out exactly what. My eyes looked at the purple sky and the radiant circle that reined the moon. Letting out a deep and soulful sigh, I let go of what was troubling me, afraid that a bout of depression might come knocking my spirits down.
Still partly filled with intrigue, I entered a fast food chain to eat. Falling in line, I looked at the lonely table where a special person and I often used to sit. I remembered the things we talked about until the wee hours of the morning: his passions, his achievements, and his struggles. I remembered the times we just stayed silent and looked at each other. I remembered how handsome he looked each time he smiled, and how happy his laugh sounded every time he saw how much I ate. Images of the happy times we shared together came uncontrollably rushing to my exhausted mind, which made me feel only more sentimental. There were just so many things I wanted to dream and experience in life with him, and it broke my heart each time I realized that he was now gone and would never, ever come back.
It was then what I realized what was wrong: I held each and every happy moment in my past too closely in my wounded heart. Like a bandage to stop the bleeding, those memories have kept me sane and strong after all that happened. As long as I had those little memories keeping me warm in the bitter cold of my emotions, I knew I would push through. But the problem was that I have forced myself to be satisfied with those little candles of warmth embracing my heart: I am no longer seeking a more profound sense of happiness to keep me always smiling and happy. I am hesitant to experience and create new memories with people because I am terrified that everything might turn into another grave mistake. I will never find my own separate peace because the reality of things was that I have long given up hope and stopped the tireless search for it. I was living in a world of my delicately preserved memories, choosing to look away from the world filled with unique experiences of what life meant. Time has stopped in a period wherein I was the happiest -- my life has never continued forward, locked in a perpetual pause to protect my notion of what it meant to be happy and content.
After finding the guise to break away from my reverie, I took my order and slowly approached the lone table. However, seconds back to my ephemeral reality, my body turned and my feet shuffled away from the testament of the happiness I once had. I found myself sitting at a distant table, trying to find the courage to open my heart to experience new memories in search for the long lost paradise I have always yearned for.
With an unknown presence, my many thoughts unsettled me. Deep inside, I knew something was wrong, but can't figure out exactly what. My eyes looked at the purple sky and the radiant circle that reined the moon. Letting out a deep and soulful sigh, I let go of what was troubling me, afraid that a bout of depression might come knocking my spirits down.
Still partly filled with intrigue, I entered a fast food chain to eat. Falling in line, I looked at the lonely table where a special person and I often used to sit. I remembered the things we talked about until the wee hours of the morning: his passions, his achievements, and his struggles. I remembered the times we just stayed silent and looked at each other. I remembered how handsome he looked each time he smiled, and how happy his laugh sounded every time he saw how much I ate. Images of the happy times we shared together came uncontrollably rushing to my exhausted mind, which made me feel only more sentimental. There were just so many things I wanted to dream and experience in life with him, and it broke my heart each time I realized that he was now gone and would never, ever come back.
It was then what I realized what was wrong: I held each and every happy moment in my past too closely in my wounded heart. Like a bandage to stop the bleeding, those memories have kept me sane and strong after all that happened. As long as I had those little memories keeping me warm in the bitter cold of my emotions, I knew I would push through. But the problem was that I have forced myself to be satisfied with those little candles of warmth embracing my heart: I am no longer seeking a more profound sense of happiness to keep me always smiling and happy. I am hesitant to experience and create new memories with people because I am terrified that everything might turn into another grave mistake. I will never find my own separate peace because the reality of things was that I have long given up hope and stopped the tireless search for it. I was living in a world of my delicately preserved memories, choosing to look away from the world filled with unique experiences of what life meant. Time has stopped in a period wherein I was the happiest -- my life has never continued forward, locked in a perpetual pause to protect my notion of what it meant to be happy and content.
After finding the guise to break away from my reverie, I took my order and slowly approached the lone table. However, seconds back to my ephemeral reality, my body turned and my feet shuffled away from the testament of the happiness I once had. I found myself sitting at a distant table, trying to find the courage to open my heart to experience new memories in search for the long lost paradise I have always yearned for.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Complete
Mere seconds before midnight, we gathered round our humble feast to thank for our blessings that we have received for the past year. As soon as we closed our prayers, everybody was eager to delve into their own plates full of food to silence their rumbling stomachs. The special meal was made extraordinary by the people celebrating the spirit of sharing and happiness.
Christmas. I didn't mind the empty feeling inside because I realized that at least for today, it wasn't important. What mattered most was that my relatives in the province, despite their differences with one another, came together as one family to enjoy the moment. The cold breeze that echoed outside the house was blanketed by the warm smiles everybody had inside the old home full of each others' fond memories.
My Christmases will never be incomplete ever again. In my own little way, I have learned how to embrace one of the true meanings of the season. We were crowned by a dark, unfriendly, and starless sky, but that didn't stop me to shine a small light of hope in my heart in search for a separate peace I've long yearned for.
Christmas. I didn't mind the empty feeling inside because I realized that at least for today, it wasn't important. What mattered most was that my relatives in the province, despite their differences with one another, came together as one family to enjoy the moment. The cold breeze that echoed outside the house was blanketed by the warm smiles everybody had inside the old home full of each others' fond memories.
My Christmases will never be incomplete ever again. In my own little way, I have learned how to embrace one of the true meanings of the season. We were crowned by a dark, unfriendly, and starless sky, but that didn't stop me to shine a small light of hope in my heart in search for a separate peace I've long yearned for.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
The Faithful
Dead tired from a hectic day at work preceded by a miserable two-and-a-half hour sleep, my eyes were heavy with a weight invisible to me. Managing to change my worn pants into something more comfortable, I laid on my bed as the fan filled the room with a soft hum that lulled me to sleep. Within a few minutes of gazing emptily at the ceiling, thoughts deep about work, my body finally let go of my consciousness in favor for a pleasant dream that made me silently wish never to wake again.
After a seemingly impossible short amount of time, the enigmatic world that I belonged to suddenly ground to a complete stop. Half naked and half awake, I looked at the dusty old clock that hung across my bed. It was already past one in the afternoon. Without realizing the truth I slept a full fourteen hours and the fact that I was terribly late for a meeting, I gave the real world a deep, heavy sigh. Nonetheless, I collected myself and prepared to leave for work.
With the angry afternoon sun baring everything down on me, I patiently waited for a tricycle to bring me to the bustling Commonwealth. Starting to get temperamental because of the heat encroaching my skin, I plugged in my buds to ease up my burning mood. One of my favorite songs, Yeah Yeah Yeah's Maps, was on the playlist.
Made off
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same
A tricycle managed to pass by. I hastily called the driver's attention and was soon on my way. The sweat on my back was already trickling down, ever so slowly, mocking my impatience to the heat. I was gradually taking in the afternoon's rage within me. Perspiration rolling down my neck, I tried to relieve the tension by removing my backpack and letting much welcome air come rushing to my back. However, it wasn't enough to appease the fury building up inside of me.
It was during about that time we passed by a humble chapel beside the road that knows me by heart. I tried to look up on the cross atop the chapel's ridge to attest to my faith, only for the bright and merciless sun to conspire against me. Blinded and dismayed, I squinted my eyes hard and looked down.
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps, wait!
They don't love you like I love you...
A street urchin was down on his knees, hands together in solemn prayer. He didn't mind the stares and leers of strangers that passed by. No complaints escaped his knees about how hot and scabrous the pavement was. He paid no attention to how the incredibly intense midday sun was spoiling the otherwise pleasant day. He was there in his own little corner of the cruel world, keeping his innocent convictions and hopes true. At the very least, his faith was true to himself.
In those few seconds that I witnessed the kid, I realized how faithless I have become. Seven years since Nanay's passing, I have lost the courage to truly believe with my entire soul. Two years since a previous relationship, I still find fear residing in the deepest parts of my forgiving heart. And up to this very moment, I still have nothing in me to make me hope that a different tomorrow will come. All I turned out to be is an empty and hollow shell of a man, completely different from the little boy who has nothing but his enduring faith.
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps, wait!
They don't love you like I love you...
After a seemingly impossible short amount of time, the enigmatic world that I belonged to suddenly ground to a complete stop. Half naked and half awake, I looked at the dusty old clock that hung across my bed. It was already past one in the afternoon. Without realizing the truth I slept a full fourteen hours and the fact that I was terribly late for a meeting, I gave the real world a deep, heavy sigh. Nonetheless, I collected myself and prepared to leave for work.
With the angry afternoon sun baring everything down on me, I patiently waited for a tricycle to bring me to the bustling Commonwealth. Starting to get temperamental because of the heat encroaching my skin, I plugged in my buds to ease up my burning mood. One of my favorite songs, Yeah Yeah Yeah's Maps, was on the playlist.
Made off
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same
A tricycle managed to pass by. I hastily called the driver's attention and was soon on my way. The sweat on my back was already trickling down, ever so slowly, mocking my impatience to the heat. I was gradually taking in the afternoon's rage within me. Perspiration rolling down my neck, I tried to relieve the tension by removing my backpack and letting much welcome air come rushing to my back. However, it wasn't enough to appease the fury building up inside of me.
It was during about that time we passed by a humble chapel beside the road that knows me by heart. I tried to look up on the cross atop the chapel's ridge to attest to my faith, only for the bright and merciless sun to conspire against me. Blinded and dismayed, I squinted my eyes hard and looked down.
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps, wait!
They don't love you like I love you...
A street urchin was down on his knees, hands together in solemn prayer. He didn't mind the stares and leers of strangers that passed by. No complaints escaped his knees about how hot and scabrous the pavement was. He paid no attention to how the incredibly intense midday sun was spoiling the otherwise pleasant day. He was there in his own little corner of the cruel world, keeping his innocent convictions and hopes true. At the very least, his faith was true to himself.
In those few seconds that I witnessed the kid, I realized how faithless I have become. Seven years since Nanay's passing, I have lost the courage to truly believe with my entire soul. Two years since a previous relationship, I still find fear residing in the deepest parts of my forgiving heart. And up to this very moment, I still have nothing in me to make me hope that a different tomorrow will come. All I turned out to be is an empty and hollow shell of a man, completely different from the little boy who has nothing but his enduring faith.
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps, wait!
They don't love you like I love you...
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Man-for-Others
A friend of mine was pleasantly surprised to know that I was a true blue Atenean. It was one of those childish questions people ask, and I reluctantly answer with full candor. He too, was an Atenean, a senior of mine some years before my time. He was telling me with a great grin on his face that I didn't have the usual notion of a blue eagle being pasosyal and konyo, and that he was elated about. Different from me, he had great command over the English parlance; squarely constructed sentences coming out in straight and true English, while my sorry tongue tried its best to cope up with his command over the language. I actually said I was hoping that he wasn't an inglesero like the person he was, since I quote, I would die. With a guffaw, he told me how genuine I was reflected my warm personality and kind heart.
In a manner I can't describe, he told me that soon enough, I'll notice how sympathetic I was. The problem with Ateneans was being too altruistic that they forget to leave a portion of the cake for themselves -- too much of the man-for-others being imbibed for the some of us. He asked me if there was any single time when I noticed I was too nice for my own good. I intentionally looked away and said a yes with deep, heavy sigh. A jovial and intelligent fellow, he laughed at my reaction, telling me how he liked my honesty.
I have long noticed that I am too considerate and good-natured for my own good. Ever patient, I do so because I know that it is the right thing to do, even if it would cost me my freedom and true happiness. Looking deeper, I do good things without seeking for any in return with great ardor simply because I hope people would do the same. The sad thing is not all people see an act of generosity as a brave and noble thing to do. Instead, they see it as an opportunity to manipulate and bend the truth to their will, feeling victorious as they do so. Little do they know that once the glass mirroring their smug and proud faces is shattered, their reflections will never look the same ever again.
In a manner I can't describe, he told me that soon enough, I'll notice how sympathetic I was. The problem with Ateneans was being too altruistic that they forget to leave a portion of the cake for themselves -- too much of the man-for-others being imbibed for the some of us. He asked me if there was any single time when I noticed I was too nice for my own good. I intentionally looked away and said a yes with deep, heavy sigh. A jovial and intelligent fellow, he laughed at my reaction, telling me how he liked my honesty.
I have long noticed that I am too considerate and good-natured for my own good. Ever patient, I do so because I know that it is the right thing to do, even if it would cost me my freedom and true happiness. Looking deeper, I do good things without seeking for any in return with great ardor simply because I hope people would do the same. The sad thing is not all people see an act of generosity as a brave and noble thing to do. Instead, they see it as an opportunity to manipulate and bend the truth to their will, feeling victorious as they do so. Little do they know that once the glass mirroring their smug and proud faces is shattered, their reflections will never look the same ever again.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
The Blue Wilderness
With a new identity, the midnight wolf entered the blue wilderness filled with figures bound to satisfy his wants. As a wolf roaming the thick foliage blanketed by the darkness of midnight, he only desired for his very own pack in which he can truly say he belonged. As the weeks turned into months, one thing became apparent: the blue wilderness was nothing more but a field full of prey, all begging to be taken down with a vicious, rabid bite. The barter to happiness was a perfectly chiseled body. Arms with thick guns bursting from the sleeves, a chest and body that can launch a thousand ships, and a virile manhood brimming with testosterone were all that mattered.
The blue wilderness was nothing more but a repeating lie. Like clockwork, the midnight wolf entered the hunting grounds hungry but left far more famished. Each and every silent step made a question bury itself deeper inside his core. After almost two years of searching and looking at the dark midnight sky, his tired eyes have seen the answer that was patiently waiting to be found in the present.
Mustering a final howl that echoed throughout the blue wilderness like a knell, the midnight wolf silently wandered off. With his vision straight and true, he headed atop a quaint knoll. The air was saturated with uncertainty and fear for the future, but carried in it a great relief from all the pretensions happening below. He made one last glance of his grim surroundings; the same scenery that broke his heart and shattered his trust over and over again. Without regrets holding him back, the midnight wolf braved forward to the outside world, his tracks and shadows never to be seen in the blue wilderness again.
But his tale continues, as he lives through the sweet sorrows of pain -- subtle reminders that he is alive, yearning for a separate peace and happiness in the ironies of life.
The blue wilderness was nothing more but a repeating lie. Like clockwork, the midnight wolf entered the hunting grounds hungry but left far more famished. Each and every silent step made a question bury itself deeper inside his core. After almost two years of searching and looking at the dark midnight sky, his tired eyes have seen the answer that was patiently waiting to be found in the present.
Mustering a final howl that echoed throughout the blue wilderness like a knell, the midnight wolf silently wandered off. With his vision straight and true, he headed atop a quaint knoll. The air was saturated with uncertainty and fear for the future, but carried in it a great relief from all the pretensions happening below. He made one last glance of his grim surroundings; the same scenery that broke his heart and shattered his trust over and over again. Without regrets holding him back, the midnight wolf braved forward to the outside world, his tracks and shadows never to be seen in the blue wilderness again.
But his tale continues, as he lives through the sweet sorrows of pain -- subtle reminders that he is alive, yearning for a separate peace and happiness in the ironies of life.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Wish List
I was telling my best friend earlier this morning that I was particularly down this Christmas season because I had nothing to look forward to. I told him that I always made a point to look forward to something each and every time Christmas made its presence known by the cold evenings of December. I never wanted anything material for Christmas since I always waited for something that will be of worth to me even after many years have passed, no matter how small it seemed. I just wanted to be happy, or at the very least, content.
A lot of things have happened to me for the year that is starting to close its final pages, and I guess what I can wish for this Christmas is that nothing more will happen that will push me to wear a fake and empty smile once again. I know keeping this in my heart will bring me a separate peace only I understand, but even so, I am no longer content. I've always told myself it was far more important to be content than to be happy, but looking back at everything that has happened, I am no longer content in just being content. I'm sad that I'm slowly starting to unlearn the idea that has kept me going through all these emotional problems. Maybe all I want is the ability to actually tell myself I am completely content and happy and desire for nothing else.
But even so, I know I'll pull through this Christmas, even if it's the emptiest one ever in my life. I've made it through my particularly unbecoming of a birthday, what more Christmas?
I know I will. Ako pa.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Too Nice
As I was walking home, I saw my ex eating in a nearby burger joint in our place. He has moved out of the house to a room a few blocks away from us, but still inside the subdivision. This was the third time I saw him since he left, and I should say I wasn't thrilled.
He was apparently busy replying to a message. Good thing, since I didn't want to see him eye to eye. During the moments I saw him, I didn't care how he was; I was just happy that he's no longer a part of my life. I even crudely thought that the shorts he wore was originally mine. But what made me write this post was what I thought afterwards. I silently thought how he was doing, if he was eating well, and if he was happy, or at least content. After realizing what has entered my mind, I coldly shrugged my shoulders and said I didn't care, or at least it isn't my concern any longer.
I thought to myself how kind a person I was. Sa lahat ng masamang pinagdaanan ko sa kanya, tiniis ko lang lahat. Wala siyang narinig na paninira sa akin, panay totoo lang ang sinabi ko nung panahong hindi ko na kaya. Tapos ito, kahit papaano, bilang isang kaibigan naiisip ko kung kumusta na siya.
Maybe I should stop being too nice -- it seems it's not worth the thought and effort anymore because people don't know how to appreciate it.
He was apparently busy replying to a message. Good thing, since I didn't want to see him eye to eye. During the moments I saw him, I didn't care how he was; I was just happy that he's no longer a part of my life. I even crudely thought that the shorts he wore was originally mine. But what made me write this post was what I thought afterwards. I silently thought how he was doing, if he was eating well, and if he was happy, or at least content. After realizing what has entered my mind, I coldly shrugged my shoulders and said I didn't care, or at least it isn't my concern any longer.
I thought to myself how kind a person I was. Sa lahat ng masamang pinagdaanan ko sa kanya, tiniis ko lang lahat. Wala siyang narinig na paninira sa akin, panay totoo lang ang sinabi ko nung panahong hindi ko na kaya. Tapos ito, kahit papaano, bilang isang kaibigan naiisip ko kung kumusta na siya.
Maybe I should stop being too nice -- it seems it's not worth the thought and effort anymore because people don't know how to appreciate it.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Innocence
As I was going back to work from a break, a man carrying his daughter strode past me. The little girl was in her cute little fairy outfit for the Halloween spirit, but different from her happy costume, she was crying. The girl leaned her cheek on her father's shoulder, would silently cry a little, and tried to persuade her dad about something, only to end up sobbing more than before. After spending a few quiet moments, tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to once again talk to her father to change his mind. The father patiently said a resolute no, which made the little fairy hopelessly weep in defeat.
I learned that the little girl wanted a Barbie doll so badly that she was tearfully imploring her father to give her one. She was muttering that her old doll was already broken and ugly. The mother, who was trailing a little behind the pair, calmly told her daughter that she should stop crying because the doll was not for sale, so whatever they did, they could not get it for her. Those words only made the little girl cry even more. She didn't care if other people saw her crying, probably because she wanted the doll so badly.
As I turned right and parted ways with the family, I thought to myself how simple children were. They like the smallest of things, and if they did not get what they wanted, they could simply cry. They could complain, whine, and cry all they want, without anyone being far too concerned. Being an adult, I thought looking at things like that was unfair, since children were innocent to the bigger things in life. Children do not put too much value on their emotions as much as adults do. They do not dream and aspire things the way like we do. They usually just look at the present, unlike adults who look years into the future.
With all the feelings jarred up inside me, I envied the little girl of her privilege of cry. I was jealous as she was able to cry her heart out, and that people were there to console her. As control slowly slipped my grasp, I yelled to myself that I wanted to wail my lungs out, tearfully asking for a reason why I cannot have the little piece of happiness I desired.
As I pressed the call button of the elevator, a tiny but important thought entered my mind: maybe that little piece of happiness I wanted so badly isn't what I wanted after all. Maybe it was something to appease the desires of the present to rid of the past, just like the little girl and her doll.
Still unsure, the doors of the elevator slid open and I stepped out. I asked myself when I lost the childlike innocence I witnessed in the girl. But after some second's pause, I told myself I wasn't worried, because I knew whatever happened in my life, I would be able to pull through, no matter what.
I learned that the little girl wanted a Barbie doll so badly that she was tearfully imploring her father to give her one. She was muttering that her old doll was already broken and ugly. The mother, who was trailing a little behind the pair, calmly told her daughter that she should stop crying because the doll was not for sale, so whatever they did, they could not get it for her. Those words only made the little girl cry even more. She didn't care if other people saw her crying, probably because she wanted the doll so badly.
As I turned right and parted ways with the family, I thought to myself how simple children were. They like the smallest of things, and if they did not get what they wanted, they could simply cry. They could complain, whine, and cry all they want, without anyone being far too concerned. Being an adult, I thought looking at things like that was unfair, since children were innocent to the bigger things in life. Children do not put too much value on their emotions as much as adults do. They do not dream and aspire things the way like we do. They usually just look at the present, unlike adults who look years into the future.
With all the feelings jarred up inside me, I envied the little girl of her privilege of cry. I was jealous as she was able to cry her heart out, and that people were there to console her. As control slowly slipped my grasp, I yelled to myself that I wanted to wail my lungs out, tearfully asking for a reason why I cannot have the little piece of happiness I desired.
As I pressed the call button of the elevator, a tiny but important thought entered my mind: maybe that little piece of happiness I wanted so badly isn't what I wanted after all. Maybe it was something to appease the desires of the present to rid of the past, just like the little girl and her doll.
Still unsure, the doors of the elevator slid open and I stepped out. I asked myself when I lost the childlike innocence I witnessed in the girl. But after some second's pause, I told myself I wasn't worried, because I knew whatever happened in my life, I would be able to pull through, no matter what.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
"Happy"
I was clearing some space in my room for my Xbox since I wanted to finally finish playing Resident Evil 5. The last time I played it was over half a year ago for the reason being I liked playing Kinect games more. As the release of the next game in the series is approaching, I emptied a corner on the shelf below the television in my room. I wanted to pump Majini full of lead with Chris Redfield's pump-action shotgun before Sherry Birkin, one of the protagonists of the next game, enters the scene.
As I patiently moved random items that cluttered the shelf to make space for Raven, I came across a long-forgotten orange bottle of perfume with the word "Happy" on one side. It was the perfume given to me by a person who changed my life some years ago. Curious, I opened and tried it. To my surprise, I found the scent no longer appealing like before. It didn't smell like it was no longer good; it smelled perfectly fine, I just didn't like it anymore.
I remember myself really liking that perfume long ago. I always wore it wherever I went. I did not consume the entire bottle because I was afraid I won't be able to get another one.
As I was putting the bottle inside its proper box, I noticed that the orange bottle had patches of paint peeling off. Without stopping to think for another moment, I placed the sweet-smelling container that I liked for so long in the past inside its orange box, partly disappointed.
The tangerine tinted bottle that represented my happiness in the past was probably just a fake, but my feelings made it real, at least for me.
As I patiently moved random items that cluttered the shelf to make space for Raven, I came across a long-forgotten orange bottle of perfume with the word "Happy" on one side. It was the perfume given to me by a person who changed my life some years ago. Curious, I opened and tried it. To my surprise, I found the scent no longer appealing like before. It didn't smell like it was no longer good; it smelled perfectly fine, I just didn't like it anymore.
I remember myself really liking that perfume long ago. I always wore it wherever I went. I did not consume the entire bottle because I was afraid I won't be able to get another one.
As I was putting the bottle inside its proper box, I noticed that the orange bottle had patches of paint peeling off. Without stopping to think for another moment, I placed the sweet-smelling container that I liked for so long in the past inside its orange box, partly disappointed.
The tangerine tinted bottle that represented my happiness in the past was probably just a fake, but my feelings made it real, at least for me.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Alone (Part Two)
For the past few weeks or so, I've been thinking about going back again to that
site. Sure, I've lost my account because of things beyond my control,
but nothing else is keeping me from creating a new account. I can freely
create a new account and avoid putting pictures that will make me
recognizable. But for after so long, I still remain steadfast in my
decision of not going back to the site any longer, even if my own reason
is unclear even for myself.
But I've got things straight now: it is all because of fear.
In no way am I willing to risk just for the sake of being happy together with a special someone. The things that I went through were too much that up until now, remnants of it still appear in my head from time to time. Looking back, I am amazed that I allowed everything that transpired in the past to actually happen. With reasons now unclear after letting all love and concern go, the only thing left now is fear after anger silently eroded away with time.
I'd be a total, hypocrite liar if I said that I'm not hoping for someone who'll prove me wrong. Sadly enough, that person already came almost three years ago and proved me wrong: not that I would never find someone that I'll be happy with, but that there was something else much more painful than being alone.
In reality, I still do not find strength within me. My confidence is always impeded by insecurities I know I can overcome, but do not. Whatever the case, I'm slowly inching forward: I find strength in the solace of a separate peace, a silent world only I can see and hear.
But I've got things straight now: it is all because of fear.
In no way am I willing to risk just for the sake of being happy together with a special someone. The things that I went through were too much that up until now, remnants of it still appear in my head from time to time. Looking back, I am amazed that I allowed everything that transpired in the past to actually happen. With reasons now unclear after letting all love and concern go, the only thing left now is fear after anger silently eroded away with time.
I'd be a total, hypocrite liar if I said that I'm not hoping for someone who'll prove me wrong. Sadly enough, that person already came almost three years ago and proved me wrong: not that I would never find someone that I'll be happy with, but that there was something else much more painful than being alone.
In reality, I still do not find strength within me. My confidence is always impeded by insecurities I know I can overcome, but do not. Whatever the case, I'm slowly inching forward: I find strength in the solace of a separate peace, a silent world only I can see and hear.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Alone
When I told my mom about being gay, she was worried for me above all things. She wasn't angry at me for being so, but she was troubled because she feared that I will grow to be a lonely person despite my cheerful disposition, since a lot of discreet gays end up being such. That night, I reassured her that she did not have to worry, because I chose to be gay and I wanted to stand by my decision. In my head, I said to myself that I am used to being alone anyway.
She was right. For the past few days, I've been in this limbo of being happy and being lonely. A part of me wants to find someone to share my life with, but a better part of me is content with what I am. Probably deep inside, I am still afraid of a relationship because of what became of my previous one.
I know I can do this. I am no longer the insecure boy who desperately tried to find security from a stranger. I now find strength within me. For now, that is enough for me to carry on, even if I am alone.
She was right. For the past few days, I've been in this limbo of being happy and being lonely. A part of me wants to find someone to share my life with, but a better part of me is content with what I am. Probably deep inside, I am still afraid of a relationship because of what became of my previous one.
I know I can do this. I am no longer the insecure boy who desperately tried to find security from a stranger. I now find strength within me. For now, that is enough for me to carry on, even if I am alone.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Strength's True Price
From what I've experienced time in and out, inner strength isn't something one is born with. The hearts of people grow weaker or stronger with each passing day. After a meaningful day, one either walks away teary eyed from all the opportunities for growth gone forever, or relieved because one survived, permanently changed by what experiences one faced. I can say this because the person writing this and myself six years ago are now
two completely different persons, but not without similarities.
I write this because for the past few days, I've never stopped thinking about all the what-ifs of my life. What if I did this? What if I chose not to do that? Rather than sulking about what could have become and living in regret, I always find myself looking for something worth learning in each time I stopped to ask myself. Never failing to pick up a tiny, shattered fragment of a better tomorrow, I have built myself a goal that I want to achieve in the future.
Making a choice in a crossroad of chances is a brave thing to do. Strength's true price is never knowing the answer to each and every what-if in our life.
We don't have to. We don't need to. That's why I can say I am stronger.
I choose to grow and be a better person not for somebody, but for myself. I am thankful that in everything that I went through, I always found a reason to learn and move forward. As Sum 41 puts it, holding onto the past will just make things worse for what little goodness is left. The worst part is that things are worse only for that person, and not for everybody else.
I write this because for the past few days, I've never stopped thinking about all the what-ifs of my life. What if I did this? What if I chose not to do that? Rather than sulking about what could have become and living in regret, I always find myself looking for something worth learning in each time I stopped to ask myself. Never failing to pick up a tiny, shattered fragment of a better tomorrow, I have built myself a goal that I want to achieve in the future.
Making a choice in a crossroad of chances is a brave thing to do. Strength's true price is never knowing the answer to each and every what-if in our life.
We don't have to. We don't need to. That's why I can say I am stronger.
I choose to grow and be a better person not for somebody, but for myself. I am thankful that in everything that I went through, I always found a reason to learn and move forward. As Sum 41 puts it, holding onto the past will just make things worse for what little goodness is left. The worst part is that things are worse only for that person, and not for everybody else.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Sixteen Hours: Floor (Part Nineteen)
I've been very busy for the past week. Our team has a big deadline to reach, and to do so, each of us has to work beyond the norms. Ever since I started work at Pointwest, the most number of overtime hours I have rendered was 18 hours in a month. Just being in the middle of January, I have already rendered a total of 16 hours of overtime - and our work isn't near halfway done.
I have no complaints - I totally enjoy working the extra hours. I find the peace missing in my home in the solace of my quiet workstation. The familiar chattering of the keyboard and random clicks of the mouse adequately appeases my desire to talk to people. I find happiness in the warmth of my hands on my cheeks as I walk under the cold midnight sky. Those alone make things easier to bear. People might find me as a workaholic, but I don't see myself as such. I just try to enjoy the things that I have and not be sullied by the things I wished I had.
Bittersweet as it may sound, happiness and satisfaction are two different things. I have learned that accepting and being satisfied to things as they are, how miserable as they may seem, is the first step to moving forward.
I have no complaints - I totally enjoy working the extra hours. I find the peace missing in my home in the solace of my quiet workstation. The familiar chattering of the keyboard and random clicks of the mouse adequately appeases my desire to talk to people. I find happiness in the warmth of my hands on my cheeks as I walk under the cold midnight sky. Those alone make things easier to bear. People might find me as a workaholic, but I don't see myself as such. I just try to enjoy the things that I have and not be sullied by the things I wished I had.
Bittersweet as it may sound, happiness and satisfaction are two different things. I have learned that accepting and being satisfied to things as they are, how miserable as they may seem, is the first step to moving forward.
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