a letter for you

I am wondering at this very minute if you are thinking of me, if you like me, and if you are wondering what is taking us so long to find each other. Many times I thought I finally found you only to be disillusioned by the fact that my wait has not yet ended. I get up each morning hoping, dreaming, longing to meet you. I am thinking of how we will meet, would it be as romantic as the ones I have seen in movies? Or is it possible that I have known you all my life but we have yet to realize that we are meant for each other? Oh how I wish you were here right now because you are the only one who has the answers to all my questions. Sometimes I ask myself if I have ever really known ?love.? I do not have the answer to that question either but I believe that more often than not, we will never really know what love is until we find that right person?.

You just don?t know how often I dream of finally knowing what it feels like to be in your arms. Even at this very moment I am imagining how you will simply sweep me off my feet! Perhaps I would be drawn to you by your smile, or your eyes, or maybe even how you manage to make me laugh by your silly little ways! I don?t really know for sure but I am praying that God will help me recognize you when the right time comes. I think of all the pain that I have gone through in the past and of how much I have cried since the day I began my search. I just wanted you to know that I find my strength in clinging onto my vision of the beautiful life ahead of me ? the life I shall spend with you. In my mind and in my heart I know that you are worth all that pain and sacrifice. After all, the tears have become a part of my life and I believe that they are slowly washing away my flaws so that I would become perfect, not perfect in its truest sense, but perfect ? for YOU! I wonder if you?ve gone through so much pain as well. I wonder if you?ve been hurt so many times along the journey. But my dearest one, please don?t ever give up because I am right here? patiently waiting for you! I assure you that when we finally find each other I would slowly heal those wounds by my love.

At night, I would look out my window and stare at the beautiful sky, hoping that somehow you are also looking up and wondering about me. I utter a silent prayer and send all my cries to the heavens above thinking that in time they would reach you. And when I feel impatient, I just close my eyes and believe that you are on your way and that you are longing to see me as well. It is funny but when I finally fall asleep, it is still you that I think of, for you are always in my dreams. It seems that, for now, that is the only place where I can hold on to you, long enough to tell you how much I love you. In my dreams you would kiss away my fears and wrap me with your arms of love.

And this, all the more, makes me want to wake up and face the new day ahead with the hope that soon enough, you will no longer be a dream but a reality and once again I am assured that you are worth the wait. And when that time comes, everything will fall into its place, just as I had imagined, just as I had thought and dreamed, just as I had believed it would be! By then, I would simply look back and smile at all that I have gone through, inspite of the pain and amidst the simple joys of life ? and I would be very thankful because they all led me to you! In the meantime, take care of yourself for me. Hold on to our dream and don?t even think of letting go. Believe in your heart that we will find each other no matter what happens. God has planned the course and it is up to us to follow the directions. Don?t worry, don?t be afraid about getting lost, God saw to it that all the roads, no matter which one you choose to follow?lead to me.

You know I just got this guitar, sometimes I sing this song it?s called goodnight my someone? and it?s about?well, basically it?s a love song about someone you never met but you know is out there. And I dunno we make so few promises to ourselves as we grow up and one of them is that on our wedding day we walk down the aisle with someone we love. Somebody who does make your heart bounce, I guess. And there are some promises that I think we have to keep.

Waiting with fingers crossed,

Anne

flawed fabricated faiths

ADMITTINGLY or not, each and everyone has the urge to quest, understand our own need for meaning.

We all usually gravitate towards the faith/religion/spiritualtiy that we were raised.. we worship the Gods of our father.. some never even touch a book or consider entertaining thoughts of another?s religion.. only the brave and if you are one to venture out of your way to do so i salute you.. make yourself aware of the different beliefs even if they are contrary and challenge the concepts you have been accustomed to your entire life.

Religion has always been a controversial topic for it contains the vulnerability of all who believe.. it is considered the pillar of strength and even the backbone of a society at times.. so when an opposing force threatens such it is evident chaos, wars, confusion and pandemonium shall arise.. rather than discerning and studying the opposing religions ideas, many retrieve and defensively lash out.. it takes guts to be open minded and accept the notion that there is the possibility the religion we were rooted upon is not the religion we would be most at ease and in spiritual link with.

I believe all religions are flawed for man is flawed.. even if given foundation, it is still man who built upon this foundation only.

I believe all religions are fabricated.. others more than others.. through the thousands of years much has been added, taken away, misinterpreted, revised even been conceitingly used in the hands of influential cult leaders.

The roman catholic religion is already altered starting as early as 300 A.D when Constantine created the council of Nicaea and cleverly created a fusion of roman catholic with the numerous pagan god worships before Rome could be divided by those touched by the teachings of Jesus and the remaining pagan worshipers.. Look up December 25 in ancient gods, isis and child horus? image compared to virgin mary and Jesus, Sunday our day of worship and rest, newborn krishna presented with gold,frankincense and myrrh, aztec?s god-eating and communion, baphomet?s horned image now contorted as being the devils apparent appearance, euhemerus god making and canonization, pre christian god mithras called son of God and giver of light born dec 25 died buried in tomb and resurrected in 3days.. ring any bells?

This is not a thing of the past even at this given day the church is reluctantly beginning to evolve to keep up with society and is now bit by bit modernizing themselves.

Everything even a history publication is flawed and fabricated to somewhat of a degree.. just a matter of accepting this as a fact and notf ocusing on the man-made details but more so the divine superior higher being and your communication with the almighty as well as the proper preservation of morals.

Faith is the eventually the acceptance of that we imagine to be true although cannot prove we still choose to believe in..

thought of the day!

"wear hope like clustered flowers on your head."

my suicide

During my senior year in high school, my English teacher asked the class how we see ourselves ten years from now. I candidly answered, much to her dismay, “Ten years from now, I will be dead, a cold corpse in an obscure cemetery.”

Every man must be a master of his own death. Not nature, not freak accidents, not even Death.

I believe our lives are our own possession which we can nurture or destroy. It was never lent to us, mind you. Rather, it was given to us like a Christmas present, wrapped in beautiful red and green Christmas gift wrapper. And after the season is gone, we can choose whether to treasure it or throw it away.

Hence, I always, for better or for worse, idolize people who have the courage to take their own lives. Curt Cobain. Sylvia Plath. Their suicide immortalized and assured the legacy they left behind. We envy them too much, yet we avoid emulating them because we love our lives too much, too scared that our suicide will just be for naught.

Honestly, suicide is not that hard. All we need is a bladed weapon or a poison (or, if we can, weapons of mass destruction). And enough guts to terminate our wretched existence. Do you know why I say this with much conviction?

I attempted to commit suicide a week ago. I took sleeping pills as plenty as the sands of the see. I then took a knife and made a vertical cut from the tip of my palm to to almost 5 inches down my arm and blood was rushing everywhere. I felt horrible. I was feeling lost. Feelings could no longer be contained. I wanted to just die. I was at a point when no one wanted to listen and I was just full of words, wanted to scream. I fell apart, crumbling under the crushing weight of a thousand expectations. My world fell apart, crumbling under the crushing weight of a thousand expectations. At that time, I do not know which was worse – finally achieving my dreams or losing the will to live. The burden of disillusionment just became my daily cross and so I decided to end life.

My room mate found me foredead and hurriedly brought me to the hospital and yeah, they were able to revive me. I loathe him. Real hard. He should have let me meet the Creator and face judgement. He should have let me die.

This may sound pathetic but this is true and I dont even care if you judge me. I'm sick with everything there is. So sick. So wasted. Now people wont get out of my sight, watching me like a sick pyscho ready to castrate the lives of people.

I just wanna die. Just please let me. Too much suffering. Too much pain.

Oh, this is just too much!

huge words

It's practical to use big words if these big words really capture the idea you would want to relay. Some words, as we all should know, were crafted in order to fit an idea or more to a T. They ARE that idea represented in arbitrary symbols, vocal or otherwise.

Yet, there are times when we refrain to use these words and, instead, resort to words which do not really encapsulate the thoughts you would want to express but are rather "safer", in the sense that we think they would not compromise our pride and sense of self.

Insane? Maybe, but the practice is undeniable.

In order to salvage what's supposedly left of our pride, we resort to words which may denote ambiguity and vagueness, thus, wreaking havoc in the communication process. In order to "save ourselves", we build an opaque wall around us. The consequences? Our listeners, supposing they do listen, do not understand what we're getting at. They misunderstand or simply throw their hands up in utter frustration. Or they, themselves, resort to the substitutionary principle and junk the precise Big Words altogether as a defense. And the parties get nowhere.

On principle, Big Words are heavy words. They are laden with meaning, which we usually just hide from everyone else for fear of persecution and even rejection. Fear. And instead of saving ourselves and our relationships, we destroy them because of our fear and defense mechanisms.

Don't misunderstand me. I, too, am a defensive coward. I would rather issue "safe", emotionally uncompromising words that make me appear cold and distant instead of saying what really goes on within me point blank.

But sometimes these Big Words do escape me and I feel lighter almost immediately thereafter. But just the reaction I get, or the consequences I face, because of these issuances is enough to mum me for a considerably long time. I go back to being a weaver of cold, unflinching lines and thrive within my opaque walls where no one else can hurt me. No one but myself.

why not?

Jee and I had a discussion about preference. Why not you? Why not me? What does anther have that each of us don't?

Among the seas of faces we encounter daily, how do we select the person we do select - for a friend, companion, acquaintance, object of our affection, the like. Yes, the labels. (And no matter how insistent we become about how we DON'T believe in labeling and how hard we deny that we don't condone such, much less practice it, the whole labeling thing is inevitable. Unavoidable.) Why do we make the selection? Why them? Why these people?

We issue standards. We comply with them 0 sometimes struggling as we do so, sometimes with ease: unconsciously, as if we were born to make our choices based on those standards. Other times, we discard them and declare our independence from personally established norms, so to speak. So, when do we do so? Why do we do so? Why pick that person among all of them? Why do we make that choice?

The answer, you might say, lies in the free will of humans. Freedom to select. Freedom of choice. Right to organization, even (as if friendships are organizations - well in a way, they are, but that's debatable). Point there. But that really does not answer the how's and the why's of selection.

The answer is different for every person. Yes. Of course. Or else, those not selected will never be selected. And there'll be hordes of people vying for the same people, as well.

Why me? Why you?

I could listen all day to each answer.

finding polaris

It was the first time for me to see Orion's Belt. (Come to think of it, it was the first time I had been able to make out a constellation even though I had often prided myself for being good in connect-the-dots puzzle games, courtesy of Sunstar.) Worse, even if I had actually passed all my science classes, it was just last night when it REALLY dawned to me that, yes, the earth rotates! All the while I had believed that the stars that twinkle in the night sky are permanently positioned in such a way that when you look out of the same window at night, you get to see the same stars. When daylight comes, you cannot see them anymore but they're still there: in the same place as you look out your window. They don't move. Neither do you. Yes. I am such a dumb prat.

The unbearable freezing temperature of the room, and the lost aircon remote as well as the fear of being electrocuted if I were to yank all the wires I see in pure rage, prompted me to traipse outside and snuggle close to the exhaust fan at the terrace. And then I looked up and listened.

The North Star, or Polaris, is at the end of the Little Dipper's handle, which arches toward a small cup formed by four stars. On the opposite side of Polaris is the constellation Cassiopeia. Travelers often use Polaris for navigation. Wanderers look to the North Star to find their way. There's a Native American tale about the origin of this star. It was said that a brave son tried to impress his father by climbing the tallest cliff he could find. Through difficult conditions he continued until he arrived the top of a very high mountain. The mountain was so tall that the son looked down on all the other mountains. Unfortunately, there was no way down. When his father came looking for him, he found his son stuck high above. Not wanting his son to suffer for his bravery, he turned his son into a star that can be viewed and honored by all living things. And so the North Star.

Me? I was just captivated by the stars last night. And I liked the serenity the lake provided and the wonderful company I had. I liked listening to the tales, fictional or otherwise. I liked the night breeze.

And I liked sitting there by the exhaust fan as I tried to warm my feet.

and so it is

"When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake then it subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision; you have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you two should ever part, because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness; it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day, it's not laying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No, that is just being in love, which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love, itself, is what is left over when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting does it? But, it is."

Captain Corelli's Mandolin

tears

I'm containing the tears. Trying hard to. People are here. Can't cry. Don't wanna cry.

One tear fell. Then another. No more. My hands are shaking as I held my phone. As I touch my face. As I write these lines. My friend is not here. I texted three. Two replied from the same number. I am not alone.

"You have to be valued... you have to value yourself as well."

The lines make sense but I cannot hold it in my hand. If I could only go inside a mirror and stay inside for all time: a reflection of the eyes that stopped existing.

My intuition is flashing a warning sign; I am aware of the worst possibilities. But I'm helpless. I'm strong, but I'm helpless. If I could only let my tears flow, I'll be strong again, but a knock from my friend's would cost me a lot. Pride, you might say. I don't want them to see me this weak.

Now, I am tempted to knock at his door and break down. But I won't. I want to, but I won't. I can't.I want to go away. Walk. Get lost somewhere. Go to an isolated place. Or a crowded place. Where no one could hear my heart drown in its own addiction. Happiness. Misery.

Masochist.

7-7-7. 7/7/7. 777. Lucky numbers. Lucky day. Maybe for the rest of the people in the world. Swallow me whole just so I can stop thinking. And feeling. And writing. Turn me into a lyric poem, with my personal tragedies and pains. And my luck.

Such luck. I've done my part well, I said to the Heavens on my way home. When will You ever do yours for me? I still exist. I'm also Your child.

Disputes. Torts. I'm damaged and unproductive. Tried my best to be happy during his silence and coldness. To be patient. Understanding. Told my dad to stop being so cynical and self-righteous. That pessimism is bad. But as my spirit is crumbling down, I can't help but wish I were like that too. It's true. Idealism smashes your faith in the end, so much that you don't have to sit in the curb and wait for a car to ram against you.

To crash into you. I made patience my virtue but for whatever my efforts were worth, they obviously were wasted. And so I wait for the kid in the nieghborhood, who's as childish and as unfeeling as can be, to come home. I'm hoping her presence can give me comfort somehow. Or that maybe she can make me forget my tears.

Momentarily.

Maybe later, when all the lights are out, I'll let myself cry.

and i quote...

I'm not special: of this I'm sure. I'm a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me, and my name will soon be forgotten, but I have loved someone with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.

Nicholas Sparks

whys on mornings

The Sun's rays has never awakened me more. New days always begin with a question of your existence: who are you, and who are you going to be today? But on this particular day, it was 'why'?

There's nothing special about either the question or the way sunshine streams through the white lace curtains hanging by the east windows. That has always been the occurrence on sunny summer mornings. But the question itself on this summer morning led my eyes to the ceiling in a prayer. I have always tried to understand the world by bending into its palms without any further thought or resistance, voicelessly floating amid its reasonings.

Why?

The ceiling doesn't answer and I fade into a trance, mesmerized by the faint lines of cobwebs that face me. It is true then - Time exists even for non-believers. The Clouds fade into the Sky without any warning or any modicum of sound. Men fall and turn into worms that search for more life. And we, the drifters, do not feel all these happening. We float away in time for another tryst with the insignificant unknown.

Morning. Mourning. The thoughts confound me like the silence which only an overcrowded beach can give - populated but most private. I am naked but clothed enough so as not to shame myself. It is blasphemous to reveal Weaknesses but more blasphemous to reveal Truths.

Why?

I get up and fix myself a cup of coffee. Black, bitter, but still with a hint of sweetness even without a pinch of sugar. A new day is before me, a continuation of life. Another chance to be spent walking, dreaming, and just feeling the Earth beneath my bare feet. There is nothing to rectify nor retrace: there shouldn't ever be. The air is there for you to breathe. It cannot hear your confessions; it cannot disparage your guilt.

Why?

And the word hangs on.

because time makes it more complicated....

... how soon is too soon to say someone you love them?

three words

I am here!

Valentine's Day!

February 14, 2008

I really should post something for Valentine's Day. Love makes the world go round! Or so they say. But, truth is, I'm always bitter on Valentine's day. It's one of those days I wish I can stay at home and die. Hehehe Then ressurect the next day feeling refreshed with a healthy, vigorous amount of optimism.

***I swore six months ago that I would stop dating altogether. Am I feeling the bite? I did say I needed rest and some time off alone to align my chakras just so I could figure out my dharma in life. Yeah, yeah... to follow my golden mean and live a balanced life! What I found out: whether I want to date or not doesn't matter, some men would actually find a way just to be with me and spend some time in my company. Such trickery!

Oh well... I give up.

***Such male trickery included......an invitation asking me for coffee 'cause he tells me he's within the vicinity. So I meet the guy for coffee. Then he comes along and asks if it's okay to grab a bite first before you get your coffee. Before I knew it, it's 10pm and he's taking me home....a missed call with his name on my cellphone. I ask him how he is and what was the call about. Next thing, he's begging me to go out with him just one last time. And if I have already a boyfriend... to bring the boyfriend with me. *LOL*

Now I wonder where are these men when you need them most? Hehehe I never did like celebrating with the multitude.

*sigh* More quiet time. What to do with my quiet time...?

Times like this, I wish I could spend all day in bed and cuddle with somebody cuddly. Cuddle like spoons in my lacy underwear and him in his boxer shorts, perhaps? Or both of us in our naked glory, I wouldn't mind. *grin*

I wish I have someone.

But I have no one.

I can settle with that.

The ones I find desirable do not want to be with me and the ones I don't like are the ones who find me desirable. Such is the law of the world for now. So I choose to be alone.

Maybe the world will change its mind and change the law but until then, I'll be content being alone.

But whoever said I can't celebrate Valentine's Day alone? Whoever said I can't be naked alone? *wink*

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!!!

my own badge for others to see

I have never been comfortable presenting myself the way I “really” am to people. Leaves one open to criticisms. Leaves one’s character open to unneeded criticisms from people I do not know and really do not care about. Yet their words clearly leave a dent in me that would leave me bleeding for quite some time.

Anonymity is my good friend. But one cannot remain living in anonymity for the rest of her life. Sooner or later, if people think you are good at something, they are likely to notice it. So I create my own characters which people can look at but can never touch.
It was like this one very uncomfortable but extremely revealing situation I found myself one Tuesday night.

There you sat at a coffee shop late one night trying to decipher what is it I’m hiding from you. Staring at me with those piercing eyes, trying to read me.

“You seem shy!”

And in my mind, “You’re looking through me and you’re trying to read me. Very disconcerting, very unnerving. Didn’t your mother tell you it’s impolite to stare? Please stop reading me…”

“Ako? Mauwa??? Nganu gud tawn!

And so I continued with my gay, animate, half-real, unemotional, superbabaw stories so that I could fill the void and distract you. But your next words almost caused me to fall from my seat.

“Nganung daghan kag layers? Daghan kaayo kag patong… murag sibuyas, daghag panit.”

Now that… I was not expecting. God, he’s good! He’ll make a fortune out of reading other people if he were in Carbon. It was quite unfortunate I did not ask him about my lovelife and my financial status for this year.

But he won’t stop peeling me. I hate that. He’ll stop at nothing to have a glimpse of my core.

“Hadlok kang masakitan no? And these layers, gusto kang makit an sa uban pero since mabaw ra sad sila, di jud sila tawn makakita”

I began to cry. How come he’s the only one who took the time to see it? For the longest time, all the people I loved never saw that person.

There I was crying at a coffeeshop with a man who’ll make a fortune if he decides to become a Carbon fortuneteller. And I regret not having sexual fantasies about him nor romantic notions of us under the moon and under the stars ‘cause I have found there someone real---a real friend. (Sigh) Real friends are hard to find.

Speechless as I am up to now everytime I recall that revelation, I ask myself why. Why the layers?

I have always been a storyteller. I love stories… fairy tales or real-life stories never had much of a difference for me. I create stories most of the time I would believe in, gullible as I am. I go to one-on-one eyeballing in the hopes of getting a good story. I frequent chatrooms just so I could exchange experiences with somebody totally anonymous or somebody from another place on earth.

In my mind, I create characters. I live those characters. Fragments of them would come spilling out once in awhile…sometimes in outbursts, sometimes in trickles, sometimes in a constipated way that leaves me bleeding for words.

His revelation can never stop me from creating my characters. They are a part of the me, myself, and I.

I am living in my own shadow in a protective shell I created---a place of solace from the harsh and cold surrounds, a place to nurture a more creative me. A place where no one knows where fiction or reality begins. A place where only I am the only one who knows which of me is real. Where “real is really real” only when I say it’s real.

But who am I tell you people which is real and which is not?

You make me real.