|A speck in the galaxy. Apparently writing here. Reader, music lover, coffee drinker. And oh, hi!|
I found my fingers fumbling to write words I should have uttered through my mouth. There are and were gut-wrenching moments that necessitated articulation, yet I failed to deliver. "I'll let it slide this time," I thought. But that one moment doubled, tripled, quadrupled, until it became a multitude of repetitions.
In introspection, I found that this behavior became a pattern, a habit seemingly unbreakable. It's a wall you forged on yourself, raising its height until no one sees you. Ridiculously enough, some could still see through you and discover the trick. You are left unknowingly exposed. You still cannot speak it out. I still cannot speak it out.
Questions ran through my head. Wha...
Blaze, forest fire
Lay bare your soul that burns
of rage and fury
of fearless, relentless passion
of juvenile emotions.
You asking, "Why me?"
Me, looking into your eyes
You were found, sunshine
Rays seeping through cracks; gently
Shining in my soul.
Clipped wings freed; self-doubt
Embraced - your hands intertwined
Mine: never alone.
Passionate love made
Always a dance for two; glee
Etched - soul and body.
Giving and taking,
Never selfish; you provide
Faith I have renewed
Steadfast devotion, coursing.
Evoked: I become better,
With rhyme or reason
Simply I utter, "Because,"
Looking at you close.
"Because I love you."
I will love you with my best,
Where would you lead me right now? What are your plans?
I don't know if I am able to keep up with your whims and demands.
Grant me faith and strength to make it through, as I am only human.
Provide me hope to see sunrises anew, experience joy, and embrace life as it is.
Help me to love, spread love, and be love.
Forgery of smiles
Deceitful laughter, poison -
Venom in my veins.
Walks the earth, thorns on her feet
Hollow, empty eyes.
Walk away gently
Tears dried, heart stopped, moonlight shines
Leave life, fair unscathed.
A mother's sorrow
Sending her firstborn away
Six feet down dear life.
Leaves fall, rain torrents
Cascade of emotions, bare
The sun sets in peace.
If, in my dream, you appear
A phantom from an ugly phase,
A ghost unfaltering to haunt and torment,
Better the sunset take my air until its last
than awake and get awakened
by splinters I thought are already
gone from my heart exhausted.
Time is the longest distance between two places.
-Tennessee Williams, "The Glass Menagerie"
A few hours from now, another year will open its doors. The cycle of life continues with the passing of time, past and present intertwining and overlapping. Everything, and or not all of it gets washed by time's waves, bringing a fresh start, a renewal.
There were events time has been an adversary, an inescapable nemesis. The battle between resentment over decisions made and mere acceptance to move along occurred in many instances of my life, especially this year. Time was a blessing and a curse, a cliche humans get to experience th...
Today I made a poem that resonates through my feelings lately. I have been dealing, keeping up, and fighting my anxieties whenever I have to, and today a certain ordeal inspired me to write. Although the poem reflects some of my darkest emotions, I wanted to share it here, and here it goes.
I can't write poems for you.
Rhythm and rhyme, missing
The jive lost in count.
My slow dance with you
I wanted to do, yet my mind tells no.
I can't write poems for you.
Words full of colour,
Cannot be uttered by my soul.
They hold back, caged by doubt,
Prisoned along the haunting past.
I can't write poems for you.
The ink, my blood,
Change its hue to black...
It's been a long time since I wrote a letter, here or outside of here. Life unexpectedly threw things that hindered me from doing my simple craft and doing things that require careful scrutiny and perception of emotion.
Here I am, though. I am in that thought bubble of thinking what to write in this page. But I think I'd like to keep this letter as an aimless one.
(But how aimless is aimless, exactly? Only our own selves know.)
Anyway, the recent months have been eventful. I went here and there, home away from home, in transit and in many public transport transfers. Choices were made out of haste and in thorough thinking, too. Whenever I reflect on those events, once I...
He started to put one foot forward. He walked, searching. The one he's looking for isn't yet seen. He continued, ignoring his feet starting to feel the strain. That one he is trying to see, is still somewhere unknown. Hence he continuned walking, feet close to getting numb, lungs struggling to breathe in and out, not even daring to pause.
He walked until his legs gave in and could walk no more.
He finally succumbed, exhausted from the seemingly everlasting walk.
And when he paused, taking everything in, that is where he has seen,
that what he's looking for
has always been with him.
I am taking a breather from my own thoughts and disillusionments. It seems like I am yet stuck.
Life, with its adornments and complications, could bend and shake our beliefs. We may be adamant about our passions, but life sometimes likes to meddle around and give a test.
I am one of those who are put to test today.
When passion does not entirely go along with survival, what are you going to do? Would you set it aside totally, partially, or risk and follow it, even when it means you crashing and burning?
I am looking forward to your answers and opinions.
I was thinking of making a near perfect message for tomorrow's celebration, but given that I am not really a master of my own organization, I thougt I'd just put here things I find dear about you, and how I considered them lessons I also bring wherever I go.
We aren't always together like how I do with Mama. You were mostly away for work, that's why I was always joyful whenever you come home. I remember you bringing doughnuts and actually spoiling me when I was still a kid. Whenever we go to your hometown, you make sure I always carry some money to buy whatever snack I want.
While me and my sister were growing up, you worked harder. During trying times, I knew it was more difficult f...
Cry, sob, wail,
on your lost dreams or fading smiles,
but dear, do not forget to reach out.
Hide or conceal
feelings of jubilation or exasperation,
yet, afterwards, reach out.
Walk, sprint, or run
From you, or them, or nothing,
Stay for long or for a minute or two,
In a corner, or on your safe haven
And, when your storms calm,
Or even while it happens,
When I was a kid, I remember being dizzyingly ecstatic seeing my aunt in the airport, knowing that afterwards, we'd go to the nearest Duty Free store and buy chocolates. Ever since I can remember, that's where I thought I always wanted to go.
Eventually, I can also remember my father starting to bring me to their hometown whenever vacation comes. There were new sights for me to see – fishponds, fields, a larger river, an old well, and the beach where he also held a lot of memories. I thought I will always love to go back on those places, too. I did, and I returned many times, and will return, despite the changes that transpired.
Though I have been on more places on the years that passed, I...
One day, I was looking through old family photos. Opening the album that contained my keepsakes, I noticed that several of them have me holding a handkerchief, like it grew from some unnoticed habit.
I told my mother, "Look at me at these photos. I am holding a handkerchief on all of them," to which she replied, "You actually hold handkerchiefs everywhere frequently that you tend to lose them because your hand suddenly unclenches or you have to leave it somewhere."
After I looked at the photos, reminiscing about all those pieces of colourful clothing I might or might not have lost, an idea struck me:
I will hold you like how I clasped and took care of those handkerchiefs: not with a tight ...
How bittersweet these teardrops are.
the joy of meeting,
and the buoyance of spending life with
these very teardrops
are unspoken witnesses
of how love was concealed
in the confines of my constricted chest,
how that love
will dry up
and never reach you.
I don't think I can ever imagine
being able to grow
when it means you cease
to be with me
to meet me
you are still
out of reach, far-fetched,
am already standing
our meeting place.
We all have my favorite thing in the world.
You and I contain it. They, us, we…each of us has it.
This makes us laugh, weep, and get swept off our feet. It brings us to the depths of happiness and sorrow.
We keep this thing, hide it sometimes, or just awaits to be noticed.
It grows, fades away at times…but it will always come back.
We learn from it, in it, and beyond it.
We have my favorite thing in the world, and that is love.
This is it.
This is what I know I was missing.
I have felt it again.
I've been always making a façade, suppressing the void I contain inside.
Whenever it emerges back in its place, I know it will bring flowing tears. It reminds me that it is it I am lacking, yet it cannot be found in a snap.
This is familiar. This shouts, "You have almost everything, but not me". This haunts me unexpectedly like a thief in the night.
This is agonizing to feel: knowing you don't have that most important thing, yet it cotains no name. When it comes to be remembered, it shatters the deepest parts of my soul, exposes the wouds, and baring my heart open. It is what will make me whole, complete.
But I cannot fi...
It is raining tonight and it made me take a look at my journal, which has been left unopened since the last date I wrote there. I thought of sharing it for some reason, but I cannot fully explain it. It is for someone whom I miss dearly.
September 12, 2016
There are times I remember you so well that it hurts me and it makes me yearn for your presence. I wonder if you still have that childish grin in your face whenever you are happy or whenever you just made a remark about what you were talking about. I wonder whether you still remember messing with my hair and telling me it's just fine when I give you that mad expression afterwards. I wonder if you'd still look forward to seeing me agai...
A girl tilted her head upward, wondering what the night sky has to offer in her trying moment. That girl, who seems to like reading – not only sentences but as well as intricacies of clouds and stars and the moon and the night animals, started to assess the view. She looked at the sky, attempting to count all the stars. The girl wondrously thought of her dreams, old and new, fulfilled and frustrated and discarded, as she compare them to shining and waning stars. She connected them, drew imaginary lines in the air, as if her aspirations were constellations that will guide her for another day she needs to face.
And then, after minutes of wondering, searching, aiming, this girl will attempt to g...
Day by day, there are words which appear to be used by us frequently.
Then again, there are moments some words appear out of nowhere, some forgotten over time, and that could be deemed surprising.
But when you said "I am sorry," when you uttered that contrite, overused word, it seemed to be vulnerary. That "I am sorry" marked an end and another beginning.
Kept on chasing, reaching
Dreams I do not know
If they were truly my own
Because they couldn't tell what was inside.
Are what I ought to wear
For make-believe joy
For they couldn't tell what was inside.
Was what I have to confine
On the walled depths of my soul
What was inside
What colors can a smile emanate?
Which hues are revealed when lips make its happy curve?
Do we truly know the palettes someone used when they smile their prettiest one?