8.30.2004

i missed you

i missed you today.
i missed your smile.
i missed your eyes.
i missed your face.
i missed your voice .
i missed your presence the whole day

i never knew how much i missed
seeing you even for a while
or hearing your voice
or just having you around
knowing that you're near me,
until today.

not seeing you for a while kept me at my feet,
but later, i didn't have the energy to move.
it felt like something was missing
and that was you.
actually, it's more like empty
coz you fill such a big space
in my heart and my whole being
that your absence made my sadness echo inside of me.

i don't know where you were
or what you did.
i just know that i missed you.
but then again,
became to realize
that missing you for a day
is better than missing you for a lifetime.
for having met you
saved me from such a big loss,
not knowing how much i'm missing.
i bet it would be like
living in a vacuum
without even realizing.

8.28.2004

wishful thinking

"I have faith that someday I would meet someone who would be sure that I am the one."
-Carrie Bradshaw, Sex & The City

wla ko kabalo kng paano ni nag sugod ang shado ka gamo na sitwasyon. hmmm 1st sem SY2003 sang nag klalahay ta. yawan ko padalman kng paano gd ta abi nag klalahay. abi ko suplada ka. aloof ko ya. kag nde ko gets kng paano ta ka na-crush. d ta ka ya type ya. basta sng ulihi lang pag bugtaw ko na 'ah, crush ta ka'. amo mn to ang adlaw na daw nag close ta. too close na kay abi to sng klala ta kita na kuno.

fast forward to the present. lapit na lng september. after like mga pla ka bulan -- exchanging countless e-mails, sending friendly and mushy text messages, numerous gimiks, watching concerts, kag kng ano pa da, ari pa man ta d gyapon. friends. biskan na may pla na ka instances na dutayan ko lng i cross ang fine line between frienship and love, friends ta gyapon

Friends. Nothing more, nothing less. kabalo ko hambalon sng iban: "At least friends kamo." Yeah, I know. At least friends ta. I should be happy, right? dapat lang. guro. tani. ambot. kung kis-a galing d ko maimbitar na mag pamangkot sng mga what-ifs.

ambot lng gd. nagamuhan ko sng sitwasyon ta b mo... kung kis-a, there are times when I would be so sure na gusto mo man ko. hahaha dapansit assuming ba! tapos ma lain naman huyop sng hangin kag i wouldn't be so sure about anything anymore. napanumduman ko before gani na i pamangkot ko na lng sa imo kng ano gd ta na duwa galing na hadlok ko. basi in doing so, I would push you away. teh d ko gusto madula ka sa life ko, so la ko na lng gn padayun...

tani ma-realize mo na kung ano ka ka-special sa life ko. tani ma realize mo kng ano ta ka ka plangga. hamba ni carrie bradshaw: "I have faith that someday I would meet someone who would be sure that I am the one." hambal ko man: "I have faith that someday we would meet again and when that time comes, we would both be sure that we are the one for each other." tani ma realize mo na ikaw ang para sa akon.kag tni kng maabot na ang amo na tion, plangga ta ka.

8.24.2004

got this from a friendster bulletin...

love hurts... its really hurts!, but the hurt is not endless. Remember that time is the ultimate healer. After a few weeks the sharp pains turn into a dull ache, and after a few months you will hopefully be able to take a step back and realistically assess benefits gained from it. You can use this time alone wisely for introspection and spiritual development; understand your role in the failure of the relationship and vow to do things differently next time. Make plans for your future, do things you enjoy, or become productive and take care of other matters that need your time and attention.

how true...

8.21.2004

To say the L word is suicide, or does it have to be?!?!

A lot of us have undergone, and lots will still undergo, the agony in deciding whether or not to declare our undying affection to someone. But most of us just endure the torture of being silent and suppressing the truth. Why the choice? Telling the truth is not as virtuous as most religions would have wanted us to believe, if by virtuous we mean to say it is naturally and inherently good that is . Truth hurts. Reality bites. Haven't we heard enough? I guess we haven't, and we seem to have this addiction of dwelling in pain. How have we become so masochistic? Perhaps it is when religion implicitly taught us to equate virtue with pain and vice with pleasure.

We are human beings, and perhaps emotional pain, besides logic, is something that separates us from the rest of the kingdom animalia. Like what Agent Smith said in The Matrix, human beings couldn't handle sweet perfection (which was the original model of the Matrix world that later on failed) because we define our reality through suffering and misery, and anything less than that, anything remotely close to perfection, our sanity cannot manage. So inspite of our complaints, we feel that pain is a natural condition of life. But the tricky part that I recently learned is that no matter how much we, perhaps unwittingly, embrace suffering we'd rather choose to hurt ourselves than let others hurt us, even if the former is frequently more intoxicating and debilitating than the latter.

When we love, romantically speaking, we rarely choose to declare our love because we know doing so would make us vulnerable. It is wrong to open ourselves out to someone who could take our emotions away, just to wrestle with them only to later on throw them away. We'd rather choose to suffer in silence. Most of the time, this option is extremely melancholy, worse than the fear of rejection or deliberate deception, and it seems only natural that a person would prefer this option. Why? because it's personal, because self-inflicted pain is more acceptable than one that is externally inflicted. Why? because that's how we embrace life. Besides, misery should not seek company; misery should be taken care of without it.

I find the act of confessing our undying love similar to suicide, and I know a lot of people will agree with me on this. This is not because our honesty would necessarily cost us our dear lives, but more because of the idea of the act being irreversible. In suicide, if we succeed, we can't say, "whoops, I didn't mean to cut my wrist and loose a huge amount of blood", or cry "I'm sorry, I didn't know jumping off the 40th floor would crash my skull and make my brain splatter on the ground," or wail "Whoa, so walking in front of a very fast-moving vehicle would be fatal, I have to tell the others, I have to live." We can't shout apologies, and say sorry can we come back to life now? When we kill ourselves, we die.

Confessing our love would be quite similar, although not as gory as it sounds. Confession obviously uses words, and when words fly we cannot catch 'em. Once we say, "I love you," we really can't take it back by saying, "pati ah!" or "jowk-jowk-jowk!!" Well, we could say some can get away withit, and I have to agree only if the object of desire has an IQ of 60. The thing is, once we utter words of devotion, we just have to face the consequences, and most of the time, I have to say we are terrified of the consequences. Although the chances could go either way, I mean it could either cause our heart to jump for joy or for it to flounder in pain, we only rivet our attention on the latter possibility. The only way that we think we could avoid exacerbating the agony would be by convincing ourselves that our hearts will never jump for joy, otherwise we might get our hopes up and by doing so would only worsen our condition in case floundering in pain is the possibility that ensues. Defense mechanism my friends, that's what it is.

And in my case, there is that awful stage where I almost hope for the plausibility of her knowing how I feel about her, that maybe I don't have to confess and that I only have to affirm whatever assumption she has of me. That's when I hate her the most. I have the audacity to hope that she might discover it for herself. But whenever I think I am giving her the liberty to assume, it seems her density level goes beyond any scientific formula could ever compute.

I have to ask, why then should I let her in? Why should I share this suffering, this burden? Why should I utter the words "I love you", when this would mean I will end up joining those herds of romantic crooks who have misused and abused the phrase, they've trivialized it so much it no longer bears the meaning of pure and genuine affection. I'm too good for that, I won't give in. Between suffering in silence and losing my life in honesty, I would choose the safer one, I would rather keep my mouth sealed.

But what difference does it make, I still suffer, I still writhe in despair. In the end, I want something to hold on to. I want to be proven wrong, tell me to choose the other option.

To say the L word is suicide, or does it have to be?!?!

A lot of us have undergone, and lots will still undergo, the agony in deciding whether or not to declare our undying affection to someone. But most of us just endure the torture of being silent and suppressing the truth. Why the choice? Telling the truth is not as virtuous as most religions would have wanted us to believe, if by virtuous we mean to say it is naturally and inherently good that is . Truth hurts. Reality bites. Haven't we heard enough? I guess we haven't, and we seem to have this addiction of dwelling in pain. How have we become so masochistic? Perhaps it is when religion implicitly taught us to equate virtue with pain and vice with pleasure.

We are human beings, and perhaps emotional pain, besides logic, is something that separates us from the rest of the kingdom animalia. Like what Agent Smith said in The Matrix, human beings couldn't handle sweet perfection (which was the original model of the Matrix world that later on failed) because we define our reality through suffering and misery, and anything less than that, anything remotely close to perfection, our sanity cannot manage. So inspite of our complaints, we feel that pain is a natural condition of life. But the tricky part that I recently learned is that no matter how much we, perhaps unwittingly, embrace suffering we'd rather choose to hurt ourselves than let others hurt us, even if the former is frequently more intoxicating and debilitating than the latter.

When we love, romantically speaking, we rarely choose to declare our love because we know doing so would make us vulnerable. It is wrong to open ourselves out to someone who could take our emotions away, just to wrestle with them only to later on throw them away. We'd rather choose to suffer in silence. Most of the time, this option is extremely melancholy, worse than the fear of rejection or deliberate deception, and it seems only natural that a person would prefer this option. Why? because it's personal, because self-inflicted pain is more acceptable than one that is externally inflicted. Why? because that's how we embrace life. Besides, misery should not seek company; misery should be taken care of without it.

I find the act of confessing our undying love similar to suicide, and I know a lot of people will agree with me on this. This is not because our honesty would necessarily cost us our dear lives, but more because of the idea of the act being irreversible. In suicide, if we succeed, we can't say, "whoops, I didn't mean to cut my wrist and loose a huge amount of blood", or cry "I'm sorry, I didn't know jumping off the 40th floor would crash my skull and make my brain splatter on the ground," or wail "Whoa, so walking in front of a very fast-moving vehicle would be fatal, I have to tell the others, I have to live." We can't shout apologies, and say sorry can we come back to life now? When we kill ourselves, we die.

Confessing our love would be quite similar, although not as gory as it sounds. Confession obviously uses words, and when words fly we cannot catch 'em. Once we say, "I love you," we really can't take it back by saying, "pati ah!" or "jowk-jowk-jowk!!" Well, we could say some can get away withit, and I have to agree only if the object of desire has an IQ of 60. The thing is, once we utter words of devotion, we just have to face the consequences, and most of the time, I have to say we are terrified of the consequences. Although the chances could go either way, I mean it could either cause our heart to jump for joy or for it to flounder in pain, we only rivet our attention on the latter possibility. The only way that we think we could avoid exacerbating the agony would be by convincing ourselves that our hearts will never jump for joy, otherwise we might get our hopes up and by doing so would only worsen our condition in case floundering in pain is the possibility that ensues. Defense mechanism my friends, that's what it is.

And in my case, there is that awful stage where I almost hope for the plausibility of her knowing how I feel about her, that maybe I don't have to confess and that I only have to affirm whatever assumption she has of me. That's when I hate her the most. I have the audacity to hope that she might discover it for herself. But whenever I think I am giving her the liberty to assume, it seems her density level goes beyond any scientific formula could ever compute.

I have to ask, why then should I let her in? Why should I share this suffering, this burden? Why should I utter the words "I love you", when this would mean I will end up joining those herds of romantic crooks who have misused and abused the phrase, they've trivialized it so much it no longer bears the meaning of pure and genuine affection. I'm too good for that, I won't give in. Between suffering in silence and losing my life in honesty, I would choose the safer one, I would rather keep my mouth sealed.

But what difference does it make, I still suffer, I still writhe in despair. In the end, I want something to hold on to. I want to be proven wrong, tell me to choose the other option.

8.20.2004

bar

saturday last week, i went to a place where people, as social beings, usually hang out during weekends. hanging-out typically includes cruising, and staring at strangers, with almost everyone wanting to prove that at the end of the day, human beings are sexual beings.

i haven’t gone out for a long time, (besides the night before concert by south border), and I was kind of excited about it. But when I got there, I got peeved by the enormity of the crowd. I’ve always had this deficiency in social (and moral) fiber, it’s inborn, I can’t help it. It’s weird, I so wanted to go, but then the moment I got to the place, I was disappointed.

It’s like most intimate relationships, most people want to be in one, and when they do, they wonder why they asked for it in the first place. Then, they’re forced to stay because they feel that that’s the decent thing to do.

Grrr. People don’t mean anything anymore, they’re doing everything out of convenience.

I’m raising both my hands, I’m guilty of the same crime.