it occurred to me again, this time in the middle of procrastinating against studying for a quiz in my major subject tomorrow. i kept you safe within the remote areas of my consciousness, but suddenly, as if driven by an unknown force, your memory unearths itself, returning some sort of unfinished business. consequently, i pause from studying and i start thinking about you. [as always eh... dapansit...]
and it always left me a touch of sadness.
as far as i was concerned, i made it a point not to think about you anymore, at least not that often as i used to, in the form of preoccupation. there’s a lot of projects to do, friends to spend time and energy with, family affairs, webdesign.. . there’s even a new object of affection in the rough. works for the most part, i should say. within the confines of my room with bunch of reader's digests before me, there is forgetting.
just like the manner by which ice cubes freeze bacteria within their crystal networks. as long as they remain frozen, everything’s safe. there is no need to worry.
but somehow, you still manage to permeate my system, as if it were an expertise or a tediously-learned skill. moment by moment, you profusely enter my mind, filling my awareness with lost memories of once-upon-a-times and whatnots. Remembrances of nightly walks, lunch outs, text messages others. of yesterday’s seemingly unbreakable promises and proclamations of forever.
i should’ve put into mind what an old friend once wrote, ‘forever is not real’.
i have always yearned to understand what had happened between us. us won’t even suffice: it was never a real relationship to begin with. we just hung out and talked and spent time together more often than we did with our other friends and colleagues. sometimes it pained me that i could not do anything in my power to make you speak about us. certainly, the ambiguity was present, the ambiguity which you never wanted to clarify.
i could only let you go on with whatever it was that you desired, whether it be ranting about your insecurities, rejoicing over happier news or lamenting about your eventful past. on the other side, i remained silent in the middle of your hyped-up emotion. i was like a child with beaming eyes, eager to hear more stories of how you came about to be the person that you are. for you once told me that listening to you gave you strength to go on, and so i did. i have always wanted you to be okay.
yet when it was my turn to be heard, the silence was a void. i suspended my disbelief when i convinced myself that you always meant well, whenever you apologized for there was nothing you can do about my bouts of depression, or when you simplify things by saying that everything will be alright. i know i should not expect things from other people; perhaps i was at fault when i wanted more from you when you can only give so little.
and just like that, you vanished, very much like a soap bubble floating across air. i have watched you in complete awe, wonder and even fascination. and similar to any ethereal fleeting moment, you were gone, leaving me clueless as to whether you even existed in the first place.
so maybe what we had was love. maybe i loved you, and i hope to heavens that you loved me back: even just for a split second when we held hands, or during that moment when i looked into your eyes, or the time when I laughed at one of your silly quirks. id be content with that idea, id be content that in the course of our friendship, there was a moment of mutuality; even if it was so quick i never noticed it all.
perhaps i still do love you, but that wont do much now. i can fight to save everything that ive invested, but i chose not to. i have treasured you in the past, and that will be enough. right now, all i can do is wish you well in all your endeavors, including the pursuit for the one who is right for you. when you find him, i wish he makes you happy. you make him happy as well.
the end is only a beginning disguised as a parting. i will still think about you every now and then, probably be sad once in a while, but you need not to worry. for i am okay and i will be okay under all circumstances. it may take time for me to love again, but in the long run, it will be all worth it. i may still risk myself, but every risk in its own respect is worth taking anyway. love is such a convoluted mixture of emotions and decisions that it’s a matter of working your way through it.
thank you for gracing my life like a whirlwind, leaving me breathless and hurt, inspired and furious, affectionate and listless. uve taught me quite a lot and i learned them in the most humbling manner. thank you for showing me what it means to be human, to commit mistakes, and to discover how to regain yourself after everything that had happened.
like what i always say, ad astra per aspera. a rough road leads to the stars. im on my way to becoming stellar.
12.02.2004
10.19.2004
strangers again
Everything seems the same. And yet nothing really was. For when I look at her now, it’s only her I see.
Unlike before, when I look at her, I see it all --- the dreams behind the smile, the thoughts that bring out the laughter, the memories that prompts her to gesture.
She’s become a stranger. More a stranger than when I first met her.
There she stands, my best friend. But she’s not mine anymore.
Unlike before, when I look at her, I see it all --- the dreams behind the smile, the thoughts that bring out the laughter, the memories that prompts her to gesture.
She’s become a stranger. More a stranger than when I first met her.
There she stands, my best friend. But she’s not mine anymore.
10.03.2004
Why do I love her?
Tough question. I don't even know how or where to begin. I'm not sure if I could possibly find the right words to express what or how much I feel for her, let alone explain why I love her. I don't believe the English language has all the words I would need.
Why do I love her?
I guess I just do. I love her just because. I love her just because that's the most natural and possible thing to do.
I love her.
I love her because she's the most incredible, wonderful, amazing and fantastic woman I have ever known in my entire life. I love her because she's sweet, charming, smart, witty, and has a great sense of humor. I love her because she's so cool she's hot.
I love her because she makes me smile. I love her because she makes me laugh. I love her because she makes me happy. I love her because she's the one and only girl who has ever made it through my wall and seen right through my mask. I love her because she accepts the real me, imperfections and all, and still appreciates me for who I am.
I love her for being my friend. I love her because I could be whatever I want to be in front of her. I love her because we could talk about anything and everything under the sun.
I love her because I feel safe when I am with her. I love her because we are comfortable with each other. I love her for giving me a helping hand when I had to pick myself up, but couldn't. I love her for offering her shoulder for me to lean on to when I had to be strong, but wasn't.
I love her for telling me not to drink too much alcohol, then pretending to be mad at me when I did drink too much. I love her for telling me not to stay up too late at night because it wasn't good for my health. I love her for texting and sending me sweet and mushy messages. I love her for those times when she would text me just when I was thinking of calling or texting her, when I was feeling down, or when I was missing her, like she has gone psychic all of a sudden.
I love her for the kilig moments we had. I love her for always making me feel better, about myself and life in general. I love her for making me feel special. I love her for making me feel loved. But most of all, I love her for making me feel. I love her for making me realize that I am capable of feeling this way and this much for someone. I love her for making me feel alive.
So, why do I love her?
I love her because she's all of these and more. So much more. I love her because she's everything. She's everything...
Tough question. I don't even know how or where to begin. I'm not sure if I could possibly find the right words to express what or how much I feel for her, let alone explain why I love her. I don't believe the English language has all the words I would need.
Why do I love her?
I guess I just do. I love her just because. I love her just because that's the most natural and possible thing to do.
I love her.
I love her because she's the most incredible, wonderful, amazing and fantastic woman I have ever known in my entire life. I love her because she's sweet, charming, smart, witty, and has a great sense of humor. I love her because she's so cool she's hot.
I love her because she makes me smile. I love her because she makes me laugh. I love her because she makes me happy. I love her because she's the one and only girl who has ever made it through my wall and seen right through my mask. I love her because she accepts the real me, imperfections and all, and still appreciates me for who I am.
I love her for being my friend. I love her because I could be whatever I want to be in front of her. I love her because we could talk about anything and everything under the sun.
I love her because I feel safe when I am with her. I love her because we are comfortable with each other. I love her for giving me a helping hand when I had to pick myself up, but couldn't. I love her for offering her shoulder for me to lean on to when I had to be strong, but wasn't.
I love her for telling me not to drink too much alcohol, then pretending to be mad at me when I did drink too much. I love her for telling me not to stay up too late at night because it wasn't good for my health. I love her for texting and sending me sweet and mushy messages. I love her for those times when she would text me just when I was thinking of calling or texting her, when I was feeling down, or when I was missing her, like she has gone psychic all of a sudden.
I love her for the kilig moments we had. I love her for always making me feel better, about myself and life in general. I love her for making me feel special. I love her for making me feel loved. But most of all, I love her for making me feel. I love her for making me realize that I am capable of feeling this way and this much for someone. I love her for making me feel alive.
So, why do I love her?
I love her because she's all of these and more. So much more. I love her because she's everything. She's everything...
9.21.2004
-ber
i'm hearing christmas songs. and this pathetic interpretation of the names of the months ending with -ber is the sole culprit.
correct me if i'm wrong but i think the reason why september to december ends with -ber is because the old calendar had ten months and sept-, oct-, nov-, and dec- are numerical prefixes preceding the latin word for month which sounds like "ber." but because a certain idiot fucked up the calendar by making it a 12-month year and naming the first two-thirds after roman gods and rulers, the calendar ended up having 4 months ending with -ber. and i'm quite sure, it's not because that crazy monk who re-arranged the calendar (baskog ka trip ya ba!) thought that christmas season should start this early.
i don't wanna sound here like the grinch but man, i think it's bullshit for prices to begin rise just because it's now a month ending with -ber. and you have all those ghosts and monsters on november and i can't seem to figure out how this -ber season works. is the christmas season suspended during halloween? i mean, you can't have santa claus and jack the ripper dancing together. they're just so incompatible. or that flying sleigh alongside that old lady on a broom (unless you're italian. i think they have a witch called la befana instead of santa claus). and you have all those stars and balls in one shelf and some ugly pumpkin and skeletal system in the other.you now have this 100-day countdown and duh, some jose mari chan christmas hits in the airwaves.
and this country, fooled by some enterprising moron who wanted to open shop early.
correct me if i'm wrong but i think the reason why september to december ends with -ber is because the old calendar had ten months and sept-, oct-, nov-, and dec- are numerical prefixes preceding the latin word for month which sounds like "ber." but because a certain idiot fucked up the calendar by making it a 12-month year and naming the first two-thirds after roman gods and rulers, the calendar ended up having 4 months ending with -ber. and i'm quite sure, it's not because that crazy monk who re-arranged the calendar (baskog ka trip ya ba!) thought that christmas season should start this early.
i don't wanna sound here like the grinch but man, i think it's bullshit for prices to begin rise just because it's now a month ending with -ber. and you have all those ghosts and monsters on november and i can't seem to figure out how this -ber season works. is the christmas season suspended during halloween? i mean, you can't have santa claus and jack the ripper dancing together. they're just so incompatible. or that flying sleigh alongside that old lady on a broom (unless you're italian. i think they have a witch called la befana instead of santa claus). and you have all those stars and balls in one shelf and some ugly pumpkin and skeletal system in the other.you now have this 100-day countdown and duh, some jose mari chan christmas hits in the airwaves.
and this country, fooled by some enterprising moron who wanted to open shop early.
9.08.2004
Secret Admirer
Your classmate- let’s call her Lady Jock, since she’s so into sports- walks you to your car. You both animatedly discuss different ways of killing Ma’am P’s dog. ‘How ‘bout feeding it poison while Ma’am’s scribbling something on the board?’ You were in themiddle of suggesting, when you spot Tanya, your bestfriend, as she excitedly runs towards you.
‘Nicole! Come here! Hurry!’ She drags you to the direction of your car.
‘Reaaaallllly cuuuute huh?’ she gushes.
You stare in surprise at the long-stemmed pink rose carefully threaded into the windshield wiper. You exhale a breathless ‘oh’, all the while turning around, hoping against hope that you would catch a glimpse of whoever had placed it there.
‘My best fwend’s got herself an admirer!’ Tanya gleefully declares.
Lady Jock, (er, let’s call her LJ instead) merely nudges you in the ribs, grinning.
‘Way to go Cole,’ She playfully quirks an eyebrow.
‘Hrmmm.’ You’re still looking around you, thoughtfully nitpicking your brain for possible candidates.
‘Brian? Nah, can’t be… he’s not the type. As forRamon… hell, no way…’ You furrow your brow while brainstorming.
And then you see him.
You’ve had your eye on him ever since you’ve been pitted against each other in a casual classroom debate. Tagged as one of the campus’s best debaters,he had looked you over and dismissed you with an airy grin. Naturally you got all infuriated. Naturally you vowed to win. And win you did.
You can’t get over how adorable he looked when he flashed you that dimple as he gracefully accepted defeat. And being not of the demure, faint-hearted mold, you showed him your dimple in return.
‘He’s now an official Super Crush.’ You had announced to Tanya.
And now here he is, smiling unabashedly at you, his long legs bringing him closer with every stride.
‘An admirer eh?' His eyes tease you as they peep between the strands of hair hanging over his forehead.
You shrug. ‘Maybe he got the wrong car.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘No chance of that. I bet he’ll give you another flower or something. Just you wait.’He waggles a finger at you, then walks away.
True enough, little notes and more roses found their way to your car. One time, in the middle of a lecture, you went out of the classroom and wandered outside to smoke. When you got back, a sheet of pochacco stickers was clipped between the pages of your notebook. You look around in amazement. You catch SC’s eyes, and hepositively twinkles at you. You look down, absentmindedly unsticking a badminton-playing pochacco from the glossy sheet. LJ, who sits right beside you,whispers, ‘How cute.’ You turn to her. ‘Did you see who had placed this inside my notes?’ She looks puzzled. ‘Nah,’ She shakes her head. ‘ I went out too. Call of nature.’ She taps her pack of Marlboros.‘Looked for you pa gani.'
Sportsfest came and went, and your academic group emerged as the champion. There are the usual love notes during the victory party. You are carefully balancing a food-laden Styrofoam container on your knees, when you hear one of the emcees say your name.
'Ooh, how ‘bout this one? For Nicolette, you look likea porcelain Chinese doll. You’re simply adorable. Can we talk later?’ Jill purses her lips, pretending to be scandalized, and the room erupts with guffaws and‘uuuuuuuuyys’. You look around for SC, and when you finally do spot him, you see him giving you the thumbsup sign, while mouthing what looks like ‘way to go!’.
You sidle up to SC, and proceed to spend the rest of the night with him. With all the noise and wild partying going on around you, nobody notices that you two are on the verge of making out.
'Aren’t you with someone?’ You ask him coyly, your lips grazing his ear. ‘I’m with you.’ His hands are stealthily snaking to your butt. You try to shake him out of his drunken daze. ‘Don’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘No.’ Your ears are sore from all his nibbling.
'Well, do you at least like someone then?’ You plaintively fish, hoping that he would finally admit to being… well, your secret admirer.
‘Hmm. Curiosity kills the cat. Here kitty kitty.'
Ugh. You push him away. You watch him teeter for a moment, then laughingly collapse into the arms of the group huddling right beside you.
So this is his idea of romantic talk! You spot LJ shuffling towards you, and you vent your frustration out at her. ‘Why can’t he just admit it?! All I wantis to hear it from his own lips! WHY CAN’T HE JUSTFREAKING TELL ME?! Haaaay… it’ll be so much easier that way.’ You shake your head resignedly.
‘Um, Cole,’
‘What?’ You puff on your cigarette, still steaming inside. You look at LJ’s bowed head as she fidgets, her hands clasping then unclasping. When will this girl ever learn to relax, you wonder. She’s always so nervous… now especially. even with the chill in the air, her upper lip is dotted with small beads of sweat. You stare at her fingers in fascination as they proceeded to wring each other.
'Uh, Cole?’ there goes that hesitant tone again.
'Hmmm?'
‘Um, see, he wasn’t the one who sent those notes and roses…’
You look up, and this time, your eyes meet hers. You have never seen a gaze filled with such longing, with such hunger.
‘We can’t talk with all these people around us.’ She mutters. ‘Wanna go somewhere more private?’ She looks at your mouth, then licks her lips.
You feel as if your dainty toes have taken root. Oh god, please no
‘Nicole! Come here! Hurry!’ She drags you to the direction of your car.
‘Reaaaallllly cuuuute huh?’ she gushes.
You stare in surprise at the long-stemmed pink rose carefully threaded into the windshield wiper. You exhale a breathless ‘oh’, all the while turning around, hoping against hope that you would catch a glimpse of whoever had placed it there.
‘My best fwend’s got herself an admirer!’ Tanya gleefully declares.
Lady Jock, (er, let’s call her LJ instead) merely nudges you in the ribs, grinning.
‘Way to go Cole,’ She playfully quirks an eyebrow.
‘Hrmmm.’ You’re still looking around you, thoughtfully nitpicking your brain for possible candidates.
‘Brian? Nah, can’t be… he’s not the type. As forRamon… hell, no way…’ You furrow your brow while brainstorming.
And then you see him.
You’ve had your eye on him ever since you’ve been pitted against each other in a casual classroom debate. Tagged as one of the campus’s best debaters,he had looked you over and dismissed you with an airy grin. Naturally you got all infuriated. Naturally you vowed to win. And win you did.
You can’t get over how adorable he looked when he flashed you that dimple as he gracefully accepted defeat. And being not of the demure, faint-hearted mold, you showed him your dimple in return.
‘He’s now an official Super Crush.’ You had announced to Tanya.
And now here he is, smiling unabashedly at you, his long legs bringing him closer with every stride.
‘An admirer eh?' His eyes tease you as they peep between the strands of hair hanging over his forehead.
You shrug. ‘Maybe he got the wrong car.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘No chance of that. I bet he’ll give you another flower or something. Just you wait.’He waggles a finger at you, then walks away.
True enough, little notes and more roses found their way to your car. One time, in the middle of a lecture, you went out of the classroom and wandered outside to smoke. When you got back, a sheet of pochacco stickers was clipped between the pages of your notebook. You look around in amazement. You catch SC’s eyes, and hepositively twinkles at you. You look down, absentmindedly unsticking a badminton-playing pochacco from the glossy sheet. LJ, who sits right beside you,whispers, ‘How cute.’ You turn to her. ‘Did you see who had placed this inside my notes?’ She looks puzzled. ‘Nah,’ She shakes her head. ‘ I went out too. Call of nature.’ She taps her pack of Marlboros.‘Looked for you pa gani.'
Sportsfest came and went, and your academic group emerged as the champion. There are the usual love notes during the victory party. You are carefully balancing a food-laden Styrofoam container on your knees, when you hear one of the emcees say your name.
'Ooh, how ‘bout this one? For Nicolette, you look likea porcelain Chinese doll. You’re simply adorable. Can we talk later?’ Jill purses her lips, pretending to be scandalized, and the room erupts with guffaws and‘uuuuuuuuyys’. You look around for SC, and when you finally do spot him, you see him giving you the thumbsup sign, while mouthing what looks like ‘way to go!’.
You sidle up to SC, and proceed to spend the rest of the night with him. With all the noise and wild partying going on around you, nobody notices that you two are on the verge of making out.
'Aren’t you with someone?’ You ask him coyly, your lips grazing his ear. ‘I’m with you.’ His hands are stealthily snaking to your butt. You try to shake him out of his drunken daze. ‘Don’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘No.’ Your ears are sore from all his nibbling.
'Well, do you at least like someone then?’ You plaintively fish, hoping that he would finally admit to being… well, your secret admirer.
‘Hmm. Curiosity kills the cat. Here kitty kitty.'
Ugh. You push him away. You watch him teeter for a moment, then laughingly collapse into the arms of the group huddling right beside you.
So this is his idea of romantic talk! You spot LJ shuffling towards you, and you vent your frustration out at her. ‘Why can’t he just admit it?! All I wantis to hear it from his own lips! WHY CAN’T HE JUSTFREAKING TELL ME?! Haaaay… it’ll be so much easier that way.’ You shake your head resignedly.
‘Um, Cole,’
‘What?’ You puff on your cigarette, still steaming inside. You look at LJ’s bowed head as she fidgets, her hands clasping then unclasping. When will this girl ever learn to relax, you wonder. She’s always so nervous… now especially. even with the chill in the air, her upper lip is dotted with small beads of sweat. You stare at her fingers in fascination as they proceeded to wring each other.
'Uh, Cole?’ there goes that hesitant tone again.
'Hmmm?'
‘Um, see, he wasn’t the one who sent those notes and roses…’
You look up, and this time, your eyes meet hers. You have never seen a gaze filled with such longing, with such hunger.
‘We can’t talk with all these people around us.’ She mutters. ‘Wanna go somewhere more private?’ She looks at your mouth, then licks her lips.
You feel as if your dainty toes have taken root. Oh god, please no
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.
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.
-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...
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.
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.
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.
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.
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