Repost

I wrote the entry below almost two years ago. And I think, I'm in this stage again now. It's funny how so much in me has changed, and yet, so much of what I felt before I'm feeling again now. Melancholy does have its way of seeping in in our lives. And at times, in the most inopportune moments, we break. And we grasp at straws for any sense of explanation to keep us afloat.

These are the moments I hope would

never

come back.

---

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Eight Months

Because I missed partying tonight due to some circumstances beyond my control, melancholy kicked in--or more precisely, the feeling of longing for someone to hold and be with re-surfaced. While surfing the net and hanging out in my usual sites, I remembered the feeling of having someone to converse with during these lonely times. I remembered the feeling of sharing one's life with someone else, and then growing in the process.

More than anything else, it's that connection to someone that keeps me looking back.

I've been single for a few months now. Eight months to be exact. The longest time that I have been single since I was 20. Six years do pass by swiftly, and sometimes, when one gets used to routines all those years, it's hard not to miss it. The comfortable feeling almost always has its way of creeping back to your consciousness.

No matter how much you tell yourself you already changed.

You realize, some things just keep on coming back.

A Prelude to Goodbye I

I haven't talked to you for a while now. Sure we kept in touch; an email here and there, a simple chat once in a while. But it's been ages since I heard your voice. It's been too long since I last saw your smile, your sweet smile. Honestly, I don't even remember the warmth of your embrace, and the feeling of content as we snuggle the whole night. I wish you're back here with me now. I wish you never left.

Because no matter where I go, no matter what I have been doing, there comes a time when I think of you. And what we could have been. Together.

But the wind kept on blowing and my memories of you kept on fading. I am afraid that someday, all I will have left is a vague recollection of that wonderful month we spent together; that month when, like children lost in a world of wonders, like newly-weds dazzled by the evening moon, we shared our lives. We opened ourselves.

As time passes by, and as we close ourselves to what we have been the past months, I fondly reminisce how you brought joy back in my life, how you showed me how it is to be loved again. And though I slowly lose all these to the constraints of time, there will always be something that I will always remember. I love you.

And I will never ever forget it.

Madness

There is madness in deleting memories. Especially if it were a person’s memory you’re deleting. Worse, if it were someone special’s memory you’re forgetting.

It flashes quite distinctly every so often, the glimpses of the past. On the way to the trash, it comes to fore. Looming over your eyes, threatening with a resounding echo of what you’re about to lose.

Until it disappears. With the conscious effort of not remembering. Leaving the pain behind, convincing disillusion on the happiness. Suddenly, what once was, is no longer.

There is madness in deleting memories.

And sometimes, it has to be done.

Waiting

Last week, when I wrote this entry, seemed so long ago. Nothing and everything has changed since then. I suppose this is the fate that has always been written for me. I just didn't want to accept it. Now, I have to.

It's just that, sometimes, it is difficult to imagine life more cruel than this.

---

So I'm here in PGH, waiting, again. I have often wondered how it will be if I didn't choose this life with that someone. Will I be happier? More fulfilled with my life? Will I have more friends? These are questions that are all subsumed in the realm of conjecture. All that I will have no way of knowing. That is,

until I break free.

Totally. Completely.

That kind when I could look back at all these and laugh at how consumed I was with how I felt. That kind when I would neither feel hurt nor bitterness. That kind when I would already be with someone else.

But I haven't reached that stage. And I could not see how I could in the near future. And so, I'm here.

Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Sana may dumating na.

In dreams

So I dreamt of him again last night, my dad. And like the others before, the dream wasn't pretty. Something almost always happens which is reminiscent of how he used to be. With one difference: I always fought back in my dreams. And I always win. How I envisioned myself acting now that I can stand on my own feet is how the dreams end. It's sort of a major production finale--except that he's no longer around to see how it turned out.

Which bothers me.

After 7 long years, am I still clinging to a hatred I swore I would forego all these years? Was I in that much pain that, until now, the feeling lingers, albeit subconsciously?

He died 7 years ago. And after 7 years, I know I should now forego all these.

The only question is, could I?

Suspension

Even playing Farmville brings the feeling of dread, that which comes when you know you are losing someone you truly love.

Pain

After a long time, I return to writing to let out what I feel. We have broken up. And I am in so much pain, one that haunts me before I sleep and shakes me as I wake.

My mind tells me to move on. But my heart just yearns. My 2009 is built with that someone, everything that I have done this year is with that one.

But now, I was let go. Just like that. And I am hurting. Too bad.

I hope to move on. I wish to move on. Help me.

That Kind of Love

I wanna feel that kind of love again. That kind when I actually feel that I’m wanted. That kind where I am not afraid to say what I mean, even if I’m not making any sense. That kind where I don’t almost always half-expect the other to walk out on me even for the least of things. That sweep-me-off-my-feet kind. That kind when I not only feel loved, but also see the love in that other person’s eyes. That kind when I would gladly succumb to that drowning feeling knowing fully well that that someone will always take my hand and lift me up. That kind that makes me wake up in the middle of the night and makes me smile. That kind which do not give me dole outs but gives me the best that the person could. That kind that puts me in a pedestal without any hint of malice or shame, but of pure pride. That which would never make me feel unloved. That which would always, always love me back.

I wanna feel that kind of love again. For I have almost forgotten it.

Clouds

When it hurts so bad, and you know you can't do anything about it because it is you who caused it, and all remedies that you know cannot alleviate such pain, then it is time to reconsider--yourself and the way you deal with others. You question what you know and how you've always been. Then take a shot at changing it. So you could have a chance at a future. One that you so fervently hope for. And still long for. Until now.

Despite the glooming overcast of a bleak tomorrow.

For the first time, I wish it won't rain. I still love you. I don't want that washed away. Not for now. Not for a long while.

Escape

I don't wanna live in constant fear, ever questioning the wisdom of my decisions and the propriety of my actions. Takes just one slip to completely erode my whole day's work. I don't want this anymore. I need escape.

Question

What if his/her ex weighs more than you in his/her eyes?

It's time

I'm suffocating. I look at my office window and I see the big world out there, yet I am here, unable to move and soar like how I want to. Everyone around me makes me believe that staying is the only option that I have at the moment, but all that I know is that I'm dying every second that I stay. Every waking moment is a struggle. Every thought of going here is torture. I want to go. I want to be free again. I want to re-evaluate my life and check how I have come to this state. I remember my vow last year, that I would never let anyone stump on who I am and what I want to be. Now, that vow seemed to have been made in another age. And it seemed too long ago.

But now that my limit is almost at hand, that tiny seed of dissension grows each day. That vow is coming back. I am leaving. I have to. There is no place for me here and this place have no room in heart anymore.

I am going.

Ritual of the Lost

When life weighs down on me big time, like it's doing now, I have three things I need to do on my own first before I break down in front of my friends. First is the incessant thinking and wishing. Thinking of what I have done that led me to the predicament I am into and wishing that I hadn't done those things in the first place. 

Then, when I am just about beaten to a pulp due to my continuous wallowing in self-pity, I turn to that place that has always given me solace and comfort, my sanctuary from this real world. There I compose myself, pull on shreds to mend my broken self, and emerge as if I were as good as new. 

Lastly, there comes the resolution that I shall emerge from that pit, that I shall fight back with all my God-given talents, that I shall be me, the fighter, the go-getter, the never-say-die soldier. When this stage comes, I almost always have furrowed eyebrows all the time, ready to snap back at anything and everything that dares provoke me.

Then if and when nothing comes out of it, if after this ritual has been performed and I still am at a lost, it's the time that I call in the troops. It's the time for back up. Time to rant and bash all those that/who caused me pain. I gather strength from the people around me and use it to bounce back.

Then I recover and become happy again.

Then I become stronger.

Then I become ready when, once more, life will pull its rank on me and weigh me down. Big time.

Break

I need a breather.

I need to escape everything about my life right now. 

I need to retreat.

Regroup.

Re-assess my situation.

And eventually, find my center again.

To show myself to the world again.

Without complexities.

Without sorrow.

Without wayward expectations.

For then can I only say, that I am living again.

And perhaps, that I am worth living for,

Again.

that feeling

it's here again, that feeling that crushes my heart in every way possible, that excruciating heaviness of the body, that feeling that i wish would never last. i'm hurting again, i feel betrayed again, insulted even. it's that familiar feeling i feel when persons i'm in relationship with experience jealousy in the presence of exes. it's that sad feeling of not being trusted. and it crushes my heart, more so now than before. im surprised it gets me this easily this fast. i suppose it's because my birthday's just passed. i suppose it's because of my disposition upon knowing it. i dont know for sure. at least not as sure as the fact that i'm sad. really sad. and betrayed. and insulted. and i'm being threatened to give up. and move on. sad.

around the metro, again

walked around makati today. again. and as always, i was tired as hell, dehydrated and dizzy after three long hours of bodily movement (and this coming from someone still recovering from the holiday disease that brings about excessive fat storage in all parts of the body, especially the tummy area, haaay).

unlike the last three weeks of doing the same thing however, two things changed: one, this time, i was with a friend while painfully strolling around the metro (which actually made the endeavor less burdensome); and two, i got a call just an hour after i arrived back at the house (and an interview was set for 1pm tomorrow, or rather, today).

sadly though, only two outcomes immediately propped up in my mind: (1) either they'd offer me a job but with unacceptably low compensation package or (2) i won't get the job at all. regrettably, it never even occurred to me that a third option can actually be available, that is, that they'd offer me a job with competitive rates.

haaay, what is wrong with me? have i been so disillusioned that i am now incapable of even conjuring a good result from my tiring effort today? have i lost that much faith in me that i didn't even conceive of achieving what i pray for?

really, these past few weeks have been a test for many of my preconceived notions about myself and my capabilities. many images i have of myself have been repeatedly shattered and decomposed to the point that i might have lost a sense of who i am.

is it wrong for me to think that the only salvation lies in me finding that perfect job with the perfect pay on that perfectly posh office? or should i see salvation as i have always seen it, i.e., one that springs out of the truly good no matter where it is or who it is from?

for my sake, i hope it is the latter. i really hope so.

back

well, i guess i'm back.

i just hope it'll be better this time.

down low

it's back. that sadness, that feeling of dread when i'm here in manila. i wish i could just stay back home, where i am most wanted, and appreciated, and alive. i wish i could escape the inevitable truth and carry on living my wonderful life with that new someone. i wish i could be free, from the shackles of expectations, and of the world. i wish i could be whole.

defeat

always, when i feel down and low, i return to blogger. where i can be my own self, without embellishment, without regrets. always i turn to the power of words, to channel my feelings, and unload the burden, of being sad, defeated. always it has borne witness to my wails, in school, in love, in life. it has documented who i am, how i am, and perhaps, how i will always be.

and now, i write again. in here. allowing this space, once more, to record who i am, to remind me of what i am, and how i have always conquered. layers and layers of myself i have bared, and layers and layers left to be bared. i am me. here. now. but sad, with sorrow, defeated. humbled and sad.

i long for that escape. i yearn for that call.

and it may never come.

defeat.