Tala

(This was created six months ago. )

I’ve been putting this off for a while now.  It’s been almost four months now and I feel so tired and sick with dealing this inside my head.  I’ve got no clear reason why it took me so long to understand the way how things have happened.  Perhaps, I am still weighing out a lot of things – a thousand things, I guess – in my two hands that I had hoped that the answer will come easy, that I just have to wait things to get over themselves, wait things to get tired, and just sleep on them…. I was wrong.  Now I got so tired of keeping things in balance.  I felt now like, aside from keeping them from falling out of my hands, I am also balancing myself on a thin rope, trying to keep my gaze on only one direction, but I kept on looking back.  I quiver with the slightest movement.  I became insensitive.  I’m glad that my friends are with me all the time, all these toughest times. 

I know by now that you know now how to sleep normal: like no things creeping up inside your head, no worries, not any stress.  I didn’t know how long you’ve been weighing on things, too.  (I have an only a vague but interesting idea that I just want to keep it by myself.)  What I know was that I tried to sleep the words that text told me that night, after deleting it, thinking that I was only dreaming (that real things happen in complete opposite), thinking that you yourself do not believe the things that you just said, thinking that you were only wanting attention.  In short words: I unminded them, although the beats of my heart were screaming, trying to come out, now stuck in my throat that I just want to die.  As I reread them, I felt the darkness that surrounds me closing in, that the bed I was laying in hovering in a state of nothingness.  I cannot hear a sound, I cannot utter a word.  I was shocked I didn’t know what to do.  I slept it off.

But things didn’t go as I wanted them to be.  The morning didn’t promise a better day.  The sky was less cheerful even though the sun was shining bright and steady.  It struck me.  It was no dream.  That time as I recollect what happened that night it seemed that black clouds began to assemble right above me and invisible rain came pouring down. 

The thing was, and I am not proud to say, I was afraid to let you know what I was feeling that time.  Million thoughts wove in by the second, each presenting a possibility or two, not a single of them has the will to weave out, filling every corner in my head.  I felt I am about to explode bottling them up.  By the end of the day, one thought remained:  You were gone.  You ended it.  I can try to take you back.  I might succeed, I might mot.  But you gave up. You were half-hearted now.  I don’t think that it’ll ever be whole again. 

That’s the reason I disappeared.

I know that I should be blamed, but during the first few months of the breakdown I was trying to create a fact (or an imagination) that you were the one that should take it.  I believe that for some months, thinking that that would satisfy my ego, that I can be the hero of the story if I ever happen to tell the tale, taking the pat on the back or hearing some words of comfort.  I felt amused and even lifted being the main character.  But that didn’t mean that I have you taken the viler part.  For most part of the months that we’ve been together I think that you realized that I am good person, and now that we’re not together anymore, I am not going to be better than that.  I am a good person; that’s my biology, and I can’t fight biology.  I respected you, and as I have told you, I have given you the respect my mother was getting from me. 

But I am only human, though a good human.  A human who makes mistakes, creates mistakes, gets away from mistakes and allows mistakes to take over him until he’s down to the ground, flat and shaking and there’s no other way but to get up and try to right the mistakes, and uncreate and accept and resist them.  And yes, the fact that I made myself the hero of the story, I can’t get away with the temptation to imagine some things and recreate your character.  For most part of the breakdown months you were Severus Snape.  But you know Snape, he is cruel and vile, for most part of the story, but in the end he has the best of the intentions – the most humane of intentions, that he can face death without those best intentions leaving him.  You were Severus Snape, you were vile and cruel during those times, and I realized that, it seemed, at the end of the day, you have the best of intentions.  Leaving me was the best option in your sea of intentions. 

Now, I am left with this letter.  As a song goes” “It makes me happy to use you a little in this very last letter to an old lover.”  But that song’s succeeding line is not applicable to you or to me or to the situation.  I am not glad that you were gone.  In fact, there were a lot of pictures in my head right now based on some what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.  But I know that you don’t want things to go on that way.  I, also, would not want to dwell in the past.  Those were gone, a memory of something good, of something bad and of something that happens to human like us.  I wrote this letter to say goodbye.

So, goodbye. 

I know that this sound awkward and a little too foolish.  I just realized that there was no proper ending to our story.  As you know, every story has an ending, good or bad.  Every story has to end with either a period or an exclamation point.  It should not be ending with a comma (a pause) or a question mark (a doubt).  I thought it’d be awkward because it’s been so long and I didn’t speak out.  I thought it’d be foolish, because I may sound too dwelling in the past and too not moving on, and this may occur to you as I am blaming you or something.  Please don’t get me wrong.  You are the longest and the realest thing that has ever happened to my life and I don’t want the memory of that to go to waste.  I wanted that memory to be intact and whole.  This is a story that I can tell to my children to tuck them in bed at night, to reprimand them about how to hold the one they love, want and need them so they’d not go away or they’d come back, to take things seriously when it is basically serious and to cherish the things of the past but not dwell on it.

Tala, I end this with a smile.

Play

Now playing “Play” by Rascal Flatts.

The disembowelment (It feels like)

I sip a can of fiber-enriched juice right now as I slip into the realm of a thought that just blew my head off this night. Its opening is inviting, saying “Empty me, now” everytime I stare at it.  It stands still, like a golden statue to a thief, enticing with her gilded features wrapped around its body. I tried to concentrate for some seconds, acting like I don’t care, going on clicking on the letters that seemed to disappear with the golden light that’s coming from its body. But I can’t take it. Just now, I saw beads of water running down its golden silhouette, like a woman sulking in the sun, bare, waiting for that calloused hand to trace her outlines and cup the salty waters away from her, as her lips are wide open, waiting to be kissed, allowing to be drained of the sourness living inside her.

I slip my tongue out and draw my lips closer to its opening. I felt a tinge of fear, as my eyes caught the silvern blades that rounded its openness. I fear that I might cut my tongue or my lips: those little basic parts that help in bringing in some treats of desire, those that represent a man’s ability to connect to the physicality of other life, and non-life, forms and those that free a man from the virginity of silence. As they near the rim, its door seems to widen, allowing me of easy access.  I caught the pinpricks of gaping stars that adorned the black sky, struck by my bravery.  Their glitter abashed and tucked in the invisible clouds.

It ran like a river to a barren land. It has the taste of tangy forbidden fruit juice.  My throat seemed to have gone convulsive, confounded by my desire to let it in and its will to bring it out.  My stomach churned like a disturbed school of fish and scattered in all directions.

I saw the lifeless can stared at me, empty and still, still like it was before.  However, right now, I saw that the glitter vanished, just after the twinkling lights abandoned the night.  Now, it does not hold any promise at all. Its open invitation turned into a big stretch of grim grinning. I was beginning to realize that the woman it resembled moments ago was nothing more than mirage that victims the fools, those that are easily blinded by the spark of opportunity it offered.

I turned around as it reached my gut.

Sweaty, I think I just disemboweled some part of my digestive track.

Insert rap here

Bakit ba ‘di pa kayo maghiwalay ng boyfriend mo?  Bakit kailangan akong mahirapan ng ganito?  Ayoko ng mahirapan.  Ilang taon na rin akong pasulyap-sulyap sayo at nagpapahiwatig pero di mo man lang ako makuha.  Nag-comment ako sa isang status update mo kamakailan lamang pero di ka man lang nag-reply, ang mas masakit, binura mo pa ang buong status update mo na yon.  Ano bang kinakatakot mo, ang mabasa to ng boyfriend mo?  Bakit ka kailangang matakot kung wala ka namang ginagawang masama?  Bakit ka mangangamba?  Kung mahal ka niya at matibay na ang pundasyon na ginawa niyo dati pa hindi mo kailangang burahin ang status update at hayaan akong malugmok at malunod sa tubig ng kasawian na malapit nang pumasok sa tenga ko. 

Pero, speaking of masama, sa tingin ko ako ang gumagawa ng masama.  Pilit kong pinagpipilitan ang sarili ko sa isang bagay na kung titignan mo kahit sa malabong mata ng lolo ko sa probinsya e walang pupuntahan at walang kahihinatnan.  Ang maganda lang doon e hindi ako naniniwala sa isang bagay na hindi ko pa nakikita.  Hindi ko nakikitang malabo ang isang bagay na tulad ng pagiging tayo kaya heto ako naghihintay, tumitipa sa mga letra ng keyboard ko na wala namang pakiramdam kahit bugbugin ko sa gamit.  Parang ako, bugbugin man ako sa gamit e walang pakialam.  Ang alam ko lang ay tumitingin ako sa isang destinasyon na alam kong maaabot ko balang araw.  Iyon ang isang bagay na nakikita ko.  At naniniwala ako doon.

Pero sa tingin ko, walang kwenta ang post na ‘to.   Kaya pasensiya ka na, ikaw na mambababasa.  Baka kasi mainis ka lang.

It was enchanting to meet you.
I was enchanted to meet you.
~Taylor Swift, Enchanted

Drop waste here

Damn!  I can’t get things out of my head right now that I tend to recycle everything in my “Documentos privados” folder.  The last post was written almost two years ago and I have at least 10 Microsoft Word documents there that need to be published but not photo-finished yet.  I have a composition called “A Letter” there and I was supposed to send that via email (and post it right here) to a person as part of my moving-on rants.  If I published that, I will have another composition, unfinished and, hell yeah, unstarted, about how I would want to continue to pursue an old feeling of mine back before to a redhead replica.  Damn, in a month, I have dreamed of her four times vividly that I didn’t want to re-enter reality anymore.  But, cut it, I would not want to talk about it right now.

Busy season for auditors is a battering ram again and I would be out in the haze for a long time.  I’ll try to get back as soon as I  have the time.