Drilling my stare on the back of your head
willing you to turn and look at me
look at me one more time and see me for who I am.
The sound of your footsteps started to thin.
I was still staring.
Even after you’re gone, I’m still waiting.
Once upon a time, there was a sorry maiden.
She fell in love.
And didn’t live happily ever after.
I broke his heart, I know it.
And I don’t care.
Thank you for the opportunity to smile. For that brief moment, you made me see that I am a wonderful person and that I am worth your time.
Thank you for the seconds that you spend each day to think of me. Even in space, I seem to sense that you are indeed, out there, and mine.
Thank you for telling me how you feel and showing me that you’re true. I do not know how, why or when, but I seem to believe you.
Thank you for holding on and choosing to start rather than end, choosing to say hello, rather than goodbye, choosing to be there for me, than as you were.
Thank you for your silence, you made me think more about you.
Thank you for the mind work, you’re quite the source of sleepless nights. And happy dreams where I do not even need to close my eyes.
Thank you for pain, it’s not obvious, it’s not physical, it’s not even tangible. It’s frustrating, it’s irritating but I’m loving each moment of it. I am only human.
For all it’s worth, thank you very much.
You came, went and now I don’t know where you are.
But thanks.
Sometimes I forget who I am.
This isn’t the child taking pleasure in looking at skyscrapers from the sidewalk,
or the girl awed by natural sand castles and sings with the breeze of rain.
This isn’t the teenager who sees sunsets like oranges on a spoon of water,
or the lady taking a pose, strutting on an invisible catwalk.
Of cartoons and TV shows one cannot grow out of,
Of long walks on the beach and raindrops tapping on windows,
Of the blinding sun full of possibilities and water that makes it sizzle
Of directions and that tug to an unknown.
Sometimes I really wish that I can forget who I am.
Dahil adik si Gaea sa Midnight DJ na dating pinapalabas sa ABC5, minabuti kong isulat ang isa sa mga naranasan namin nung Summer.
Hindi po ako matatakutin at lalong hindi po ako mapamahiin. Laking Maynila na po ako at dahil maaga akong namulat sa mga horror flicks tulad ng People Under the Stairs, Friday the 13th, Night of the Living Dead, Pet Semetary at Exorcist, naging skeptical na ako sa mga horror flicks. Nagbabasa din po ako ng mystery/horror fiction. Si Christopher Pike, RL Stine, Anne Rice (Vampire Chronicles) at si Stephen King ang favorite ko noon.
Yung mga horror flicks ngayon, mas creative. Andyan na ang The Ring, Shutter, Exorcism of Emily Rose at saka Mirrors. Hindi naman horror yung istorya ko pero di ko kasi inaakala na puwede siyang mangyari sakin kaya sinusulat ko ito.
It wasn’t really the ending that made sense.
It was the beginning. Because then, there was meaning and purpose. Now, there is nothing left.
My palms are sweaty and I can barely crack a joke. I’ve lost all the remaining smiles I usually never run out of and my positive outlook in life has now been tainted with bitter musings of the past. Worse, everybody understands and shares my sentiments. I am the only who’s against me. And yet I refuse to believe myself.
I could not understand how someone can deliberately choose to make someone else’s life miserable. How would it be possible for a person to exist with one solid purpose – to cause mayhem and destruction of other living individuals? What would that make this person? Would it make him evil and powerful? Would it make him rich? Would it make his life better and easier to live? Then what of the people he steps on? Do they pile up and become stepping stones toward an invisible goal? Or perhaps become a dispensable staircase of a completed bullying list? What about me?
They say that this wouldn’t happen if you wouldn’t let it. They say that things would be better if you try to stand and fight against it. What do I care about what they say. They don’t care about me.
Some things, I guess are left not to be understood. Even endings and last chapters.
We’re just meant to go on.
*Inspired by Jeff Kinney’s Diary of a Wimpy Kid
