Wednesday, February 07, 2018
Saturday, March 24, 2012
I was walking around in a known mall across an another known mall. I'm used into this kind of “psychedelic experience,” my euphemistic term for tripping. I traveled and walked alone trying to make up my mind -- things I do when I feel like my life is becoming messed up (as always been). I would walk around blank seems looking for nothing and I'd watch people and formulate conclusions about their life but couldn't even make a judgement what my life has to take. It has been like years since my existence to the world I'm living in hasn't changed that much or at all. Or has my entity being denied by nature. Simply put, why am I feeling this way? And why in the first place I was brought in this questioning?
I would like to see myself answer those inquests yet I am afraid to. I am scared stiff that it would be a no-answer question, something that I would have to live by it. I had questions before that were easily left unanswered and I settled for that many times. However now, I still don't know. I still have completely no control of what is left in me.
Sometime before, I went along with my uncle in his work just to kill time for the summer. I once heard a man scream, probably in his prime, who owned the office where my uncle worked at and told his employers, don't bother ask if you already know the answer. It wasn't new to me actually. I was sure I heard that line before and I thought it was horse sense to even my ignorance that I knew exactly what he meant by that.
A random clerk with a chafed face passed by while carrying a mount of papers saying, how we're supposed to know it, jerk! I realized that my take on it was different from most people in there.
Recently I kept glancing at the window a hundred times with the same scene and people I see everyday, getting my hopes up that soon I'd find the answer to all these questions. I feel disabled of many things in life. But somehow, I learned that it's not worth to ask the same question over and over. What we ask do not equate of what we need, and I clearly know how it's distinct from one another. There are no problems resolved without solutions as it would end the same way. If only someone could counterclaim every bit of my misdoubts and suspicions in this crucial world, I could have been less of a dread man.
With those left unanswered, it made me strong in a way. The strings to where I am clinging at is unchanged, thin and almost breaking. Only the fear of falling makes me stay clutched to it. Maybe in a little more while, I'd get the hang of it.
Dance Yourself to Death (Teenage Romanticide)
Monday, January 16, 2012
I found myself staring outside at the window. Nothing was there, just the leaves overlaying the benches. I thought sometimes it is seemly to see things on one side. That why would I have to look around if I'm by then content of it? (Was I?) If everything in one shot has color and several dimensions, like the ones we see on the big screen. Howbeit if I take these glasses off, everything is blur. And I know I'm losing sight of you.
I don't know why they call it ‘heartbreak’ if I feel like every part of my body is broken too. My eyes are swollen, my lips feel betrayed, my heart rushes to beat, and my mind suffers of past memories and delusions. I have killed you alive. With those few words I said, It'd be good for us, drawn me badly into the abysmal agony. You're being unreasonable, you countered. Silence grew. I took a snort of cigar as if t'was my last. You moved closer to me with moist stare. I couldn't look back. I have words to say I never had courage to say before. But still something was holding me back. I realized the times we've shared are so fragile that I'm afraid it would break you; the way I was breaking you all along.
Bemused enough that I drank my macchiato in blue streak without admiring the olive leaf art it forms, as it casually takes me quarter of an hour to finish a cup. That night I made it straight (at the least, it wasn't alcohol). If only there's a pill for severe confusion, I would have overdosed myself that moment. There was no longer any input to my senses. Neither I could think of way to suddenly be gone nor tell the truth. If there is anything in this world I am worst at, it is confession. My head was purling. My thoughts were making their own ways to get out of my exploding mind.
One by one, I counted how many sticks I consumed in front of her just to say how much I loved her, not still. Bit by bit, I finally wove my words with disgrace of myself. I did not care whatever you had to say. To imply it was an another man of unimaginable contempt.
I slid my hand reaching hers. I began to consider my actions thinking about myself, my indiscretion, this part-taking, my sins, how I ended up with him and how my life had become so much misleading. But I soon thought of nothing else other than content. I have found my own default with. That is something I could not lie more about. We both knew a sparing, overused sorry is not enough to suffice everything but I'd say it for the last time with an overstatement, you deserve someone better than me.
I drank another cup of espresso. I gently savored. The taste is much better now. He took a sip, what do call this coffee, again? I grinned....
Its hard I must confess
I'm banking on the rest to clear away
Cause we have spoken everything
Everything short of I love you
You right where you are, from right where I am
Somewhere between unsure and a hundred
And who's to say it's wrong
And who's to say that it's not right
Where we should be for now
Hundred (The Fray)