At this very moment, I may not be as sober as any man who hasn't had the inkling of the wonders of intoxication, but I still know -- completely and doubtlessly -- that I have what I have for you even if the vigilance and the discipline of the mind have tentatively gone astray.
You are that fragment of air that whispers into my oblivion and then turns into a mass of wind that blows me away and makes me fly -- highly, oh so highly. :)
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Always
5 months ago, the life I once -- or infinitely -- thought I'd always have unexpectedly took a turn. It was a detour I exceedingly longed to take for almost three years but frustratingly failed to commence. Indeed, so suddenly and unbelievably, I felt I was no longer petrified. It was as if an incantation that turned me to stone had lost its curse and made me human again.
Without anticipation, the seeming sanctuary of numbness I inhabited for many months had foregone its meaning: I was moving. My eyes were not shuttering anymore; they were awakening. My lips began shedding the thirst that once plagued their surfaces and conspicuously revealed the movement of their innate purpose: to smile. I was smiling -- finally and once again.
I was happy and I knew I was not lying.
For many days, I knew I was in a different world. It was so deviant from that place I forcibly introduced myself to almost three years ago that there were days I thought I was afloat, swimming in an illusion I myself insanely crafted, such as that one mirror mentioned in the first Harry Potter installment which deceivingly showed one's desires.
"This isn't real, this isn't real, " I told myself, as if pinching my skin persistently.
But it was... and it still is.
Now, despite everything that I -- we -- have gone through, our world remains real.
With the 5 we've got in hand, I can say without any fragment of a quiver that we've remarkably and gratefully passed through hurdles that almost stopped us from getting this far.
There was the definitive revelation that almost struck us with a beating too strong for pacifying but which -- after months of uneasy struggle-- we managed to tame. Then, came the constant criticisms or gossip allegedly from varied and countless sources, throwing us words and intents like rocks wounding us without fail.
Yet and so blessedly, we persevered. We're still here, still breathing and beaming.
Today again adds another mark to that pact we have forged. It is an agreement with neither any express or implied obligation, nor any stipulation innately compulsory, nor any clause dutifully coercive -- for there is no space for such; there is only the desire, the want and the need for you... for I love you.
Always. :)
Without anticipation, the seeming sanctuary of numbness I inhabited for many months had foregone its meaning: I was moving. My eyes were not shuttering anymore; they were awakening. My lips began shedding the thirst that once plagued their surfaces and conspicuously revealed the movement of their innate purpose: to smile. I was smiling -- finally and once again.
I was happy and I knew I was not lying.
For many days, I knew I was in a different world. It was so deviant from that place I forcibly introduced myself to almost three years ago that there were days I thought I was afloat, swimming in an illusion I myself insanely crafted, such as that one mirror mentioned in the first Harry Potter installment which deceivingly showed one's desires.
"This isn't real, this isn't real, " I told myself, as if pinching my skin persistently.
But it was... and it still is.
Now, despite everything that I -- we -- have gone through, our world remains real.
With the 5 we've got in hand, I can say without any fragment of a quiver that we've remarkably and gratefully passed through hurdles that almost stopped us from getting this far.
There was the definitive revelation that almost struck us with a beating too strong for pacifying but which -- after months of uneasy struggle-- we managed to tame. Then, came the constant criticisms or gossip allegedly from varied and countless sources, throwing us words and intents like rocks wounding us without fail.
Yet and so blessedly, we persevered. We're still here, still breathing and beaming.
Today again adds another mark to that pact we have forged. It is an agreement with neither any express or implied obligation, nor any stipulation innately compulsory, nor any clause dutifully coercive -- for there is no space for such; there is only the desire, the want and the need for you... for I love you.
Always. :)
Friday, October 9, 2009
Us and Them
One by one, they came like lightning, supremely illuminated at the outset. Then, after petrified seconds -- the light withering and the veil sifting through the founded dimness -- sounds deafening hounded the now dead stillness of our ears.
The persistence of sound echoed.
Still, one by one, waters went running down against us.
Running, scampering and panicking.
Forcing, aiming, hurling and persisting.
Drenching.
The waters seemed like rocks.
They were throwing rocks at us.
One, two, three... there were too many.
But we didn't mind.
We don't mind.
We won't mind.
They're just rocks -- we're steel.
The persistence of sound echoed.
Still, one by one, waters went running down against us.
Running, scampering and panicking.
Forcing, aiming, hurling and persisting.
Drenching.
The waters seemed like rocks.
They were throwing rocks at us.
One, two, three... there were too many.
But we didn't mind.
We don't mind.
We won't mind.
They're just rocks -- we're steel.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Bizarre Cardiac Triad
Today, my world has started to whisper anew.
With the awakening silence, voices have begun to scramble, threatening and pointing auditory knives on my skin.
A love from someone I haven't thought existed has finally come out of its velvet cover and mercilessly pounded like stones on my veiled complacency. Though with no intention of injury, my easy words and worldly stares at him have drawn bruises on his face and eroded the bumps on his lips. He has been there, waiting and anticipating nothing. No plea of reciprocity, no yeas, no nothing. He knows I am with someone I have been loving, yearning and keeping -- Potter, my Potter...
Yet, he's still there. Still him, still there -- with nothing but vulnerability and the burden of imminence of defeat.
I'm sorry.
With the awakening silence, voices have begun to scramble, threatening and pointing auditory knives on my skin.
A love from someone I haven't thought existed has finally come out of its velvet cover and mercilessly pounded like stones on my veiled complacency. Though with no intention of injury, my easy words and worldly stares at him have drawn bruises on his face and eroded the bumps on his lips. He has been there, waiting and anticipating nothing. No plea of reciprocity, no yeas, no nothing. He knows I am with someone I have been loving, yearning and keeping -- Potter, my Potter...
Yet, he's still there. Still him, still there -- with nothing but vulnerability and the burden of imminence of defeat.
I'm sorry.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
For H. Potter
for many days, i waited. the clock didn't stop moving.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes, once falling, gradually dried and were then cracking.
my feet were stuck on the ground, with neither ropes nor chains.
and, my hands -- my hands -- were just mine, just mine.
days then turned into mornings -- hundreds of them.
with the settling of the sun, the mornings died and the days grew.
there were then years and nights -- now, in thousands.
with the black and the gray, the crickets sang their songs...
and the dew from the fog dropped their tears into lullabies -- but i couldn't sleep still.
drop, drop, drop.
yet, i still waited.
waited, waited and waited.
nothing still.
... then i got tired.
no, i got weary, but i wasn't tired.
i never could be.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes were still there -- dismal, desolate, bleak, but still unhesitating.
i looked at my feet and my hands. they were motionless.
the veins that etched their surfaces still throbbed but I felt they were just playing dead sounds.
i was starting to unease my struggle and to finally give up the wait.
drop, drop, drop.
without warning, holes started appearing out of nowhere, piercing the darkness that seemed to have dwelt on the void for ages, like sirens shrieking, as if announcing the demise of the once lingering and persistent dormancy.
it was morning.
a new backdrop was set.
but, i was still in my pajamas...
and the milk, which had been on the table for years, was still warm.
what was happening?
although the morn had with it the prevalence of light,
the familiarity of solace,
the smell of yellow,
and the imminence of beginnings,
there was something different this time.
there was more.
i knew there was.
finally, i opened my eyes. now, fully.
i moved my feet and stood up.
and my hands -- my hands -- were no longer mine alone anymore.
The standstill was over
-- because in front of me, you were there.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes, once falling, gradually dried and were then cracking.
my feet were stuck on the ground, with neither ropes nor chains.
and, my hands -- my hands -- were just mine, just mine.
days then turned into mornings -- hundreds of them.
with the settling of the sun, the mornings died and the days grew.
there were then years and nights -- now, in thousands.
with the black and the gray, the crickets sang their songs...
and the dew from the fog dropped their tears into lullabies -- but i couldn't sleep still.
drop, drop, drop.
yet, i still waited.
waited, waited and waited.
nothing still.
... then i got tired.
no, i got weary, but i wasn't tired.
i never could be.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes were still there -- dismal, desolate, bleak, but still unhesitating.
i looked at my feet and my hands. they were motionless.
the veins that etched their surfaces still throbbed but I felt they were just playing dead sounds.
i was starting to unease my struggle and to finally give up the wait.
drop, drop, drop.
without warning, holes started appearing out of nowhere, piercing the darkness that seemed to have dwelt on the void for ages, like sirens shrieking, as if announcing the demise of the once lingering and persistent dormancy.
it was morning.
a new backdrop was set.
but, i was still in my pajamas...
and the milk, which had been on the table for years, was still warm.
what was happening?
although the morn had with it the prevalence of light,
the familiarity of solace,
the smell of yellow,
and the imminence of beginnings,
there was something different this time.
there was more.
i knew there was.
finally, i opened my eyes. now, fully.
i moved my feet and stood up.
and my hands -- my hands -- were no longer mine alone anymore.
The standstill was over
-- because in front of me, you were there.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Ladies & Gents, Another Ranting Post
It's already April. In fact, it's the 20th. I'm late.
I've been stuck at home since October last year and I think my leash has only been tightened more. I can't even get an effing cheap green tea at a coffee shop (ironically) without having myself assassinated by my parents.
Uhm, wait, that was my problem months ago. Now, I've got far bigger problems at hand.
I don't want to be too specific anymore about such because I may just end up being a shrink's stupid dustbin (yes, reader, you're the psychologist).
To give you just a blind eagle's eye view, here are the rants: 1) I want a room -- a sanctuary -- to tentatively take me away from anything familial or distracting; 2) I've got to regain even a quarter of my eager beaver self as soon as possible; 3) I need to graduate and get these pre-graduation activities over with so that I can finally place my focus in its proper dwelling; and 4) I need a 24-hour body aircon! ("Ineeeet!!!" is an understatement!)
Very unfortunately, I've got to do STILL what I had been doing since the time I discovered where babies came from: WAIT. In a nutshell: a week at most for my room and for graduation; and God-knows-when for my personification-inspired revival -- and for my body refrigerator.
Boohoo.
Friday, March 27, 2009
The Problem With Being Myself
I'm pissed.
Actually, I've got no plans of blogging until the coming exams this September are over... but circumstances do come up with not so funny jokes once in a while. And those "once in a while crack-ups" have just reappeared on the dining table earlier.
Around 1:30 this afternoon. It was hot. In fact, everything was, from the crimson ceiling to the simmering fish soup.
Unexpectedly, it would get hotter.
Right after sipping the last teaspoon of the inconveniently semi-boiling stock, my father asked me for the nth time (he had been doing so since the last 3 months) where I'd be lodging in Manila for my review. I told him ALSO for the nth time that I'd be finding one as soon as next week when I get back to Manila. In addition, I'd be living alone since none of my friends pushed through with the plan of us staying together for the review.
To give you a background (just pretend you're interested) : the apartment me and my sister leased in Sta. Mesa when we were still in law school had already been given up (so to speak) by my way too stingy father days after the last final exam of my last semester in masochist's, er, law school. Friends told me that leaving the apartment was a bad choice since the leasing fee only amounted to 4, 500/month and the access to almost everything was undeniable. (A church, a market, a laundry shop and an internet cafe were just steps away. Not to mention the fact that only a lonesome jeepney ride was needed for one to be taken to the LRT station and to Mendiola/Quiapo.) But fate -- or my father -- had other plans. Conclusively, when the review starts this April I'll be homeless unless I find a new place to live in.
So I thought the conversation would end with my way too rehearsed response. But, alas, it didn't end there. My father then said that maybe I have "PLANS" in Manila that's why I'd be living alone.
It was more than a plain, harmless statement -- it was a banter more than suggesting that I'd be spending months in a place far away from home just to have my booty slammed against someone else's. My father suggested -- or suggests -- that his son is a tramp!
The afternoon got hotter. It boiled. I couldn't believe that he said that.
So I retaliated, "Anong plano po?" I asked this with an obvious opposition and an almost awakening monstrosity.
He paused, sensing that I didn't like what he said. "Baka mag-lamyerda ka lang," he responded.
Every person surrounding the table knew that wasn't what my father really wanted to answer. Everyone there, including me specially, knew that what he meant was that I'd be inviting promiscuity or "dirt" in my prospective boarding house/apartment.
I was really pissed. I wanted to shout, to scream, to take my lungs out and to just get the hell away from him.
But I couldn't. So here I am, blogging my stupid heart out.
Not too long ago, I swore to myself that I would not let any person, any society or even any Theological principle dictate what I should do with my life, how I should schedule it, who the people I should be making friends with and where I should place myself in every circumstance. Though no man is an island, I am still an individual. I can't let anyone carry me in his palm -- or his cage -- forever.
I've had only two relationships in my whole 25-year existence. I didn't cheat and I tried my hardest to love them fully. (Obviously, it wasn't enough.) Now, I'm already nearing 3 years of "singlehood" and I haven't had any sexual relationships with anyone. But still my father thinks I'm a prostitute?!
Maybe I just couldn't blame him. After all, many people think of me the same way. To put it in another way, many people think of OTHER PEOPLE LIKE ME the same way.
Can't change that. No matter how hard I try. People are people.
A law professor once told me that God has many faces, and such vary from person to person. He believed that his God -- although deviant of the Church's notion -- is sympathetic, indiscriminatory, unconditional and always receptive of every person, regardless of the latter's "social and/or biblical" imperfections.
He is my God, too. I know He loves me.
Actually, I've got no plans of blogging until the coming exams this September are over... but circumstances do come up with not so funny jokes once in a while. And those "once in a while crack-ups" have just reappeared on the dining table earlier.
Around 1:30 this afternoon. It was hot. In fact, everything was, from the crimson ceiling to the simmering fish soup.
Unexpectedly, it would get hotter.
Right after sipping the last teaspoon of the inconveniently semi-boiling stock, my father asked me for the nth time (he had been doing so since the last 3 months) where I'd be lodging in Manila for my review. I told him ALSO for the nth time that I'd be finding one as soon as next week when I get back to Manila. In addition, I'd be living alone since none of my friends pushed through with the plan of us staying together for the review.
To give you a background (just pretend you're interested) : the apartment me and my sister leased in Sta. Mesa when we were still in law school had already been given up (so to speak) by my way too stingy father days after the last final exam of my last semester in masochist's, er, law school. Friends told me that leaving the apartment was a bad choice since the leasing fee only amounted to 4, 500/month and the access to almost everything was undeniable. (A church, a market, a laundry shop and an internet cafe were just steps away. Not to mention the fact that only a lonesome jeepney ride was needed for one to be taken to the LRT station and to Mendiola/Quiapo.) But fate -- or my father -- had other plans. Conclusively, when the review starts this April I'll be homeless unless I find a new place to live in.
So I thought the conversation would end with my way too rehearsed response. But, alas, it didn't end there. My father then said that maybe I have "PLANS" in Manila that's why I'd be living alone.
It was more than a plain, harmless statement -- it was a banter more than suggesting that I'd be spending months in a place far away from home just to have my booty slammed against someone else's. My father suggested -- or suggests -- that his son is a tramp!
The afternoon got hotter. It boiled. I couldn't believe that he said that.
So I retaliated, "Anong plano po?" I asked this with an obvious opposition and an almost awakening monstrosity.
He paused, sensing that I didn't like what he said. "Baka mag-lamyerda ka lang," he responded.
Every person surrounding the table knew that wasn't what my father really wanted to answer. Everyone there, including me specially, knew that what he meant was that I'd be inviting promiscuity or "dirt" in my prospective boarding house/apartment.
I was really pissed. I wanted to shout, to scream, to take my lungs out and to just get the hell away from him.
But I couldn't. So here I am, blogging my stupid heart out.
Not too long ago, I swore to myself that I would not let any person, any society or even any Theological principle dictate what I should do with my life, how I should schedule it, who the people I should be making friends with and where I should place myself in every circumstance. Though no man is an island, I am still an individual. I can't let anyone carry me in his palm -- or his cage -- forever.
I've had only two relationships in my whole 25-year existence. I didn't cheat and I tried my hardest to love them fully. (Obviously, it wasn't enough.) Now, I'm already nearing 3 years of "singlehood" and I haven't had any sexual relationships with anyone. But still my father thinks I'm a prostitute?!
Maybe I just couldn't blame him. After all, many people think of me the same way. To put it in another way, many people think of OTHER PEOPLE LIKE ME the same way.
Can't change that. No matter how hard I try. People are people.
A law professor once told me that God has many faces, and such vary from person to person. He believed that his God -- although deviant of the Church's notion -- is sympathetic, indiscriminatory, unconditional and always receptive of every person, regardless of the latter's "social and/or biblical" imperfections.
He is my God, too. I know He loves me.
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