suffering

I don't know what it is with suffering.

Everyday I see tortured souls like mine, mechanically going through our daily tasks, dreaming of a better day.

We hate where we are.

We are tired.

We'd like to move on desperately, to get rid of this old and rusty ball and chain.

I wanted to find another path.

And then fate did it's job and slapped me with an "End of Contract,"

I choked, felt lost and I stayed when I was inches away from freedom.

It feels like centuries ago and I'm still on the same boat.

melancholic musings

For the first time I feel like I'm really getting old. I don't have to wait 10 days...the Ql-C monster is right outside my doorstep.

Quarterlife. So this is how it feels. Pardon me for being so EMO about this.

The account is hanging by a thread... when it ends, I don't know what I'll do with my life.

This is how Neo must've felt when morpheus told him about the "real world." If there's a blue pill and red pill to choose from, I'd probably take the blue pill... "where the story ends" where I'd wake up in my bed and believe whatever I want to believe so my life would be easy again....

I want to go back to the place where my dreams were crystal clear...

...like in kindergarten, when I all I wanted was to draw...so I drew on the wall, on the floor, on our dictionary set...

...or before graduating, when planned to take Mass Comm because I decided I'll be a commentator in PBA.

...or in college, when my boss noticed that I had an eye for photography.

In 10 days, I'll be 25. I never thought of myself as an adult. Being the youngest in a brood of 4, acting like a baby comes naturally. Now, I'm coming to terms with my responsibilities as an adult...and I feel stagnant-- like a puddle of water waiting for the sun to dry it up. The world is indeed a jungle, competitive and less forgiving.

I am afraid of being disillusioned. I long for the times I saw life through rose-colored glasses.

I need to read the alchemist again.

road less traveled

I am at a fork in the road. Sooner or later, I'll have to leave the job I've had for more than 4 years. Four years is not a short time. It is the same amount of time I spent in high school... the same span of time I spent in college. It's something I cannot just leave without getting a bit melodramatic.

My work and I, we have a love-hate relationship. I do the hating for most parts though. If it was a real relationship, I'd be the fickle-minded bitch who's always whining. I'd thought about breaking up a thousand times, but I'd always choke when I had to leave.

And now my work is leaving me...leaving us. And it, surprisingly, hurts.

I didn't intend to end up in a call center. I applied 10 days after graduation because I had nothing better to do. Back then a call center job was as cool as ZAGU, so I joined the bandwagon, not knowing where it would lead me... at least I knew it had something to do with phones and talking...and being the telebabad that I am, I got myself a job.

Fast forward to 4 years. I am now a quality assurance specialist, and my job description entails eavesdropping on their calls. Sounds easy breezy, but not everyday. Life is not a pushover. When you think you have it easy, bright and sunny, it turns your world upside down.

For the past few days, I've been stumbling on the biggest questions marks (somebody dumped a mess of them), fretting about the things I should have done, what I'll do, and everything in between.

I am at a fork in the road. One road leads to the same path I took 4 years ago. The other road is the one I've forgotten about. It is the road I hadn't found but wanted to take. And by some luck, chance, or fate I found it. I know it's not an easy road to trek. The grass may not be greener, I might stumble, break my ankle, or some other gory stuff waiting to happen. But as my dear friend Robert said, “... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference .”

reasons

What makes me fall in love with you?

Your smile, which never fails to brighten up even my gloomiest day…

Your little acts of kindness that warms up my heart and soul…

Your mind, which spices up conversations no matter how mundane and trivial it may be.

Your chivalry, which makes me feel like a real lady…

Your brown eyes that reflect a love that’s deep and true…

Your hand that holds my heart…

Your arms that hug me through night and day.

Your shoulders as my pillow and source of comfort…

The pair of lips that whispers my name and says the words that keeps me going every single day…

And the list goes on………..Baby, every day I find a reason to love you even more… : )

that stupid smile... : )

How do I write about someone so… so special… so wonderful, when every adjective that I think of pales in comparison? I tried to write about him so many times, I sit in front of the pc and think of him… of us, and every time, my heart swells up like a shiny red balloon… I float and my mind floats away with me… so I sit idly, resting my fingers on the keyboard while a stupid smile crawls on my face.

You know what a stupid smile is? It’s a smile that’s glued on your face...it feels as if invisible hands are pulling your lips apart and stretches it from ear to ear... A smile that nothing and nobody could take off. A smile that doesn’t really make you feel stupid, but otherwise. A smile that appears even while you’re watching a sad and sappy movie… A smile that’s there, even when you’re all soaked up and suffering from hypothermia. A smile that stays on, even when your temperature soars sky high or when your nose runs…A smile that never sleeps whenever you dream, and a dreamy smile whenever you wake up…

He painted that smile on my face, and only he can wipe it away. As I’ve said, he turned my upside down world to its right side in. When he came, I learned the difference of experiencing happiness and being joyful. Watching a good movie makes me happy, but watching it with him is pure joy. Sipping coffee with him makes the coffee sweet like no other. Looking into his eyes is like looking at my own reflection… a reflection of the purest love…

So I sit here with my eternal smile, managing to write only a few lines... because words… I know, are just words. My hands rest on the keyboard and the stupid smile stays glued on my face.

heartbreaker

Paulo Coelho once told me not to ask this question… or at least that’s what he said in his book, The Zahir. But I guess at one point or another, we all are haunted by this question…and right at this moment I find myself asking, Why am I unhappy?

I have a job that I’m good at. I have swell friends. I have a loving family. I have someone who loves me. All I needed to say was I am happy, but why do I find myself listing all these reasons… Is it to avoid the real answer?

I went out last Saturday, with colleagues… to get rid of this nagging alcohol fix. I was sick, but went out anyway. It’s funny when one gets drunk. You open up to the world. You get to shout out to world that you’re not happy. It’s supposed to be a good thing. To finally realize what’s wrong…to accept that there is indeed something wrong, and to say it out loud…and do something about it. But no matter how I tell the world, the whole world doesn’t really care…because in the first place, it isn’t the world I should be saying it to…but to this person...

But how do you tell someone you’re unhappy with them…when all that makes sense in that person's life right now is you...when all they ever get their strength from is you?

I had always been the broken one…and I always thought it hurt. But I never knew it would hurt more when you are the one breaking somebody’s heart…you carry twice the pain -- theirs and your own.

How do you break somebody’s heart? When you know with all your heart that somebody was the one who loved you the best…

:’(

that day..

I was eleven then, a skinny, petite girl caught up in a brawl. It was raining and everybody was on the playground anxious to watch my one-on-one match with Rosemerta, the gigantic bully. She was a plump thirteen-year-old girl who had five good inches advantage over me. She had eyes that seemed to bulge out of their sockets, and huge arms about six times bigger in diameter than mine. I stood tall in front of the bull, head high in my odd-looking fighting stance・but deep inside I was so scared I could almost see my entire life flash by. Then again, I thought of David and Goliath so I said to myself I'm gonna kick your ass.

But I guess it was my ass that got kicked. The bully grabbed me effortlessly, and shoved my face on to the muddy ground. It was nothing really, until I heard her oh-so-evil high-pitched laugh that hurt my ears and paralyzed me. Even the other kids couldn't bear the bully's piercing guffaw, as they seemed to almost pass out. The next thing I saw was Rosemerta crashing on the ground next to me, her head dipped in a puddle of mud. For a more movie-like, dramatic effect, the rain stopped pouring and the sun appeared almost instantly. There stood my knight in shining armor whose face I couldn't see for a blinding light was shining on that person's face. So I stood up with my puppy-like eyes and a dreamy expression in my face eager to give my knight a well-deserved thank you kiss. Well, it turned out to be that my knight was more of a warrior princess, a pretty girl about my age. She held my hand and then I saw the world's sweetest smile. That day we walked home hand in hand eager to beat all odds.

blue and pink..black or white?

When the last thing you wanna do is hurt the ones you love, would you rather hurt yourself?

It breaks my heart to be judged by the people I love the most… To be seen as a big mistake… a sheep gone astray… a freak of nature… but most painfully, to cause shame in our family.

Why?

Because I fell in love with a SHE instead of a HE?

Are we to be judged by the choice of who we love?

I asked my Hindu friend about their stand on same sex relationships. He said that where love is present, it doesn’t matter whatever the form is…. And yes, I thought “all we need is love,” that sometimes, some things just don’t matter.

I wish our hearts have built in switches, which you could turn on and off as often as you’d like, I wish they have built in radars, with a red light that would go off as if saying “Off Limits!” or “Danger!”, whenever we come across the wrong person. But could we really teach our hearts? Could we really set limits or expectations as to what it should do, or who it should love? If we indeed could teach our hearts, then why don’t they teach theirs to love their daughter just as she is.

Who tells us it’s the right or wrong person to love?The quoted verses in the bible?What if you don’t read the bible, say you’re Hindu, do you burn in hell just the same?

In a world full of different ideologies, philosophies, religion and practices, who judges the right from wrong? Who says which is black or which is white? Is it God?

For me, God is someone who has always been there for me, whether I was good or bad—it didn’t matter. When I’m weak, He is my pillar of strength…when I’m distressed, He is my comfort zone. He never failed me…and when I prayed to him to give me someone to love, He gave me her.

Now that I have her, they say it’s wrong. They say it’s against God’s will. If this is how the world works then maybe I don’t really know God.

It hurts to live in a world where people value written verses, instead of people’s feelings.

It hurts to live in a world where you are judged by WHO you love not by HOW you love.

When the last thing you wanna do is hurt the ones you love, would you rather hurt yourself?

Will I give up my happiness to fulfill my parents’ expectations…

Would I hurt her?... and would I hurt myself?

I guess not. Because I believe in the concept that God is unconditional. He is a God who never chooses. God loves all no matter the status, race, or gender. He loves even the sinners. If God doesn’t choose who to love, then who are we to choose? Who are we to say loving this person is wrong?

ennui

Boredom broke into our house again. Great. I have too much time in my hands and the rain’s getting me into a slump…so I guess that leaves me here trapped inside my muddled, dusty room.

I've looked ennui in the face, I have slept with it and lived with it from time to time. It has been an unwelcome companion during the bleak, dry, and lazy days. Sometimes, we would spend the whole afternoon sprawled on the floor staring at the ceiling, observing spider man as he weaves his own condo unit.. And I thought, maybe I should start making my own web. Then again, I remembered I've already made one out of my room& and a jungle out of it just the same. At times, we'd raid the shelves and feast our eyes on the thick, ancient, dust-covered books we can't quite comprehend. With tired eyes and an overused brain, we'd doze off. But the most usual ritual we go through is this-- sitting in front of the pc, looking at the blasted mouse cursor which incidentally is blinking at me at the moment, like screaming to my face "TYPE!" &and I would only come up with some lousy piece such as this. Yes, it's one of those days. I'm so bummed out.

karma.

"What goes around, comes around.
What goes up, must come down.
It's called Karma baby.
And it goes around."

i just wanna sing till the rain stops.

heehee.