If all our life is but a dream

Fantastic posing greed,

then we should feed our jewelry to the sea.

For diamonds do appear to be

Just like broken glass to me.

And then she said she can`t believ

eGenius only comes along in storms of fabled foreign tongues.

Tripping eyes and flooded lungs

Northern downpour sends its' love.

Hey moon please forget to fall down

Hey moon don`t you go down

Sugar cane in the easy morning

Weathervanes my, one and lonely.

The ink is running toward the page

It's chasing off the days

Look back at boat feet and that winding knee

I missed your skin when you were east

You clicked your heels and wished for me

Through playful lips made of yarn

That fragile Capricorn unraveled words like moths upon old scarves

I know the world's a broken bone

But melt your headaches, call it home

This path that we walk upon is the collection of points that the rain has drawn.
The rhythm section of the storm.

By the moonlight to the gateposts of the forest,in the snow light, we are bound for the portal of the pines.
Grey as famine, on this path against our will by our main sails we're bound to the tempest until the sea is still.
Which compulsion with this miniature death tributize?
From behind the walls of my broken coughing tent, a formal vision,but I allude to my helpless passion for the obtuse
When will this night end?
When the lightening finally tears through the mast of our sinking ship.
All the hopes of the slaves are betrayed by the grates.On this coffin of a vessel every note's another breaking wave.
Revel in this vision, a formal visitation, on the night with the light from above.
Famished dogs follow slowly as my own paws drag me to a dock,to the last plank where I struggle to deny myself the path that every Pisces craves,
just above the water in the middle of that man-made lake.On that pier I turn my eyes from the water like a mirror of myself in the moonlight,and I cough for every crater that I could see,on the surface of that coffin we've come to call the moon.
Now I wonder if all those judgments that you made were true.And the trapdoor of the solstice is thrown wide, wide open.Let them all sink, let them all sink through.The talking, the spinning of a web- its all just formal ritual.

The burning.

The burning question "what do you deserve?"

The gazing at a candle to find calm, but we all know its at the center of the storm.

Oh moon, though pluckest me out, oh moon-I who have sat by Thebes below the wall and walked among the lowest of the dead

Only the most sacred crater will suit my burial,only the most sacred choir performs this ritual dirge.Perfectly imperfect, like a storm.By our mane dragged and bound to our grave by our mane,to the grave dragged and bound to the tomb by

the scavenger's tooth.

Mouth the words to deny, deny the symptoms,
as 'oh yeah I'm doing fine',
as I've found a most endearing psychosis.

Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. Desperate as I am I just can't strip bare and bleed the only purity I've known.

But I lay with reason.

Found logic concieved in a walk with skin.

I lay with reason producing these monsters.

Under painted catcalls as in temptation. yeah there's a key to be in,
but there's no shade, no shade to blame.

Waterfalls in a cool grey, and the struggle is colored grey this day.
The caw of crows fills up the picture plane.

Our picture plane is veiled in central neutral grey. Absinthe to slight the pain.
This world's this worst case color scheme.

Streaks of oil stain, stained the road he crawled on homeward.Oh yeah, oh yeah he killed the switch with some unwieldy gauge, absence and light remain.

I lay with reason found logic and reap in a walk with sin

El sueno razon produce monsinios.

When does this dream end? Now I've missed another whole season,I've missed the fall, clearly its fallen on this land as fields once green are ochre now.

This is no dream.

Trees have turned to skeleton, roots teased and knotted just below the surface skin of ground.
Stitched between the earth and the sky struggling to hold it down.Sometimes to realize you have to lose track of sight blurring my vision makes it clear the tiny moving parts make up the whole.The image is clear, a tower is built of my own pride,

I cry in the shade that if offers, the only shelter I've known.

When does this dream end? This is no dream.

This is the walking living breathing caricature of a memory.

Shamelessly I cave in to temptation of creation. But still my only thrill is empty sidewalks, silent streets.

Oh yeah, oh yeah he killed the switch with some unwieldy gauge, absence and light remain.

Life is lowly anonymity, in death a noble pose, a Marat David.

Tell me who wouldn't give their lives for such a soap box to die behind. Life is lowly, lowly anonymity.

In the space of a smile I found sleep. As in sorrow, so shall ye reap, as in reason so shall you sleep.

Reap the promised end to the struggle.
Reap every point on our linear path.
Reap the smiles in time we borrow, every harvest relies on the last.
Reap the promising song of the sparrow, that they learned from the birth of sea.

Silenced by the threnody of the crows.
Reap the fallen fruit of the dogwood tree.
But I witnessed in all this silence one souls definition of beauty.

a backlit smile so temporary.

A facade so rich with evil history. Cast in direct opposition set to overwhelm his moment to shine and sleep-came out on top of what was borrowed, and found all that beauty to be still.Every breath as in sorrow, reap the promised end to this path, by every image that we borrow, every harvest depends on the past.Subdivide in factions our linear forever, we subdivide our waking hours to sleep.While guilty eyes turn toward a porchlight, enlightenment is losing sight.

Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. In this low light town when my shift begins the streets reflecting yellow, yellow, yellow in the vacancy that overwhelms the red, red, red, your vehicle the color of expansion.

"Open up."

the latter just a thought to thrill me "knock knock knock" the latter just a thought to thrill me.

"Red" is a four letter word.

Four letter invitation. Now my head is locked in the direction of the sun...

Life is lowly, lowly anonymity. I know its all been done before, I want to do it again.

I want do it again.

Kill the switch.

This night our journey's through the dark.

Kill the switch,

a welcome comatose,

tonight we journey through the darkness.As in sorrow, so shall ye weep, as in reason, so shall ye sleep.

Hide the petals underneath that bedroom floorboard
and they will wither without fail or success.
Put the people in the hollow box they crafted,
bolt the doors and watch them perish.
Its a cautious descent, so polite and pensive at first.
But the only truth is change, have patience
(every hundredth year, a single breath and then its over...)
Even if only for a minute for a minute its over.
Even if only for a minute.
So brave in the face of all those roots that ruin,
to stand so tall when in fact in ruins.
To face that corner of the box and dive in,
just the sound alone of its humble breath.
A murmur from the ruins echoes softly as the roots undo, and the branch becomes..

AN INTERVIEW AT THE RUINS

Nothing's so lucid as the promise of dreams,
but these pills we found just make me sleep.
There's nothing quite so pure as the written word my dear,
so lets have ourselves a little poem.
Until the will to speak loses urgency.
Our animal indecency in print is so blase.
Its about the bell tower, at the golden hour.
Angel of the spires climbs here steel cage staircase spine, angle of desire.
Ascend the wrought iron, one by one, wrung by wrung.
Is it the rising roof line that makes me feel so swallowed whole,or the way my body barely pricks the sky,the same as a century's worth of virgin's blood that's passed through my longing veins,scheming to convince my aching mind that pleasure's got nothing on the miracle of need.

Nothing's so purile as meter and rhyme when you can't see the ground from that ledge and this perch is so far, far from the nest.
Gravity doesn't grant me the privilege of failure my bough never breaksI don't stumble into anythingso I climb and I carve my initials in the bark with that feather I found but its all so contrived.
My genes didn't bless me with the foresight of a sage but I know how this will end, in apologies and ink on the page.A slowly constructed crow quilled confession of my spirit to all of you,black waterproof ink scars the board, so hot-pressed, pristine and pure.
A slowly constructed manifestation of "to tremble",as base as a bridge in a song and less like the poem that I promised you.Nothing's so lurid as haiku-detat on sidewalks in white outlined chalk,all I've got is this ink smeared lines.With our voices in harmony, the offering, of

a crow quilled threnody

Smiled that kind of icy blue smile of a noonday reckoning, the tied together two of tell-tale pictures
I've sketched in sand castle plots and plans. similar starting points, both for sin and shooting blanks.
but it's always the unseen sharp pang;
the awkward rhythm of the dance like a tick-tock clock in that heart of hearts repeating,

"there is no happy here, there is no Happy here..."

devil may care touches trickled down
Spine, thigh, and breast may never truly illuminate

The finer art of heartwork

I was turning over with the sheets, and facing the
Arched back thinking of how my eyes, half-opened,
Caught her arm moving from side to side, but never to me. it's all connected by blank words to tell empty promises of clumsy miscommunication. so we say what we will, to see what we may, to find a Biblical knowing enfolded within the next few hours. it's too bad,

too tragic...

I spent myself choking on the motions leading up to said misfortune.

Forget the broken backed stretch across a painted

Background you've never experienced.

Forget the lazy days of daydream departure to faraway

Laughs you've never heard.

Forget the backwards walk through liminal windows you

Never knew existed.

Forget the bells tolling an hour of redemption,

Minute of fancy you've never been given.

Forget the love letters penned by sad faced boys

You've never met.

Forget the unwritten,

uncollected works of the poet you never were.

I am forgetting typewriter handwriting,
and how to embrace in a storm of haloes...
To watch the floor melt,
To know I melt with it.
I secretly opened one eye,
And watched Selene move beyond my horizon.
Secrets tend to tell themselves,
I find.

I find I will not miss...
Clandestine heartaches buried years deep in stagnant days.
Writing lullabies across the moonI have rescued dreams dying on yesterday's embers
Fashioning flowers from fancy.
Skipping stones across April showers.
We will dance upon days time has forgotten.
To let dawn's drapery enfold us.
Gazing at angels through the eyes of a second

I am the horizon.
I have dreamed of tracing rings around this world.
My arms are stretched to forever.
My fingers shake with the fear of control.
The fear I know you all know so well.
We all lay claim to our destinies.
Yet we all rise and fall with the current

-POSTLAPSARIA-

As a star will fall,

I plummet from your sky,

And long to return to a world you've denied me.

Beneath my heartache,

I have made a promise:

To never let you forget.

You left your namesake,

And it will bleed

Into you from every pore.

And even though I am most fallen from you...

I have still overtaken you.

But yet I still cannot find you...

I see black and white...

You see only gray.

I see black and white...

You see only gray.

Distorted image.

Pride clouded.

Unloved...

Just because you taught me it's better to be accepted than respected.

I shut the door on you this time.

Don't return with your heart in your hands;

You are most fallen.

It's not you...

It's just the fact that lives come together,

They fade apart...

It's just the fact that lives come together,

They fade apart.

As shadows are cast, yet numbed by the light,

These are our beings...

"This is what you told me,But I remember yesterday,

And I believe and I feel and I want,

And empty is not friendly...

Cracked mortar

Lies

And pure remnants of an unsure bond.

Perhaps we trust too much in this invisible thread to move on...

Flowers only live so long,

When they grow out of three small words.

"I only speak when spoken to;

I thought you knew this,

And I am sorry."

Next time I will be careful what I wish for

Loved ones tell stories about me to me,
But I already know what it's like to die,
And to pluck at my ghost's sad eternal.
I wrote an apology on the mirror,And one forget-me-not to yours truly.
Another ideal sculpted frame

To Love
To Want
To Fear
To Blame

We all hate to look,
We all love to picture.
Alone we seek shadows to hide in,
As statues mark these days.
I know nothing of delicacy blossoming beneath flesh
Tickle my fancy with visions of "Perfection"
On infinite wings I fly from affection.
Syllables, images, deny self-worth;
The pain of convention.

There's a desire to validate this body.

There's a need to eradicate this paradigm.

It is almost like we've died entwined in that way we are.
And our voices,
Our touch,
Our lips are searching for answers
To questions not asked.
It is not a belief in dreams.
It is not a refusal to accept.
It is a refusal to let go.
And words written over time only serve to paint these days
A clearer shade of black.
Now a dying wave on a shallow sea.
Now a dying wave on a shallow sea.
See, our lives fade apart to converge
Only in my darker hours,
Only in my saddest hours...
Take these words pulled from me tied to you.

Destroyed,
Destroyed,
Destroyed,
Destroyed.

Yours Always,
RJ

These dialogue stars dream of Thursday in November...
Perception keeps us whole, and it may just be time
To look rather than merely see...These testaments to divine light,
Years of work glare back at us...

Out from oil,
Out from marble,
Out from sound...

And sublimity,
seeking sanctuary in the written word...I
n the written word
To make the inspiration

Visible.
Audible.
Touchable.

To create a world from dust

That is what it means to be our own deities

I bleed onto a page for you where diction has lost all its meaning,
And secrets fall from lips like dying petals in a forgotten garden.
Believing language we speak in tongues deceiving ourselves,
My heart whispers in forms that twenty years of reason and cognition have rendered useless.
If only you could hear what I have seen for aeons before this zero.
To see our system as a void, to believe ourselves immune
To never feel our wings melting.
We are all spirits trapped and dying.

Trapped and dying.

-Notres Langues Nous Trompes-

Untitled 5

Lost gray pictures of my past stain greener pastures of my future
Remembrance and recognition forces me to reconsider
I am seeking to regress and recreating what I've found a new beginning torn away
I'm spiraling spiraling down
Empty hands on the ends of these reaching arms need the touch of something real
Year by year we separate further
We are forgetting how to feel
For at the end of this long rope I hang in wait of fading echoes
Uncertainty haunts my everythingI look into tomorrow and I see nothing...So tell me how it feels to be me
I've lost so much I cannot recall my identity
I would die for yesterday not caring where I need to go
Reshape relationships back into what I used to know
Tomorrow is so far and I no longer want to find a replacement
For all these pictures that are lost in my mind

Untitled 4

I pulled into Nazareth, I was feelin' 'bout half past dead;I just need to find a place where I can lay my head."Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"He just grinned and then he shook my hand, and "No!", was all he said.

I picked up my bag, I went lookin' for a place to hide;When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin' side by side.I said, "Hey, Carmen, come on, let's go downtown."She said, "Baby, I gotta go, but my friend the devil can stick around."

Go down, Miss Moses, there's nothin' that you can sayIt's just ol' Luke, and Luke is waitin' on the Judgement Day."Well, Luke, my friend, what about young Anna Lee?"He said, "Do me a favor, son, woncha stay an' keep Anna Lee company?"

Untitled3

When the moon fell in love with the sun.
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night.

When the sun found the moon.
She was drinking tea in a garden, Under the green umbrella trees
In the middle of summer..

When the moon found the sun.
He looked like he was barely hanging on...
but her eyes saved his life
In the middle of summer...

So he said, "Would it be all right? If we just sat and talked for a little while, If in exchange for your time , I give you this smile?
"So she said, "That's okay as long as you can make a promise
Not to break my little heart"

"Or leave me all alone in the summer."

Well he was just hanging around .

Then he fell in love,
little that he know that...








the sun never met the moon

Untitled 2

You remind me of a former love that I once knew

And you carry a little piece with you

We were holding hands walking through the middle of the street

It's fine with me, I'm just taking in the scenery

You remind me of a few of my famous friends

Well, that all depends what you qualify as friends

Untitled1

The rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde,
And the habit of decomposing right before your very eyes.
Along with the people inside.
What a wonderful caricature of intimacy.

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy

.Raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses .
It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains

And a few more of your least favorite things.

and oh im wrong once again, im so stupid,

THERE ARE NO RAINDROPS ON ROSES AND GIRLS IN WHITE DRESSES.

im just dreaming, didnt i forget, dreams are meant for sleeping..

-stupid me-

Third Eye

Sigurado raw na mararamdaman mo kapag may multong malapit sa iyo. Tatayo ang balahibo sa batok mo... Biglang lalamig ang paligid... Iikot ang tiyan mo... Para kang biglang may kasama. May mararamdaman ka sa paligid mo kahit alam mong ikaw lang mag-isa.

Bata pa lang ako, matatakutin na ako. Takot ako sa dilim, humihina ako kapag mag-isa. Hindi ko rin kayang manood ng mga nakakatakot na palabas sa TV (gaya ng taunang November 1 special ng magandang gabi bayan), o mga pelikula (uso noon ang shake rattle and roll). Ang palagay ko, bakit mo pagdaraanin ang sarili mo sa nakapanlalambot na hilakbot? Mas lalong ayokong makakita, o makaramdam, o makaengkwentro ng multo. Hindi ko yata kakayanin. Baka himatayin ako sa takot. Hindi ko nga maintindihan 'yung mga taong sumasali pa sa mga workshop para buksan ang third eye nila. Bakit di ba? Bakit?! Pero siguro, ako lang talaga 'yun--- kulang sa tapang, liglig ng nerbiyos.

Hindi ko naiwan sa pagkabata ang takot ko sa dilim, at sa multo. Sa paglaki ko, nadagdagan pa nga ang mga takot ko--- tumaba, magka-cancer, bumagsak sa mga klase ko, at marami pang iba. Pero higit sa lahat ng mga ito, ang magmahal at masaktan. Natuklasan ko na hindi gaya ng takot ko sa mga multong ni hindi ko nga alam kung gawa sa hamog, o sa usok, o basta gawa lang ng imahinasyon ko--- mas nakapanghihina, mas nakapanghihilakbot pala ang magmahal at masaktan. Naranasan ko na iyon. Ang magmahal, mawalan, at halos mabaliw sa sakit. Nang mawala ka sa 'kin para akong sira-ulong ayaw maniwala at ayaw tumanggap, parang praning na ipinipilit sa sariling "babalik siya.... babalik siya."

May mga namamatayan ng kapamilya o kaibigan na sa tindi ng pangungulila, hinihiling nila na magmulto ang namayapa na. Hindi na mahalaga kung kahibangan ito--- mabigyan lang ng kahit isa pang pagkakataon na makausap o masilayan man lang ang mahal sa buhay na inagaw na ng kamatayan.

Nang nawala ka, handa akong ibigay ang lahat, ang kahit ano, bumalik ka lang kahit sandali. Kahit sa anong paraan. kahit isang maikling text lang, o e-mail, o friendster message. Maramdaman ko lang na kahit tapos na ang lahat, mahalaga pa rin ako sa iyo. Pero walang dumating. Ni hindi ka man lang nagparamdam. Kahit na parang ritwal ko nang tinatawag ang pangalan mo gabi-gabi, wala. Wala ka na talaga. Naging mas madali nga ang pagtanggap sa pumanaw nating pagkakataon, pero kasabay nito, mas naging mapait naman ang aking pag-aayuno.

Tuloy ang buhay. Kailangan e. Natuto akong magmahal ng iba at unti-unti ring nawala ang lungkot. Naniniwala rin naman akong mayroon akong karapatang maging masaya, at mas gusto kong ngumiti kaysa umiyak. Nariyan naman ang ala-ala mo, nariyan ang pag-ibig na kahit kailan ay hindi ko na maibibigay sa iba bukod sa iyo. Pero sabi nga ng idol kong si Sharon Cuneta, "once you love someone, you never stop loving them. you just love them in newer ways." (mula sa "kung ako na lang sana"). Habang nagmamahal ako ng bagong pag-ibig, patuloy pa rin kitang minamahal. Alam ko iyan. Naroon na rin siguro ang kaalamang dahil patay na nga ang panahon natin sa paningin ni kupido, hindi ko na kailangan buhayin pa ang sakit. Tanggap ko na. Paminsan minsan nga, dinadalaw pa ng diwa ko ang mga nakakalat na lapida ng ating nakaraan. Kapag nakakarating ako sa mga lugar na noo'y nakasama kita, kapag naririnig ko ang mga awit na pinili ko para sa 'ting dalawa--- para na rin akong nagtitirik ng kandila at nag-aalay ng bulaklak sa ala-ala mo.

Hanggang sa nagmulto ka. P*ksh*t.

Ang sabi nila, hindi tumatawid sa kabilang buhay ang mga espiritung may mga hindi pa tapos na misyon sa mundong ito. Pakiramdam nila, may mga transaksyon pa sila sa kanilang buhay na kailangang isara at maisakatuparan. Ang iba nga raw, hindi pa tanggap na patay na sila kaya ayaw pa umalis. palutang-lutang sila, patuloy ang "buhay", ginagawa pa rin ang mga pinagkakaabalahan nila noon. Ang iba naman, sadyang naghahasik ng takot at pangamba. Sadyang gustong makarinig ng mga tili at makakita ng nasindak na mga mukha habang nagsasabog sila ng lagim.

Simpleng text lang, umikot ang mundo ko. Hindi ko alam kung magdiriwang ako o manlulumo. Nakakatuwang nakakatakot e. Sa tagal ng panahon na hinintay kong maramdaman ka, hanggang sa nalimutan ko na nga kung bakit, hindi ko na alam kung ano ang reaksyon ko. Pero, napatunayan ko noon na totoo pala: kapag minulto ka, tatayo ang balahibo sa batok mo, manlalamig ka, iikot ang tiyan mo, at sigurado ka sa presensiya ng multo sa paligid mo.

"Nabuhay" kang muli sa mundo ko. Lagi ka na namang nariyan sa haraya ko. Pa’no, dumalas ka mag-text, tumatawag ka pa, paminsan minsan nagkakape pa tayo’t tumatawa habang nilulunod ang ating mga sarili sa venti mocha frap with mint syrup. Matagal na panahon akong nangulila ako sa iyo, kaya ang saya saya saya ko sa tuwing nariyan ka. Kahit paminsan-minsan. Kahit paunti-unti. Dahil nga mahal naman kita, tinanggap ko ang pagmumulto mo. Sabi ko, wala naman sigurong masama, pakiramdam ko pa nga ang tapang ko. Hinayaan ko nang bukas ang third eye ng puso ko.

Lubos na sana ang magiging kasiyahan ko kung tuluyan ang iyong pagbabalik... pero lagi ka rin namang nawawala. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ginagawa niyong mga multo iyon, parang gustong gusto niyong nagpaparamdam, manggugulat, tapos mawawala naman. Hindi ka naman nagtatagal sa mga dahilang ikaw lang ang nakaaalam. Noong simula hinihintay pa kita lagi, pero nakakapagod rin. Mahirap pala 'yun. Mahirap pala magmahal ng kaluluwa--- hindi kita mahawakan, hindi kita mayakap, hindi kita mahalikan. Malamig na hangin na lang ba talaga ang magiging katumbas ng pag-ibig ko?

Para sa mga taong may kakayahang makakita ng mga espiritu at ibang nilalang, wala raw ibang mas maiging gawin kundi tanggapin ito. Sumpa man o biyaya, hindi na mahalaga. May dahilan lahat ng bagay sa mundo. Baka nga paraan na rin ng Diyos na buksan ang ikatlong mata't ikaanim na pandama ng ilang tao sa mundo... mabigyan man lamang ng pagkakataon ang mga alagad ng kabilang buhay na marinig at maintindihan.

Mahal pa rin kita. Pakiramdam ko, alam mo naman iyon e, kaya ka nga matapang magmulto. Pero magkaiba na tayo ng mundo, marami nang nagbago. Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit kailangan mong magparamdam gayong wala ka na rin namang kayang gawin na paraan upang tuluyang magbalik, upang muling mabuhay sa mundo ko. Nang-aasar ka lang ba talaga sa pagdalaw mo? Kung hindi, ano ba ang "unfinished business" mo? Ano bang maitutulong ko? Sapat na ba sa iyo ang ganito--- ang mahalin natin ang isa't isa sa magkabilang mundo, sa magkaibang paraan? Iyon lang kasi ang maibibigay ko. At alam ko... hanggang du'n lang rin ang kaya mo.

Patuloy na tatakbo ang buhay ko. At sa tuwing mumultuhin mo ako, ngingiti na lang ako. Oo, tatayo pa rin ang mga balahibo ko sa batok, manlalamig at iikot pa rin ang tiyan ko... Pero hindi na ako matatakot.

Hindi ka totoo.

Repleksyon

"Musta lakad mo kanina? Parang masigla ka ata." Sabi mo habang naghuhubad ako ng sapatos.

"Ayos lang. Nagkita uli kami."

"Sino? Ang dati mong girlfriend?"

"Oo. Naghiwalay na ata sila ng boyfriend niya. Nagtext siya sa kin kagabi kung pwede daw kaming magkwentuhan. Di pumunta ako. Parang wala naman kaming pinagsamahan kung di ako pupunta, di ba?"

"Sa bagay. Bakit naman daw ikaw ang tinext niya? Wala ba siyang ibang matext?"

"Ewan ko. Hindi ko alam. Ang dami namang nanliligaw sa kanya. Malay mo miss nya ako?"

"Asa ka pa. Ano naman kwinento sa iyo"

"Birthday niya kasi nung December. Bakit daw hindi ko siya tinawagan. Hindi ko rin daw siya niregaluhan noong pasko. Hindi ko nga siya maintindihan kasi hindi naman niya ako boyfriend. "

"Baka naman na-realize niya na ikaw mahal niya."

"Hindi ko alam. Sinabi rin niya yung naging problema nila ng boyfriend niya kaya nagkahiwalay sila. Pumayat nga siya. Parang ang daming iniisip. Pinapatawa ko nga eh."

"Ano namang pakiramdam noong nagkita kayo? Ngayon lang kayo nagkausap uli pagkatapos ng hiwalayan ninyo di ba?"

"Oo. Wala lang."

"Sige matutulog na ko. Bukas na lang tayo magkwentuhan uli."

Napansin mo siguro na natahimik ako. Naalala ko kasi ang mga matang yon. Kahit hindi niya sabihin sa kin. Alam kong iba pa rin mahal niya. Akala ko wala na kong mararamdaman nang magkita kami pero bakit naiinggit ako sa lalaking yun? Noon pinili kong lumayo para makasama niya mahal niya. Pero nasaktan lang pala siya. Naisip ko siguro mabait lang siya sa akin ngayon kasi wala siyang makausap. Pero naniniwala pa rin ako sa lahat ng sinasabi niya. Habang nag-uusap kami gusto ko siyang yakapin. Gusto kong sabihin na mahal ko pa rin siya. Pero hindi ko nagawa.

Gusto ko pa sanang makipagkwentuhan sa iyo pero inaantok ka na pala. Sige bukas na lang kita kakausapin, pagharap ko uli sa salamin.

Quotes 4

its kinda freakin why people love someone who can't love them back.. people love the same person who hurts them its kinda ironic that the person who make us strong is our own weakness.. as i've heard some of the love story of our members here in PESOS i've stopped for a minute and think... does it worth it all? for someone to still hold on to someone who can't love you back, the pain, the agony, the tears that would drop, the blood ( if you're a mall emo) does he/she worth it? its like asking yourself a question "how can i stop crying? if the one who can make me stop is the one who made you start? i've thought that the saying is true.. what nourishes you also destroys you
all i can say to all of you guys who still holding on AS I KNOW SO FAR, WALA PANG MEDALYANG GINAWA PARA SA TANGA
guys why wont you try to move-on? its kinda stupid to say that you're holding on because masaya kayo na mahalin siya kahit wlang kapalit is that tear a sign of happiness? c'mon! is that pinch in your heart a feeling of happiness? geezzzz guys move on to your life...
let me share you a story, i think this is related to all of you people:

when i was a child, i love climbing trees...
one day when i was playing, i slipped on a branch but i've managed to HOLD ON i've waited for someone to save me but to no avail there's no one there to save me...
my hands are sweating, my arms are shaking, blood pumping in my ears..
thats the time i've decided to LET GO and face my destiny to be hurt..
when im in the ground, thats the time i felt the relief of LETTING GO rather than to feel the agony of HOLDING ON..

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destiny destiny destiny a word that all of you hopeless romantic lean on,
some of you may say ooooohhhh wer destined to be...
some of you even look for signs before you do something..
let me ask you a question...
what if the absence of sign is already a sign?
love is not by destiny
LOVE IS BY CHOICE
love is a choice of two brave people who trust each other not to hurt each other

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In life, we always search for answers because we want to prove ourselves that we had the right decisions..
but the truth is , we can't search for what's not there..
things happen because it's our choice to happen..
that's why we forgive people even if they hurt us, we love people who don't love us, and we smile despite every painful crash in our hearts..
at the end of the day, the lesson you get are the answers to our decisions...

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At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don't keep other people out. They fence you in. Life is messy. That's how we're made. So, you can waste your lives drawing lines. Or you can live your life crossing them. But there are some lines... that are way too dangerous to cross.

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You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales,
that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress,
prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill.
You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith.
Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears.
Most people turn to the things and people they can trust.
But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open
their eyes and it will come true.

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Intimacy is a four syllable word for, "Here's my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without.
Intimacy also comes attached to the three R's... relatives, romance, and roommates. There are some things you can't escape. And other things you just don't want to know

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love someone whom you don't have to be fancy or talk in a special way,
you dont have to mind your manners (balahura k man oh ano pa man) or wear your best clothes and shoes
you dont have to pretend you're happy when you're feeling sad.....
love someone you can laugh at loud with,
you can speak your mind or say nothing at all, you dont have to try hard to impress him/her..
Go with someone whom you can just be you and appreciates you for that....^^

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love can never be wrong..
sometimes you blame the situation or even the person
but no matter who you blame...
if it really wasn't meant for you
it just wouldn't be...

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searching for so-called mr./ms.perfect?
when your out there looking for that "PERFECT PERSON", keep this in your mind my friends..
people change no matter how hard they try not to... as you grow older you matures and with each new level of maturity comes different ideas, needs and wants
you have to find someone who will grow with you, change with you, laugh with you and cry with you.
a person who fills in where you lack..
remember that there's no such PERFECT PERSON in this world but there willalways be someone who will complete you .
REMEMBER THIS GUYS..... MR./MS. PERFECT ISN'T ALWAYS MR/MS. RIGHT

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hay hay hay.. yeah moving is so hard... but know what.. the hardest part of losing someone is not how you cry your heart out till you're dead...
BUT THE FACT THAT YOU'LL NEVER STOP CRYING FOR THE ONE WHO MADE THOSE TEARS FALL.

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Maybe we like the pain.
Maybe we're wired that way.
Because without it,
I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying?
Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.
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Quotes 3

Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.

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Until one morning,i`ll wake up and find i`m thinking about something else,and then i`ll know the worst is over..My heart might be bruised, but it will recover & become capable of seeing the beauty of life once more..It happened beforeit will happen again,`m sure.. When someone leaves, it`s because someone is about to arrive. i`ll find LOVE again

nabasa ko sa book - astig eh- lagay ko dito

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hhmmmm its really very hard to let go......dont tell me n ngsawa n kayo kaya kayo nglet go..Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.The saddest thing in the world, is loving someone who used to love you.

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wow letting go ang pinaka controversial n topic ahh.. hhhmmmm letting go,letting go,letting go,letting go,letting go, ahaha nakakabaliw

To “let go” means not to worry about the future, but look forward to what might happen

To “let go” does not mean to stop caring, it means I can’t do it for someone else.

To “let go” is not to cut myself off, it’s the realization I can’t control another.

To “let go” is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.

To “let go” is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.

To “let go” is not to try to change or blame another, it’s to make the most of myself.

To “let go” is not to care for, but to care about.

To “let go” is not to fix, but to be supportive.

To “let go” is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.

To “let go” is not to be in the middle arranging the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their own destinies.

To “let go” is not to be protective, it’s to permit another to face reality.

To “let go” is not to deny, but to accept.

To “let go” it not to intrude, worry or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings, and correct them.

To “let go” is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.

To “let go” is to fear less, and love more.

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hhhhhmmm loving someone while deep inside di xa ang mahal mo.. nakakatawang isipin ang mga gnun... you love him/her but ur with him/her..isa lang masasabi ko... wlang taong panakip-butas o ung tinatawag n

"MANHID" KUNG LAHAT NG TAO MARUNONG AT MATAPANG NA HARAPIN AT IPAKITA UNG TOTOONG NARARAMDAMAN NILA

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nagbubulagbulagan tayo sa totoong nararamdaman ntn?... tpos mgmamahal tayo ng taong di mo nmn tlga mahal... bkit? para makalimutan xa?? its a one of a hell thing to do..there is a part of the world that we are literally blind to..the problem is, sometimes our blind spots shield us from things that really shouldn't be ignored.....sometimes our blind spots keep our lives bright and shiny...

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its kinda ironic n ung mga mambabasa ko eh hinahanapan ng pagbabago ung mga characters sa mga qoutes ko at stories ko... pero sa totoo lng.. ung mga characters ko sa stories ang naghahanap ng pagbabago sa buhay ng mga nkakabasa ng mga sinulat ko... aun sila, nghahanapan,ngtitinginan,ngtititigan, nagtuturuan.....

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it is madness to hate all roses because you got scratched by one thorn?to give up all your dreams because one didn't come true?,to lose all faith in prayers because one wasn't answered?,to give up on your efforts becasue one of them failed?to condemn all your friends because one betrayed you?,not to believe in love because someone was unfaithful or didn't love you back?,to throw away all your chances to be happy because you didn't?the answer?

YES ITS A BIG hello STUPIDITY...

we wont learn and learn how to be patient if theres only joy in the world.stand up in every fall..

###################################################################maybe sometimes you have to stop waiting for someone to come along and fix whats wrong.maybe you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and realize that no one else has the answer.maybe sometimes you just have to be......

YOUR OWN HERO

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Stupidity: giving up a fight knowing you had a chance to winLove: fighting though you knew from the start that you'll never win...come to think of it... is the statements correct... OR IS IT THE OTHER WAY AROUND????? just think

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there comes a point in our lives when the heart grows tired. it grows numb from hate, it stops beating for love, it runs out of compassion, it softens from pain, but not because of insensitivity, but because it simply wants to move on and live an uncomplicated life

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they say, people falling in line for a ride in amusement parks are crazy, because they wait for several hours just to experience a five minute ride..but actually they're not..because they dont mind waiting.. they look for happiness, though they knew that it takes time.

Quotes 2

some of the best moments in life..lying in bed listening to the rain outsidea long drive on a calm roadfinding money in your old jeans just when you needed itgiggling over silly jokesholding hands with a friendgetting a hug from someone who loves youthe moment your eyes filled with tears after a big laughwishing you these moments in your life always..
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Sometimes we are inlove in the idea of falling inlove. loving the illusion of having or missing someone. its alright to feel happy through other people, but dont get dependent on achieving happiness by being with someone. love yourself first before sharingyour life with somebody because if you dont, you will always look for people that you think can make you complete. And in the end, it will make you lose yourself more.. bit by bit... piece by piece...
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there will be days when you get home from a party and forget what the fun was about.. or have a very long,intimate conversation yet feel there are still words left unspoken or embrace your special someone yet never have the strenght to say you care so much life tells us that happiness is never absolute so while its still there..
SEIZE THE MOMENT COZ IT MAY NEVER COME AGAIN
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after you stand try to sit,when you are tired just rest try to do this in love..dont insist if it is not for you. if you cant bear the pain try to quit. find somebody who will love you and if you can't find, try to wait.. Love will last when you know how to do the opposite of what is asks
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if you find yourself inlove with someone who doesn't love you, be gentle with yourself.nothings wrong with you; love just didn't rest in the other person's heart. if you find someone else inlove with you and you dont love that person, be honored that love came and knocked at your door, but gently refuse the gift you can't return. dont cause pain. how you deal with love is how love deals with you..
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Love is real when it is peacefully accepted by everyone. it should be capable of flowing harmoniously, meaning no one should get hurt in the process. if there are some people who are directly affected by it, then something must be done. whatever the case maybe, peace should prevail.
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what if one day you'll realize you've lost the one you love so much? whether he/she died,left you or got tired... will you have regrets in the end saying " sana ginawa ko to, na sana naparamdam ko to sa kanya and sana ive treasured every single moment with him/her"better think of it now or you might not have the chance to...
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think of this my friends... sometimes you woke up so much in love with the wrong person, time and place. but i realized that it's not the person ,time and place that's wrong.. but your expectations of what your love story should be...
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proving someone wat ur made of is not the exact thing u should docoz u dont have to prove anyone anything .its up to them if they want to know you moreif they do. let them discover the true you
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i guess whan you love someone you'll realize that it would never beabout you and how u want your relationship to be...its about staying intact and finding ways of making things alright when life says the shouldn't beits called defying the odds for somthing they called everything
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its funny how two people meet... eye contact, hi and hello, getting contact numbers, exchanging qoutes and messages even dropping calls, asking how the day was, giving you a lift talk till dawn, habing meals togetherseems so perfect right? but try to look deeper....was there a time they talked about how they really feel for each other? not at all right?

because a set-up like this, is all bout playing-safe

Quotes

if you ever set yourself in a drama, wherein you couldn't set limitsdont forget about who you are and what you deserve,love is risky and risk are life threatening..so love wisely, i dont wanna see you falling apart
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another short short story:i saw her walking with him, i didn't reactedi saw her huggin him so tight like she'll never let go, still i stayed calmi saw her kissing him, i didn't cryi saw her smiling at him, i believed they were jsut friendsbut as she turned her back on himi saw her smilingthe smile i've waiting to seethe smile i hoped for so long she'll give to meshe blushedand then, that's iti cried
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its a funny thing that yesterday, you find yourself deeply inlove with thatperson.and a hilarious thing that today, you find yourself denying what just happened

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maybe the bitterness is ok to stay...maybe it's all we have left, aside from the memories...maybe being bitter is the only way we can move on...because without the bitterness,n we'd alll just be martyrs,silently haunted and secretly torn apart

Kala ko Limot na kita

Kung tatanungin ako ng Diyos kung gaano kita minahal, ang isasagot ko, 10 beses na higit pa sa nararapat. Minahal kita hindi dahil pakiramdam ko lang tama, pero dahil ginusto ko yung naramdaman ko at walang kung ano pa man.

Minsan mo na akong tinanong kung pinagsisisihan kong nakilala kita. Sinabi ko hindi. Ngayon na nga siguro ang araw na kinatatakutan ko. Dahil kapag tinanong mo ulit sa akin yan, alam kong oo na ang isasagot ko. Sa lahat kasi ng nangyari sa buhay ko, ikaw lang ang gusto kong burahin. Wala ng iba.

Alam kong tama na tong ginagawa ko ngayon. Tama ng mawala ka sa buhay ko. Dahil alam kong wala ng pag-asa yang sinasabi mong pagkakaibigan natin. Tanga lang ako na minsan kong inisip na yun ang pinanghahawakan ko pero hindi pala. Dahil pinili mo pa rin akong saktan kahit alam mong dapat naging isa kang kaibigan.

Nung mga panahong ikaw at ikaw lang ang kailangan ko, hindi man lang kita mahanap. At kahit alam kong alam mo yon, pinili mong tiisin ako. Ngayon hindi na ko umaasang nandyan ka pa, dahil simula palang nang-iwan ka na.

Itinapon ko na rin ang lahat ng kasinungalingang sinabi mo na ang masakit ay pinaniwalaan ko. Nang sinabi mong importante ako sa yo at hindi mo kayang wala ako, kagaguhan lang yon. Siguro napilitan ka lang sabihin yon, o di kaya, sinadya mo para paasahin ako. Ngayon, lahat ng binitawan mong salita, wala ng halaga. Simple lang ang rason: dahil wala ka ring kwenta.

Wala na rin akong pakialam kung nagustuhan mo man ako o hindi. Ang importante, nagbigay ako ng buong buo at ni minsan ay hindi humingi ng kahit anong kapalit. Kahit papano, naturuan mo akong maging matatag. Natuto na rin akong tumigil sa paghahabol at pag-iyak sa taong manhid na tulad mo

Siguro nga nasira mo na ang lahat sa akin. Ang paninindigan ko, tapang at paniniwala ko, pati ang katauhan ko, pero kaya kong ibangon ang sarili ko at mabuhay ng wala ka. Ako pa rin to. Oras at araw lang ang nagbago.

Ngayon na ang huling beses na sasabihin ko ito sa yo. Ngayon na ang huling pagkakataon na iisipin kita. Lahat ng bagay na dumaan, burado na. Pati buhay ko, bago na. Ngayon na ang huling oras na mamahalin kita. Ngayon na ang tamang oras para sa lahat, para malaman mo kung gaano mo ako sinaktan. Tapos na yon lahat ngayon. Ito na ang huling araw ng paghihirap...Tama na, tapos na. Pero sa huling araw na ito, isa lang ang sigurado ako.

Hindi ito ang huling araw na sinabi ko lahat to.. ;(

Delilah of me

Call it naiveté but, yes, I fell in love with you the moment you asked for a receipt. Call me easy but, yes, you had me at the first text message.I had someone faithfully waiting for me but I chose to see you for a moment. We merely had shakes and breakfast but to me, they meant more than your regular ham and cheese. Call it childish fancy but I had been willing to admit that then.When I left, I knew I had to make a decision.it was an easy one to make but difficult to carry out. I had to hurt the one who had always been there, and to think that hadn’t actually done anything to deserve that. I had conscience alright. But it didn’t much serve its purpose when you came along.

It wasn’t easy to forget you. Neither was it easy to forgive myself for committing the grave mistake of staying with you that night. I became a wanderer. Cynicism took hold of my reasoning. I understood girls and women and their needs too much. I played along.I played as I imagined you’d play. But the men I played weren’t like you. I had wished they were like you so that there’d be few complications and so my honed cynicism won’t be useless. I had wished they were like you so they would be easier to understand and I’d be able to determine their plans easily.I had wished they were like you so that I’ll find my happy moment again.

I saw you – the first in a very long time. Your face was different from what I had been imagining it to be for the past three years. I figured I might have been dreaming about an entirely different person. Perhaps you were just evil in my thoughts; perhaps you weren’t evil at all. I was ecstatic: I had found you and I had no plans of losing you again.

I realized over coffee and dinner that you knew me as somebody else. Either that or I had changed drastically over our years of hibernation. You were expecting a cute guy with sparkling eyes and a hopeful smile to greet you with a peck on the cheek. You waited for a burst of energy and a handful of stories. But instead of a laughing teenager clad in a black band shirt and a skinny jeans, I, in my fitted shirt and denim jacket nonchalantly stared at you.You even brought me cigarettes which I didn’t smoke.You asked for the little boy whom you had been with before. I told you he’s gone and you can’t fool the man that was me anymore. I let you know that I knew all about your hedonistic tendencies and the venom in your rakish charm. I coolly informed you that I understood all too well your needs and continuously implied that I didn’t want anything more to do with you other than be your devil’s advocate or perhaps a well-respected acquaintance, whatever you fancy between the two. You kept your hands to yourself and told me I talked too much.

you were wrong. I hadn’t actually said anything. In my caution, I showed indifference. I became the cold-hearted pessimist I had been since you left. I didn’t offer you my hand. Again, I gave you myself, but this time, I was wary enough to keep the passion and tears bottled up.I blamed the beer for my nearly committing the same mistake. I blamed my physiological seasons for the abrupt withdrawal of my surrender.I blamed you for everything that had happened to me since we parted and for molding me into being the stupid that I’ve been since. I blamed you for my pains.

You kissed my words away and my world fell apart.You didn’t understand.I couldn’t bear for you to see me after that. But fate had a classic bout of humor. I had given you my heart willingly before but situations and my very own foolishness separated us. And now when I had accepted my defeat, fate gave me an outstanding invitation to see you again. Your needs gave you substantial reasons to call for me.

Call it wishful thinking, but I’ve always imagined us finally being together – with me unhindered by any worry, not bothered by spells of insecurity and fear. I’ve always kept my hopes up for an eternity with you. It became the thought that would keep me out of depression. I would entertain myself and whoever would listen with my wishful interpretation of ‘our’ story. But in my solitude, I knew I wasn’t part of your life.

I’ve long been deluding myself that you loved me – even for a single moment in our past – and that in the end, it would be me and you. And I’ve long realized that there’s neither much truth nor hope to those notions. I’ve told myself over and over again that I won’t care for you.But you remain to be the indelible weakness in me. I end up giving myself all over again.And you always end up needing me for a mere moment again.

Dear Ma'Am

She is 16 years my senior. she is a biology teacher in a private school in the norht. she is smart, charming and attractive in her simplicity. no wonder she easily captured my fourteen-year-old heart.

it was a first in my life, a feeling so strange yet special. i spent sleepless nights thing about her, replaying in my head her intelligent discussion of the day's lesson, her confidently delivered lecture, her warm smile and her eyes that showed authority. there was a certain mystery about her, an aura that drew me closer and closer to her.

my young heart violently throbbed at the sight of her. the mention of her name sent my spirits soaring. i was cautious, conscious, and clumsy in her presence. she inspired me to study well so that i could impress her with smart answers in recitations and exams.

initially, i thought it was purely admiration, hero worship, or perhaps teenage crush. i thought the feeling would go away after some time.

i was wrong. no amount of rationalization could convince me it was not love. each day passed made the feeling more intense, more sincere, more honest. i had to tell her how i feel, because i could no longer bear to suffer in silence.

and so, with an unsigned note. i told her she was special and that i was falling for her. it was liberating and at the same time agonizing, for i didn't know how she would react if she found out it was me. i kept my distance and avoided any chance of eye contact which would give me away.

that note was followed by another. and another.

i didn't notice any significant cange in her, so i felt my secret was safe. i didn't tell anybody about it either for fear that i might spoil my love i undoubtly felt for her.

that summer, i frequently saw her in school. we worked on our school papers while ther were required to renmder summer service. surprise of all surprises, she gave me a present on my birthday and with it is a note that said i was special too.

i felt my knees shaking, my heart rapidly pulsating, my blood draining. so, she knew it all along. but what dud that present mean? it thrilled and yet puzzled me no end.

that incident pave the way for friendship to develop between her and me. we exchanged notes constantly but we had to be discreet about the whole thing. it was no ordinary friendship and surely, no one would understand it at first. she was my teacher and i felt it was my responsibility to protect her interest over mine.

every weekend, i visits her at home in disguise of submitting a project or asking questions about an assigned report, she welcomed me with warm.

one time, i came to her wet from the rain. she instantly dried me with a towel and offered a dry shirt.

the days that followed saw us exchanging glances every so often.

we understood each other's unspoken words. she never failed to start my day right by flashing her sweetest smil. i would pass by her classroom more often that i had to. there was so much affection that needed to be expressed. but her status prevented me from doing so. she was so respectable and dignified, and i did not want to mar that with any talk that might spread about us.

finally , she told me she loved me too. that was on june 25, 2001. my world stood still. i could not believe what i was hearing. she love me!

i wanted to shout, perhaps even scream that i loved her too. it was one jubilant moment i'd constantly play back in my mind.

i remember very well the first time i reached out for her hand. she did not resist. with our finger entwined, i knew i never wanted to let go of her. she was my life, my world revolved around her.

soon i had to go to college, i left with a heavy heart. part of me wanted to stay and another part of me wanted to find my place in the sun -- for her. she said i was bringing along with me her heart and her prayers.

the first days of my freshman year tore me to pieces. i wrote her letters everyday, i sent her chocolates and flowers, filled an entire manila paper with "i love you's" and went hime every time i had a chance.

she wrote back and every letter that i received took away my loneliness and gave me the needed push to persevere. our letters sustained us in our absence and distance from each other. i read each of her letters over and over again, memorizing the lines that spoke of her love.

one semestral break, i asked her out. we went on our first date ever to watch a movie about extinct dinosaurs come to life. in the dark, i held her close, her cheek against mine. soon we were kissing. too long had i wanted for that moment. i was ecstatic, the electricity was all over. i love her so much.

fate, however, would not allow our relationship to go on like that forever. it was my fault. i proved to be weak and unable to hold on to the beauty of our relationship. i opened the door to people and welcomed them to my world

my letters became scarce and eventually silence followd. i was too engrossed in my own would, struck by the variety and novelty of each new experience. i forgot about her. but i did not hear anything that suggested she was accusing me of abandoning her.

i found myself in a relationshio which lasted for just six months. it couldn't compare with the relationship i had with her.

hurted and bruised, i ran to her. she accepted me back. without any question or conditions. "a pail of dirty water does not make the ocean dark." she said. prodigal lover that i was, i knew my heart had found it way back to her.

the second chance she gave me made us to make up for lost time. we proved to be more affectionate and expressive of our love.

the ways were countless. she always brought something for me each time she went out of town. i have her my first salary. we showered each other with small presents that proved we were never far from each other's heart and mind. of course we had our dreams too, which includes growing old together.

i was so at home with her. we shared the same passion for literary works, movies, food, music and laughter. she accepted me for what i was -- fat, warts, scars,mood and all. there were no pretenses.

every time i looked at her. my heart never failed to beat a bit faster. there was magic, intensity, love in its purest and sincerest form.

i am now 23 and she is now in her late 30's. i have loved her for 11 years -- half of my life. i am finishing my degree in law. she is now a department head in the school where our story started.

ost people go through their lives searching but never finding the purpose of their existence. several times in the past, i lost my way too. my life went in circles, trapped in patterns that led to a maze. but i found my direction in her. now, i have a clear sense of purpose: to be with her until i breathe my last.

this is not an ordinary story but like most love stories, it is not without the trials and problems: petty quarrels, misunderstandings and arguments. there was never a major quarrel, though, we never raised our voices or uttered words that would cause other pain. i could never do anything to hurt her, and never, never will i make her cry.

with her, i have peace of mind. and that matters a lot. i have known her loyalty and fidelity. i am truly happy with her and willl continue to be so because i know i made the right choice. never mind if this is continously being questioned as regards its rightness or wrongness. never mind if society frowns on such relationships. never mind if she and i are of the same sex.

Ants

Ants have invaded our house. i cannot get rid of them. they crawl along the counters, the walls and the floor. when i wipe them down with a wet cloth, they're back in a few hours. when i spray them with baygon or lysol, they reapear the next day. when i do find their destination, which is always sweet or sugar-laden, and put that sugary delight in the ref, they soon find another pastry of confectionery to exploit. no tupperware can keep them out. whatever i do. i can't get rid of them. i know it's trivial, but it is a frustrating problem nonetheless.

this problem has got me thinking about our lives and how they are constanly interrupted -- either pleasantly or rudely, depending on the circumstance -- by our memories. like ants, memories, especially those associated with "firsts" -- the first crush , the first kiss, the first trip to the beach, the first ride on a bump car and so on -- will always live in each person, no matter how young or old.

unfortunately, we remember all of our "firsts" -- even our first heartbreak, our first flunked exam, first rejection by our friends, scolding of our parents, our first irresponsible action. sadly, our memories can't be screened. the experiences that we go through are not always great and amazing. true, reminscing can make us feel warm and nostalgic, but it can also make us feel ashamed and guilty -- even impaired.

all too often, what we can rmember are the "firsts" that are embarassing -- our faiures and shortcomings as a person, as a student or worker, as a son or daughter, as a mother of father or as a husband or wife. our successes and inspiring moments are overshadowed by our wrong and hasty decision, our immature actions and our selfish acts. our memories are like reruns of mediocre movies, playing back in our minds the awful moments, the horrendous truths, the impairing emotions.

like ants that crawl everywhere, our memories crawl their way into our lives.try as we may to get rid of these shameful memories, they always resurface-- on the next day, week or month. no matter how hard we try and how old we become, these moments are never erased, only repressed, they linger at the back of our minds, coming and never going as the please. they are forever imprinted in our minds.

the lead character in the book A prayer for Owen Meany said, "you think you have memories? our memories have us." and he was right. if you think we have control over our memories, you're mistaken. these memories of ours are always out of control. in the end, the only thing we'll take with us six feet under is our memories -- with ants coming along.

maybe we should pass by cartimar and get an anteater as a pet.

Ref

Dont slam the refrigirato door!

that was ( and still is) one of my mom's ten million comandments. it makes sense to me now, but when i was a kid, i thought it was a magic doorway to another world.

someone once asked me if i had ever run away from home.i said, "No, i could never leave the refrigirator behind."

but much as i loved that machine, i treated it the way an eight-year-old would treat any household furniture. while sacred to the housekeeper, it was a plaything for me.

apart from keeping food in it, the refrigirator became an indispensable tool in some of my activities. for example, our 2-door model was a fair game for my sister and me. it didn't onle get slammed, it also served as a post for chinese garter (oh yeah believe it! i play chinese garter before), a soccer goal, susbstitute canvas, a dancing partner, dart board, ladder ( to reach my mom's secret supply of cookies on top of it) and god knows what else.

but we weren't the only ones in our family to have such bizarre uses of the fridge. one uncle hid important documents, like his passport, in the fridge for fear the thieves would barge right in and rob him of his precious papers. another uncle caused a disturbance after several people mistook his daily supplement of raw eggs for juice. spell Y-U-C-K.

i have found strange things in the fridge myself. a pantyhose,lipstick, retainers, jewelry and dying plants have somehow managed to find their way inside the fridge at one time or another.

strange as it may seem, i must confess that as a child i used it as a hiding place, knowing no one in his right mind would look for me there when we play hide and seek. i would rearrange myself into a human pretzel and squeeze myself inside with the box of Zest-O and Yakult containers on my lap and shut the door. Now, that wasn't a bad idea because unlike a closet, you didn't sweat in there. sad to say, i was soon discovered by my horrified mother as i sang while sitting in her funnel cake.

of course, the punishment i received didn't stop me from doing it again. you see, in the tropical where i live, the refrigerator serves as a makeshift air-conditioner during scorching summer days. while i stole chocolates from there, i drew on the soft layers of squishy ice forming on the back panle, believing i was the first person to do that.

this became an issue for my mother, of course, she got tired of seeing flowers and sticks in her fridge. she wasn't too happy about the missing bags of M&Ms either. so she defrosted vey often, thinking it would stop me.

when i was in high school, i found other uses for the refrigerator that further alarmed my mom and exasperated the rest of the household. let's just say i conducted experiments in there, which were mostly failures. i'm too ashamed to give the details, but i'll say this : the smell of formalin on bread and lasagna was not appetizing, not at all.

even if i matured a little, i still consider the refrigerator one of the best place to spark creativity. i've been known to visit the fridge five to ten times a night, especially when insomia strikes and i don't have any inspiration to write. i ended up devouring the leftovers from christmas dinner while doing some "research for this essay. ( as if i have to research, its just another reasoning for me to eat).

and i must say that while i was crouched in front of the refrigerator, i had to stop myself from crawling back in there to relieve my childhood all over again. but i remembered that i was eighteen years old and there's no way i could ever explain it if somebody saw me doing something stupid like that. i've moved on to doing other implish things. still i made sure my mom didn't hear me slam the refrigerator in a moment of gleeful childishness.

Death of a "Hero"

We all know his story by now.

Sent to Hong Kong to dodge a Senate hearing, Jun Lozada was abducted by a group of yet unidentified and armed men the moment he returned to Manila on the evening of Tuesday, February 5th. He was taken against his will, into a black van, and on a ride that spanned Taguig, Cavite and Laguna. Within the van he never felt free. The men were well-equipped and were able to track broadcasts, police scanners and even the Senate’s radio. They were able to track his text messages too and warned him that it was futile to ask for help. Not too soon, his mobile’s battery ran out and he literally fell off the map. His ordeal lasted around six hours.


What if it didn’t last as long? What if he never walked the path of truth as he eventually did? Take note that everything after this sentence is already revisionist history.

February 5. 8pm. Outskirts of Dasmarinas, Cavite.

Paralyzed by fear, he tried his phone again. The silence was killing him; it had already killed his phone. His fingers shook nervously as he flipped open the receiver and pressed the power button. No response. In his sweaty palm, the phone felt cold but his blood ran colder.

“Saan na po tayo?” He asked reflexively. He needed to warm himself and his jaw shivered first.

No response.

He bowed his head and tried to hide it between his knees. Yet he could still see them. Three armed men. The two large men in front seemed to be used to this; the one seated across him was younger but angrier somehow. Tatoos graced the skin that broke through their black sweaters. Apparently, these men seem to have seen too many wars. They have fought too many battles; none were their own.

He tried his phone again. Nothing still.

Then something clicked. And crackled. Hissed. But it wasn’t his.

The van pulled over and stopped on the shoulder. The driver reached for the dash with his right hand and picked up a phone. A conversation began and it wasn’t in a hurry to end.

He could barely hear anything through his own shivering. The phone was still dead but he felt deader. Through the muffled one-sided conversation he managed to make out some words. They sounded like places he’s been to in better times. Or hell. Somehow it didn’t matter.

Then the call ended. The driver nodded his head, and his companion on the right nodded in kind. The younger man across him grabbed his arm. “Lakad.”

So he walked. The door was open and he slid his right foot out. His left thigh followed suit, rested on the chair as he slowly eased his right leg down to the ground. It was wet. And the air smelled of grass, rain and incense. The moment almost felt holy if it weren’t so fast.

The young man held him at his left elbow, tentatively dragging him towards the two older men who have gone farther ahead into the grass that towered over them. This place reminded him of his numerous treks he had through the hills of Rizal. His job took him to strange places, just as his thoughts now take him to his wife, his children, his brother, his friends. But they weren’t really strange; just alien. They have been walking for what felt like forever, and that is a long time to be away from those you love.

And they stopped. Right in front of him stood the two men and they looked at him in the eye. Their cheeks were scarred by dried-up tears. Then it came.

His chest burned and his breathing heaved. He collapsed down to his right knee. And it came again.

This time his back felt the burn and it punctured through his chest. On his lips he could taste iron. It was warm and wet. He tried to breathe in but it only brought more wet iron to his lips. And on his fingers. On his chest.

It was funny, he thought at that moment. You never hear it until you feel it, and you never feel it until the regret, sadness and anger all wash over you at the same time. At least he no longer has to be afraid. The young man let go of his grip, as did fear.

He was finally free.

February 6. 8am.

The body is found by a local who was walking along the highway when he noticed that the grass bent lower in places it did not bend yesterday. He reports it to the police.

1pm.

The corpse is identified as Jun Lozada, the man summoned by the Senate as they deepened their investigation into the NBN probe.

1:03pm.

Inquirer.net runs the story — “Lozada found dead”AM radio stations pick up not too long afterwards.The government condemns the killing just as quickly.

6:30pm.

In the primetime news, Jun Lozada’s wife, Violet, is shown to be hysterical. She demands justice for her husband, her family and her kids. In a moment of rage, she vocalizes that some people in power don’t want what he has to say.

10:17pm.

In the evening news, some Senators go on air and question the link this killing has with their current investigation. Cayetano is quick to blame the government and calls everything the worst cover-up in history. Other Senators even go on to say that this may be our “Tarmac II”.

February 7. 3am. La Salle Greenhills

Lozada’s gives a press conference in LSGH where she and her children are hiding. Their tone is indignant and call on for justice and truth to prevail. At one point, they call on Jun’s friends who know the truth. They appeal that his sacrifice be not in vain.

9am.

Romulo Neri surfaces and holds a press conference deploring the ‘blatant assassination’ of his friend and colleague. He promises to testify against the Senate tomorrow, Friday.For the rest of Thursday, the media run features on the NBN deal in anticipation of Neri’s bombshell.

February 8. 10am. The Senate

.Romulo Neri swears under oath to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.He presents damning information about the bribes and kickbacks received by Benjamin Abalos and Miguel Arroyo. He presents documents protected by executive privilege and provides the hard facts required by the Senate Blue Ribbon committee.Towards the end of the testimony, he condemns the killing of his friend and declares that he has come forward in the name of justice and truth. “No more lying. No more hiding.”

5pm.

As his testimony at the Senate nears its end, civil society mobilizes quickly. Calls for President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo to step down build up very fast and protests begin to bulge in Makati and Ortigas.


Now. February 14.

The rest, as they say, is history. I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to write the past few days. We all know how chaotic it has become.

Our country has reached a turning point. What will the death of Jun Lozada mean? I don’t know. What will the expose of Romulo Neri mean? I don’t know. What will all those protests mean? I don’t know. Some are beginning to call it People Power once more. But how long can we stand in defiance?

his may be my last post. I don’t know when I’ll get to write again. The government has issued a warrant of arrest for all enemies of the state. It was a student who saw my name on TV when the list was flashed and apparently, they read my blog.Whatever happens next, make sure that everything that happened over the past week has been for something. Only you can make that happen now — if you get to read this. Pretty soon I expect them to be knocking at my door. I will go quietly. I will not fight. Let them know for themselves the wrong they have done. Remember this, that whatever I have done or am about to do, I do it because of this:



I am free.

Irony

She gave up on love a long time ago, that much I know.
Before, when she thought she was in love, she would come to me and tell me about the new man in her life. She told me time and time again that this would be the man who would take her away, the man who would do everything to make her happy. I only listened. Her eyes would sparkle with every word, and her cheeks would blush with every positive thought, every chunk of her imagination that now seemed within reach. She would giggle and tell me that she would not forget about me. Then, just weeks later, she would be packing her bags, and she would be off to some exotic destination.

But then she always came back crying, and she came back with less enthusiasm than what she had whenever she left. This is it, she would tell me. This is the last time. But then she would find someone again who would eventually leave her.

I've wondered why so many times. There was nothing wrong with her in my opinion - she had a beauty that shined more when you stared at her longer. She had a good, innocent heart, very childlike and yet containing a deep sense of maturity as well. She was charming and could sweep anyone off their feet without exerting much effort. But somehow, she keeps on falling in love with the wrong men.

They were all the same, the men she fell in love with. They were willing to give her the world, and being a young woman, what else could be more romantic? They bought her everything she asked for, and she pleased them. Yet they would end up leaving her in the end, either because they have already had their fun or because their wives found out about her.

She would always come back looking much older than she was when she left. But though she may be shedding tears and nursing fears, inside these things only made her stronger. She would go back to the world a rejuvenated person with new hope in her. Then the same thing would happen, and once again, she would close her heart off from the rest of the world.

The last time she returned, she told me she had given up on love already. She was tired, she said. The last man had done enough damage to her to last for a lifetime. That was what she told me. Indeed he had changed her life drastically. He was a single man who only wanted companionship, and she, being the innocent lady that she is, had mistaken this desire for companionship for love and passion. Indeed the passion led to their pleasure, and he left her with child. When he found out, he told her that he was willing to support her and their child, and he was willing to give anything that she asked for as long as she does not ask him to marry her. He told her he only wanted companionship, and he was not ready to settle down. When she heard this, it served as the last straw for her, and so she came home and told everyone that she was giving up on love.

Now there was a man who was constantly at her side whenever she would get her heart broken. He would always let her cry on his shoulder and tell her that things would be fine. He even offered to take responsibility for the child that she bore from the last failed relationship. For some reason that I do not know, she would not do as much as consider having this man in her life. I had dared ask her only once, and she just shrugged her shoulders in confusion and bewilderment. Maybe it was because she was still jaded when I asked, but I will never know. Anyway, he was always there, and one day he presented her with the one thing that she had always wanted - a ring.

"If you're doing that because you feel sorry for me, then just forget it," was what she answered. She let him go thinking he did not deserve her. But he refused to marry because he was waiting for her. Years later she would take him for his husband and live in utter bliss.

She gave up on love a long time ago. But then love had different plans. Love would not give up on her, and in the end it was worth the long wait.

Booger

Kuya, penge ng kulangot,” sabi niya.
Ang unang pumasok sa isip ko, hindi ko siya kapatid. Noon lang kami nagkita; nagkataong siya ang nakatabi ko sa bus pauwi. Kung akala niya, nadadala ako sa pa-“Kuya, kuya” ng mga taong hindi ko kilala, nagkakamali siya. Pangalawa, sa pagkakaalam ko, ang kulangot ay sinusungkit mula sa ilong upang ipahid sa ilalim ng mesa, idikit sa pader, iipit sa panyo, lunurin sa lababo o itapon sa basurahan. Hindi ipinapamigay ang kulangot. At pangatlo, sakaling nahihingi man ang kulangot, bakit ko naman ibibigay ang kulangot ko sa kanya? Habang nakasakay sa bus kasama ang humigit-kumulang animnapung pasahero?

“Wala akong kulangot.”

“Meron e. Kakasilip ko lang kaya! Dali! Penge na!”

Napakabastos naman nitong batang ito, sa loob-loob ko.

“Sabi nang wala e. Nasaan ba ang nanay mo?”

May halong paninindak ang tanong, nang sa gayon, maligaw na ang usapan at ako ay makasandal sa bintana upang matulog.

“Wala akong nanay. At wala rin akong tatay. Bigla na lang akong lumitaw sa mundong ibabaw.”

Gaaaaad. Kawawa naman ang batang ito; wala pang sampung taon, mukha nang takas ng psychiatry ward. Manghihingi ng kulangot, pagkatapos, sasabihing sumulpot na lang na parang kabute. Ayoko nang itanong kung ano ang pangalan niya, baka sagutin ako ng “Jesus Christ” at hindi ko kayanin.

“Boy,” hinawakan ko ang kanyang ulo at inilingon patungo sa telebisyon ng bus, “Mabuti pa, manood ka na lang. Baka sakaling matutunan mong hindi nahihingi ang kulangot at hindi mina-magic ang mga bata.”

“Hmp, madamot,” sambit niya sabay irap.

O, huwag nang patulan, pagpipigil ko sa sarili. Bata iyang aawayin mo, papasok ka pa sa PLM. Isang buong araw ka nang gising kakaedit at kakaaral (nga ba?), itulog mo na lang iyan.

Nakatitig na sa tv ang namamalimos ng kulangot. Kasalukuyang ipinapalabas ang isang tatay na nanghihingi ng donasyon para sa anak niyang may hydrocephalus: “Madalas nga, tinatanong naming mag-asawa sa Diyos, bakit kami pa? Sa dinami-dami ng tao sa mundo, bakit ang nag-iisang anak pa namin ang magkakasakit ng ganito.”

Mahirap siguro maging Diyos. Bagsakan ka na nga ng lahat ng hiling, bagsakan ka pa rin ng lahat ng sisi.

Ikinabit ko ang baon kong earphones at pinatugtog ang radyo ng aking telepono. Kinakanta ng Hoobastank ang “I’m not a perrr-fect perrr-son….”

Sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon sa loob ng 24 na oras, ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata.

Ginising ako ng marahang pagtapik sa aking balikat.

“Boss, saan kayo?”

Ang konduktor, naniningil ng pamasahe.

“Las Piñas, galing City hall, estudyante.”

Dinukot ko ang mga nakahandang barya sa aking bulsa. “Sino nga pala ang nagbayad dito?” pabulong kong tanong habang inginunguso ang katabi kong nakatulog din pala.

“Iyan? Walang bayad iyan,” mabilis niyang sagot saka abot sa akin ng tiket.

“Bakit?”

Subalit lumipat na siya sa susunod na hilera ng mga pasahero.

“E wala talaga akong bayad e!”

Aba! Gising pala ang mokong.

“Ano? Bibigyan mo na ako ng kulangot?”

Kung nagkataong may hawak siyang baril, malamang nakatutok na ito sa butas ng ilong ko. Para lang sa walang kakwenta-kwentang kulangot na gawa sa aking uhog at sa alikabok mula sa init ng Gusaling Lacson.

“Teka nga. Seryosong tanong, at kailangan ko rin ng seryosong sagot. Nag-iinit ang ulo ko sa mga pilosopo.”

“Tapos, ‘pag sinagot ko ang tanong mo, bibigyan mo na ako ng kulangot? Yehey!”

“Aanhin mo ba ang kulangot ko?”

Sa pagkakataong ito, umasa akong sisigaw siya ng “Wow! Mali!” o kaya ay “Yari ka!” at pagkatapos ay ituturo sa akin ang kamerang nakakubli sa isang maleta sa kabilang hanay ng mga upuan.

“Wala lang. Nangongolekta kasi ako ng kulangot.”

Uh-oh. Oras na para tumawag sa mental.

“E bakit hindi ka na lang mangulangot buong araw at magdamag?”

“Gusto ko kasi kulangot ng iba.”

“Ha? Aanhin mo naman ang kulangot ng iba?”

“Kinokolekta ko nga e. Ang kulit mo naman Kuya!”

At ako pa raw ang makulit!

“Bakit nga? Aanhin mo naman ang kulangot ng ibang tao?” Nakakunot na ang noo ko. Hindi na ako natutuwa.

“Wala lang.”

Weirdo. Mas gugustuhin ko pang mabiktima na lang ng isang practical joke show kaysa makipagtalo sa batang ito.

“Hindi pwedeng wala lang. Hindi pwedeng walang bakit.”

“Bakit naman hindi?”

“Ganun talaga kapag tumatanda ka na. Hindi pwedeng ‘wala lang’ dahil lahat ng bagay, may dahilan. Lahat ng pangyayari. Lahat ng hindi nangyayari. Lahat ng tuwa. Lahat ng luha. Lahat ng pagod. Lahat ng sakripisyo. Lahat ng nakakalimutan. Lahat ng nagbabago. Lahat ng nabubuhay. Lahat ng nagkakasakit. Lahat ng namamatay. Kahit kulangot ko, may dahilan kung bakit nasa ilong ko at wala sa kamay mo! "

Kapag matanda ka na, mahirap tanggapin na ang lahat ay nangyayari dahil ‘wala lang.’ Na lahat ng paghihirap mo sa araw-araw ay wala namang patutunguhan, at sa huli ay wala ring saysay. Para mo na ring inamin na ang buhay mo ay walang silbi. Naiintindihan mo ba iyon?”

Tulala ang bata.

Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo. Apat. Lima.Anim. Pito. Walo. Siyam. Sam-….

“Ang sungit mo naman. Madamot ka na nga, masungit pa. Mabuti pa yung katabi kong babae kanina, binigyan agad ako ng kulangot. Wala nang ‘Bakit? Bakit?’”

Grrrr.

“E ‘DI SA KANYA KA HUMINGI, HUWAG SA AKIN!”

Akala ko, mapapaiyak ko ang batang walang nanay at walang tatay. Lagot kapag nagkataon.Pero hindi siya umiyak. Bagkus, siya ay tumayo, nag-ayos ng nagusot na damit, humarap sa akin, tinitigan ako sa mata at nagsabing, “Alam mo, yung babaeng nagbigay sa akin ng kulangot, mas masaya siya kaysa sa iyo.”

Tinawag niya ang konduktor. Pinahinto ang bus at dali-daling bumaba.

Ako?

Tulala.

Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo.

Apat. Lima. Anim.

Pito. Walo. Siyam.

Sampu.

Hotdogs

Habang naglilinis ang kapatid kong si Aika ng refrigerator ay napansin niya ang nag-iisang pulang hotdog sa sulok ng freezer.

Napagtanto niya na ang hotdog ay nahulog mula sa supot ng maraming hotdog at gumulong sa likod ng freezer. Hindi na namin napansin kaya noong niluto na namin ang mga hotdog, hindi ito napasama. Kaya ayun, nag-iisa na lang siya at literally ay “left out in the cold.”

Kung may feelings lang ang mga hotdogs, ano kaya nararamdaman niya na mag-isa na lang siya sa freezer, habang ang mga kasamahan niya ay naluto na at nakain? Lahat ng kasama niya sa supot na iyon, na-fulfill na ang mission sa buhay na makain – maliban sa kanya.

Lahat ba talaga ng mga hotdog ay kailangan kainin? Baka naman nagbubunyi iyong nag-iisang hotdog dahil malaya pa rin siya, habang ang lahat ng kasama niya ay tunaw na. Pero possible din na nalulungkot siya kapag naaalala niya ang mga kasamahan niya. Maaaring naghahanap siya ng warm body na makakatabi lalo na kapag hindi nade-defrost ang ref at kumakapal na ang yelo. Siguro, minsan, sinusubukan niya ring i-comfort ang sarili niya sa pag-iisip na siya ay nasa “better place” kesa sa mga kasama niya. O baka gusto niya i-defy ang notion na lahat ng hotdog ay kailangan kainin.

Baka handa na siya sa fate niya na siya ang hotdog na hindi makakain at mabubulok na mag-isa.

***

Noong isang araw, bumili ako ng hotdog. Pero hindi tulad noong nag-iisang hotdog na naiwan sa ref, chicken hotdog ang binili ko. Pero okay lang, hotdog pa rin iyon.

Sinama ko ang red hotdog sa supot ng mga brown na chicken hotdog. Binalak ko na prituhin sila for breakfast. At last, mafu-fulfill na rin ng naiwang hotdog ang mission niya sa buhay. At last, maluluto na rin siya at makakain bukas.

Kaya lang, bago matulog ay napaisip ako. Ano kaya ang mararamdaman ng hotdog kung maluto ko nga siya, pero hindi naman niya gusto ang mga kasama niya sa frying pan? Kaya pa ba niyang maghintay sa mga pulang hotdog na bibilhin ko in the future? Kailangan ba talaga siya maluto at makain? Paano kung masaya na siya na nag-iisa?

***

Nakaka-relate ako sa nag-iisang hotdog na hindi pa naluluto at nakakain. Isa-isa nang kinakasal ang mga kaibigan ko. At hinahanda ko na ang sarili ko na maaaring maiiwan akong mag-isa sa loob ng freezer.

May isang supot ng chicken hotdog sa tabi ko pero ayokong sumama sa kanila. Mas gugustuhin ko na lang ang mag-hintay dahil naniniwala ako na may mga bagong supot ng pulang hotdog na darating.

Pero kung sakali mang walang dumating, siguro ihanda ko na ang sarili ko na may mga hotdog na mas masaya na maiwan sa loob ng freezer na mag-isa.

Anatomy of a perfect girlfriend

No cracks, no fractures, no missing bones whatsoever.

Taxi cabs were her favorite way to go around the city. The boyfriend would open the car door for her and assist her while getting off the vehicle. She would take his offered hand like a princess getting off a lovely carriage. She would tell his boyfriend, "That's what boyfriends are for." Her boyfriend would nod in approval, kiss her on her forehead and smile. Her every step was watched. Her boyfriend is her safety scout. Sweet.

"If you don't take care of me, I'll break up with you."

No pulled, strained muscles.

She did not suffer from any forms of fatigue. Her life was a bliss. No need to rush to a convenient store to grab a midnight snack. Her boyfriend would offer his phone and she would call the delivery hotline. And on those days when it was not possible to have the food delivered, he would buy it himself, not minding the time nor the weather. No need to go to a spa to relax. He would light an essence lamp and ask her to lay on her tummy. He would then sooth her tired muscles using his bare hands. He was not really good at this but it pleased her. "That's what boyfriends are for," she would think.

"Buy me food, or else I'll break up with you."

Perfect condition, from mouth to the intestines

She was well-fed. Where to eat, what to eat.. it was her choice. Her every craving was satisfied. He would also introduce her to restaurants and plates she had never tried before. She would think it was fantastic. She would gain weight and think that was her boyfriend's fault. He would smile and tell her that how attractive she still was. Compliments. That's what boyfriends are for.

"Tell me I'm the prettiest or we're through."

Clean lungs. Healthy heart.

There was no way second-hand smoke could have harmed her. He was not a smoker. He lived a healthy life and so did she. He would take her to the country side and she would enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. He had to suspend several business trips so they could go together. Because according to her, that's what boyfriends are for.

"Let's go, or I'll find another boyfriend to take me there."

No signs of depression.

Hers was a worry-free life. Before she could even detect the problem, he already resolved it for her. She was trained not to care, not to worry about almost everything. Worrying was his job. That's what boyfriends are for. He would be sick but he would tell her not to worry. He would buy and take his medicines all by himself. She would be sick and he would worry to death. A simple migraine and he would panic.

"Make the pain go away, or you'll lose me."


She was in perfect health the night he left her and yet she was found dead the following morning.

An Atheist Professor of Philosophy speaks to his Class on the Problem Science has with GOD , The ALMIGHTY .

He asks one of his New Christian Students to stand and . . .

Professor : You are a Christian, aren't you, son ?

Student : Yes, sir.

Professor : So you Believe in GOD ?

Student : Absolutely, sir.

Professor : Is GOD Good ?

Student : Sure.

Professor : Is GOD ALL - POWERFUL ?

Student : Yes.

Professor : My Brother died of Cancer even though he Prayed to GOD to Heal him.Most of us would attempt to Help Others who are ill.But GOD didn't.How is this GOD Good then ? Hmm ?

( Student is silent )

Professor : You can't answer, can you ?Let's start again, Young Fella.Is GOD Good ?

Student : Yes.

Professor : Is Satan good ?

Student : No.

Professor : Where does Satan come from ?

Student : From . . . GOD . . .

Professor : That's right.Tell me son, is there evil in this World ?

Student : Yes.

Professor : Evil is everywhere, isn't it ?And GOD did make Everything. Correct ?

Student : Yes.

Professor : So who created evil ?

( Student does not answer )

Professor : Is there Sickness ? Immorality ? Hatred ? Ugliness ?All these terrible things exist in the World, don't they ?

Student : Yes, sir.

Professor : So, who Created them ?

( Student has no answer )

Professor : Science says you have 5 Senses you use to Identify and Observe the World around you.Tell me, son . . . Have you ever Seen GOD ?

Student : No, sir.

Professor : Tell us if you have ever Heard your GOD ?

Student : No , sir.

Professor : Have you ever Felt your GOD , Tasted your GOD , Smelt your GOD ?Have you ever had any Sensory Perception of GOD for that matter ?

Student : No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.

Professor : Yet you still Believe in HIM ?

Student : Yes.

Professor : According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says your GOD doesn't exist.What do you say to that, son ?

Student : Nothing. I only have my Faith .

Professor : Yes. Faith . And that is the Problem Science has.

Student : Professor, is there such a thing as Heat ? Professor : Yes. Student : And is there such a thing as Cold ?

Professor : Yes.

Student : No sir. There isn't.

( The Lecture Theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events )

Student : Sir, you can have Lots of Heat, even More Heat, Superheat, Mega Heat, White Heat,a Little Heat or No Heat.
But we don't have anything called Cold.
We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero which is No Heat, but we can't go any further after that.
There is no such thing as Cold.Cold is only a Word we use to describe the Absence of Heat.We cannot Measure Cold.Heat is Energy.Cold is Not the Opposite of Heat, sir, just the Absence of it.

( There is Pin - Drop Silence in the Lecture Theatre )

Student : What about Darkness, Professor ? Is there such a thing as Darkness ?

Professor : Yes. What is Night if there isn't Darkness ?

Student : You're wrong again, sir.
Darkness is the Absence of Something. You can have Low Light, Normal Light , Bright Light, Flashing Light . . .But if you have No Light Constantly, you have Nothing and it's called Darkness, isn't it ?In reality, Darkness isn't.If it is, were you would be able to make Darkness Darker, wouldn't you ?

Professor : So what is the point you are making, Young Man ?

Student : Sir, my point is your Philosophical Premise is Flawed.

Professor : Flawed ? Can you explain how ?

Student : Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality..You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a Good GOD and a Bad GOD .You are viewing the Concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure.Sir, Science can't even explain a Thought. It uses Electricity and Magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.To view Death as the Opposite of Life is to be ignorant of the fact thatDeath cannot exist as a Substantive Thing. Death is Not the Opposite of Life : just the Absence of it.Now tell me, Professor, do you Teach your Students that they Evolved from a Monkey ?

Professor : If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes, of course, I do.

Student : Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir ?

( The Professor shakes his head with a Smile, beginning to realize where the Argument is going )

Student : Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work andcannot even prove that this Process is an On - Going Endeavor,are you not Teaching your Opinion, sir ?Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher ?

( The Class is in Uproar )

Student : Is there anyone in the Class who has ever Seen the Professor's Brain?

(The Class breaks out into Laughter )

Student : Is there anyone here who has ever Heard the Professor's Brain, Felt it, Touched or Smelt it ? . . . No one appears to have done so.So, according to the Established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that you have No Brain, sir.With all due respect, sir, how do we then Trust your Lectures, sir?

(The Room is Silent. The Professor stares at the Student, his face unfathomable)

Professor: I guess you'll have to take them on Faith , son.

Student : That is it sir . . .the Link between Man & GOD is FAITH .That is all that Keeps Things Moving & Alive.

Pagmamahal at ang Laruan

Ito ang breaking news: "Walang kapalit ang una mong Lego."

Bata pa siya noon at ang buhay ay isa lamang bulto ng plastik na mayroong iba't ibang korte, maaaring pagkabit-kabitin bagamat iba't iba ang mga sukat nito.

Kaya naman nang una niyang makita sa Gift Gate ang isang kahong mayroong iregular na tao at pangkarerang oto, daglian niyang hinatak ang palda ng ina't itinuro ang laruang hinaharangan ng makapal na salamin.

Hindi daw pwede.

Araw-araw sa kanyang pag-uwi, pilit niyang sinusubukang tunawin ng kanyang paningin ang salaming naghihiwalay sa kanya't sa Legong inaasam. Malayo ito't mataas ang pagkakalagay sa istanteng nangungutyang hindi mo siya maaabot. Hindi mo siya mahahagkan. Hindi mo siya mabubuksan at mapaglalaruan. Hinding hindi.

Ligaw tingin ng mangingirog, kulang sa pansin, mahawakan lamang ang iniibig...

Gagawin ko ang lahat.

Isang linggong walang recess at lunch. Isang buwang naglalakad pauwi mula sa eskuwela. Isang taong nagkukunwaring may school project na dapat bayaran. Isang taong walang binibili kundi kendi't gulaman para sa tanghalian. Isang taong nangungupit sa ayaw magpaubaya. Isang taong hulihan at paluan.

Masakit. Mahirap. Pero lahat ay kalilimutan.

Inda ang latay ng walis-tambo sa aking puwitan, kita'y binalikang magmuli sa iyong kinatatayuan. Isang bantayog na matagal ko ring tiningala't inasam-asam. Sa bigat ng baryang tangan ng aking kaliwang kamay, kasabay ng pag-ngiti ng mga ngiping bungi, akin ka na. Matapos ang ilang libong SALE sa Gift Gate at pagdating ng mga mas bagong laruan, natagpuan kita sa estanteng sa sulok lang pala nakatayo, nakadungaw sa bintana. Luma na ang iyong kahon at ang iyong price tag ay ilang beses nang napatungan ng iba't ibang presyo --bawat isa'y pamura nang pamura.

Pinlastik, isinilid, iniuwi, pinigtas, pinunit, binuksan, ikinalat, inintindi, tinitigan.

Hindi na nagpalit ng damit, hindi na nanood ng TV, hindi na kumain ng meryenda't hapunan. Mayroong hindi mapakaling kitikiti sa kanyang puwitan na ayaw siyang tantanan.

Matagal nang pananabik. Matagal nang pagtitiis. Matagal na pag-iisip.

Hinawakan ang isang piraso't pilit isinuksok sa isa. Hindi maaari. Humanap ng ibang hugis at ipinasok sa isa pa. Parang mali. Binasa niya ulit ang papel na halos malukot na sa gigil ng kanyang mga kamay. Muling tinitigan ang mga bloke ng plastik na tila nakatitig sa kanya't naghihintay.

Nakangisi, nangungutya.

Parang hindi tama. Parang hindi ito ang inasam-asam at pinag-ipunan ng isang taon. Parang nakaka-asar talo.

Nagsarado na ang Gift Gate sa Mendiola. Umangat na ang aking grado't lumipat ng ibang eskuwelahan. Lumipat na kami ng tirahan, kung saan malayo sa aking pinanggalingan. Nakakita na ko ng ibang mas-astig na laruan, at daglia'y nabibili ko na ang mga ito agad-agad. Madali ko rin silang naiintindihan at napaglalaruan --at pinagsasawaan.

Nagbago na ang lahat, pati ako, pero ikaw hindi ka pa rin nagbabago. Hindi pa rin kita mabuo.Isa kang malaking palaisipan para sa hindi matunawan. Bawat piraso mo'y simbigat ng adobeng hindi matibag-tibag. Bawat hugis mo'y ayaw lumapat sa iba pang piyesang dapat nama'y lumalapat. Walang katumbas ang disenyo mo. Hindi maintindihan ang kalakip mong instructions. Parang kahit kailan ay hindi kita mabubuo kahit pa tunawin ko ang mga bahagi mo.

Parang iba ka. Katulad ng mga bahagi mo'y hindi tayo magkatugma. Mahirap pilitin ang ayaw, bagamat matagal-tagal rin kitang hinantay.

Katulad ng isang batang hindi napagbigyan, iiiyak ko na lang ito sa isang tabi't kinabukasa'y maghahanap ng iba.