just so you know...

just so you know,
how hurt i am
and that this pain,
will always have,
a scar, a mark.
so long as i live,
this scar will remain,
to remind me,
of the days,
that hurt is way,
above all love
in this world.

and you are gone...

those smiles that we shared,
or the simple chat we had.
everything is in my heart,
stuck and constantly reminding,
of those days and nights
when a world of love
is promised and vowed.

those silent stares and sighs,
unmindful of the clock,
ticking and endlessly running.
we know, time is us and forever.
who would ever think,
how treacherous time is,
now it is gone and done.

those memories that we have.
are but memories now gone.
those dreams long woven,
tangled, vanished.
i look up at you from afar.
quiet unreachable and cold,
and almost now almost gone.

maybe indeed this ends up,
whatever thoughts of me and you.
and i have nothing left,
to hold on, to grasp for sanity.
now, with a bleak life to lead,
i will have my tears to shed
and a lifetime of hurt to live.

The Last Realization

In every story that we read, we start off with an anticipation of a happy ending. But, in some cases, our anticipations fall short. That is, we find ourselves in tears and with a hope of a turn of events. Fiction as it may seem, it is always in the most imaginative minds of the writers that both the happiest and the saddest stories comes out. And, much the same as every printed book holds a million of words, the life that we lead holds a million of stories comprised of a gazillion of words unspoken that convey even more than what a human mind can conceive - that is, we examine at what our hearts feels more.

Unpredictable, uncertain, unknown, these are the words that every human emotion clings into. If we are to speak out of experience, a human has never been constant in every second that counts. We see how every human being is subject to the dictates of the mind and the clash of the heart. Inasmuch as every philosopher may have attempted or tested the cognizance of both the mind and the heart, still, no one will ever be able to fathom the profoundness of what the brain and the muscle has. True, as a walking individual, we will always be slaves of our own internal voluntary or involuntary system that grips us - well, not just our personality, but our sanity.

Now, as we strive to love and be loved in return, we traverse this trodden path of scumbags and malice. We wage an everyday battle to everyone who attempts to strip us off with our comfort, with our pride, with our life. We may have met someone who promised a rainbow in the end of this life we lead on, we believe in him, we place our faith in him and we follow him. Sometimes, we find ourselves wrong or wronged. In the end, we found no pot of gold but simply an empty pot to catch every tear that we shed out of disappointment.

Now, tonight, as another story has ended, a simple hut may suffice to comfort that tired soul and swollen eyes. A respite perhaps in the arms of Morpheus will be more than enough to spare us from the tangibility of pain that this life has to offer. And we say - the end.

it is over...II

i do not wish to spend another bucket of tears over you...
nor would i wish to have my heart be in agony again...
maybe this is the reason why in everything there is,
a beginning and an end...
this time...it is over...

it is over..

tired...
hurt...
barely breathing...

fed up...
in pain...
unloved...

perhaps,
it is best...
to end this.

Maybe this time...

Maybe this time it is for me. For me to be loved and be cared for.
Perhaps this time you will think about me. And how I wish to belong -
to your heart.

Maybe this time it is for me. For you to appreciate me.
This time, I pray that you will pray for me too -
instead of me praying for you.

Maybe this time it is for me. Maybe this time, will be the time for me.

A story...

It was that night when I felt so sleepy. And, you popped up and suddenly the hours became blurred. We have nothing but the voice and the split second views, taking advantage of what technology can offer. You have your angel I got mine. You gave me yours and I gave mine to you too. The rest became a whirlwind.

But, I am unsure what happened next. Suddenly it all became so distant. Even your mind, I cannot get hold of what to do. I cannot even comprehend your actions or my actions.

All the while, I thought everything was fine. Until I find myself lost. Stumbled in a rock and when I loom around me, I saw nothing but your shadow in the road away from me.

I became unsure what went wrong. What I have done wrong or what have I made this time. With the haze upon me, it is a dizzying state to find your self with no one but your wits to hold on to.

And I laughed, this is just another story. Again. One of the many stories that I have woven and thinking that it will be different this time. I am wrong.

Never had any...

I am a hopeless romantic person. This I can be honest about. How I came to love the thought of being in love. Engaged in romantic stories and movies, it is always heartwarming to be engulfed by such instances. And, more often than not, I end up wishing for the same happy ending.

Temporary. This is the most apt word that I can describe as far as my relationships are concerned. And for almost every one, promised a lifelong vow, which ended up in nothing but tears and sobs and a sigh.

For every failed relationship, I ask all the time, what went wrong? Always too, I failed to answer the same question. I have hoped not even for the ideal. Although I do not wish to settle for less too.

In truth, I feel that pang of jealousy every time I see couple who is together in a street, unmindful of the worries of others. Sigh. Again. I do not wish to sound so desperate but yes, unfortunately, with another year looming near, I simply cannot hide my frustration.

Tonight, again, my pillows will comfort me until I wake up the next day.

This game that we play...

This game that we play,
Of stabbing and lashing,
When I am about to lose,
And you simply win.
I cannot throw my king,
When you are with,
that damn good queen.

This game that we play,
Charades it is?
You guess or I do.
All but pricking and bleeding.
Or simply sneering,
This endless banter,
We just gain nothing.

This game that we play,
You cry or I do.
Nothing to keep me stay.
This pushing and slapping.
Why should I hold on to?
You got your back,
I don't want me back.

This game that we play,
Is almost over.
Tired, exhausted, enough.
I have my defeat to lick.
You have my retreat to feast.
Take your laugh,
I take my tears.

After a year...

It was more than a year after I wrote my fears, my despair and my lost hopes in life. That was the time when I am about to turn 25. On my plane ride back to the Philippines, a rush of memories surge through my mind at that time. I have been asking myself if all the while, what I am doing is right. Or, do I have to do this in the first place.

For more than a year, I wrote about my endless whine for material security. How I wish to have achieved even a part or a parcel of my childhood dreams. And now, as I am about to bid that quarter, I suddenly realized that there is more than what I have whined for in the past. It dawned unto me how sober I am and how alone I am. Needless to day, I came to realize how the world have offered me a life of solitude, which, unfortunately, I have embraced.

As the days are approaching faster than expected, it seems that I will end up with no one but my seven pillows until that day of judgment arrives. I could have done better. I could have matured more. And so, again, the endless questions, the endless bouts of anxiety and the endless irrational justifications which I have to cling on for sanity's sake.  Now, more to what I have dreamed when I was a child, I just wish to be with that someone who can stand up for me until I am nothing but dust.

After a year, I will only have my bottle of vodka perhaps to laugh or cry with, a lappy to talk to and a ceiling to stare at.