Illusions Uncovered

Ignored. That’s what I felt when you walked past me and didn’t even look at me like how you always would. Hurt, technically, I don’t have the right to be hut because there’s nothing going. You were the perfect one, or at least I am still convincing myself that you were even though the clues were obvious that you weren’t. Stubborn. I was so into the illusion of you because it felt like heaven on earth. Your mask showed me all what I wanted to see and so I adored you so much that I lived in a make-believe world of you and me. Stupid. I became so addicted writing poetry about you, hoping that it’s the start of the love story more beautiful than a fairy tale. But I was slapped hard by the truth that it is not I who always control this thing called destiny. 

You ignored me like I never existed. It’s this time that I finally figured out you, the real you. That thing  that happened right now made me realize that your faultlessness was not real. You also made mistakes. Why wasn’t I able to see that you’re also human? I am annoyed that I was so hooked into your being. You approached me with your open soul and I immediately fell into that beautifully crafted trap. It looked like paradise so I watered the feelings and took care of the emotions that bloomed into mighty flowers always longing, always following the light and warmth of the sun. I made you my sun. And that was so wrong.

Now, you’re undressed in your costume. I understood clearly that you, my sun, wasn’t always bright. And maybe you weren’t my sun in the first place. Therefore, I decided to stop making you the center of my universe. I wanted to pursue you and I wanted you to pursue me, but I will stop because it’ll only make us more insane. Though I still like like you a lot, I will stop in this daydreaming. We’ll still pass by each other every now and then. You will continue to ignore me which I really will never understand why. I will still steal glances of you. But all these things luring me to still like you, I will fight… Because you, my beautiful illusion, has been uncovered..

HARSHtag

harshtag

Nakasandal ang ulo sa bintana ng sasakyan habang tinitingnan ang tulo ng ulan na dumudulas at naguunahan, pati ang talsik ng tubig sa bahang daanan. Palihim na natutuwa sa pagkikita at sa pag pansin mo sa akin. Naiinis dahil napapangiti at napapamuni ‘pagkat nakisabay ang kilig sa panahong malamig. Nakalimutan ng panandalian ang pangakong pagkalimot sa’yo.

Natutunaw, natutunaw, natunaw na naman ako.

Iba ka

Kapag sinusubukan nilang durugin ang iyong pagkatao, huwag mo silang patulan. Laging tandaan na hindi kasing baba nila ang uri ng karakter mo. Hindi naman sa hindi ka lalaban, pero hindi sa masalimuot na paraan ang iyong pakikipag himagsikan. Lumaban ng may utak at ipakita sa kanila na hindi lang nasusukat ang pagkapanalo sa pagiging Ilustrado.

Ipakita nang may kababaan na kayang mapagtagumpayan ang anumang laban kahit ang nilalabanan ay ipinamumukha sa iyo na katiting lamang ang silbi mo sa mundong ito. Huwag padadaig sa ganitong paninira dahil mas kilala mo ang sarili mo. Hindi ka hamak na tao. Tumayo at tumindig ng pirmis at idilat ng mabuti ang mga mata para makita ng maigi na ang silbi ay higit pa sa yaman na ipinagmamayabang ng walang pusong mayaman.

Maaring umiyak sandali, pero huwag hayaang magmukhang kaawa-awa ang sarili dahil ito ay hindi totoo. Matutong tingnan na importante ang linis ng kalooban upang mabuhay ng mapayapa. Huwag magpahabol o magpalamon sa mga salitang ibinabato ng mga tao sa paligid mo. Hindi sila ikaw at hindi ka sila. May sarili silang paniniwala na sana ay hindi mo magaya. Manatiling matalino sa pakikipagkapwa tao. Manatiling tahimik gaya ng isang henyong nag-iisip at huwag tutularan ang kaingayan ng sambayanang nagmamang-maangan na kunwari ay mayroon silang katalinuhan.

Iba ka.

Sana May Isang Salita

Ang hirap kausap ng tao/hindi taong walang isang salita. Hindi ka sigurado kung oo ba o hindi ang sagot niya/nito. Hindi mo alam kung totoo na ba o aasa ka na naman sa wala. Ang totoo niyan, nakakainis ka. Oo, ikaw.

Ano ba talaga? Dapat tumutulong ka sa pag hubog sa mga isipan ng mga taong tinatawag nating kabataan. Pero ano ang ginagawa mo? Hindi ito isang laro o negosyo lang. Kinabukasan ang pinag-uusapan. Higit pa sa pera ang puhunan at ‘di lang utak ang nakataya. Sana, sa pinaiiral mo/ninyong batas, kasama ang paghahanda sa kanila sa malupit na mundo. Sana mahubog ang mga katangian bilang isang tunay na tao at hindi lang kagalingan o pagiging eksperto sa larangan ng pagiging maka mundo.

Tao tayo.

Sana naman, hindi lang ang talentado o ang nakaka angat ang bigyan ng pabor. Sana hindi paulit-ulit ang mga taong nakaka tamasa ng tagumpay. Sana maibahagi ito sa lahat, sana maibahagi ang pagkakataon sa lahat dahil may karapatan ang bawat isa na makilala. Sana sa ninanais na rebolusyon, mapakita ang tunay na ibig sabihin nito. Hindi lang na gusto mong maipakita na kakaiba ka, ngunit nainisin mo nawa na ituro na ang pagiging kakaiba ay para basagin ang maling nakasanayan at hindi ituloy ang maling nakasanayan sa mas progresibong paraan.

Maganda ang ideya. Pero ang nagiging kinalabasan ay mga utak na nagmumura sa pagaakalang cool ka.. Sana makapag bigay ka rin ng mga pusong nagmamahal dahil magiting ka.

Di magtatagal aalis din ako sa’yo, ‘di na siguro lilingunin pa o maaari rin naman bumalik at itama ang nakakainis na sistema. Pero sa ngayon, di mapagkakailang kailangan pa kita kaya nakikiusap ang aba, humihingi ako ng wastong tulong galing sa’yo.

Lemon Lime Colored Curtains and the Limitations of Life

Image

Of lemon-and-lime-colored curtains lies behind a sky unsure whether to hide the sun or showcase it. This embodies the exact feelings of this little lady still unsure whether or not she has transformed into a woman already. Numbers float in her mind thinking what limits the life – her life and the lives of her loved ones. What could possibly be the cause of every limitation? What could be done? Why would then we try to break free from the limitations if in the end we will all be limited, buried under the ground?

Even the time spent being young and free is limited. Yet, every breathing being still wants to experience the high of the unlimited. It’s a feeling that sends man to the heaven of heavens. For a time, people are unchained and unstoppable able to conquer the world and the minds of the other beings. They find love and fall in love for a lifetime. They find love and fall out of it. Everything has a time limit. But people do not notice it until the time has come.

And then the time comes. Age becomes old, strength collapses, memory diminishes, and death comes – sometimes at peace, sometimes in the worst way – death comes for you or your loves, as promised. You, then, acknowledge the limitation of life, of everything. You miss what’s gone but realize that soon, you’ll be gone too.

Even the lemon-and-lime-colored curtains limit the view of the unsure sky that’s half-hiding the sun and half-showing the grey clouds that are about to cry.

On being an introvert and it, somehow, being the new black

Yes, I love reading books, writing, painting, taking photographs, having long walks, deep conversations, but I do not binge-watch on Netflix. I can give a speech in front of many people but I am awkward with small talks. I can be outgoing at times and also have moments of being shy. I can speak my mind out or keep the thoughts to myself. I am not ashamed that I am an introvert -INTJ to be exact- but it also feels awkward if I talk about it.

But these days, I have been reading a lot of listicles (list-type articles) about introverts. It is nice because I can relate to some but somehow, people are subtly putting us, introverts, to certain stereotypes like the Netflix thing which I don’t like. I like that people are becoming aware of introverts and our needs or how to interact with us, but I don’t like that it is being the new black. It shouldn’t be. Can you leave it as it is?

There are pros and cons of being an introvert. Sure, the internet can help big time. But if you really want to know how to deal introverts, you should personally spend time with one so that you would have a first-hand experience and not just follow whatever the internet is talking about. I mean, most of us wants deep, meaningful conversation, one-on-one, really getting-to-know-each-other stuff other than you just guessing based on some article you’ve read on the internet. Though, to be fair, I am reading those articles too but there are just those that are so stereotypical that I do not like.

I do not want this to be a ‘rant post’ so I need to stop before it gets there. I am not ashamed of being an introvert neither am I too proud about it. I just don’t want it to be the new black.

 

…………………………………….

I’d recommend this site though: 16 Personalities. A site not only for introverts but for extroverts as well

The Moment Mom Broke the News, I Stopped Crying

It’s been a month since papa died. I can still remember how it went.

We were eating buko pie my mom brought from Laguna.

Then papa suddenly fell down in the garage and vomited violently.

Mom rushed him to the hospital.

I followed to get clothes for papa in case he gets confined.

Five seizures and three hours later, papa was no more.

I was not there. While he was being transferred from the ER to a substitute ICU (as there were none at the moment), I was just crying at the stairs far from the room. I tried to enter once but papa saw that I cannot handle it and he ordered me to get out. I did voluntarily. That was the last time I saw papa’s face. He was struggling. And even though I was far from the room, I still heard how the heart monitor flat-lined. SHxT, sometimes, I hate these keen senses that I have.

I was sitting by the stairs, mom went and told me that papa’s gone. From that moment, I decided to stop crying. I did not see papa’s body for the last time. Instead, I went down. Some of the people I called were there and I asked if we can go to Starbucks (at12m.n) to get something. I jokingly said if they have a funeral coffee, and then I broke down. I felt guilty for not being there at papa’s last moments. I regretted that he was not able to attend ANY of my graduations since I started school and he won’t be able to attend not only this time but for every occasion in the future. I regretted the time that I insist on leaving la salle. I should have finished my degree there so that even for the last time, papa would be able to march me.

I did not cry at the funeral.

I didn’t want my mom to see me crying. I didn’t want others to see me crying because they would all say the same thing: that I have to be strong for my mother. I knew it very well, I knew it more than they do. But I really wanted to cry. I really wanted to break down, to cry so loud so that people would see how awful I was feeling. I also want someone to hug me tightly while crying. But I did not cry because mom had been crying a lot already, therefore I have to appear strong, and so deprived myself from the right of feeling terrible.

I did not cry at the burial.

I mastered the art of not crying in front of other people. I usually have shallow tears. I cry over a really good drama easily. But this real-life drama of mine, I decided not to. People now thought that I am really brave for not crying. I hate it.

I still cry. Secretly. And I don’t like it.

I wanted to have a good cry — a really good one that my eyes would be so red people will see the sadness.

I wanted to cry like that but I also don’t want to be unfair with people. Me crying and they have to be sad even if they aren’t, just to comfort me. That’s unfair. So I’m waiting for that one person, even just one, who would ask me to cry on his shoulders because he knows how badly I need one.

My Senses Have Decided to Forget You (again)

For the seventh time, I have decided to forget you again. In my head, talking with the picture of you and telling myself that “No, it’s impossible for us to be, so I will move on” even though “us” is nonexistent and never will be, but still, I have decided to move on. I have conditioned myself again that if ever I see you, I will do nothing. Maybe give a smile or maybe not. I would not even dare type your name in the Facebook search bar just to stare at your profile photo for five or ten minutes.

I have made a pact with my brain to not think of you randomly so I would not look like some crazy human being while walking on the sidewalk or while reading a book, or while ordering something. I have talked with my eyes to not search for you in the most random places because DUH! why would you be in the most random place where I would be? I have told my ears to forget your voice. That cold voice you have whenever you talk to me and that colder voice you have while singing. I have ordered my nose to forget your scent, that scent of  cologne that smelled so manly but not too strong and it complimented your personality perfectly. And I swear, I’m not a creeper but since I have a good memory, I remember that scent that time you stood beside me. And my lips have made a promise that it would not utter your name because.. just because. And then there’s my heart. I begged my heart to forget you, to stop hoping, to stop feeling anything about you. But this heart’s somehow stubborn. Sometimes it’s listening, sometimes it’s not. But whatever it’s decision will be, I, as the greater authority than it is, have decided to stop thinking about you.

But then I saw you. Eyes did not look long enough. Nose did not register your scent. I was doing great. And then you said Hi. Just one word and this stubborn heart gave in. All of my senses melted. The butterflies orchestrated my stomach again. Everything was twirling and spinning and sent me to the abyss and then heavens, and my lips talked to you again and said Hi.

For the seventh time, I have failed again. Maybe next time will finally, finally be the last time.