Oh my Lord,
for he is evil.
Oh my Lord,
for he is evil.
I didn’t visit any cemetery until 2014, the year papa died. So I am not well aware of what to do when visiting a grave. But for the few times we visited papa’s, we didn’t even pay proper respect. No flowers, candles, and food were offered. We just stood there silently and looked at the name etched on the marble lapida along with the wrong birthdate of papa.. And then, we stopped by a restaurant to eat before going home.
I want to justify myself and my mom that it’s okay to not give proper respect:
-He’s dead, so he won’t even know it.
-Our presence is enough to show that we respect him.
Living in a country that is religiously following these customs, we might get a few eyes looking at us, may be mocking us in their minds because of not giving respect to the deceased. But, whatever, I still love papa and I might or might still not bring flowers, candles, and food the next time I visit him.
I hope people would would not be confused by facts and fictions
and learn to live in the right world.
But who am I kidding anyway?
When I, myself, love to mix facts and fictions.
I try to convince myself that I am a good person because I do things considered to be good. And so I arrogantly showed off how good I am, only to be considered rude by my mother.
Last christmas, all the other children received ten bars of chocolates while I received none. I didn’t throw a fit because I never really liked the brand. They didn’t give me even just a bite and I didn’t ask for one. As days passed, their bars were slowly consumed until it’s gone. We all forgot about the chocolate.
This day, I received 4 bars of my favorite brand of chocolate and the other kids did not. One child boldly asked for one and I told him it melted and I have to freeze it again. The other kids obviously wanted to ask for just a bite but held back.
They’re now talking behind my back saying that it’s unfair and I’m selfish. Am I?
She met him at a time of stillness. She was not looking for love nor daydreaming because she was content at the calmness life is giving her. He met her at a time of his almost enlightenment. He, too, was satisfied by the tranquility that surrounds his existence.
In a time of sereneness, they met.
Her unperturbed living met a storm masqueraded as his being. His enlightenment met a darkness masked as her existence. No one had a clue they were each others’ abyss ready to swallow each other whole.
She was caught in his snare and melted little by little until she became one with his heart. And when he thought his enlightenment was complete, she made him see that she is her inner peace. He got drowned in her ocean and experienced renaissance by her. And when she thought no storm can rage her, he whirled his way like a hurricane and made her experience a high she had never tasted. They both got eaten by each other’s angels and demons and they did not escape. They did not escape. For she was his darkness and he was his storm.
Nobody said you were their sun
Nor their sea
Nor their anything
But you still willingly
be their sun
and their sea
and their everything.
Finally, this chapter in my life is coming to a close. This should have ended some time ago but certain moments spiced up the situation and elongated this somewhat unbearable season. Good thing is that everything is temporary. For years, I always question why I’ve been stuck because that is not in my character to be stagnant. But, through times like these that I learned how to fight. Yes, I have some regrets, but that won’t change things of the past, therefore, the only thing to do is to move forward.(I hate that it’s so cliche)
Nothing was easy. If everything I’ve experienced was easy, then, I have not lived a good life. Good does not mean that there are no hardships. Good means that through those hardships, I conquered it and gave me happiness and a good life.
30th day of April, I’m marching on to the end of being a student but will continue to walk on as a student of life. I have so many things to discover and so many stories to tell. See you soon as the next chapter unfolds.
Well, the night breeze is cold and it makes the gold curtains sway while passing through the little holes of the screen window. I’m lying on my stomach, typing, thinking critically whether to write or not because I might end up writing about someone.. again.
I want to write something else because I think that it would make me
look or sound more mature. Why? Maybe I want to be seen as a deep intellectual. Or maybe I just want my writing to feel cool. What the hell.
As much as I don’t really want to be on the spotlight, I also don’t want to be totally ignored. I mean, I still want the right kind of attention (and not too much). Why do we have to feel that we should belong? How do we even measure maturity? This might not make sense anymore. So what?
I just really wanted to write something. Some cool stuff. Some deep thoughts. Or some feelings about someone that is currently ignoring me and I want to be poetic about it. But I ended up writing somethinf random which is okay.
It’s 8:59pm. It’s still early but I want to sleep.
Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.” ― Gerard Manley Hopkins,
A Hopefully Formerly Depressed Human Vows To Practice Self-Approval
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