"G"

 

It started great. People talking, chatting, being merry, and happy. Information was flowing, and people are getting to know one another. It was a great day.

 

                                    G is for Good, when everything falls in place.

                                    G is for Great, when you are feeling awesome.

                                    G is for God, when you see miracles at work.

                                    G is for Grace, when you feel forgiving and kind.

 

Like any other time, a small group was formed. A group of like minded people, or so I hoped. A group of people that like each other, that sets to do more for one another and to those that they yet to embrace in their own circle. A promise of hope. It was a great day.

 

                                    G is for Group, when you feel included and accepted.

                                    G is for Guidance, when you feel inspired and mentored.

                                    G is for Gallant, when you feel knightly and heroic.

                                    G is for Gay, when you are happy in general.

 

As one would expect, it won't always be merriment and fun. There will be friction, there will be arguments. So rules were set, expectations were made, and one by one, the defenses of the people in the group, joined by their common likeness for one another, fell. It was a sad day.

 

                                    G is for Gauche, when you showed your true self.

                                    G is for Gratuitous, when you do things you do not want.

                                    G is for Gambling, when you put everything in the line.

                                    G is for Gruesome, when the situation turns from bad to ugly.

 

Smaller circles formed within the small circle. Talking behind someone's back became the norm. And the reasons and likeness for one another, were all but forgotten. Tensions occurred, and the group closed their circle from those others hoping against hope to be part of something revolutionary. It was indeed, a grave day.

 

                                    G is for Grave, when there's nothing you can do about it.

                                    G is for Grievance, when you feel sad and alone.

                                    G is for Goodbye, when you're leaving everything behind.

                                    G is for Gone, when there's no turning back.

 

 

 

 

 

"...and so we go, to another place, another time. A place where we are safe, a place where we are fine. We will definitely miss those who let in our hearts, those who we gave our love, those who we gave our trust. But there is no turning back... there's no turning back."

Lesson Well Learned

 

I reached out to my mentor last week. I still haven't heard back from him. I hope he's fine.

 

I've been bothered by a question that I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know why, in all the times that we were together, talking, sharing, learning, that he never shared or showed his own personal problems, not even once, to me. I only realized this quite recently, which means, that in those years that past when he was teaching me, I never once cared for him. I was a little shit of a git that only cared for myself.

 

I wanted to ask him why he never did share, not including his sexual innuendos and adventures, his own humanity. I was left wondering why? Was it because he thought that I will lose some of my respect for him if I see him as a normal person? Did he feel that by sharing his own problems, that it will take away the spotlight from my own issues? Or was it as simple as he didn't trust me enough to share his own burdens?

 

I wanted to know. I needed to know. Because right now, being as stubborn as I am, I went and tried to become a mentor myself. And thinking that not sharing my own problems to those who look up to me, is taking away something from that mentor-mentee relationship. But my problem is, it's not working. Not one bit.

 

So I guess, I got the answer for myself. That as a mentor, it's my job to help those who needed guidance. It's not part of my job description to share my own follies to them, because gods know that they are already stressed enough with what they are carrying. As the adult and the person with the most experience, I should have kept my own issues to myself. Doing so, would highlight the issues that needed to be addressed. Not my issues, but theirs. Because as a mentor, as a guide, as a muse, it is these kids' future that's more important. Not ours, and definitely, not mine.

So What?

I was about to post the continuation of my sad story but decided against it. Though I already typed close to 200 words, I scrapped everything and went with this post instead. Because after everything is said and done, I can't changed the fact that I failed. That I relapsed into my gambling ways. That I've lost my entire paycheck in one sitting. That I've ruined my weekend getaway with boyfie. That, I now have no means to pay my bills or even buy food. Those are the facts and they are indisputable. But then again, so what?

 

So what if I failed?  So what if I lost?

 

At least I tried.

 

Now what?

 

Now it's time to move on.

 

The Sun still shines right? I'm still breathing. I can still fight.

 

I might have lost this battle. But I will win this war.

P360 - Day 003

'Unpublished, Unwritten'

"...there are words we mean to say, but we can not say, so we write them. but once written, we realize, they are not for public consumption, they are, your inner most thoughts, they are your soul, your heart. but what's written can never be undone, it can never be really erased. because even if we erase, edit, write over, or even delete what we've written, the paper will always remember. it will always hold its history silently, but it knows, because it is your soul that it held within its breaches. it is your heart that it felt. beating. bleeding. alive."

P360 - Day 002

'Empty Conversations'

another day came and went.. 
full of empty conversations...
 
and as I lay my head to rest, 
I keep glancing, I keep hoping...
that maybe, somehow, someway...
a conversation will begin... 

one of substance, one of heart and soul... 

for my day was filled with empty conversations...

Trial and Effort

Ever since I started the "revival" of sort for this blog, I've been filled with ideas on what I wanted to post and share. There's some projects that I've been meaning to start for a few years now and I think this will be the best time to do so. Also, I've decided to have a "post of the day" on certain days of the week to have a certain "regularity". Not only will it be good to have a goal, but it's therapeutic as well.

 

Unfortunately, as much as I want to start it today, I will have to delay it for one more day. I've been bugged by a certain feeling, a certain emotion, that I just can't shrug. It's been bothering me for a couple of weeks now and I think writing it here, will somehow lessen the burden, if not completely remove it. So please, pardon the break on the happy lines, even for just today.

 

First of, I'm disappointed. For years, I've trained myself to be careful, to not to trust easy, and more importantly, to never expect anything. Expectation begets disappointments. And yet here I am, sitting in my desk, bored as fuck, thinking about nothing but how much disappointed I am at myself for trusting, for believing, for hoping, for expecting... I should have known better. That's why this line from one of Adele's song really gets in my nerve:

 

 

"...who would have known how, bittersweet this would taste..."

 

 

I do. I would have known. I should have known. I've been there way to many times. I'm so stupid to let my guard down.

 

And so I got hurt. Still hurting. Nursing my bruised ego like a little Chihuahua licking it's wound. And hurt, leads to anger. Anger that is both misplaced and unjust. Because I'm angry at those people that hurt me. I shouldn't be. I should be angry at myself. It was my fault to let them in. They just did what a normal, sane, individual does - hurt people. They're human and that's what they do. I just should have known better.

 

I know how can this be resolved. I know what I need so I can move on. But I don't want to do it. I'm scared. I'm afraid. I'm petrified. They had no idea that they hurt my feelings. How could they? I didn't tell them. I didn't share with them what irks me. They didn't know me. Because I didn't let them know me. But I did trust them. What a fool I've been. Trusting people who doesn't even want to know who I am.

 

 

I'm such an asshole.

 

 

 

"Each of us must confront our own fears, must come face to face with them. How we handle our fears will determine where we go with the rest of our lives. To experience adventure or to be limited by the fear of it."
--Judy Blume

Father's Day Blues

I don't have any kids or any people that I consider as my children so I'm definitely not a dad. I'm not a priest either so nobody calls me 'father'. But what I lack in certain aspects, I more than make up for in my appearance. Because even though I am not a literal 'daddy', I do look like one.

I guess it was inevitable. I am almost thirty three years old anyway. Most of my batch mates in college are now parents. All of my childhood friends are married, except for the one who's currently in a cruise as a waiter. He's a little 'special' so he doesn't count. Add to that that I am not good with kids. Probably because I do not like them.

Yes, I do not like kids. Don't get me wrong, I do get swooned just like any regular guy when I see a baby smile or hear them laugh. It's a feeling that I can't even compare to anything yet. However, I do not like to hear crying babies in a public area, or at home, or anywhere in particular. I do not like unruly kids. That's probably the reason why kids doesn't like me back. I don't care. As long as they stay away from me, I'm happy. But I digress.

Anyway, back to the topic. Yes, I am not a dad and probably will never be one. But I do look like a dad already. I have a 'dad bod' as people nowadays would like to call it. I also wear wire rimmed glasses that probably adds to the 'fatherly look'. That's why when someone asks my age, I always answer with a disclaimer - 'I'm 32 but I know I look like 42' and then smile at them.

Here's a funny story. This happened back in 2008 (I guess even then, I do look like an old guy!) I was at Krispy Kreme on a lazy Sunday, enjoying my hot cup of tea, while reading the morning papers, when suddenly, this crew gal came from nowhere, approached me, and said, "sir, happy father's day po!" and proceeded with giving me a free donut. I was surprised but just smiled and took the free desert (yes, I'm evil, I know). 

The following year, I went out for lunch with my childhood buddies at El Polo Loco in MegaMall. When we arrived, I barked my usual orders to my friends to secure a seat for us and to grab some utensils, then I went to the cashier to place our order. Yup, you guess that right! She told me I'll be getting half a chicken for free since it's father's day, and then greeted me with her smile. I smiled back and asked her how did she know. She told me that I was with my kids. MY KIDS! Fine, I'm the oldest in the group but I'm just two years their senior. I was aghast but of course, I took the free chicken. Payment for my bruised ego. LOL.

So there you have it. And to all the dads out there, who deserve to have a free donut or free half a chicken, thank  you, thank you, thank you!

Beginning Of A New Ending

It's past midnight and I'm preparing for work. Everyone in the house is still up, watching "Here Comes The Bride" on TV. I've seen the movie so I didn't give it much attention and just walked right past it on my way out of the house.

 

On my way to work, sitting inside a bus as it hurtled along EDSA, a lady argued with the conductor about the fare. Apparently, they were overpricing their tickets and those who are caught unaware paid more. Good thing she knows how much she should be paying and stood her ground. She got some of her money back.

 

Now I'm in the office, waiting for something to happen. There's no point in asking for more responsibilities. I tried. There's none. So I just sit idle while waiting for people to call. Wasting away like all the other days that I've been here. What a waste of talent.

 

I pulled up my blog. A comment from Sepsep. It's always nice to see someone comment on your work, especially someone like him. If you know him and had the privilege of reading his work, you'll know what I'm talking about.

 

And then my eye wandered to the very top of this blog. The banner and the title that I decided to use was shouting at me. Daring me. Glaring at me.

The Beginning Of A New Ending

the day I changed how my fate ends...

 

When I started this blog, I had a purpose. I had an idea. A new beginning. A new ending. A new me. Funny thing is, that I've been drudging on like a drone, feeling hurt, downright depressing, and someone of a downer... someone I've always been, a complete contrast to what I was trying to achieve here. I've lost my focus. I've taken my eye off the prize.

 

I'm suddenly reminded how the characters in the movie I mentioned above got their second chances and what they made use of it. I'm reminded of the lady in the bus that stood her ground and fight for what is rightfully hers. And I'm reminded of how Sepsep keep on telling me about redemption and such. That this blog can be better. That I could be better.

 

This blog should not be a reminder of the past but a beacon of light.

 

It is time to change the course of things. Though it had a rough and bumpy start, it's time to create a new ending. Fate has given me another chance. I intend to take it.

Hence, I write

I have issues. There are those that seems cute at times, and there are those that really needs help. I think I've listed them all down somewhere but to be honest, I'm sure there are a lot more issues and quirks in me that I myself do not know.

 

Hence, I try to avoid people. For one, I do not think that they will like me. I don't like me. I think it's just fair that I should not like them, too.  Another thing is I've been hurt countless times. Who isn't right? So I have this feeling of justice and righteousness to stray from people. It's called self preservation.

 

There are more reasons that I can think of that I will not write here. There's no use. Because in the end, no matter how much I hate them, I always go back to reality: "I'm human and I need my fellow humans."

 

I've tried being friendly. It doesn't suit me. I'm a boring guy. I don't make people laugh. And people who can't make people laugh are boring people. At least to most people. Because for me, funny people are entertaining, yes, but while they're making you laugh. What interest me more are those people that can make me think. People that can make me use my imagination. Someone that can make me say "why didn't I think of that?"

 

I've tried limiting my human interaction to a bare minimum. Talk when spoken to. Smile when needed. Shake hands when offered. Keep your head down. But being a talkative shit like me, I can't contain myself sometimes. Especially when I hear people say the wrong stuff. I'm such a know it all. Another thing why people hate being around me.

 

Hence, I stayed away from physical contact whenever I can. Thanks to the world wide web, I can quench my desire for human interaction to blogs, forums, and chats. The development of social media was a great milestone for people like me. I can see all their pictures and videos without languishing from all their tales, fishing for self approval (as if I am not like that hahaha). But be that as it may, I still end up longing for physical human contact. I'm gay that way.

 

Which finally brings me to my point (boy, these days, my introductions are too long!).

 

I mentioned before that besides blogging, I've joined a forum called Pinoy Exchange or PEX for short. There's a thread for the LGBT community that I just learned about quite recently. There's tons of information there that I gobbled up. I even saw a group in my area of employment that seems friendly enough. Though I'm happy enough to engage these people online, their increasing desires to do a group meet up captured my attention. For all their plans and desires, they can't seem to make one happen. It irritates me to no end. I mean, how hard could that be? So I set forth and make one happen. Much to my surprise, it was indeed hard. But after seeing their faces for the first time, all the effort and hard work were rewarded. Not that they are cute or anything. But they are a diverse group of people. And diversity always means information. I love information.

 

The meet ups became habitual. People from other groups mimicked what we did and were successful. I'm happy for them. But the fun of doing something that seems undoable faded. And the information the forum provided dried up. What's left are relationships that were founded during the meet ups. Friendships. Trust. People.

 

I got scared. I'm getting too attached. Pain from previous encounters hunts my dreams. Needless to say, I left without saying another word. Better to sever the thread that binds myself to these people before they can hurt me. It's painful and hateful. It's selfish and unfair. But my fear is real and the potential pain is just too much risk for me to continue.

 

So I stepped back. But those that I met and grew fond of, created a mobile group where we can all chat away from PEX. As usual, I'm part of it. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I no longer wish to be part of their family. Better that I just fade away without people noticing. That way, no goodbyes are needed. (reading this part made me realize that I think too highly of myself. As if the people in the group would actually care if I leave.)

 

I thought I made it in time. I thought I was able to cut the chains before I was in too deep. But I was wrong. I'm already drowning without knowing it. Because the pain that I was afraid of, it's real and it's here.

 

 

 

"it's nice to be needed until you are not. then you are cast aside, left in the corner, gathering dust."

- Toy Story 3

I'm Rare, I'm First, I'm Fucked

Ever heard of the Fermi Paradox? If you haven't, click here because you should!

 

I will not discuss what the Fermi Paradox is. The article in the link here is very well written and should be sufficient enough for anyone to understand what it is.

 

Now on with the program.

 

 

When I was a kid I used to think that I'm a unique and special individual. My parents and teachers said so. We have our own individuality and there's a special place in our society that only I can fill. What a noble notion. If only it were true. Like the great Tyler Durden said: "...You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else." - Now that's the truth. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we will find satisfaction to our existence.

 

Growing up as the first child, I have this notion that I will be the first to everything that my parents can offer. Apparently, that was wrong too. I was born to parents that are generous to a fault - giving everything away without thinking of themselves or  little ole me. But that was neither here nor there. When I got a little brother, they dole on him too much for my liking that I, like every little first born jerks, got jealous and hated my parents for it. Of course I'd blame my parents. Why I would blame myself or my little brother? Who can blame that poor innocent soul? Just one look in his eyes and you know he won't do anything bad. Yeah, I'm good that way.

 

Fast forward to today. Now that I'm old and understood people more, I've learned that I will be first to some, last for most. It will all be depending on their needs and wants, as well as, how good they are in prioritizing. Meaning, you're their number one because you're in front of them. That's a very good way to bullshit people. I know. I do that, too. Makes them feel important. Valued. Does that make me an asshole or a good person? I have no idea, and at this point, I just don't care.

 

Being in a relationship with someone, somewhat give you this feeling of being special, rare even, and that you're the number one priority. Until you realize that you are not special or rare or even the number one priority. It sucks big time. Yes, tantrums and fighting can help you cope with the idea that you should be at the top of the tier but after everything is said and done, we have to realize that this is an inevitable truth. Because our partners' lives should not just revolve around us. They can't just live for us. They are breathing, living, individual, that will soon hit the dirt like each one of us. They should be allowed to be with their chosen friends at the time that they feel that they should be, instead of being forced to accompany you to your friends. You can say that since it's important to you, that it should be important to him too. Well shit, how about what's important to him? Shouldn't that be important to you, too? So what if you bought tickets to a concert to surprise him? It's your fault that you asked him to not plan anything for that day while knowing full well that he will. So yeah, You're fucked.

Of Views And Perspectives

Not too long ago, I met a guy named Trip. We we're both bloggers and in a committed relationship and we both wrote about our sexual exploits, the parallelism ended there. We have different approach when it comes to writing and life in general. He often points out that though our blog contents were the same, his is leaning more towards morality and guidance while mine tends to just be that, pure, raw, lust. To be honest, I never really saw the moral in his posts. But hey, that's his opinion so that's that.

 

As time goes by, I started calling him "Master Trip" just for the heck of it. Other bloggers joined in and he started calling me his "Apprentice". Though I didn't plan on anything more than a mere empty jest, I got to admit, I actually liked the idea of being an apprentice. And so begins our mentor / mentee relationship.

 

He thought me how to become cynical. He would disagree, of course. He doesn't like being tagged as someone who teaches cynicism but that's the truth. He also taught me that everything is relative, and as such, truth is relative. My truth may be different from his truth, and so on. Kind of mind bending shit but it works. He made sure that I remain critical about everything and anything. And that every story has more than one version. You may have heard the saying that there's three version? Your version, Their version, and The Truth. Trip has a different approach. There's actually nine - Yours, What you think theirs is, Theirs, What they think yours is, What we want people to know, What they want people to know, What people perceive, What people believe, and What people would like you to believe. He taught me all of this things without actually teaching them to me. He just showed me the way. And for that, I looked at him as my life coach.

 

He also share his views on relationships and his version of what cheating is. Views that I share and agree to up to this day. It's a very long story. Maybe I'll save that for another time. I have a different side of the story that I wanted to share today.

 

As my life coach, he became the person that I go to for everything that happened to my life. relationship issues, work problems, family feuds, everything. We will just sit in his couch, drinking beer, him listening and me talking. It's always been like that. I've learned a lot. He was not selfish with his experience and knowledge. Though looking back, and I just realized this a few days ago, that there was one topic that he never shared with me. His own problems.

 

Today, I'm wondering why. Recently I've been given the chance to be a mentor myself. And I started sharing my own problems with the kids that I'm trying to guide. In my mind, this is needed to appear more human and gain more trust. But it also opens myself to pain and sadness. I wonder, is that the reason why Trip never crossed that line with me...

 

We haven't talked for a long time. There was an incident that shattered our bond. I plan to reach out to him soon. ask him why he never shared his problems and struggles with me. because right now, I'm confused and I needed some answers. and he's the only one who can answer them.

And So I Write.... Again.

I'm sad today. I don't know why. I have an idea why but I really don't know the reason behind the general feeling of sadness I currently feel. I want to hide inside my room and cuddle some pillows. I just want to stay in bed all day or until this feeling of anxiety and depression goes away. Until then, I shall write. I heard/read somewhere that writing down your thoughts could help in alleviating some of the stress and tension one feels. Here's to giving it a try.

 

I want to do a lot of things and I hate myself for ruining every opportunities accorded to me. I hate myself for allowing pride and selfishness to destroy my hopes and dreams. I hate myself for letting everyone I know down, for letting myself down. I do not know how else to put it. I do not know how else to say it. I fucking hate myself.

 

Apparently, I don't know much. I thought I did. Or more like, I hope I did. No, that's wrong. I knew that I didn't know much. I was just confident enough that I can bullshit my way through things. Such is my gift and my curse. The power of the tongue. Be that as it may, I am getting tired of this shit. I'm getting tired period. I just want some peace and quiet. I just can't afford it. Because I was, and still am, eternally stupid.

 

I'm getting tired of people in general. In my line of work, we call it burning out. Usually, a trip to the beach, or a night out with friends should do the trick of rekindling the flames. But who am I kidding. I don't do fun. I don't do friends. I pretend. A lot. And then pretend some more. Because pretending is the only way that I know how to make people happy. Because if I didn't pretend, I'll be like a black hole/dementor that sucks away happiness from people just by being around them. The thought just made me smile. I'm an evil person.

 

I feel shackled. I feel tied down. I feel caged, unable to fly. I want to go. I want to travel. I want to see the world. But I've created the very circumstance that prevents me from doing so. I've shackled, tied down, and caged myself. Because I was stupid enough to believe in luck...

 

I will stop here. Obviously writing is not helping me in my current situation. The more I write, the more hate I feel towards myself.

 

 

I'll just go back to watching porn.

Random Ramblings #4

I never wanted to fall in love again. I've been hurt too many times that I've decided that I will be growing old alone but never lonely. I will be a mentor for the young and the new. I will share with them both the scars and wrinkles of smiles of the past. So they may learn and live their lives according to what they want, making informed decisions as they grow old.

 

Funny how life turns out differently than what we want and plan. I'm in love with a great guy. He's more than I deserve. I love him more each day. Also, I've met great kids that I thought I could share my vast experience with, but they ended up teaching me instead. They showed me what it means to be happy. They taught me how to live life to the fullest.

 

But in life, there's always complications. There's always problems that can't be solve with brute force. Experience taught me that. I guess, that's something I can share with the kids someday. For now, I will just have to shoulder it on my own. I'm sure I'll come up with something that can ease, if not solve, the issues at hand. I'm good that way.

 

I do not know why I'm writing this. I just wanted to write. I know I'm a little frustrated right now. I know I'm feeling left out. I know I'm not at my best. But writing, here, now, it makes me feel good somehow. And so I write, even when there's nothing to write.

 

Just because I wanted to.

And So It Goes...

Ever wonder why some people always want to be around other people? I blame advertising and marketing for that. That made sure that when we here the word "alone" we would automatically assume that "loneliness" follows. One would disagree. After all, I'm a self proclaimed loner.

 

"I'm alone but I'm not lonely. I'm alone because I choose to be. I'm a loner."

 

Pretty cool line don't you think? Sounds like something a rock star or a cowboy would say. I've been saying that to a lot of people who misconstrued my lonesomeness to being lonely. I know lonely. I'm not lonely.

 

My brother and I were raised as sheltered kids. We're not allowed to go outside and play.  I did have fun with my little brother. After all, we only had each other to play with. I don't even remember making friends while in school. My mom always said that the neighborhood kids are bad people and we should not associate ourselves with them. If the neighborhood kids were bad, what more were these kids that live farther away, right? So I decided to keep to myself.

 

I met my first friend when I was 12 years old. A real boy I can play with that had the same interests that I do. Or so I thought. He's much more like my little brother. They both like music and art, I'm more into logic and puzzles. They're both into fun and games, I'm more into serious and adult stuff. I thought if I acted like an adult, I'll be treated more seriously and with respect. All I got was jeers and people not wanting to be my friend because I'm too serious. As my aunts and uncles put it, "the adult little boy".

 

I embraced being alone. I learned to love it, cherish it, accept it. I've decided that from that day onward, I will be alone but never lonely. I was 15.

 

Then I grew up. I hate growing up. Argh! Why do I have to grow up!?

 

I've met a lot of people. Some great, some, not so great. People with different personalities and different views in life. Some of them were loners too! And so begins a life, my life, with friends or as I would like to call it "the journey to not being alone".

 

And like how I embraced my lonesomeness, I welcome the warmth of companionship with open arms. I allowed myself to actually care for other people. I even loved, and continuous to love, some of them. As the song goes, I was just minding my own world without knowing what life and love is all about, and then they came, they took me out of my shelf, they brought the world to me, and without knowing, there I was so in love with them.

 

Oh if only the real world is like that. But it's not. Relationship ends. Hearts are broken. Pain. Suffering. Despair. Loneliness.

 

In all my years of being alone and then having someone to have dinner with, the most lonely, saddest part of my day, is eating alone. It's never the same...

"is it's so much easier to say you're antisocial, or claim that you just don't like people, or pretend that you just don't care anymore, than to admit how lonely and damaged you truly feel."

 

So we found ways to fill the gap. I turned to blogging and other social media platform. Sometimes I wished that the internet were available during my younger days. But then again, I would have written some really bad shit so I guess it's better this way.

 

 

 

P.S.

Here's a funny thought. All I ever wanted to write about today is why I decided to stop being part of the forum Pinoy Exchange. I guess I'll just write about that tomorrow :)

Almost

I went to his house today, like I did everyday for the past two years, so we can spend a little time together as we go to the office. It's usually marked with the usual pleasantries and temperature check on how things are and what's going on with each other's life. It's a great way to start each day.

Today was a little different. Today, we almost broke up. Almost.

There was an incident earlier. And it's not to say that it never happened before. I guess, it's my fault that I've decided to not get used to it by now. And no, it's not that big of a deal, but there's just something about tonight that I decided to not let things go. That's my fault too, I guess.

We took a cab together, but we didn't utter a single word to each other. When we arrived to our destination, he asked if I wanted to eat dinner. I agreed. Only to find out that I was the only one that's going to eat.

In all my years of experience and in all my relationships, the thirty minutes that we sat there, not talking to each other, as I finish my food, was the longest, most saddest time in the history of my relationships. It was simply too much.

We walked towards his office building in silence. No one seems to give in. No one seems to be the first one to say something.

When we reached the door, no words, just a kiss, he then walked towards the elevator. He didn't look back. He just kept on walking, and when the elevator arrived, he went in without glancing back...

Is this it? Is this how it all end? I got to say, it's pretty romantic. Like the one in the movies. No goodbyes, no tears, no drama, just a kiss. And that was all.

And So We Try

I'm taking a break, probably a sabbatical, from sharing sad stories of my past. I was told I was bringing everyone down. Before, when I write sad stories, people were happy because then can find life lessons in them. Now, it's just sad. And so I will stop.

 

I've been churning out posts day after day, quite recently. I do not know where the motivation came from but it's certainly helping in managing my anger issues. Writing relaxes me. It soothes my mind. And so I will write.

 

I wanted to write something funny. But from I've been told again and again, forcing yourself to be funny doesn't result to humor. For some reason, the people you're trying to impress with your sense of humor could tell that your jokes are forced. So try as I may, I'm not a funny guy. And so I won't force it.

 

I would like to believe that I'm good in writing something inspiring, albeit serious, articles. It doesn't attract much readership like the funny ones but to those that do read them, I hope that I can touch their lives with some of mine and in return, I could be touched by theirs through their comments and suggestions. An exchange of ideas and experience that transcend the boundaries of space and time. And so it shall.

 

I want to say that I aspire to live, not to exist. That I aspire to make a difference, not be a bystander. Or that I aspire to be someone, not no one. Maybe should say I aspire to achieve, not to fail. Or like everyone, I can say I aspire to be great. there's all good and noble aspirations. But in reality, all I aspire is to be a better version of myself. And so I hope.

 

I've experienced existing instead of living. I've experienced living too. Living is better. I've tried to make a difference, or so I hope I did. I've been a bystander too, but that didn't end well for me. I was someone before and now I'm no one. Both have their advantages and disadvantages. My achievements in this life were because of my not-so-few enormous failures. I just kept getting up. And when I do not want to get up anymore, someone comes along to pick me up. Thinking about them makes me teary eyed. All those hopes and chances and opportunities that they helped with and gave me. And so I'm thankful.

 

I've written so many times how I hate myself for who I am and what I've done. I've been ask countless times why I can't forgive myself and try to move on. I wish that I can. I wish that I could. But that's neither here nor there. Because right now, what's important, for me at least, is that even though I can't find a way to forgive myself or find absolution for my past sins, is that I learn from my mistakes and try not to repeat the horrible things I did before. Because my doing so, though we can't change who we are, we can influence those who came after us, how to really live and aspire.

 

And so we should try. Try to aspire to live. To live to make a difference. A difference that inspires. An inspiration to give it a try.

 

Because sometimes, trying, makes all the difference.

Of Angst and Anger

Angst

noun \ˈäŋ(k)st, ˈaŋ(k)st\

:  a feeling of anxiety, apprehension, or insecurity

- Merriam-Webster

 

I first encountered this word when I was about to alight the MRT. Some teenage girls were blocking my way so I said "excuse me" in my usual authoritative voice. They parted and let me through. When I had my back on them, one of them said to another, in a voice loud enough to be overheard: "ang daming angst lang".

 

Kids and their new word. Probably heard or read it somewhere. I smiled to myself as I walk away. I didn't know the meaning of the word but I can still remember the feeling I felt as I associated the word with anger. During those days, I can remember that I was always full of anger. I had no idea why but I'm basically angry about anything and everything. But upon hearing that word, it made me realize that I need to keep my temper in check and not to let it be evident in the way I speak. I tried and failed. Not more than a month passed after the MRT incident, as I was about to get off the elevator at work, a coworker said to me "wag ka masyado ma-angst". I was dumbfounded.

 

Yes, I could have said "excuse me" in a much more nicer way. I could have kept my mouth shut as someone tries to get past the line. Or I could speak out about anything and everything but without the angst in them (I'm using the word Angst here even though what I really mean is Anger because during the time, I really thought they are one and the same)

 

Ever since that fateful second incident, I was able to keep myself in check. I was able to learn how to control my voice and to keep my mouth shut. I was able to speak only after thinking it through. And I was able to communicate my disgust without the "angst". That's until 2 days ago.

 

 

Angry

adjective an·gry \ˈaŋ-grē\

 

: filled with anger : having a strong feeling of being upset or annoyed

: showing anger

: seeming to show anger : threatening or menacing

 

- Merriam-Webter

 

 

In the past couple of days, I've seen and heard myself becoming angry at the slightest provocation. Gone were the days of diplomacy and words of caution. The silvertongue that I've been using is now a thing of the past. Thinking about it makes me angry. Either I'm turning to The Hulk without the Gamma radiation or I'm just one sad individual who's lashing out to the world again, like in my teenage years. Ugh, how I hate myself.

 

As I write this, I'm trying to think back to the day that I lost my diplomatic touch. But as of right now, I really don't know. I really can't remember. I mean, it could be when boyfie stopped me from ranting whenever I'm with him, keeping my emotions bottled up. Or it could be when I got the rejection notice from a company I was trying to join and started plotting how I can get back at them. Or it could be the sad stories of people close to me and the inevitable feeling of being unable to help them. Or it could be the little things that I tend to ignore, piling up until they're too heavy to carry. It could be any one of these or none of these at all. I really don't know. I wish I can say that I don't really care. But this time, I do care. Maybe that's the reason behind the anger. Caring.

 

I've allowed myself to care for people. Something that I've tried to avoid for a very long time. I've even learned not to care for the fate of my own family. I don't even care for myself. Because having someone to care for, to love, who cares for you and loves you in return, it affects you, it changes you. It makes you want to protect them, even angry at yourself for not being able to. Anger that can make you lash out from time to time. Because caring, loving, it gives you a reason to lower down your defenses, show your true self, and even share a part of you with them. That's very dangerous. It's very risky. It's also very worth it.

 

 

Irony Much?

Writing is hard. This is the fifth draft that I made tonight. I deleted the first four because I hate the fact that they contain nothing but blah, blah, blah, me, me, me.

 

When I write, or at least try to write, I follow the "Forrester Way" of writing that I got from the movie Finding Forrester.

 

                "No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart.

                You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think!"

- William Forrester -

 

And so I hack and peck the keyboard, typing continuously, letting the information flow. Then come back, read the draft from top to bottom, and relentlessly correct and edit each part. Tiring work but it's very effective.

 

Today, I will stray from that path and just say what I want to write about. Instead of writing stories and try to relate it in some convoluted way to what point I'm trying to get across, as if to appear mysterious and knowledgeable, I will say it plain and simple. I want to write why I am not a happy person.

 

I am not happy because I choose not to be happy. Like everything in this world, being happy is also a choice. I just choose not to be. Don't I think I deserve to be happy? I have to admit, there are those days that I thought I should be... that I could. Only to realize that I mustn't. Someone like me doesn't deserve to be happy. I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be miserable. I deserve to die.

 

But of course, nobody wants to be around all that negativity. Couple that with my need for human interaction from time to time, I've learned to put on a mask. A façade, if you will. I became someone else. Someone optimistic and with a sense of humor. Someone who laughs and has a smiling eyes. Someone who I taught people would like. Pathetic little me.

 

Now don't get me wrong. I do not write these things to get self pity. Take your pity and give it to someone else worth it. I do not need pity. I do not want it. But I do need some answers...

 

Writing these words made me wonder. Why, after more than 20 years of putting on the mask, did I decide to "out" myself? Why did I leave myself vulnerable and allowed people to glean the person behind the mask? I do not know the answers. First, I thought it was because I was being careless. Then I thought my mask is full of cranks and chinks that people are seeing through it already so there's no use to hide behind it. I really don't know. All I know is that lately, I've open up myself to this blog and to a few people. Very uncharacteristic of me. I shared too much information about myself in the last month than I shared in the last two years. What's happening to me?

The Dark Ages

Iba talaga nagagawa ng sobrang free time, lalo na sa work. Nakatungaga sa harapan ng computer, nagpapatay ng oras. Sobrang sayang sa talento ang trabaho ko ngayon pero magaan at maluwag ang mga Gawain. Kaya kahit wala pa sa kalahati ng sinasahod ko dati ang kinikita ko buwanan, pwede na. Ang importante lang naman sa akin, may hanapbuhay akong matatawag at may pera akong naiuuwi sa bahay. Nakaktawag. Parang wala akong pangarap sa buhay kung titingnan ang buhay ko ngayon. Marahil dahil naranasan ko na halos lahat ng gusto ko maranasan. Halos lahat. May iilan pa siguro akong gusto maranas bago ako pumanaw. Pero yung mga yun ay mga pawang luho na lamang. Kaya siguro hindi ko na din sila iniisip masyado.

 

Gusto ko umakyat ulit ng bundok. Medyo matagal tagal na din ng huli akong nakaakyat. Hindi na masyado kaya ng katawan ko ngayon. Marami ng iniinda. Gusto ko tumakbo ulit sa marathon. Pero kagaya ng una, hindi na din kaya. Gusto ko maranasan ang sky diving. Masyadong mahal at sobrang luho na sya sa buhay kaya hindi ko na lang iniisip. Gusto ko din subukan ang gun range at archery range. Pero kagaya ng sky diving, sobrang luho ang tingin ko sa kanila kaya tama ng manatili silang pangarap.

 

Naalala ko bigla yung panahon na kaya ko gawin lahat ng gusto ko. May sobra sobra akong pera at lakas ng katawan para gawin ang gusto ko. Sa sobrang tiwala ko sa sarili at sa katigasan ng ulo ko, pinagpilitan kong gawin ang mga gusto kong gawin kesa sa mga kailangan kong gawin. Nalulong ako sa sugal at sa panglalalake. Hangang sa naubos lahat. Hangang sa nawalang lahat. Nasa isip ko noon, madali lang kumita ng pera at dapat habang bata, magpakasaya ako. Hindi ko naisip na dapat pala, habang bata, dapat mag impok ako. Para pagtanda, doon ako mageenjoy. Dahil pagtanda, doon ako maraming oras. Sabi nga nila, nasa huli ang pagsisisi.

 

Pagsisisi. Ah, yan siguro ang dahilan kung bakit hangang ngayon hindi ko mapatawad sarili ko sa mga kasalanan nagawa ko sa ibang tao. Yung mga kasalanan ko kasi sa sarili ko hindi ko na iniisip. Pero yung sakit na nagawa ko sa iba, yun siguro ang hinding hindi ko kayang bigyan patawad ang sarili ko. Biruin mo, tumagal ang relasyon ko noon sa ka-live in ko ng mahigit tatlong taon na umaasa lang ako sa kanya. Sya ang bumubuhay sa aming dalawa. Alam kong nahihirapan na sya, alam kong nasasaktan na sya, pero wala akong ginawa. Ilang beses nya ko binigyan ng pagkakataon para bumangon pero binalewala ko lang lahat. Nagpalipat lipat akong trabaho kasi gusto ko "big time" ako ulit agad-agad. Pero ang pinakamasakit na ginawa ko sa kanya, alam kong hindi ko na sya mahal pero pinatagal ko ang relasyon namin. Masyado na kasi akong naging kumportable na kasama sya sa buhay na hindi ko na inisip ang sarili nyang kaligayahan. Iniisip ko na lang noon, maligaya naman sya sa akin kaya ayos na yun. Alam kong niloloko ko lang ang sarili ko pero parang mas mabuti na yun kesa iwan sya at lalong mawalan ako ng tutulong sa akin.

 

Bukod sa kanya, ilang kaibigan din ang niloko ko. Isa sa kanila ang kaibigan kong blogger na taga Saudi. Naikwento ko sa kanya ang problema namin sa pera ng kinakasama ko noon. Nagpasya syang tumulong dahil mukha naman daw akong mabuting tao. Kahit masakit sa loob ko, tinangap ko ang paunang tulong nya. Pero ng maubos ko yun sa sugal, kung ano anong dahilan ang inimbento ko para lang makahu ng pera sa kanya. Halos buwan buwan nagpapadala sya ng pera sa akin. At tuwing magpapadala sya, pinapatalo ko lang sa sugal. Puro ako pangako sa sarili ko at sa kanya na babayaran ko sya, na may inaantay lang akong "deal" na matapos at magkakapera ako ng malaki. Alam ko naman na pangloloko yun pero tinuloy tuloy ko lang. Nasa isip ko noon, kung mananalo ako ng malaki sa sugal, tapos lahat ng problema ko. Kaso, hindi nangyari. Huli na ng matangap ko na talagang walang nananalo sa sugal. Umabot sa mahigit tatlong daang libo ang nakuha ko sa kanya na sana'y pampagawa nya ng bahay ng magulang nya. Napakawala kong kwentang tao. At kung tatanungin mo ngayon kung nakakabawas ba ako kahit paunti unti sa mga utang ko sa kanya? Syempre 'hindi' ang sagot ko. Hindi lang dahil ayaw na nya ko makausap at makita. Hindi ko din naman sya kayang bayaran sa ngayon kahit paunti unti. Dahil sa ngayon, yung ibang taong pinagkunan ko ng malaking halaga noon ang inuuna ko bayaran. Yan ay kung may natitira sa sinasahod ko pagkatapos ko gumastos ng parang walang utang.

 

Gusto ko bang magbago? Syempre gusto. Pero naniniwala kasi ako na walang taong tunay na nagbabago. Maari tayong magkunwari na nagbago, mag adjust, mag adopt, sa kung ano mang sitwasyon natin sa buhay, kagaya ng ginagawa ko araw-araw. Pero sa paglubog ng araw at sa pagharap natin sa salamin, alam natin na ang mukhang nakikita natin ay isang hayop, isang halimaw, na aksaya lang sa espasyo sa mundo at dapat ng mamatay. Siguro, kapag namatay ako, baka sakali, mabawasan ang galit ng mga taong nasaktan ko sa akin.

Of Dreams and Reality

A new born baby, touching a man's face for the first time, and knowing that that man is his father.

 

A kid, sitting alone in the corner, looking longingly out the window, watching the other kids play.

 

A young boy, playing by himself, while all the others are laughing and running, because no one wants to play with him.

 

A student, passing a project with just his name on it, his classmates jeering and pointing, saying crude words of selfishness and disgust.

 

A young man behind bars, determined not to show his fears to the big angry man that took his shoes away.

 

Fear. Loneliness. Dread. Anger. Grief.

 

A picture of a brain, glowing. A voice, saying a radioactive 7 isotope was the key to reveal our oldest memories.

 

 

I woke up drenched in sweat.

 

What a weird dream.