How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
I think I’ve found my calling in life: to wait for you.
(more…)
Porque Es El Destino November 12, 2007
The Longest Delay October 18, 2007
I miss you.
And we sat at the edge of the world
And tried to tackle the problem of time and of eternity
And found no answer
The winds were silent
And so were our hearts
That beat no more.
Breathe September 12, 2007
I hate you. And missing you is a reflex and and addiction and I need to go cold turkey. These thoughts are compulsions and you’re the obsession at the root of it all. You’ve turned my mind into silent automation, like a machine with a sole purpose of thinking of you, or finding you in places unconnected to you.
My mind needs to restart and forget you. You’ve snuck into every crevice and cavern in my head and my thoughts run after you. Something tells me that I need to just quit you. But how does one go cold turkey on thoughts? Do I rearrange my thoughts each time I think? Or do I rearrange my universe again, for the nth time around, like I’m so used to?
Like quitting smoking. No matter how far that godforsaken shed is from the Ortigas campus, I’ll walk there each time.
I’m ruled by two Wills. One is the will of the mind and the other, cocky though it sounds, is the will of the heart. Both have found their dependency in you or thoughts of you (I cannot really tell now which). So what will drive me then? In short: How does one move on when my whole being screams your name?
Tell my why it’s so easy for you. Tell me how you can not give a fuck anymore, or how you can not give a fuck as much as you used to. You do it so well. Teach me how to forgo these tea-colored tears. Teach me how to forgo sanctity; how to defeat the machinery of thought and memory and then, and only then, I will have conquered you.
On Songs August 4, 2007
Whoever I love must stand up to the songs that I have in mind, must qualify, conform to the sappy songs that I have grown to love.
Whoever I love must be the man in the songs, must be the man singing or being sung to. Anyone less cannot be.
Whoever I love must weather all the poems in my head; must be the subject of those poems; must not fade with each line and verse and sonnet.
Repetition April 24, 2007
I am cold and shattered again, but I’m broken a little less each time… It’s getting easier. Está consiguiendo más fácil con la repetición…
Curious, curious property of emotions, this callousing of feelings.
Sadness April 15, 2007
Today, I am sad. And lonely. And scared. And nothing makes sense, and I can’t move so well, and I’m terrified of tomorrow.
I guess it’s just… the neverending blah-ness of it all. I’m so tired of waiting. I’d rather die than wait. I giess I’m depressed at the moment. So I suggested antidepressants to my psychiatrist. He said this: “hindi puede na yun lang! You’ll go manic again. Magmamanic-manic ka nanaman nyan.” Three phrases to mean just one thing: I don’t have typical depression.
The bottom line is that I’m tired, and lonely and reaching for cover and so damn scared and not knowing why. Must I forego all reason from now on? I don’t know how the world should treat me. I’d hate to be given special attention, or extra kindness just because I’m ill. No. Treat me like everyone else, just understand me.
Anxiety level: 10.
(And I don’t need just any friend, or just anyone. I’m highly specific forever.)
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
Senec and Plato call me from thy lore.
-Thomas Wyatt
