The Prayer December 8, 2008

Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.

And I am healing myself now.

I am rebuilding my life.

For the first time, I am tasting power on my lips again.

I WILL DO THIS, not for you, not for him, but for myself.

I feel stronger than ever before.

In that sordid world from which I emerged, that prison from which I stayed for 6 days, I had epiphanies of unprecedented magnitude.

It was torture. It was filled tears. It was a prison for the mind.

But I emerge victorious and laughing if only because things are crystal clear to me now.

I know now.

My mind is tinged with a stranged sense of clarity which is foreign to me. And I cannot help but smile as I type now. I cannot wait to show the world what I can do.

I am filled with hope, and love and all the pretty things that Dr. Los Baños promised me I would have, once I endured the 6 days. And I have. Here I am, laughing and victorious.

I am ready now.

A Prayer November 24, 2007

This may be the most unselfish thing that I have done.

Oh God, look after him. Make him happy. Give him all the things that I want for myself. Give him peace, he needs it. Give him joy, he deserves it. Give him all my love-I want none left for myself. I pray that you will forgive him for all his wrongs, and that you will give him a chance to find happiness, even if it’s not with me. Dear God, I tried to cure him from what ails him but I could not. Only You can. Let him rest in Your love. I gave you hatred and You loved me back. I gave You turmoil and yet You insist on giving me peace. Give him all this. Give him all this love. He deserves it more than I. Nevermind me. You can pour all Your hope and wisdom on him, and leave none for me. I think he needs it more. Give me pain, if You will give him life. Give me sorrow, if only he may smile and laugh more. Give me torment, if only he will find peace. Give me all his pains, I can carry his cross for him. Give me Your cross to bear, it’s my turn to weep and grieve. And I can weep and grieve for all eternity if only You will save him.

On Interesting Pictures November 10, 2007

The Scientist April 28, 2007

My MBTI profile has changed from being an ENTP (The Inventor) to an INTJ (The Scientist). I’m now an introvert. Hurrah!

—

I’m telling you I’m leaving, for good. I wonder how you’ll do, what you’ll say and how you’ll be from here on. Carry on. The most cruel words, perhaps, of the human tongue. Carry on. As if things were so damn easy as to continue walking the avenues of life. As if. As if the world will leave us alone when in fact, we’re trying to be engulfed in its splendor. But it will spit us out and leave us crying outside the door. Aaaargh! The world frustrates me with its laws and its enumerable checker-board illusions. I cannot make it through. I cannot do this anymore alone. I need help.Perhaps, for the first time in ages, I’m begging for help. I am on my knees. And I need you. I need you. It’s an emergency in slow motion. I need help. Help me. I’m frantic and I’m cold and I’m scared and I’m in a state of panic already.

 

Hope? April 18, 2007

There is hope.

My classes at UP are nice. Dr. Susan Arco explains very well and she does so in Taglish. That makes the material much easier and more comprehensible. After that, I rush straight to my Biochemistry class at Ateneo, which is good. I’ve been neglecting my Moleskine for the past few weeks. I think I’ll go write stuff down later.

—

So it’s not yet over. And I’ve been thinking about God a lot lately. In the words of C.S. Lewis, is he the “eternal vivisector (you miss, on to the right and you sir, on to the left)” or is he like a dentist: you hate sitting on the dentist’s chair, but he goes on drilling every single time? Either way, God must be essential. Like the dentist, like the vivisector who tells us when to part. Can I imagine a world without dentists? Or a world where our own will were to be let loose? One word: entropy (chaos), the second law of thermodynamics. Rapid entropy, with other reactions taking place at an astounding rate. And it cannot be that way. Much as it would fill my heart with laughter and gratitude, it would cause other people untold sorrow. So, No. My will is not to be done, Thy will be done.

I just realized how meaningful prayer is; how much the intonations actually mean if we only take them to heart. They could mean the difference between life and death. God will bring you to a point where you will cry out my God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? He will do so. But he will bring you back.

—

I’m suddenly scared again…. So damn terrified.

Hundred April 8, 2007

And who’s to say it’s wrong
And who’s to say that it’s not right
Where we should be for now
So this is where you are, and this is where I am
So this is where you are, and this is where I’ve been
Somewhere between unsure and a hundred

I breath within, and sigh the hundred dreams in my head. Outside, the dusty streets don’t have a clue. The people walk, and talk and live and love and die and nobody knows them, all their lives. And that’s sad. I see each person and I see past, present and future. Why won’t you see as much? Do you really believe what you see is what really is? That would be endlessly startling to me, you see, I cannot comprehend such a comprehension.

Westbound March 28, 2007

This is a story about how God turned away from me.

I prayed so hard to Him. I said God, just give me this chance, and I promise that I’ll stop these wrongs. God, please. And who knew that our God could be so literal? He gave me a chance, yes, but at the moment when my chance was to be mine, he left me hanging.

I did all that I could. I did everything. And He comforted me when I couldn’t sleep, and when my mind was too numb from medications. He was there.

Then now, I realized, He only tautened the string, leading me, once again, nowhere. I’m tired. I said, God, I’m tired of this. I’m tired of struggling’ I’m tired of being brought to the very edge of near-completion and then failing miserably, horribly, as if I was brought to the cliff only to be pushed down. And I even thought to myself, I should anger God. I should destroy the very thing He loves: me. I will destroy more so this skin, this face, this body. That should anger Him, hurt him, betray him.

Then I took the little pink pill and everything became dull again, and I was “docile” and I’m okay now. However, there is that inkling of what I felt and it’s like an annoying little tick in my head because I know it’s there but I can’t find it; I can’t rearrange my thoughts anymore to reach it… but I know it’s there.

The End of the Affair March 13, 2007

Dear God, I said-why dear, why dear?-make me believe. I can’t believe. Make me. I said I’m a bitch and I’m a fake and I hate myself. I can’t do anything of myself. Make me believe. I shut my eyes tight and I pressed my nails into the palms of my hands until I could feel nothing but pain, and I said, I will believe. Let him be alive, and I will believe. Give him a chance. Let him have his happiness. But that wasn’t enough. It doesn’t hurt to believe. So I said, I love him and I’ll do anything if you’ll make him alive, I said very slowly, I’ll give him up for ever, only let him be alive with a chance, and I pressed and pressed and I could feel the skin break and I said, People can love without seeing each other, can’t they, they love You all their lives without seeing You, and then he came in at the door, and he was alive, and I thought now the agony of being without him starts, and I wished he was safely back dead again under the door.