Those Pretty Eyes.

Your eyes mirrored my soul. As I observe those pretty eyes in the middle of the scorching summer night, they reflected back your past—your history—totally unfamiliar to me. There is sadness looming but I can see strength. Moistened and glistening, they spoke to me with calmness and concord. They anointed me with such tranquility, such moment of peace I have never imagined I would ever chance upon. Those small, round eyes eased away my pain. I urged you to look at mine and rest your worries upon them. I held your hands tight as I glued my eyes on you to tell you that you can fall on me. And as you closed them, as you put yourself into a sweet, deep slumber, I can’t help but wish for this moment to last in eternity.
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And I held you tight in my arms, like this moment would never happen again. You were deeply asleep as I watched you intently in the wake of the night. Like a soldier faithfully guarding his post, I stayed awake to see that you’re protected—comforted against the unbearable heat. More so, I wanted to make you feel that you can rest on me the moment the world turn against you. I could be your shelter-your least expected haven in the midst of life’s unending miseries. My arms remain open to hold you tight-to embrace your unbearable lightness.
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Teach me, however, to trust in you—to muster the tenacity to reveal myself to you without doubt, without distinction. Inspire me by staring back upon my eyes; provoke me by holding me tight in your arms. And together we shall fly on a new horizon in sweet serenity.

Movie with My Girlfriends, Dry Cough and an Odd Thing.

Had a chance to go out and spend time with my high school girlfriends (Zaima, Muriel and Theresa) after quite a long time of not seeing each other. We went out to see JustFriends. I admit I missed them bad. It was weird because they were very quiet, even more than I am. So we end up saying casual hello and asking about some people we used to hangout with in the past and what each of us is up to.

Zaima would later apologize about her being silent because it felt awkward when suddenly after almost four years of not spending time together every one begins to show up again. I can’t help but wonder and instead put myself on her perspective. And though I tried hard to elicit a good conversation and transformed back to my jovial personality, I still failed.

I realized how long 4 years was and how drastic the changes were that made us felt like we’re total strangers to each other. It was as if we’re starting on a blank slate. We were suddenly disconnected from the ten years we spent our lives together.

I end up looking at time and maturity as factors why suddenly there was apprehension-a seemingly formed wall that barricaded us. Four years of separation denied us to spend quality times together like we used to. In that span of time we have formed our own individual niche, built different goals, and thrived on divergent paths. Alongside with time, we are close to getting mature as vested by the complications of life we have gone through individually. Dealing with varying struggles and problems-far complicated during our fledgling years-protracted even more those four years. Maturity took us away from seeing the world as playground, where we frolic around freely without guilt or worry of what tomorrow shall bring.

Nonetheless, there was some thing to start from again. We could always go back to those years we’ve spent together as a common ground.

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For four nights now, I have been suffering from severe dry cough, colds and headache. Each hurts so badly that I fear of falling asleep. Although it is the mind that controls the bodily functions, commands each organ what to do, it is not at all omnipotent. Each organ can rebel against the mind; matter can sometimes overpower it. And when it happens, the mind would recognize no other sensation but pain-debilitating, hurting and consuming.

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There is some odd thing that clandestinely creeps under my skin right now. And I don’t like it. I have a weird feeling that I have been evading from this thing from the very beginning. Perhaps, I was. And if so, it’s because I don’t have any other choice but to succumb to such reservation. I know that it’s not right and the probability of it turning into reality is meager. Yet, like the angel of the darkness, it lures me with beautiful but empty promises. So empty that it tempts me to fall even more.

Epitome of Self-Destruction-Intoxication with Nicotine, Alcohol and Others.

I came rushing down toward the nearest 24-hour convenience store located two blocs away from my flat. I was thrilled but nervous at the same time because I was to buy a pack of cigarette for the very first time for my consumption. Upon arrival, I pushed the heavy door open and proceeded at the counter. There were a few people in sight; lest, I didn’t care. I gazed at the cashier and ordered for a pack of Dunhill Lights and a lighter. I was very relaxed as I hand over my payment; she punched the bill and hand over my change. I smiled at her and left immediately.

That was an instant transformation for me, as if I was already a pro. Prior to this, I hate smokers. I despised smoking. So ‘first timer’ that I am, buying some lights is ultimately a taboo, a very awkward situation where I have to muster a lot of courage. I had formed the guts to try this because I was spending the night alone. I thought a pack of lights would do the trick for a pseudo-company even just for a night.

Few minutes ago, my mom and sisters left for the province to spend the holy week and take a vacation. I never intended to go with them. I was more concerned with other things such as spending some time with myself and savoring some amount of freedom that I so long craved for. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with my family especially with my mom. It’s just that the thought of going to the province bores me to death. Besides, as of this moment, I am caught absorbed resolving the dilemma over work and post-graduate studies.

As I went back home, I realized that a pack of Dunhill wouldn’t be enough. There must be some fluid to quench my thirst; moisten my dry throat. So without hesitation, I went to the sari-sari store to buy six bottles of San Miguel Beer Light and some chips to match.

I was eager, dead eager, to start my ‘spending time with myself alone’ project so I went home in a rush. But I realized that six bottles were insufficient; I decided to go back to the store for four more. The night as it went deeper became more exciting for this little devilish adventure of mine.

Nicotine, alcohol and I began to transfuse and overlap along with the unobservable transition of time. Gently, I drank each bottle as if it was my first and last; I puffed a stick as if the sun would never rise. Gradually, I can sense both nicotine and alcohol drenching my body, confusing my senses, flying me into a state of oblivion.

It was the state of being unconscious with peace of mind that made me oblivious. Yet, I was aware, fully aware, of the all the things that bother me substantially. It was about my life–as I relate with my family, as I try to make sense of it and as I chart, shape it according to my dreams. It was about problematizing the issues that either I am about to face or have been evading from ever since.

It was disappointing that after five beers and two cigar sticks, I was ready to quit. My corporal system was already deluged, ready to command me to stop. It was my intention to pass out completely, yet my tolerance for these intoxicating substances were not well established. My imbalanced emotional state could have added to such intolerance.

Curiosity and confusion provoked me to try intoxication as an escape and as a pseudo-company to fill my being alone (though I wasn’t lonely). I was curious to try how it felt to be intoxicated; to test if this kind of coping mechanism would work for me. It is a new horizon comparable to the moment Columbus landed on the New World.

Confused, what concerned me is the dilemma of why despite I wanted to be with myself alone, I am feeling the need of wanting to be with some one. I failed to dig the center of this.

Confused, different issues overrode my finite senses.

Earlier this morning, I was at the face of deciphering how to improve my relationship with my mom. I want her to release her burden to me. I want to make her my confidant, in the same manner that I could be hers. I want our relationship to be more open, compassionate and comradely. It pains me every time I see her struggle; it kills me seeing her being inhumanly corrupted by her illness.

I would also want to see my relationship with my dad grow. I haven’t seen him for quite some time now (for four straight years); I am very much bothered with patching things up with him. There’s neither tension nor rage, I just want to delineate well a father-son relationship. I admit though that lately, I am becoming more distrustful of him due to broken promises, failed expectations and mishandling of resources. This prompts me to become less dependent on him.

I love my parents. I have been trying to. Though the several academic achievements I have been gracing them cannot compensate the burdens I have caused.

I am very much bothered on how will I handle my life and what I intend to do with it. There are a handful of things that I dreamt of accomplishing. Other than establishing a reputable career, I want to finish multiple post-graduate degrees. I felt I am running out of time and have to act the soonest. Problem, however, is, I don’t want to be usurped and fixated yet by the existing system.

It took me until past midnight to revolve around each issue. What I only did is to entertain them, accept them as much as I can. My mind soared around trying to resolve them. Expectedly, though, they remained unsolved.

It was painful thinking about these only to evade afterwards; nonetheless, I had no choice. This is where the numbing effect of alcohol and nicotine becomes relevant. Timely it is that at the moment I faltered they already hovered around my system. And I did not tinker any further. I decided to quit,
Completely.

Quitting is an inevitable decision because I never intend to indulge myself to intoxicate frequently. It was just a test–a mere attempt to look if intoxication with substances such as alcohol and nicotine is viable both as a coping mechanism and a pseudo-company.

Momentarily, intoxication is numbing. Yet, I already have my own coping mechanism that denies me to fall entirely on its numbing trap. I can exist and have my issues dealt with even without it. What went wrong is my intention to confuse intoxication and dealing with life’s issues. They are not compatible, and perhaps will never be.

There might be truth in Aristotle’s moderation. Yet, when it comes to intoxication with nicotine and alcohol, it doesn’t make sense to me anymore.

Past, Present and Future of a Baby Bear.

I can’t judge you by your past. I was not entitled to do that; neither could I care–because I was never part of it. What matters is the present, the now, and since that one fine day our paths crossed. Nevertheless, I admire you with the manner you strived to live your present despite of the ever lingering past. What you have been through was neither easy nor painless. Yet, you chose to live at that juncture of the past and the present. It amazes me how you handled it; even more as you realized what it is to be valued. What you do and what you are right now inspire and strengthen me. Your present shared with me, taught me that love can run sweeter than what lovers do. I fear, however, that one day both of us shall grow–must grow–to live our own lives. I fear that day when I shall become–and inevitably must become–only a thing of your past.

(for baby bear, after a night out)

Graduation Dilemma

After careful considerations and several debates with myself, I decided to attend my graduation. Protracted paranoia and extreme bitterness have badly scarred my positive outlook towards the occasion.

Jumping to other side of the coin, I realized how shallow graduation rites are. Its entirety is a dense celebration of various achievements that at first seemed to be received out of toil and hard work. But in reality, these achievements were accomplished within a lax and carefree environment. The difficulty and the rigor boasted off are but sweet decadent toppings to a rotting interior. Things desired to be and must be learned were left in irreconcilable gaps and loopholes.

I have come to view that graduation is a celebration of failures and disappointments. It is that moment when one realizes that efforts exerted were not at all commensurate to the achievement or perhaps, that it could have been tripled or quadrupled in order for the results to become more satisfactory. But in either of the two, the unrelenting fact that there is something wrong with the educational system is always persistent. Realizing the imperfectness of it, must one be overtly proud about it?

I say NO.

That line of reasoning I have imbued myself with was selfish. It discounted the fact that graduation is not supposed to be my moment to shine, but my parents’ moment to get a share of the limelight. It totally neglected that graduation is supposed to celebrate my parents’ love and pride, not just because I finish schooling, but that they have seen their pain and hard work actually materialize before their very eyes. It is a painting of an artist in a gallery exhibit, and a craft of a poet in publication, so to speak.

Graduation is not about me. It is about my parents. And in the intermediate juncture of their lives, I do not have the right to deprive them of giving such honor. And I am glad that I passed such selfish thinking and, after careful considerations and several debates with myself, I decided to attend my graduation.