Awkward&Decadent

hug me but not out of affection
but out of anger
kill not me
the anger that you feel
must be for my misery
hug me not out of affection but out of anger
kill not me but my misery
hug me tight until they choke
and i feel alive again.

Supermoon (and my simulated conversation with you even though we’re now far from each other);

jetaimelamort:

“It’s the supermoon tonight.”

“So?”

“I just felt like saying. I thought there’s something special with the moon that’s connecting us.”

“I don’t get it.”

“…”

“…”

“You don’t remember…”

“Remember what?”

“…”

“I’m sorry…”

“…It’s okay.”

“…”

“I missed you. It’s been months since we’ve sat side-by-side on these stairs. I think you were one of the few that I told directly to that the moon is my best friend… I can’t believe you forgot. One of the last few moments that we were together was when we were looking at the moon. We were arguing even though we both agreed that it wasn’t the supermoon despite its largeness.”

“…”

“Why are you silent?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“…”

“…”

“…It was one of the best nights I had with you. It was one of my best nights. I felt like home. I don’t know why I’m mad because you don’t remember it. It’s not that when it felt special for me, you’re obligated to feel special about it, too. I’m sorry. I’m demanding and I cling too hard. You were my only friend on those days. If I forgot about it then I’d lose a huge part of myself because you are a huge part of me.”

“…”

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

I smiled. You know that the smile I gave you, the cheap smile moving at least 3 millimeters on both sides on the ends of my lips. You know I’m troubled even though I’d like to smile for you to see me happy. Because you know how I feel when I’m with you. Even if we know that we could only be together at nights that we’re given to take advantage of even with the barricades that separate us. We go around these fences to meet until another barricade grow between us like vine walls on garden mazes—we’re always lost even if we find each other.

You smiled back and you rested your head on my shoulder. You said you can feel my heart beat fast and loud. You asked me again just like the first time you heard these racing heartbeats: “You love me, don’t you?” But I know you weren’t waiting for an answer. You just smiled and rested your head again.

“The moon isn’t as large as it was that night.” I held your hand and I smelled your hair. We stood up, said goodbye to each other like every night that we steal from our limited chances of meeting. You hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Our backs face each other, our distance increase in every step. We can never be too near for too long.

Life, Death and Cars;

thebribery:

“How do you deal with sadness?” Someone asked. I answered, “I just think that I’m alive, that’s enough reason to be happy.” “But I want to die,” he replied. His eyes were empty while he stood in front of me, looking up to my height. He must be at least 10 years old with the sadness on his face overflowing. “Why do you want to die?” I asked. “My parents died.” “I’m sorry,” I felt bad when his tears began to roll. “I want to be with them, I’m not going to kill myself because I’m sad, I’m sad because they’re not here anymore, and I want to kill myself because I want to be with them.” I wept, “See, people die, you’re young but I shouldn’t tell you this. But people really die, you, too, will die but it’s not the right time. Not yet.” Being a pessimist, I shouldn’t talk to young kids about death. It’s pretty much unhealthy and poisonous to tell them that people die. “Was it their time?” He asked and I nodded. “They weren’t happy, you know,” he added, “they were arguing and my mom walked out of the house so my father followed her but he didn’t find her so he drove around to look for her and—and—and he hit her and our car went out of control and he crashed on a tree and he died.” I felt sorry and I told the kid that I am. It was the most tragic of all stories I’ve heard then I had to change my answer because it’s pretty much depressing to tell someone you’re alive while the people they care for so much aren’t. “It’s actually pretty hard for me to deal with sadness. I look into the sky and question why am I alive. I haven’t got any answers not even with half of my hair turning gray.” “Aren’t you happy right now?” He asked me as if I am the kid now. “I am, I really am, but I feel sad that your parents aren’t here anymore and they’re not happy. I could’ve been and somebody else that is happy in their place right now, people shouldn’t die sad or troubled, it’s disturbing to hear that.” He looked at me, puzzled and I continued, “you know, that when you’re alive you’re happy, but you die sad.” “I don’t want to die sad,” he said and added, “I just don’t want to live without them.” We were silent as I walked him to the park, it felt necessary. We sat and I whispered, “you know, life isn’t about who you are with, it’s about happiness or how would you want to live your life by your own, not with people you will be with. Do you know what pessimist means?” He shook his head and I continued, “they are the people who are negative in life, they see black things in the light, you know, those people.” He looked at me, puzzled again. “I am a pessimist, actually. Well, I was. I haven’t thought about the meaning of life until you came to me and asked me, you at the most random of times.” “I saw the same sadness in your eyes the way I saw mine when I looked on a mirror.” “I’m not sad anymore, but you still are,” I said, “how do you deal with that now?” He stared at me not knowing what to answer. I put my arms around his tiny shoulders and I tapped him and he looked at me and said: “I don’t want to die anymore.” I became puzzled, probably the same way he was a few minutes before. “You’re alive and you’re old. I want to be old. I may be a kid but it’s a waste of life to die young.” He ran towards the birds and turned around to smile at me. He waved goodbye with a big smile in his face and he ran fast.

A car hit him. It was the most tragic day I’ve ever had.

I’m safe with the moon;

The moon shone bright that night. I was walking alone. Bright lights hung from trees guiding me home. Faint lit stars hung from the sky confusing me on my way home. I gaze, lifted my head up, my eyes searched for the brightest, the moon guiding my back, lighting the dark pathways home, the stars were scattered—like my emotions at that coinciding moment. The cold breeze blew opposite my direction. I walked, battling the spiking chills. My thoughts froze with the fall of temperature. I walked alone, my senses shivered. My sanity shaken. Everything dropped—the light, the temperature, my sanity, my thoughts, everything—except for the moon for it guides me forever in the dark of the night and its dangers.

Tangina, naiiyak ako. Hanggang ngayon ‘di ko pa rin narereplyan ang boss ko nung tinext niya sa’kin ‘yon. ‘Di ko alam kung pa’no magrereact. Kanina, inaaliw ko na lang sarili ko para lang madistract ako. Buti na lang, ando’n ‘yung mga attendee ng meetup at ‘yung mga nangyari kanina ay napasaya ako ng sobra (sana’y naging masaya rin kayo). Nagulat ako, pagkatapos na pagkatapos masettle ‘yung naging problema sa paglipat ng venue, biglang tumunog ang phone ko, may nagtext. Akala ko, isang attendee na magtatanong kung sa’n na magkikita-kita. Pagkakita ko: boss ko. Nung una’y akala ko balitang medyo masaya ngunit habang binabasa ko, bigla na lang akong nalugmok. Mag-isa akong naglalakad kanina, naghahanap ng mga tao, nagpapanic na ako dahil pinipigilan kong umiyak. Alam kong hangga’t wala akong nakikitang kakilala, ‘di ako matitigil. “Hi Clarence. I spoke to Mr ***** na. I will be closing the store na by end of March. Mag-sale na tayo—-50% off starting tomorrow :-)” Naiintindihan ko naman dahil alam kong wala talagang kinikita ‘yung tindahan. Sobrang ‘di umaabot ‘yung benta ko kada linggo na isa pang naging sanhi ng pagkalugmok ko noong nakaraan. Na pakiramdam ko’y ‘di ko nagagawa ang trabahong inatas sa’kin. Mabigat para sa’kin ang balitang ‘to dahil halos mag-iisa’t kalahating taon ko nang tinuring na bahay ‘yong aklatan na ‘yon. Minahal ko ang puting pader, malaking salamin na bintana, pintuang asul, mesang may mga nakapatong na libro, mga baul na may mga libro ring nakapatong, mga librong pamilyar nang nakahanay sa mga shelf, ang mga palagiang bisita ko, ang magandang mga sofa, ang sahig na kahoy, ang pirata, ang bench sa labas—lahat. Mayroon pa naman akong isa’t kalahating buwan halos para mag-adjust, na ramdamin ko na ang sarili kong kalungkutan tungo sa balitang ito… Gano’n lang ata talaga…

2011, Mogwai… 2012, Libreria…

I. Pagbaba ko, nag-usisa ako ng mga kung anu-ano. Hinalungkat ko ang mga tiklop na damit, nakita ko ang hinahanap ko, pagkain, mga imbitasyon sa kasal ng magulang ko, at kung anu-ano pa. Unang pumukaw ng pansin ko ay ‘yung mga imbitasyon at na-eksayt ako na malapit na nga talaga ang kasal nila. Bigla akong napadpad sa sala ng bahay namin. Binuksan ko ang ilaw ng madilim na parte ng bahay at lumiwanag. Sa kalapit ng swits ng ilaw, may nakita akong kakaibang mahabang bagay. Hindi naman siya kakaiba talaga dahil pamilyar ang itsura niya.

II. Ilang taon na rin ang nakalipas. Malapit na mag-apat. High school tayo no’n at ikaw ang isa sa mga pinakamatalik kong kaibigan. Ex mo ang isa sa dalawa kong bestfriends. Mula pa man no’n, close na tayo. Lagi’t laging magkasabay naglalakad sa Aurora kahit puwede namang magdyip. Lagi’t laging nagkukwentuhan sa mga bagay na pilosopikal gaya ng relihiyon, pulitika, at kung anu-ano pang kabaliwan na maisip natin habang naglalakad. Mangilan-ngilan na ring beses na nalasing tayong magkasama. Hindi man ako ang pinakamatalik mong kaibigan, pakiramdam ko, ikaw lang ang maituturing kong lalaki na naging pinakamalapit sa akin.

III. Desyembre no’n. Anibersaryo niyo ng bestfriend ko. Opisyal ka ng CAT, kadete lang ako. Pagtapos ng klase ng biyernes, magkakasama tayo ng isa pa nating kabarkada, naghanap ng maipangreregalo, naghanda para sa anibersaryo niyo, at gabi na nang makauwi. Kinabukasan nahuli kami sa pagbuo ng hanay. Nakakatuwang sinalo mo ang aming kamalian. Sinabi mong kasama mo kami noong gabi bago ang araw na ‘yon at may inasikaso tayong importante at hayaan kaming sumalo sa hanay na walang natatanggap na kaparusahan. Pagkatapos no’n, tinapik mo’ko at nagpasalamat. Pagkatapos ng training, pagkatapos ng mga inihanda mo para sa bestfriend ko, muli ka nanamang nagpasalamat sa’kin na nakangiti.

IV. Naalala ko, noong quartering natin, ikaw ang nagturo sa’min magpaikot ng riple. Naalala ko rin, noong COCC ka pa lang, sa computer shop ka pa nagaaral kung pa’no magpaikot ng riple at ikaw ang naging pinakamagaling na gumagawa no’n. Kanina, pagbaba ko ng bahay, nakakita ako ng riple. Naagaw lahat ng atensyon ko at do’n ako nagpokus. Hinawakan ko at naalala kita. Naalala ko noong tinuturuan mo ako. Pagkabuhay ko, sumaludo gamit ang riple at nagpaikot sa sala kahit na may panganib na mabasag ko ang mga salamin na pwedeng mabasag kapag nagkataon. Nakakatuwang pagkabuhat ko’y parang bumalik sa apat na taong nakalipas. Nagawa ko ang tinuro mo sa amin, sa akin. Naalala ko ang mga nagawa mo para sa bestfriend ko. Naalala ko ang mga pagkakataong nagkakasama tayo. Naalala ko ang mga pagkakataong nagkakasama pa tayo. Ikaw na pinakmalapit sa’kin, naalala kita.

V. Ilang taon ko nang inisip, kapag nagpakasal ako, ikaw ang kukunin kong Best Man.

Tiyang;

Papunta ako kung saan nang bigla akong makatanggap ng mensahe galing sa kapatid ko. Pinapupunta ako sa bahay ng lola ko—lola ni mama, kung tutuusin, pero lola pa rin, syempre. Gusto ko umiyak. Gusto ko magmadali. Gusto kong bigla na lang mapunta sa tabi niya. Naalala ko nung bata ako, naguunahan kami ng kuya ko para maghatid ng mangga para sa’yo dahil paborito mo ‘yon. Siyempre, bata, may pabuya sa’min. Pero ngayon, bigla kong nakita ang sarili kong hinahatiran ka ng mangga, ‘di ko na kailangan ng pabuyang barya, pero okay na sa’kin ‘yung makita kang nakangiti habang kinakain mo ‘yon. Kahit dati pang gusot kong agawin sa’yo ang tiyan ng pritong bangus dahil kada bisita namin sa’yo, ‘yon ang ulam mo. Lahat ng bagay, maging ang mga kamakailang pagbisita namin sa’yo, na kapag tinatanong mo kung sino ako dahil ‘di mo maalala, at kapag naalala mo, mangingiti ka na parang namiss mo ‘ko. Sa mga paalala mo. Sayang, malapit ka na mag-98. Isang buwan na lang. Ilang linggo na lang. Pero panahon mo na siguro magpahinga. Hinahanap ka na ni Tiyong. Pagpasok ko ng kwarto mo, nakanganga ka na’t malamig. Wala akong nagawa kundi umiyak sa may pintuan. Humagulgol. Sabi ng nanay ko, noong hinahanap-hanap mo kami, masyado kaming busy at ‘di ka namin madalaw. Ngayong ‘di na kami busy, nabisita ka namin. Pero huli na ang lahat. ‘Di mo na malalaman na nando’n kami sa tabi mo sa hling pagkakataon.

Sana’y maraming mangga kung sa’n ka tutungo.Pakibati kami sa mga lolo’t lola’t iba pang pumanaw na kamag-anak. Pakisabing mahal namin sila at ‘di sila nakalimutan. Mahal ka namin, Tiyang. At ikaw rin, hinding-hindi makakalimutan.

The fastest slow day;

How I try to greet 2011 is how I look back with how things have been going on for me, not for the past year, but for as long as I can look back. 2011 didn’t start for me but it did end. Or did it? It’s like something I’ve never had. A year that has passed has never been there. Like a certain amount of space you felt you were in, but in reality, you’re somewhere else. It’s like a dream year. And dreams, well, you know, could either be good as some utopia or as bad as, well, a bad nightmare. Or it could either be a scene where you fall and you just wake up panting, or a wet dream where you wake up with such discomfort but looking back at what you’ve dreamt about, you were at some pleasant phase. Where have I been? As much as I try to remember, I was nowhere. It didn’t start for it was just a continuation of the year earlier than that of what has just passed; and it won’t end for the final moments of this year, I believe would just follow through what we just acquired, an opportunity in the form of another year. As much as it is a dream, between the yawning 2010 and the waking up 2012, it also something like an interlude. Some track off an album that is beautifully made. Some album that did lack some element, unnecessary element that felt actually necessary as to how it became a filling beauty that sequences one track to another.

And the similes go further. Like sandwich, like some other things with certain middle element. Where have I been, I don’t know. All I know is that it just has passed, the year, that is—was? And for some certain consequence, all that has been at 2010 resonated at equal pathlessness. It’s like—ugh, simile, here we go again—walking at a city, walking in a forest, a dark path, coming out of the dark path, a starry pathway in the forest, then off to some better walk, then out to another city; was 2011 a forest, a dream, an interlude, or a sandwich spread?

What I have thought as some beautiful year that has passed became a total disaster at certain points. Indeed it was a beautiful year, but where I have been, I don’t know. I feel as though I have been lost most of the days. I haven’t been depressed as frequent as I have been in the past years same as I haven’t felt so much happiness—I think it pays. If it matters, it’s been 7 years since I’ve made tons of depressing poetry—but I’m not saying they’re any good, but I made them anyway. I feel as lost as I’ve been when I was at my worst when I started gaining this seasonal depression, some inexplainable occurance that I always go through at certain points where I can’t feel any strength at all. 7 years ago was the worst that I’ve been through, then this tied. Coincidence is it both happened when I’m with someone that I could treasure greatly at those points in my life. Was I insecure? If it is any reason, maybe, why it both ended (I’m thinking right now that both actually ended at the last quarter of the year) is because I’m too insecure and too hurt. Both ended with me giving up when both of them were the only ones in the past that actually stood up for me. As I look back at the year that just passed, I was lost, that was why I gave up. If anyone thought I’m somewhere, I wasn’t.

I don’t really know where I will be this coming year. I went out of the year blindfolded tightly and confused. Fearful and weak. With everything that I have right now, I’m still holding with looseness. I’m sorry if I failed everyone, more than anyone else, I feel sorry for myself for ruining almost everything that I’ve walked on the whole length of the year. I can’t put anything at a list or in a pinky swear or in an intangible promise I can’t keep. It’s just whatever that has entered on the first two days of this year, I don’t know if I would be strong enough to stay strong, that in strength, you need strength to actually be strong.

What I know is that I’ll try to be alive for most of the year. If I don’t, find me in my deathbed: somewhere between the collection of all the words I’ve said in grief (of how I let myself down).

Not really a year-ender post;

Years back, I’ve always been excited with the thought of counting down for New Year. Weird is that I’ve outgrown my excitement for it as the years go by. What I should blame is this particular thing that has long been gone for me (and all the people that have been listening to where it happened, all the loyal people, all the people that were hurt the day this somewhere had been put to end). That one thing that made counting down interesting and probably the only reason I had (except for food, of course) to actually wait for the clock to strike 12 and greet everyone. Countdown 107 has been my “tradition” so to say as I’ve always listened to it, though I couldn’t remember the number 1s that there have been except for two-thousand-something number one’s Noypi. Ever since NU107’s end a couple of years ago, what has been an exciting way to bear counting down before we could actually enjoy food, it just has been dull. I could make more reasons for it: spending it with my family, actually begin feeling hopeful for myself, the beautiful displays of fireworks people spend money on, and other bullcrap people give as reasons just so we could think we will bear the forthcoming year, but I don’t. Countdown 107 just has been my only reason. I could make it further without the counting down, I could make everyone feel as good for the coming year, I could be more thankful even if there’s no one I should thank to except for the people around me. But really, remembering that Countdown 107 isn’t around anymore, all I could wait for is another regular reason I have to wait the clock to strike 12 for. Probably someone I could be beside with having to hug as we smile trying to greet each other but our lips on each other’s wouldn’t let us, or some other reason if there’s this list of tons-of-reasons-to-be-excited-about-New-Year, honestly.

Nonetheless, what happened today just have been better than the last. That’s what’s okay. Happy New Year, I guess. :)

One Slow Day and a Grasshopper;

It was a plain Thursday. One day from that month of September. I still remember how it all went because there’s nothing much that did go that day. Nothing exciting, nothing eventful. Just a plain Thursday. And that’s bad news.

Thursdays, regularly are days that seem to make everything complicated. As if it’s that given day of the week that we (or at least I) have to suffer to balance out the good and the fair days which are spread out on those seven days. And Thursdays, they are just hell. That day was a plain Thursday, that’s what’s bad in the bad news that it’s accompanied with. School that day was a drag and it was such a bore to actually be in full concentration; not even to learn, just to pay attention, not even that I can’t do. Everything was slow and something could just be faster than everything else and hit me without even noticing. Was it me slowly comprehending the world that day or was the world turned slowly for me to suffer another plain Thursday as every week? And in these Thursday, I feel incomplete. And in that Thursday, I was incomplete. I never felt myself, that even.

Class has ended as I’ve prayed for it to finish early but the world was too slow and torturing so it didn’t, but it still ended which at that time was the best thing to happen. The workplace is waiting for me and I can’t hurry because the world is slow, as I’ve started it. Waiting to arrive as if my body is on autopilot to expect that this other part of my day could bring something to cheer me up and make the world run faster because on a slow, plain Thursday, everything seemed ugly. I walked to the train station as slowly as the world has put everything in. I played music as I walked. Angry music which never seemed to do the job in putting its fast beats into making the surroundings faster. Angrily fast, but the world is still ugly and slow. As I waited for the train to arrive, I stood patiently. The train visible, it’s still slow. I was holding my phone at chest-high height, my index finger at the top, suddenly a little green grasshopper hopped on my fingernail and it sat there as I look at him and I smiled. The train stopped in front of me and the grasshopper hopped away.

The world gained color and speed.

we’re drifting
far from what we
promised 

our tight embraces,
however, could let
one slip underneath… 

at the brink of dawn:
so will our affection be
revived with the day 

Our bodies are bare—
embraces feel honest as
we cover nothing…