to the Instrument of My Existence...

I was you and you were me and I guess that's the reason why we could not stand each other's company. Now that you have finally taken your rest, who would've thought that I would miss you this much?

I used to wish for your nagging to peter out and I know that you used to wish for my rebellion to end. I know that I have gotten into your nerves, but you chose to ignore it as you were aware that mine was just an act of a grandstander. You were with pride and I was with hurt, thus we never had the chance to converse with each other. We were living on the same roof but we would only communicate through my brother and sisters. However, I am amazed by our relationship because despite that, we both knew what we want for each other.

Hence, I worked hard for my college and started looking for a job that would be enough to finance my night out gimmicks and expensive pastimes. I really didn't mind working at early in the morning while taking classes at night. I would never get the honors anyway so why waste an effort, right? Although I knew you would rather have me achieve that academic distinction, I was only aiming for the credential that would emancipate me from my nerve-racking but high-paying job.

When my siblings told me that you somehow felt ashamed for not supporting my collegiate pursuits, I thought it was already clear to you that I was only doing you a favor. Besides, it was my choice and I was pleased with what I was doing because of the benefits that I was getting. Aside from that, depending on you for my personal needs would mean a failure on your part because you have inculcated in me the value of being independent.

With you I have learned that the world would never stop from turning every time I fall. With you I have realized that we all have our own lives and it is our responsibility to live it the way how it should be. With you I have discovered the reality of myself and my capacity to materialize all the visions I have in mind. With you I have understand the true nature and intricacies of human society. With you I have become what I have become and I am so much grateful, despite the ambivalence, of your ephemeral existence.

I know you were proud of me as I was proud of you. As what they have seen and observed --- I was you and you were me and thank heavens we were given the gift of interacting in silence.

The Horrible Side of Me

Just like any others, I have my own share of insularities; as much as I want to contain them, but human as I am, I also have my uncontrollable whims. What might be inoffensive to others might be offensive to me, what might be inoffensive to me might be offensive to others.

It is difficult to understand. Human beings are as unfathomable as its origin. However, that's how the nature works, that's how the world maneuvers --- I could abhor it, sure I would, but who am I to even the score when I am just but a speck of it.

I never wanted to be angry. I never wanted to be offended. But what transpired was another story. This fury, I want to contain, for I do not want to catch sight of my rage. That is why I always prefer silence; for my words can turn into a double-edged sword anytime, ready to slash any emotion of any ego that would come my way.

I was angry, and now I am hurt. Although there is no need for me to explain myself, as I was the one who was publicly humiliated, but letting this out in the open is the only way for me to let go of my chagrin and get ahold of myself back into composure. It was no joke, but it was for theirs. They didn't know that I could no longer raise my eyes as I could not bear to see the mockery painted on their faces. Their defeaning cheers had turned into a bunch of poisonous and sharp arrows fired at me: lacerating every inch of my skin, piercing through my veins, perforating my soul. I was caught off guard, I had no choice. Like a sailor passing through the Strait of Messina, it is either I have to confront Scylla or Charybdis. The terrible thing is, I was only forced to board that ship and I have no right to be defiant.

The sense of betrayal keeps on ringing in my ears. What occured was a very shallow act, I know, but it was not insubstantial to me --- and that's what afflicts me the most. Worst thing is, although I could easily forgive, but I could not easily forget. What happened might just fade away, but the racking sensation has been etched in my memory.

No, I am not asking for any sympathy. I have already anticipated the false impression. I do not expect anyone to understand what I am feeling; I, myself, could not even grasp the rationale behind my immature and childish response. This is how I feel. People may tell me to get control of my emotions, but no one can just tell anyone to stop the feeling because it is very superficial. We have our own impulses, and sometimes these impulses are so hard to restrain no matter what you do. It would really flare up once in a while.

I do not mean to justify my reaction, I am only speaking my mind up. After this, I will have to think of ways on how to act normal in front of everybody. I may still be able to smile, proceed like nothing happened, but how I wish it's just as simple as that. The course of tides had changed. The time has come for me to choose between Scylla and Charybdis, and now I am crushed because I don't know which options to take.

I could set aside the emotion and pretend that everything is okay, but I could not tolerate any teasing and I might get irked. I could be branded as narrow and overrated, but I could care less and I couldn't mind. Maybe I would just cross the bridge when I get there, but it is the uncertainties of my reaction that terrifies me. And that, I guess, is the most horrible side of me. =(

Life: Bowling

I was playing bowling with my colleagues when another dreadful realization occurred to me --- I have lived my life the way I have played the bowl.

At times I could get a strike without even knowing how I did it. At times I could get a gutter ball even though I was trying hard to aim for the goal. Sometimes I could knock four, three, two even one pin out but most of the time I could knock six to eight pins out - nine pins down would be rare. Then I would try hard to concentrate. I would try to recall what were my stances when I struck the bowl. How did I position my feet, my hands, the ball; what was I feeling, thinking, or even eyeing for. I could not seem to recall anything but I have to set the ball on. As the ball went to the gutter when I released it from my charge, it was in this juncture that the realization dawn onto me.

I was not supposed to feel disappointment as it was just a game but sometimes a man's method of playing a game is a reflection of how he is living his life.

Over the years I have been trying to figure out why my life seemed to be in disarray. Although I've got my triumphant moments but most of the time I feel like I have accomplished nothing. Mediocrity is no longer unusual to me. Ere long I have accepted the fact that I am a jack-of-all-trades but a master-of-none. I tried to establish a focal point but akin to my bowling, once I pick to give the shot it would turn up futile.

Most of the people who knew me think that I am someone prodigious. Some are intimidated by the way I talk and by the way I project myself to the public. They think I am someone smart, a know-it-all human being, a gifted one. Just because my English vocabulary is not as vast as theirs; just because I speak American English as nearly as a native; just because I’ve got an immense passion for literature; just because I can write poetry; just because I prefer scrabble, boggle, and other word-related games; just because I know some things which an average people really don’t --- these do not make me someone exceptional. These do not make me someone different. These do not make me someone special.

For some reasons, I have become shattered on how I was living my life. I could not get the gist why I couldn’t be consistent in playing the bowl. I could hit a strike without even doing something, and I could get a gutter ball when I am exerting an effort. I could smite one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, even nine pins but incongruously. I don’t know why I keep on aiming for a perfect strike when I know for a fact that it does not happen all the time. Unfortunately, this is how I view some aspects of my life. I seek for perfection despite knowing that achieving it is beyond possibility. That is why, it is such a dreadful realization; I have lived my life the way I have played bowling --- mediocrity.

Game Over

I quit. I give up. I am tired.

Have you ever tried resisting fate when deep in your heart you know you just have to give in? The pain of being human. The pain of being invincible. It dehumanizes you. It weakens you. Yet there is nothing you can do but accept the truth and move on.

Moving on. I detest that thought. I abhor that thought. I hate that thought. But what can I do when it is my last resort? My ONLY resort? Isn't it exasperating?

In this world of lies and deceptions you have no choice but pretend even though you don't want to. Keep the pain. Keep the emotion. Keep the thought. Deprive yourself of your happiness. Deprive yourself of your freedom. Deprive yourself of enlightenment. Then suddenly, surprisingly, you gain wisdom. Confusing, isn't it?

"One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes." The fox said to the little prince. Indeed. No wonder why I could not see. For even though my eyes are open but my heart is close.

And so, I quit. I give up. I am tired.

The game is over.

Past: Please Release Me

There may be a time for everything but still nobody knows when that time will be... There may be a reason for everything yet nobody knows what that reason is...

When you have already decided to let go of the past and leave it all behind, it would then again hunt and pin you down. You wonder as you try to move on; should you really let go or should you hold on for a little more while? With this on the fritz, you wander with confusion once more -- should you stay or should you go, that is the question.

When the hardest part of living is acceptance and the hardest thing to do is giving up, you toddle with uncertainty, you pause and then you stop -- is it really worth it? do you really have to do it? for what reason?

Afterward you search for the answers, trying to satiate the hunger for the truth yet you just find yourself frustrated and dejected. The answer seemed to be very elusive. always beyond your reach. always out of the line.

So you fixed yourself into something else, forgetting the thing that you have to do. You neither let go nor accepted what was given to you instead you blinded yourself and pretended that nothing really happened. You then started taking the path you thought you have never taken. A new road, a new journey. However, upon reaching the crossroad you realized you are back to where you have come from. And the cycle goes on again until you got tired.

You have gone weary but you are still unable to make up your mind. For some reasons, the past can't seem to emancipate you from it. Daunting you, holding you back, smothering you. But the fact is: It is you who cannot withhold from the past, it is you who cannot give it up it is you who refused to let go.

Sometimes when the hardest part of living is acceptance and the hardest thing to do is letting go you stop and you cry. The answer you have been seeking was just inside your heart all the while yet you failed to recognize it. Indeed there is a time for everything and there is a reason for everything. But time and reason are only instruments for you to realize that that's what life is really for.