(The Sequel)
“Visions eluded my sight; visions that are haunted yet sacred. Love hovered lowly, and the embers carried by Zephyr out of its flame shimmered flawlessly in the eerie haven. I stood under columns of crystal ruined by the elements, elegiac but proud. Then, I conceded…”
Lightning. Yes, lightning. A flash of it can be seen from the east and west at the same time. Without a doubt, light is extremely fast. And conclusively, lightning is a product of this source; yet its beauty is never revealed wholly without the aftermath: the sound of thunder. Yes, thunder. Though it comes with delay, the dramatic phenomenon is never complete without its rumble. Most would see a thunderstorm as something chaotic and destructive, but only a few dig deeper to appreciate its beauty; even scientists, themselves, assume that life would not have existed without such force nature can only create. Now, you wonder about its relevance? I, myself, wonder too.
…
The wind blew gently upon the meadows of the school as I reminisced silently in the midst of a still, rainy afternoon. Often, I’m with my friends, howling in the hallways at the top of our voices, but I began to realize that perhaps, life isn’t always about delight. For certain periods of time, they were my only source of laughter and imbecility, but perhaps this was the best time to be alone, to reflect and contemplate. A tinge of sadness could be heard in my voice, and even in some hours of the day, not one would even hear me utter a word. I forced myself to pretend nothing happened, but the elegy seemed to rewind in my ears, which would violently clasped the last traces of happiness within me. Neither the mind nor the heart could find the pieces of debris torn down by the charge against my fortress, for even these betrayed their master and escaped before the siege, leaving me vulnerable and naked. Yes, I was glorified by them before, but in the end I was ripped off my reign and pulled down into the darkest of chasms. For once, they served as the only armory I had; at the same time, ultimate and trusted weapons kept for security; they were priceless and came only a little short of the standard of perfection. Often, both would cooperate and empower every turbine in my body; but for that instance, they were independent and even prevented themselves from interlocking. Every time I faced my reflection, I see a creature eating dust and gnashing its teeth, left to decay under the hallows of the unknown. Oh yes, it was horrendous, the worst nightmare one may experience. But these descriptions define only a tenth of the entire picture, yet perhaps it’s enough to give you a thought of my play’s ‘happily-ever-after’. At first glance, it portrays itself as a paradox. But the true irony behind the façade is the unconditional acceptance I had only for her.
I write with sheer symbolism, sometimes in a grandiose manner that might be confusing. But one must know that my statements are facts, and not out of embellishment. My advice is that one must immerse oneself deeply into the truth; for the resonance of death screeches through the pages, roaming in the shallow shores of lies and obscurity. The mission I have to carry out is to express everything with honesty and sincerity, and ensure the revival of a lost heart. Let no one be disturbed by this tale, for the verses speak of love alone.
…
Graceful as she seemed to be, deception still engraved itself in my imagination as I looked upon the visage of my dreams. As my eyes locked on hers, a sudden effusion of undefined emotions radiated wildly within my self, shutting down my system without any form of warning or precaution. And the only thing I got from crawling through her static territory: a grave look. Yes. At least, trespassers are not executed, but rather welcomed in a bitter way. Now you see, it’s not easy to fall in love with someone belonging in the highest standard of extremity, not that they often show no hope, but their actions depict some kind of nothingness. And to vanquish this nothingness, one must apply vigorous effort that can rather be fatal than helpful to the caster. In other terms, it is suicide. Out of such events, I began to realize that she was the only lady who made me look like an effete mortal, a useless being trampled in the threshold of her grounds. Although it was the first time I felt brutality in loving, I manage to again adapt with the rotations of the carousel. The best thing was that, all these circumstances simply vanish into thin air when a snapshot of her smile is conjured. The more hopeless my love becomes, the sweeter her words taste; this, itself, sounds strange in a way that it never made details looked hyperbolic. But the reason why her apparition managed to captivate my heart so quickly remains a mystery that may never be unlocked. And metaphorically, as lightning flashes sharply from east to west, so did she, who was once a representative of the unknown, start to dominate my world in an unimaginable rate.
Yes, the seeds sprouted exponentially, and I was left in a state of surviving the very feelings I had for her, lost in a maze I, myself, created. Everything began to choke me, or if not, entangled my senses in a manner without mercy. And this mere interference caused love to overflow in my cup, but sadly, not a drop touched her tongue. Why? Not one reason is known, and even if answers existed, they would not be in the form of words but rather of abstract images. Oh, I began to see that perhaps I can never decipher her ways, but what I know is that a huge portion of things I offered had only been wasted or kept clandestine. And yet, as her carelessness grew, so did my love for her. The very thorns that caused massive pain and bleeding were the same hindrances that kept my foundations from crumbling, and in a way, even hastened my footsteps. With such power and dexterity love bestowed upon me, I was capable in traversing mountains in a battleground where passion consumed what was left in its wake. In other words I say, courage from a nameless source turned my weak heart into a gallant fighter. With it, I gained confidence and other virtues in my untimely metamorphosis that, hopefully, would lead to the exhilaration of victory. Now you say that perhaps hope is on my side, or is it only something that was previously said, a mere illusion in the end? I thought of pondering further on my thoughts, but soon enough, I saw that it wasn’t necessary. The transitions were fast, and in the process of the catastrophe, the once hidden face of deceit showed itself clearly out of all the questions and the vagueness delivered with it. Yes, a flash of light illuminated my skies for a blink of an eye, but soon I realized that its beauty does not last long enough to keep hope significant. Thus, it doesn’t end with light, but rather with the sound of Hades. And where light was once present, the wrath of darkness soon took over with its growl: thunder.
Thunder. That night, I prayed for certainty, and wished that faith is the only thing I need to succeed. To tell the untold without hesitation is a difficult thing to do, but opening my self to something that can either be an alliance or a conspired assault against me is by far, the most suicidal move I had to do. Connivance was inevitable, and doubt destroyed every tactic I planned. But I knew that if I skipped this part of the play, I wouldn’t be able to tell her everything in the future, and regret would follow me for the rest of my days. So I must do it, and I have to for love’s sake. A regular conversation online was all I need to begin, everyone involved waited patiently for that day, the day I would unravel all the epiphanies I withstood for her. The only bullet I had was the very words I desired her to know; it was written boldly on a black sheet of paper on this very blogsite (the previous blog), a confession of emotions she can only understand. Yes, all the words took me days to complete, a single composition dedicated in saying what I felt for her. Perhaps you read it before, but you must know that my aim was not quality or to acquire pitiful attention whether from her or from the readers, themselves; but rather to kindle the feelings love brought in its arms against all cost. It is a one-shot opportunity, the only option left in the counter. If it hits her directly, the barriers would be broken at last. If it doesn’t, everything ends tonight, and tomorrow would be a day where sorrow would be insurmountable.
A matter of losing the battle might be only steps away, but this was the only thing that could make all the difference. But I began to think that changes can only occur if she, herself, allows it; nevertheless, I have to learn that time can tell everything, and I began to learn that the hard way. Seconds ticked, and a friend confirmed that she was reading the post; out of silence, I could hear my heart pounding nervously, as I thought of the reactions meant to happen. Every passing minute, I would close my eyes even if I don’t want to do so, and whisper a prayer to myself that I would be able to open a stubborn heart. I never wanted to miss anything, and so I waited quietly to settle my nerves, while chatting to one of her friends about the unfolding situations. And at last, after a time that seemed like days, it was done; she was finished. The fabric of reality covered everything once again, but still it felt like I and she was still in another dimension. I expected chaos soon after, but her words sounder rather tranquil. “I read it,” she said, as I came over it for the second time. Then, she smiled. Yes...Smiled. I started to wonder why or what was happening? And why her reaction was sweet rather than being violent? I didn’t know what to say, so I ask her what she thought about it. After a few seconds, a reply came. “Sweeeettt…” written boldly in front of my motionless face. The words she interjected only made everything blurry, but a weird feeling of success a few feet away was felt; a glorious victory perhaps? No. Suddenly, I heard a strange voice out of the eerie ambience, “It’s not done.” It sounded malignant, and I trembled with it. The next thing that happened was indescribable; it was like hell rose up and turned into an eternal nightmare, bound to shut the doors of paradise for eternity. I will forever hate the words I heard that moment, for it ruptured every vein in my body and even tackled my reputation. Now you wonder and ask, “Did I hit the spot? Or did the bullet miss?” Neither. She evaded…
The girl I love most was once a victim of a tragic romance, something murdered by fate in an oblivious past. I don’t have the right to know and examine her forgotten memories, but I can do nothing if all fingers point to it. The story she didn’t have the courage and ability to tell was indirectly stated by another; and I started to wonder why even a thought of what happened during that instance made me weary. Though the lines were common, I still felt disturbed since it came from her, herself; and I admit that I was burdened by her words heavily. It was something I thought she tried to tell me, but I never wanted to listen, until that instance when I was all ears. And as I listened in all that I am, I started to feel the most excruciating pain ever felt in my life, everything shattered from the inside out. Someone out of nowhere said that perhaps its time for her to be frank, to tell me honestly about the true picture behind the illusions. And for the first time, I realized how painful the truth is, but I have to persevere with a mission where truth must prevail; I must. She was the victim, at the same time, the murderer. It was to complex for any means of explanation, and probably it’s useless for the innocent to know. But what I went through that night remained indelible, and as I breathed during those minutes of melancholy, I couldn’t help but feel hopeless and defeated. All the things I built were burned down to ashes as the coldness wiped through my helpless state; and the facts were at last, revealed to me. I couldn’t clearly see if she did mourn with me or if what she did after she knew the way I felt was only an act of sympathy, but it felt fair that in the midst of loneliness, I still have her shoulder to cry on. From then on, I could see that somehow she was my companion and friend; but I confess that I felt rejected by her words alone, and all the sacrifices I did was somehow set aside and left to rot. I realized how my own blood was wasted simply to know that my faith is unreliable, and the sincerity I had for love was nothing but withered grass blown by the wind. Out of anguish, I screamed at the top of my lungs, my final act of desperation out of the last traces of strength in a soul broken by fate. And the only answer I got was the echo of distorted words.
In the middle of that night, not a ray of luminance seeped through my room as I forced myself to cry, to shed tears until blood rushes through my skin. But even in the verge of despair, not a single tear fell down my cheeks. I wanted to just weep for hours until not a drop would fall, I wanted to cry until I knock myself to asleep, but for some reasons, I just can’t. Yes, I have dreams that are left pending, yet that moment, I never felt reluctant in killing myself literally. But such acts would only make things worse or even lead to my doom. The only thing that felt right for me to do was to question myself each moment and utter, “Why? Why do things have to be this way?” I kept on asking things that have never been answered before, and out of an empty self, all shadows started to surround me as I lay wounded on the floor. And still, in such desolation, not one of them entrusted the words I sought for, no utterance was given. Damnation. And though I never dared to seek earnestly for the love I needed most, I did long for ways just to get her closer into my arms enough to alter my demeanor. But in the midst of the fall of my empire, I began to see that even if I don’t have all the answers; and even if my situation seemed dire in the midst of hopelessness, at least I’m still here, standing before you, breathing the very air that almost killed me from within. But time after time, I felt that I hadn’t existed during that night of ballads and tears, and that all the sorrow brought by her words never animated into reality. Instead, they were kept in another abyss, so I may forget all that had happened during that instance. And so in my fall, I stood up; I stood up to look at myself fully as I see her as the worst yet the sweetest part of my puzzle, where all the pieces have gone missing. Without her, I’m incomplete, and my purpose in life will be of no definite meaning. That’s how tender and overflowing my love is for her, against all forces of rejection and hatred that led me to fall down on my knees. In all the nights where I knelt lowly begging for hope, asking that somehow I would be able to hear her speak the words I longed to hear, I was able to see that somehow, even in defeat, I was never alone; and that perhaps she’s always there for me in a sense she’s not conscious about, even if the things I expected most never happened at all. Hope may never be constant or stable, but my faith will never be led astray by things that keep us apart. But nevertheless, I have to accept the vicissitudes embedded in my own romance, and know that she might never caress the emotions I have for her.
Indeed good things come to an end, but the endings mark the genesis of something better. Experiences have never once touched my reputation, but perhaps the pain that kept on haunting me would be something I can never repel. The way she evaded the love I have for her may not be a form of rejection at all, but perhaps something that tells how unprepared we were to be molded by a transcendental entity like love, itself. It seems that she wasn’t ready for the words I said, or probably she’s in a paranoia about the past that could envelope her any moment. Either way, I, myself, was struck by the blow, and maybe likewise in her part and in others prominent in the tale as well. It was traumatic; however, I felt joyous in my failure to lead someone I held dear in loving an ogre. I still couldn’t explain why, but for this time, it never felt strange. The great thing was that nothing was meant to lie in ruins; and besides, I, myself, know by heart that this is a tale that will remain a part of my memory in the latter days of my youth, memories where love never ended. Why believe that love has no end, if in reality, it cannot be proven? And why believe that all things are possible, if love, itself, cannot be felt? It’s amazing how the simplest of things can deplete the greatest faith, but never let yourself be deceived by what your senses can basically perceive. My point is that I can fail and fall a thousand times, but I have the strength to rise up without hope on my side. For I see it as not the end of everything, but rather a pit-stop where one must check his or her status as a person, whether one lacks something or gained things too much. And even if I don’t care with the way I looked stupid or careless in one way or another, I can never consider myself numb and insensitive on certain relational aspects. I’m better unarmored in battle rather than avoiding pain for my own good. But it’s difficult to accept the truth that it’s not easy to love without getting even a nugget of love back, but for as long as I have the strength to attain the last steps of the final line, I must pursue and continue the quest.
Quests. Before, my quests were nothing but places where the residue of fate is evident. That night, I heard her say or perhaps someone on how tragic her past was along with its sonnets, and that I couldn’t understand the reasons behind it, which in turn, led to her evasion. But how could I fail to understand her words, if I, myself, went through all the agony love can offer. Yes, for the first time, I would reveal my deepest secrets, and perhaps tell on how bitter love was for me before. If you know me, then somehow, you’re lucky to be able to know who I once was, and perhaps, you’re in the right place at the right time. But I won’t be surprise if one will feel bored in reading a story that seems to have no ending, but I shall continue with my tale nonetheless. No fallacy, no lies, only the truth. The facts are disorganized due to my faulty memory, but what I think is important is the essence of every experience I and perhaps you, yourself, once felt. Only a few witnessed who I was before, and perhaps even they, themselves, had forgotten everything. What many don’t know is that memories cannot die, but they do wait in slumber. And this dormant state can be awakened anytime by something it cannot withstand. Destiny. In a sudden, I found myself telling all these things to her that very night, and by then, tears started to stream down my face.
My past is not what many see, and the only one who truly knows about every event and detail about it is I, alone. You see, even if these words sound not out of the person people see as my self, the fact is that I can never hide the unobvious forever. And although the things I might say are not aligned with my garrulous character or the way most see it whatsoever, it doesn’t mean that my soul is immune to any form of scar or wound. I, too, feel sadness, in higher levels no one can see or understand. My battered body is marked with ordeals of the past, and serves as evidence on how I was punished by my own deliberate acts. Before, I like to play with the magic of love, playing in a way that I began to unconsciously hurt others; and even now, I admit that my selfish way often unveil itself at times when my self loses control over my own emotions. And even above cliffs where a fall is inescapable, hell still set it gates open each time I’m caught idle or alone before it. The flashback, itself, shows how unforgiving fate slandered me. And as I stood there staring at the horizon, I began to see how great the consequences were for my gratuitous acts; and as I looked down, below lies a grave of all forsaken memories I have.
Flashbacks. Once, I loved a lady; and, as any lover would say, she once meant everything to me. Or perhaps it was only infatuation? And confusion was inevitable since it was first love, and the worst thing is that it was about our selves. Yes, ourselves. Well, it didn’t last long; and in the verge of the events, everything led to our break-up. But pain only felt like a bee sting, and soon, I grew impatient to love once again. Little did I know that I was starting to engage into something ominous and unknown, yet it somehow masked itself as being magical. But I just couldn’t see the way all things started to deceive me. And still, that spark started everything. Then it came, and another, and another; it was a cycle that gave me an insatiable hunger for love, and yes, it was addictive. But the more I started to love with a heart, the greater the pain I had to carry. And I knew that it would come to a point where everything would turn unbearable, and all things would come crashing down on me. What I didn’t know was that it was meant to happen only a little sooner after the first spark ignited all the torches. And the worst part of it was that, in a relationship ultimately perfect and magical, everything about it along with the memoirs had to end drastically.
She was once, the only girl I loved truly, voluptuous both inside and out. And the way she caught me tells how amazing she could turn everything upside down. In short, she’s perfect, at least for me. And the great thing was that, our relationship had no flaws, and love flowed freely into us; only a few obstacles stood before us, for even our own family never interfered on our bondage as one. These things once led me to think that perhaps she’s the right one for me and I'm the one for her, but I realized that perhaps even heart so loyal could be that wrong. The feelings I had for her turned obsolete when fate, itself, started to again strike a blow that proved to be so fatal, that even a memory of that night of December 2004 still echoes pain within me, a pain that remained hidden and once known only by my self. Yes, that dark, cold night, I started to wonder why I felt some horror coming. I couldn’t think properly and I started to feel restless. What I didn’t know was that a storm was yet to come, a force so powerful that everything with it trembled when I tried to withstand it. The culprit on why I felt such horror is still unknown up to this day, the only thing I could remember is that I started to wonder on why it was late night and she still haven’t called me. I felt hunger, but I couldn’t eat unless everything would be clear. But the shocking news that came soon after from a friend destroyed all that was left in my sanity. It was an accident, an incident that occurred in a street where she was only trying to get herself home. Yes, it gave me some answers, but it only led to so many questions that kept on haunting me like the ghosts of men who died in battle. She was involved in the accident, and I heard that she was in a critical state. Time, itself, stopped as I tried to calm myself down amidst the nightmare. But it was too late. That very night, she died. Yes… Death, itself, had separated us. And even now, I could still remember the way I wept that night, it was so unbearable that I almost ended my life.
From then on, I kept on asking God why He would allow such thing, that from all the joy I felt from the perfect harmonies she attuned for me, everything would simply vanish in one night. But my questions were never answered, and for that instance, I felt the pain that awakened the way I was before; I felt regret on the things I did and things I could have done for love; I felt a presence that told me the things I could have said to show her how much she meant to me. Could it be some form of punishment for all the wrong things I did in love? Or is it only His will to change the way I am? I may never know. But it’s difficult to understand why such a force like Death would strike simply to separate me from someone I thought would be my companion for the rest of my life. And yet, it was still acceptance that gave me the courage to move on.
Reality. As I told her my own tragic tales that night no different before, I started to wonder if I still deserve that punishment that very minute in the midst of all the tears I shed. And from then on, she was perhaps unable to utter anything in our conversation online, perhaps she, too, was struck by my own past that can never be compared to hers. Like before, I don’t need any form of pity or sympathy, I only want to fulfill a vow that I would express myself entirely through this crap. But I knew that she somehow shared the same pain I once felt nonetheless, and yet, I still wondered if she would understand my words. And though our experiences are in a par, the way we reacted to the circumstances is a matter we only knew in ourselves. She might have understood the meanings, but perhaps the essence of each is disregarded. I can’t judge her or assume anything out of the ordinary simply because I don’t know her that much, but the bitterness of the events gave me some of the pieces once lost under the depths of love. Out of the escalating scenes, I told her that if she turned out to be a memory only meant to be forgotten like all the others, then perhaps it’s useless to stay firm on the floor. But all the words only trapped me in a bottomless pit, and everything I had started to abandon me. I was isolated from reality; but that night had to end.
Time rolled quickly as I tried to forget all the turmoil laid in the recesses of the past. But I started to have dreams, dreams that somehow foretold the future in a disturbing way. It was late afternoon, and all the hectic activities ended at last as I packed my things. I and a friend decided to walk down the street of our school to catch up for any transportation to the other campus at the same time, to have a little chatter. But our topics started to lead once again to a past I have surrendered to the flames. The prophecies were told, as another assault had started to invade me secretly. He showed me details that were confusing, but nevertheless, it made me realize how blind my conscience was. Although it never explained a single thing, at least my slumber in some other things rather that the indispensable emotions I had for her was awakened by the early warning. The concern opened my eyes to many things I never took concern of; our chatter (which somehow seemed like a debate), proved how even the closest of friends can stab you from behind. I understood that the aim was to help me realize how insensitive I was before and the mistakes I should have recovered, which was somehow good, but the way they were to execute the plan was a violation to the ethics of humanity. The plot against me was out of an evil conspiracy. They could perhaps confront me about the matter, why then they have to strike indirectly? Yes, the matter made me think of how I had been acting lately, but I never cared about what they want or planned to do. It’s only one senseless matter compared to all the other things I have to take with careful action. But it was enough to tell me that she, the odalisque who still holds my heart, can never be easily used by someone whose goal was perhaps vengeance alone. Revenge is sweet, but atonement is sweeter. It only gave me an idea of how firm her foundations are, and how strong she is as a paragon in her own life. Yes, she’s as graceful as a dove, but she’s as vile as a snake. And I love her the way she is.
Love is infinite, and it cannot be easily laid down to anyone who doesn’t deserve its embrace. Forgetting what had happened is a thing of the past; acceptance is what I need most. When I proposed to write this sequel, one of her friends reckoned, “Baka makalimutan mo na ‘yan ‘pag sinulat mo na.” But how can I forget something that left a scar so deep that it can never subdue completely; the emotions never subsided, and everything compelled me in one way or another, as if I've been trying to make the wrong things the right one, which is something very hard to achieve. Since then, I started to believe that love is the only remedy for all these wounds, but I still couldn’t see why many of us gamble our heart for something that can destroy one’s reputation. It only proves how dedicated we are for the ones we love most, and how we could make improbable things to happen. Someone uttered, “Pare, its time to move on…”, and another would say, “You must pursue. You have to put everything into action.” But either way, I can always love her with all I could give, at the same time move on to the next step. It’s faith that led me further into an impossible situation, but I have to admit that somehow it felt like a crossroads lies before me. I, sometimes, maybe cynical, but this is because a fear of failure is starting to gain effect within my feeble state. My own convictions are perhaps, never proven, and my questions may never be answered in time; but one thing I know, that even in such distance, when time, itself, would tell how everything will came to past and lie under the grave of the forgotten, she will remain remembered in my heart.
Wearing a mask to cover the bruises; pretending happy amidst the pain; loving unrequitedly; forgetting things that are indelibly carved in the concrete pillars of your self; such things are impossible, if not, difficult to do. One can pretend everything’s fine, when deep inside, all the anguish and desolation tear oneself apart. I am nothing but broken pottery put together by glue, I may look complete, but deep inside certain things are lacking or have been shattered completely. I thrived to survive in a battle where she, herself, is both my foe and ally; and from then I realized these things, I saw how glorious my defeat is. What truly matters is that love took dominion over war, this had justified so many things. Perhaps you expect something happy in the end. Yes. I’m happy, even joyful, joyful that even I failed in leading her to love, I was given the chance to show her the things I felt for her. Perhaps she never liked me, or she was never interested, but such things never really mattered. It’s fair enough that partially, I did succeed. In the past, I saw how selfish I was in finding love only when I wanted it, and since my contemplation, I was humbled down by the incomparable power love manifests. My efforts were never rewarded handsomely, and I still carry the burden of her words. But I realized that my goal was not to love her; it was something never explained before. Although the plunge was fatal, at least the things I pledged to myself were kept. And I knew that waiting in vain is not a wise decision, but I have to even in the vacuum of her heart.
The rains had finally stopped, as the cold breeze brushed my skin gently. I started to again reminisce silently as I stare on images of grandeur mountains that lie above the horizon. The brightness of the vacuous sky cast silhouettes on both sanctuaries and dead lands of the fields, telling something about how the day ended. As I looked upon every face of the past, I saw on how vulnerable I was to love and its turbulence, as if each one looked rather the right one for me. But what I saw were only mirages of a desert I’ve been walking through for fourteen years, still lost and confused about who I really am. Going back to that night, I realized how I wasn’t able to comprehend all the words she said, especially when she uttered, “Hindi ko kayang isukli ang binibigay mo sa akin.” And I couldn’t understand why she felt not worthy of my love, when in fact, it is I who will never be worthy of hers. I ended that night with nothing but scars and a degraded soul; and perhaps she made me once again realize how human I am, as what a friend once said. But what she did was right, for she only stood by her own decisions and held herself back from ‘words of persuasion’ that would surely lead her astray. From then on, I realized how puerile I was in my decisions in the heights and declines of the events. But it was she who indirectly gave me gallantness in battle, the once nameless source turned out to be her. As circumstances rippled out of nowhere, love grew scarce as I took the last words. But it is love, itself, that makes her perfect in my sight.
This is my tragic comedy. It’s not that tragic, and it’s not that funny. Tragic: because it led to so many ordeals that unfolded in my own folly. Comedy: because I know that someday, I would laugh at myself when I remember such tales in the ages to come. She was endowed with both ethereal beauty and purity of heart, but what these things say explains on why so many things had to be eluded. I wanted her closer, but the more I feel closer to her, the more love goes further away from me. And yet, such things tell on how vibrant in color life is, that life is never black and white. I was meant to untie the knot, and let the eagle fly freely in the skies. With it, I am ever exultant, on how her scent still lingers in the absence of her symphonies. My words may sound trite, or even redundant, or perhaps possess pleonasm, but like before, it’s the only way on how I could describe the feelings even with so much clutter; for words, alone, are not enough. You wonder on why I right symbolically and why I try to hide the details behind every word, it’s because I have to keep a low identity, and for the sake of privacy on some matters that are confidential. What I’m trying to say may sound irrelevant, but someday you’ll understand the reasons behind it. For it was only then I saw how my totality was unveiled. That night, I started to see how even a wrong move of the knife would cause such consequences, but somehow, I felt proud amidst the instability of everything. Her words were final, and I could do nothing about it. It’s still a matter of acceptance in the end. But I will always see her as the only worthy bearer of all special things I have the inability to give. I wanted to thank her, to thank her for everything she did amidst my defeat, and for being the inspiration that led me to realize who I really am, and perhaps, she gave me something far greater than love. Yes. She holds the key to my heart; the only problem is that the key, itself, is locked within her, too. But still, she remains as the Cleopatra of my falling kingdom; even if she, herself, cannot accept such authority over a slave, she will always rule my world, a world ever willing to pursue for the worst. And so I could render nothing but accept that indeed she’s the only one for me, but perhaps, I may never be the one for her...
Love.
Love is not about finding what you want, but rather waiting for the one you need;
Lightning. Yes, lightning. A flash of it can be seen from the east and west at the same time. Without a doubt, light is extremely fast. And conclusively, lightning is a product of this source; yet its beauty is never revealed wholly without the aftermath: the sound of thunder. Yes, thunder. Though it comes with delay, the dramatic phenomenon is never complete without its rumble. Most would see a thunderstorm as something chaotic and destructive, but only a few dig deeper to appreciate its beauty; even scientists, themselves, assume that life would not have existed without such force nature can only create. Now, you wonder about its relevance? I, myself, wonder too.
…
The wind blew gently upon the meadows of the school as I reminisced silently in the midst of a still, rainy afternoon. Often, I’m with my friends, howling in the hallways at the top of our voices, but I began to realize that perhaps, life isn’t always about delight. For certain periods of time, they were my only source of laughter and imbecility, but perhaps this was the best time to be alone, to reflect and contemplate. A tinge of sadness could be heard in my voice, and even in some hours of the day, not one would even hear me utter a word. I forced myself to pretend nothing happened, but the elegy seemed to rewind in my ears, which would violently clasped the last traces of happiness within me. Neither the mind nor the heart could find the pieces of debris torn down by the charge against my fortress, for even these betrayed their master and escaped before the siege, leaving me vulnerable and naked. Yes, I was glorified by them before, but in the end I was ripped off my reign and pulled down into the darkest of chasms. For once, they served as the only armory I had; at the same time, ultimate and trusted weapons kept for security; they were priceless and came only a little short of the standard of perfection. Often, both would cooperate and empower every turbine in my body; but for that instance, they were independent and even prevented themselves from interlocking. Every time I faced my reflection, I see a creature eating dust and gnashing its teeth, left to decay under the hallows of the unknown. Oh yes, it was horrendous, the worst nightmare one may experience. But these descriptions define only a tenth of the entire picture, yet perhaps it’s enough to give you a thought of my play’s ‘happily-ever-after’. At first glance, it portrays itself as a paradox. But the true irony behind the façade is the unconditional acceptance I had only for her.
I write with sheer symbolism, sometimes in a grandiose manner that might be confusing. But one must know that my statements are facts, and not out of embellishment. My advice is that one must immerse oneself deeply into the truth; for the resonance of death screeches through the pages, roaming in the shallow shores of lies and obscurity. The mission I have to carry out is to express everything with honesty and sincerity, and ensure the revival of a lost heart. Let no one be disturbed by this tale, for the verses speak of love alone.
…
Graceful as she seemed to be, deception still engraved itself in my imagination as I looked upon the visage of my dreams. As my eyes locked on hers, a sudden effusion of undefined emotions radiated wildly within my self, shutting down my system without any form of warning or precaution. And the only thing I got from crawling through her static territory: a grave look. Yes. At least, trespassers are not executed, but rather welcomed in a bitter way. Now you see, it’s not easy to fall in love with someone belonging in the highest standard of extremity, not that they often show no hope, but their actions depict some kind of nothingness. And to vanquish this nothingness, one must apply vigorous effort that can rather be fatal than helpful to the caster. In other terms, it is suicide. Out of such events, I began to realize that she was the only lady who made me look like an effete mortal, a useless being trampled in the threshold of her grounds. Although it was the first time I felt brutality in loving, I manage to again adapt with the rotations of the carousel. The best thing was that, all these circumstances simply vanish into thin air when a snapshot of her smile is conjured. The more hopeless my love becomes, the sweeter her words taste; this, itself, sounds strange in a way that it never made details looked hyperbolic. But the reason why her apparition managed to captivate my heart so quickly remains a mystery that may never be unlocked. And metaphorically, as lightning flashes sharply from east to west, so did she, who was once a representative of the unknown, start to dominate my world in an unimaginable rate.
Yes, the seeds sprouted exponentially, and I was left in a state of surviving the very feelings I had for her, lost in a maze I, myself, created. Everything began to choke me, or if not, entangled my senses in a manner without mercy. And this mere interference caused love to overflow in my cup, but sadly, not a drop touched her tongue. Why? Not one reason is known, and even if answers existed, they would not be in the form of words but rather of abstract images. Oh, I began to see that perhaps I can never decipher her ways, but what I know is that a huge portion of things I offered had only been wasted or kept clandestine. And yet, as her carelessness grew, so did my love for her. The very thorns that caused massive pain and bleeding were the same hindrances that kept my foundations from crumbling, and in a way, even hastened my footsteps. With such power and dexterity love bestowed upon me, I was capable in traversing mountains in a battleground where passion consumed what was left in its wake. In other words I say, courage from a nameless source turned my weak heart into a gallant fighter. With it, I gained confidence and other virtues in my untimely metamorphosis that, hopefully, would lead to the exhilaration of victory. Now you say that perhaps hope is on my side, or is it only something that was previously said, a mere illusion in the end? I thought of pondering further on my thoughts, but soon enough, I saw that it wasn’t necessary. The transitions were fast, and in the process of the catastrophe, the once hidden face of deceit showed itself clearly out of all the questions and the vagueness delivered with it. Yes, a flash of light illuminated my skies for a blink of an eye, but soon I realized that its beauty does not last long enough to keep hope significant. Thus, it doesn’t end with light, but rather with the sound of Hades. And where light was once present, the wrath of darkness soon took over with its growl: thunder.
Thunder. That night, I prayed for certainty, and wished that faith is the only thing I need to succeed. To tell the untold without hesitation is a difficult thing to do, but opening my self to something that can either be an alliance or a conspired assault against me is by far, the most suicidal move I had to do. Connivance was inevitable, and doubt destroyed every tactic I planned. But I knew that if I skipped this part of the play, I wouldn’t be able to tell her everything in the future, and regret would follow me for the rest of my days. So I must do it, and I have to for love’s sake. A regular conversation online was all I need to begin, everyone involved waited patiently for that day, the day I would unravel all the epiphanies I withstood for her. The only bullet I had was the very words I desired her to know; it was written boldly on a black sheet of paper on this very blogsite (the previous blog), a confession of emotions she can only understand. Yes, all the words took me days to complete, a single composition dedicated in saying what I felt for her. Perhaps you read it before, but you must know that my aim was not quality or to acquire pitiful attention whether from her or from the readers, themselves; but rather to kindle the feelings love brought in its arms against all cost. It is a one-shot opportunity, the only option left in the counter. If it hits her directly, the barriers would be broken at last. If it doesn’t, everything ends tonight, and tomorrow would be a day where sorrow would be insurmountable.
A matter of losing the battle might be only steps away, but this was the only thing that could make all the difference. But I began to think that changes can only occur if she, herself, allows it; nevertheless, I have to learn that time can tell everything, and I began to learn that the hard way. Seconds ticked, and a friend confirmed that she was reading the post; out of silence, I could hear my heart pounding nervously, as I thought of the reactions meant to happen. Every passing minute, I would close my eyes even if I don’t want to do so, and whisper a prayer to myself that I would be able to open a stubborn heart. I never wanted to miss anything, and so I waited quietly to settle my nerves, while chatting to one of her friends about the unfolding situations. And at last, after a time that seemed like days, it was done; she was finished. The fabric of reality covered everything once again, but still it felt like I and she was still in another dimension. I expected chaos soon after, but her words sounder rather tranquil. “I read it,” she said, as I came over it for the second time. Then, she smiled. Yes...Smiled. I started to wonder why or what was happening? And why her reaction was sweet rather than being violent? I didn’t know what to say, so I ask her what she thought about it. After a few seconds, a reply came. “Sweeeettt…” written boldly in front of my motionless face. The words she interjected only made everything blurry, but a weird feeling of success a few feet away was felt; a glorious victory perhaps? No. Suddenly, I heard a strange voice out of the eerie ambience, “It’s not done.” It sounded malignant, and I trembled with it. The next thing that happened was indescribable; it was like hell rose up and turned into an eternal nightmare, bound to shut the doors of paradise for eternity. I will forever hate the words I heard that moment, for it ruptured every vein in my body and even tackled my reputation. Now you wonder and ask, “Did I hit the spot? Or did the bullet miss?” Neither. She evaded…
The girl I love most was once a victim of a tragic romance, something murdered by fate in an oblivious past. I don’t have the right to know and examine her forgotten memories, but I can do nothing if all fingers point to it. The story she didn’t have the courage and ability to tell was indirectly stated by another; and I started to wonder why even a thought of what happened during that instance made me weary. Though the lines were common, I still felt disturbed since it came from her, herself; and I admit that I was burdened by her words heavily. It was something I thought she tried to tell me, but I never wanted to listen, until that instance when I was all ears. And as I listened in all that I am, I started to feel the most excruciating pain ever felt in my life, everything shattered from the inside out. Someone out of nowhere said that perhaps its time for her to be frank, to tell me honestly about the true picture behind the illusions. And for the first time, I realized how painful the truth is, but I have to persevere with a mission where truth must prevail; I must. She was the victim, at the same time, the murderer. It was to complex for any means of explanation, and probably it’s useless for the innocent to know. But what I went through that night remained indelible, and as I breathed during those minutes of melancholy, I couldn’t help but feel hopeless and defeated. All the things I built were burned down to ashes as the coldness wiped through my helpless state; and the facts were at last, revealed to me. I couldn’t clearly see if she did mourn with me or if what she did after she knew the way I felt was only an act of sympathy, but it felt fair that in the midst of loneliness, I still have her shoulder to cry on. From then on, I could see that somehow she was my companion and friend; but I confess that I felt rejected by her words alone, and all the sacrifices I did was somehow set aside and left to rot. I realized how my own blood was wasted simply to know that my faith is unreliable, and the sincerity I had for love was nothing but withered grass blown by the wind. Out of anguish, I screamed at the top of my lungs, my final act of desperation out of the last traces of strength in a soul broken by fate. And the only answer I got was the echo of distorted words.
In the middle of that night, not a ray of luminance seeped through my room as I forced myself to cry, to shed tears until blood rushes through my skin. But even in the verge of despair, not a single tear fell down my cheeks. I wanted to just weep for hours until not a drop would fall, I wanted to cry until I knock myself to asleep, but for some reasons, I just can’t. Yes, I have dreams that are left pending, yet that moment, I never felt reluctant in killing myself literally. But such acts would only make things worse or even lead to my doom. The only thing that felt right for me to do was to question myself each moment and utter, “Why? Why do things have to be this way?” I kept on asking things that have never been answered before, and out of an empty self, all shadows started to surround me as I lay wounded on the floor. And still, in such desolation, not one of them entrusted the words I sought for, no utterance was given. Damnation. And though I never dared to seek earnestly for the love I needed most, I did long for ways just to get her closer into my arms enough to alter my demeanor. But in the midst of the fall of my empire, I began to see that even if I don’t have all the answers; and even if my situation seemed dire in the midst of hopelessness, at least I’m still here, standing before you, breathing the very air that almost killed me from within. But time after time, I felt that I hadn’t existed during that night of ballads and tears, and that all the sorrow brought by her words never animated into reality. Instead, they were kept in another abyss, so I may forget all that had happened during that instance. And so in my fall, I stood up; I stood up to look at myself fully as I see her as the worst yet the sweetest part of my puzzle, where all the pieces have gone missing. Without her, I’m incomplete, and my purpose in life will be of no definite meaning. That’s how tender and overflowing my love is for her, against all forces of rejection and hatred that led me to fall down on my knees. In all the nights where I knelt lowly begging for hope, asking that somehow I would be able to hear her speak the words I longed to hear, I was able to see that somehow, even in defeat, I was never alone; and that perhaps she’s always there for me in a sense she’s not conscious about, even if the things I expected most never happened at all. Hope may never be constant or stable, but my faith will never be led astray by things that keep us apart. But nevertheless, I have to accept the vicissitudes embedded in my own romance, and know that she might never caress the emotions I have for her.
Indeed good things come to an end, but the endings mark the genesis of something better. Experiences have never once touched my reputation, but perhaps the pain that kept on haunting me would be something I can never repel. The way she evaded the love I have for her may not be a form of rejection at all, but perhaps something that tells how unprepared we were to be molded by a transcendental entity like love, itself. It seems that she wasn’t ready for the words I said, or probably she’s in a paranoia about the past that could envelope her any moment. Either way, I, myself, was struck by the blow, and maybe likewise in her part and in others prominent in the tale as well. It was traumatic; however, I felt joyous in my failure to lead someone I held dear in loving an ogre. I still couldn’t explain why, but for this time, it never felt strange. The great thing was that nothing was meant to lie in ruins; and besides, I, myself, know by heart that this is a tale that will remain a part of my memory in the latter days of my youth, memories where love never ended. Why believe that love has no end, if in reality, it cannot be proven? And why believe that all things are possible, if love, itself, cannot be felt? It’s amazing how the simplest of things can deplete the greatest faith, but never let yourself be deceived by what your senses can basically perceive. My point is that I can fail and fall a thousand times, but I have the strength to rise up without hope on my side. For I see it as not the end of everything, but rather a pit-stop where one must check his or her status as a person, whether one lacks something or gained things too much. And even if I don’t care with the way I looked stupid or careless in one way or another, I can never consider myself numb and insensitive on certain relational aspects. I’m better unarmored in battle rather than avoiding pain for my own good. But it’s difficult to accept the truth that it’s not easy to love without getting even a nugget of love back, but for as long as I have the strength to attain the last steps of the final line, I must pursue and continue the quest.
Quests. Before, my quests were nothing but places where the residue of fate is evident. That night, I heard her say or perhaps someone on how tragic her past was along with its sonnets, and that I couldn’t understand the reasons behind it, which in turn, led to her evasion. But how could I fail to understand her words, if I, myself, went through all the agony love can offer. Yes, for the first time, I would reveal my deepest secrets, and perhaps tell on how bitter love was for me before. If you know me, then somehow, you’re lucky to be able to know who I once was, and perhaps, you’re in the right place at the right time. But I won’t be surprise if one will feel bored in reading a story that seems to have no ending, but I shall continue with my tale nonetheless. No fallacy, no lies, only the truth. The facts are disorganized due to my faulty memory, but what I think is important is the essence of every experience I and perhaps you, yourself, once felt. Only a few witnessed who I was before, and perhaps even they, themselves, had forgotten everything. What many don’t know is that memories cannot die, but they do wait in slumber. And this dormant state can be awakened anytime by something it cannot withstand. Destiny. In a sudden, I found myself telling all these things to her that very night, and by then, tears started to stream down my face.
My past is not what many see, and the only one who truly knows about every event and detail about it is I, alone. You see, even if these words sound not out of the person people see as my self, the fact is that I can never hide the unobvious forever. And although the things I might say are not aligned with my garrulous character or the way most see it whatsoever, it doesn’t mean that my soul is immune to any form of scar or wound. I, too, feel sadness, in higher levels no one can see or understand. My battered body is marked with ordeals of the past, and serves as evidence on how I was punished by my own deliberate acts. Before, I like to play with the magic of love, playing in a way that I began to unconsciously hurt others; and even now, I admit that my selfish way often unveil itself at times when my self loses control over my own emotions. And even above cliffs where a fall is inescapable, hell still set it gates open each time I’m caught idle or alone before it. The flashback, itself, shows how unforgiving fate slandered me. And as I stood there staring at the horizon, I began to see how great the consequences were for my gratuitous acts; and as I looked down, below lies a grave of all forsaken memories I have.
Flashbacks. Once, I loved a lady; and, as any lover would say, she once meant everything to me. Or perhaps it was only infatuation? And confusion was inevitable since it was first love, and the worst thing is that it was about our selves. Yes, ourselves. Well, it didn’t last long; and in the verge of the events, everything led to our break-up. But pain only felt like a bee sting, and soon, I grew impatient to love once again. Little did I know that I was starting to engage into something ominous and unknown, yet it somehow masked itself as being magical. But I just couldn’t see the way all things started to deceive me. And still, that spark started everything. Then it came, and another, and another; it was a cycle that gave me an insatiable hunger for love, and yes, it was addictive. But the more I started to love with a heart, the greater the pain I had to carry. And I knew that it would come to a point where everything would turn unbearable, and all things would come crashing down on me. What I didn’t know was that it was meant to happen only a little sooner after the first spark ignited all the torches. And the worst part of it was that, in a relationship ultimately perfect and magical, everything about it along with the memoirs had to end drastically.
She was once, the only girl I loved truly, voluptuous both inside and out. And the way she caught me tells how amazing she could turn everything upside down. In short, she’s perfect, at least for me. And the great thing was that, our relationship had no flaws, and love flowed freely into us; only a few obstacles stood before us, for even our own family never interfered on our bondage as one. These things once led me to think that perhaps she’s the right one for me and I'm the one for her, but I realized that perhaps even heart so loyal could be that wrong. The feelings I had for her turned obsolete when fate, itself, started to again strike a blow that proved to be so fatal, that even a memory of that night of December 2004 still echoes pain within me, a pain that remained hidden and once known only by my self. Yes, that dark, cold night, I started to wonder why I felt some horror coming. I couldn’t think properly and I started to feel restless. What I didn’t know was that a storm was yet to come, a force so powerful that everything with it trembled when I tried to withstand it. The culprit on why I felt such horror is still unknown up to this day, the only thing I could remember is that I started to wonder on why it was late night and she still haven’t called me. I felt hunger, but I couldn’t eat unless everything would be clear. But the shocking news that came soon after from a friend destroyed all that was left in my sanity. It was an accident, an incident that occurred in a street where she was only trying to get herself home. Yes, it gave me some answers, but it only led to so many questions that kept on haunting me like the ghosts of men who died in battle. She was involved in the accident, and I heard that she was in a critical state. Time, itself, stopped as I tried to calm myself down amidst the nightmare. But it was too late. That very night, she died. Yes… Death, itself, had separated us. And even now, I could still remember the way I wept that night, it was so unbearable that I almost ended my life.
From then on, I kept on asking God why He would allow such thing, that from all the joy I felt from the perfect harmonies she attuned for me, everything would simply vanish in one night. But my questions were never answered, and for that instance, I felt the pain that awakened the way I was before; I felt regret on the things I did and things I could have done for love; I felt a presence that told me the things I could have said to show her how much she meant to me. Could it be some form of punishment for all the wrong things I did in love? Or is it only His will to change the way I am? I may never know. But it’s difficult to understand why such a force like Death would strike simply to separate me from someone I thought would be my companion for the rest of my life. And yet, it was still acceptance that gave me the courage to move on.
Reality. As I told her my own tragic tales that night no different before, I started to wonder if I still deserve that punishment that very minute in the midst of all the tears I shed. And from then on, she was perhaps unable to utter anything in our conversation online, perhaps she, too, was struck by my own past that can never be compared to hers. Like before, I don’t need any form of pity or sympathy, I only want to fulfill a vow that I would express myself entirely through this crap. But I knew that she somehow shared the same pain I once felt nonetheless, and yet, I still wondered if she would understand my words. And though our experiences are in a par, the way we reacted to the circumstances is a matter we only knew in ourselves. She might have understood the meanings, but perhaps the essence of each is disregarded. I can’t judge her or assume anything out of the ordinary simply because I don’t know her that much, but the bitterness of the events gave me some of the pieces once lost under the depths of love. Out of the escalating scenes, I told her that if she turned out to be a memory only meant to be forgotten like all the others, then perhaps it’s useless to stay firm on the floor. But all the words only trapped me in a bottomless pit, and everything I had started to abandon me. I was isolated from reality; but that night had to end.
Time rolled quickly as I tried to forget all the turmoil laid in the recesses of the past. But I started to have dreams, dreams that somehow foretold the future in a disturbing way. It was late afternoon, and all the hectic activities ended at last as I packed my things. I and a friend decided to walk down the street of our school to catch up for any transportation to the other campus at the same time, to have a little chatter. But our topics started to lead once again to a past I have surrendered to the flames. The prophecies were told, as another assault had started to invade me secretly. He showed me details that were confusing, but nevertheless, it made me realize how blind my conscience was. Although it never explained a single thing, at least my slumber in some other things rather that the indispensable emotions I had for her was awakened by the early warning. The concern opened my eyes to many things I never took concern of; our chatter (which somehow seemed like a debate), proved how even the closest of friends can stab you from behind. I understood that the aim was to help me realize how insensitive I was before and the mistakes I should have recovered, which was somehow good, but the way they were to execute the plan was a violation to the ethics of humanity. The plot against me was out of an evil conspiracy. They could perhaps confront me about the matter, why then they have to strike indirectly? Yes, the matter made me think of how I had been acting lately, but I never cared about what they want or planned to do. It’s only one senseless matter compared to all the other things I have to take with careful action. But it was enough to tell me that she, the odalisque who still holds my heart, can never be easily used by someone whose goal was perhaps vengeance alone. Revenge is sweet, but atonement is sweeter. It only gave me an idea of how firm her foundations are, and how strong she is as a paragon in her own life. Yes, she’s as graceful as a dove, but she’s as vile as a snake. And I love her the way she is.
Love is infinite, and it cannot be easily laid down to anyone who doesn’t deserve its embrace. Forgetting what had happened is a thing of the past; acceptance is what I need most. When I proposed to write this sequel, one of her friends reckoned, “Baka makalimutan mo na ‘yan ‘pag sinulat mo na.” But how can I forget something that left a scar so deep that it can never subdue completely; the emotions never subsided, and everything compelled me in one way or another, as if I've been trying to make the wrong things the right one, which is something very hard to achieve. Since then, I started to believe that love is the only remedy for all these wounds, but I still couldn’t see why many of us gamble our heart for something that can destroy one’s reputation. It only proves how dedicated we are for the ones we love most, and how we could make improbable things to happen. Someone uttered, “Pare, its time to move on…”, and another would say, “You must pursue. You have to put everything into action.” But either way, I can always love her with all I could give, at the same time move on to the next step. It’s faith that led me further into an impossible situation, but I have to admit that somehow it felt like a crossroads lies before me. I, sometimes, maybe cynical, but this is because a fear of failure is starting to gain effect within my feeble state. My own convictions are perhaps, never proven, and my questions may never be answered in time; but one thing I know, that even in such distance, when time, itself, would tell how everything will came to past and lie under the grave of the forgotten, she will remain remembered in my heart.
Wearing a mask to cover the bruises; pretending happy amidst the pain; loving unrequitedly; forgetting things that are indelibly carved in the concrete pillars of your self; such things are impossible, if not, difficult to do. One can pretend everything’s fine, when deep inside, all the anguish and desolation tear oneself apart. I am nothing but broken pottery put together by glue, I may look complete, but deep inside certain things are lacking or have been shattered completely. I thrived to survive in a battle where she, herself, is both my foe and ally; and from then I realized these things, I saw how glorious my defeat is. What truly matters is that love took dominion over war, this had justified so many things. Perhaps you expect something happy in the end. Yes. I’m happy, even joyful, joyful that even I failed in leading her to love, I was given the chance to show her the things I felt for her. Perhaps she never liked me, or she was never interested, but such things never really mattered. It’s fair enough that partially, I did succeed. In the past, I saw how selfish I was in finding love only when I wanted it, and since my contemplation, I was humbled down by the incomparable power love manifests. My efforts were never rewarded handsomely, and I still carry the burden of her words. But I realized that my goal was not to love her; it was something never explained before. Although the plunge was fatal, at least the things I pledged to myself were kept. And I knew that waiting in vain is not a wise decision, but I have to even in the vacuum of her heart.
The rains had finally stopped, as the cold breeze brushed my skin gently. I started to again reminisce silently as I stare on images of grandeur mountains that lie above the horizon. The brightness of the vacuous sky cast silhouettes on both sanctuaries and dead lands of the fields, telling something about how the day ended. As I looked upon every face of the past, I saw on how vulnerable I was to love and its turbulence, as if each one looked rather the right one for me. But what I saw were only mirages of a desert I’ve been walking through for fourteen years, still lost and confused about who I really am. Going back to that night, I realized how I wasn’t able to comprehend all the words she said, especially when she uttered, “Hindi ko kayang isukli ang binibigay mo sa akin.” And I couldn’t understand why she felt not worthy of my love, when in fact, it is I who will never be worthy of hers. I ended that night with nothing but scars and a degraded soul; and perhaps she made me once again realize how human I am, as what a friend once said. But what she did was right, for she only stood by her own decisions and held herself back from ‘words of persuasion’ that would surely lead her astray. From then on, I realized how puerile I was in my decisions in the heights and declines of the events. But it was she who indirectly gave me gallantness in battle, the once nameless source turned out to be her. As circumstances rippled out of nowhere, love grew scarce as I took the last words. But it is love, itself, that makes her perfect in my sight.
This is my tragic comedy. It’s not that tragic, and it’s not that funny. Tragic: because it led to so many ordeals that unfolded in my own folly. Comedy: because I know that someday, I would laugh at myself when I remember such tales in the ages to come. She was endowed with both ethereal beauty and purity of heart, but what these things say explains on why so many things had to be eluded. I wanted her closer, but the more I feel closer to her, the more love goes further away from me. And yet, such things tell on how vibrant in color life is, that life is never black and white. I was meant to untie the knot, and let the eagle fly freely in the skies. With it, I am ever exultant, on how her scent still lingers in the absence of her symphonies. My words may sound trite, or even redundant, or perhaps possess pleonasm, but like before, it’s the only way on how I could describe the feelings even with so much clutter; for words, alone, are not enough. You wonder on why I right symbolically and why I try to hide the details behind every word, it’s because I have to keep a low identity, and for the sake of privacy on some matters that are confidential. What I’m trying to say may sound irrelevant, but someday you’ll understand the reasons behind it. For it was only then I saw how my totality was unveiled. That night, I started to see how even a wrong move of the knife would cause such consequences, but somehow, I felt proud amidst the instability of everything. Her words were final, and I could do nothing about it. It’s still a matter of acceptance in the end. But I will always see her as the only worthy bearer of all special things I have the inability to give. I wanted to thank her, to thank her for everything she did amidst my defeat, and for being the inspiration that led me to realize who I really am, and perhaps, she gave me something far greater than love. Yes. She holds the key to my heart; the only problem is that the key, itself, is locked within her, too. But still, she remains as the Cleopatra of my falling kingdom; even if she, herself, cannot accept such authority over a slave, she will always rule my world, a world ever willing to pursue for the worst. And so I could render nothing but accept that indeed she’s the only one for me, but perhaps, I may never be the one for her...
Love.
Love is not about finding what you want, but rather waiting for the one you need;
It’s not about hope, but rather of the power of faith;
It’s not about sacrifice, but rather the will to persevere;
It’s not about sacrifice, but rather the will to persevere;
Love is not about understanding, but rather your will in acceptance;
It's not about those hugs and kisses, but rather of the turmoil and infliction of pain;
It's not about the tears, but rather the reason why you cried most;
Love is not about sympathy, but rather about honesty and sincerity of heart;
It's not about how close you are, but rather of your will to go further away to get her closer;
It's not about exchanging of gifts, but rather of giving despite you get nothing back;
Love is not about fate, but rather of the things destiny can only tell;
It's not about the moments, but rather of how you would cherish each;
It's not about being sensitive, but rather of standing by your own decisions;
Love is not about the obstacles in the way, but rather of how you would traverse each;
It's not about the number of times you said 'I Love You', but rather of saying it without a reason at all;
It's not about fairness and justice, but rather of being just despite the rejection;
Love is not about wearing masks, but rather of unveiling it to show who you really are;
It's not about how unbreakable the bond is, but rather of how fragile your heart becomes in loving;
It’s not about contentment, but rather of the joy you feel deeply;
Love is not about lending you heart, but opening it to someone you can trust;
It’s not about desires, but rather about the passion burning within;
It’s not about the truth, but rather the way you immerse yourself to it;
Love is not about vengeance, but rather of forgiveness;
It’s not about circumstances, but rather how you react to such trials;
It’s not about making her yours, but rather showing her that you’re hers;
Love is not about giving her everything, but rather offering her a thing out of nothing;
It’s not about leading her to love, but rather leading love to her;
It’s not about how painful the past is, but rather the essence of each experience;
Love is not about having her in your arms, but rather losing her just to feel her embrace;
It’s not about the happiness it brings, but rather the pain it gives for the sake of her happiness;
It’s not about how melodious her voice is, but rather about how sweet her words taste;
It's not about restriction, but rather about the freedom it gives;
Love is not about your dreams, but rather about the promises you have to keep;
It’s not about how long, but rather about how much you have loved;
It’s not about contentment, but rather of the joy you feel deeply;
Love is not about lending you heart, but opening it to someone you can trust;
It’s not about desires, but rather about the passion burning within;
It’s not about the truth, but rather the way you immerse yourself to it;
Love is not about vengeance, but rather of forgiveness;
It’s not about circumstances, but rather how you react to such trials;
It’s not about making her yours, but rather showing her that you’re hers;
Love is not about giving her everything, but rather offering her a thing out of nothing;
It’s not about leading her to love, but rather leading love to her;
It’s not about how painful the past is, but rather the essence of each experience;
Love is not about having her in your arms, but rather losing her just to feel her embrace;
It’s not about the happiness it brings, but rather the pain it gives for the sake of her happiness;
It’s not about how melodious her voice is, but rather about how sweet her words taste;
It's not about restriction, but rather about the freedom it gives;
Love is not about your dreams, but rather about the promises you have to keep;
It’s not about how long, but rather about how much you have loved;
It'is not about winning the battle, but rather losing it to win the war;
It’s not about how you have been wounded, but rather about how deep the wounds are;
And Love is not about proving your worthy of her love, but rather showing how worthless you are without it.
And what about the scars?
Yes. Love can cure the deepest wounds, but it’s the only thing that can cause it.
It’s not about how you have been wounded, but rather about how deep the wounds are;
And Love is not about proving your worthy of her love, but rather showing how worthless you are without it.
And what about the scars?
Yes. Love can cure the deepest wounds, but it’s the only thing that can cause it.
And it came to end…as I saw all the words I have uttered… it was only then I realized that my goal is not to love her, but rather to show her what love is…
...
...
...
***For SG...***
