Summoned by the amber waves.

so here i am, three years after.

 

after so much like bad haircuts and throwing up and learning, here i am. i quit my job. i was a sales agent and then went off to be a specialist for a few programs in the company. and then i left to finish school. as it goes, i picked up where i left off. but things are not the same.

 

people have changed. LB changed. i changed. one sad thing is that i have so very few friends left. much of them graduated or left LB the first chance they had. some are still here, but are like ghosts, at least to me. we don't talk much. some completely ingore me at all, or maybe they are just busy with their new lives. but there are always two sides to a coin. the good thing, i know who the real ones are. stood by me through and through, and i could never be more thankful.

 

so three years had passed. and i changed a lot. i usually keep to myself, and i have evolved from this party animal to a more quiet and peace loving person. my sense of fun has changed. though there are some chances to be what i had been, i couldn't seem to keep up with the old me. and i embrace it.

 

since i quit my job i had more time alone at home. people are so busy in school, while i have but a subject left to complete. so i have more time to think of these things, you know, change and memories and fun and all that. a lot of times this thinking makes me sad, but always i end up telling myself that this -- me, three years after, is another chance for me to make things right.

 

i think i could say to myself, so this is the world. now i know.

hate is baggage.

never explain.

friends come and go. let them.

never be too busy to love, and to live.

 

and then sometimes when i can't sleep, i think of all the things i've done. those evil ones, those dark ones that may still be hovering above and around me depriving me of rest. and then the nostalgia attacks, soured by time, commanding me to move away a little in disgust. i could have been unforgivable. i still could be. through the silence of dawn and the stillness of the first thread of light i do not see peace -- this is not even close, i see another day to endure, i see struggle, i see life... life, continuous, and myself, scarred and shaken off the unnecessary people and things i once had in my life. and i think that one day i could fly, just away from here. and look back on all those i've lost along the way. maybe to apologize. maybe, to say goodbye.

I haven't touched this site for so long. So I read through it and found that I had been a sick ass psycho boy a few years ago. Kinda missed it, mostly for the writing part. It's just now, the sadness, it seems so far off.

I'm not exactly happy, but I am hopeful. That I can live forever.

A blue sunny sky moving closer to my eyes. People hardly remember that it rained just yesterday until night. But I do, and intentionally imagined raindrops streaking through my window in display of an aberration typical in a moving car. Slanted, like tears running down the cheeks when you are running.

I wonder why people cannot ask the sun for more sun or the rain for less rain. But some earnestly do otherwise, when the weather is fair they yearn for heavy clouds. It helps to mope, while some choose to forget about it as they bite their lips because to be uproariously happy is to be unfair. As gray clouds hover above.

And they do in here, I surprise myself with thoughts dreamlike. The room reeks of confined cigarette smoke as I choose not to open windows on a sunny day. As I choose not to pour my heart out on this sunny Sunday.

I think of the last time I cried. Over people leaving for the other end of the world, about thinking how to leave before others think of leaving me again. About how I wanted to, honestly, sincerely, and to some, quite improperly, live my life and not be lived by it. About being carefree and being consequently careless. In the middle of meeting new faces and forgetting names about things that happened and things that I did and continually do that hurt others, and myself.

About this green leafy and grassy place and the stars above that shine light on my nights as I settle for a drink. About the peace I have found here and have found only temporal. It has been fine, anyway. And about those times that I found it hard to walk straight, about laughter and morning headaches. About heartaches and heartbreaks, rage, and as it settles, longing, nostalgia.

About melodies and words of the music I am listening to right now. About wishing to be somewhere and somebody else, about dreaming of going back to the past not to undo mistakes but to do them much sooner just so now wouldn't be as difficult. That I have turned out to be difficult enough for me. About the chronicity of mistakes easy and how it gets tiring that a day of emphasis is frequently sought for. Just a day with a digressional theme altogether.

On a Sunday. People go about the day for rest implies a break from monotony and a time for God. Or for what they believe is true. But it seems I have none. This fact that I have nowhere to go. If I can only make Him come here. When as I am about to give up dreaming He goes knocking. And I start to confess.

A crime and far much worse than that, blunder. To learn of my ignorance is to unlearn bliss. And if is it too hard to accept.

Which I do anyway, never minding my worth for it. Wishing it would go away.

Kung isisigaw ko ang ibinubulong ng aking puso, hindi mo maririnig ang pangalan mo. Sa katunayan, wala kang maririnig. Hindi na ito marunong magsalita. Patak ng luha na lamang ang kaya nitong sambitin. Ngunit hindi ito nangangahulugang hindi na nito kaya magmahal. Wala kang maririnig dahil nakalimutan na nito ang pangalan mo. Nakalimutan man nito ang pangalan mo, ikaila ko man ng paulit-ulit ngunit ang kung isisigaw nito ang ibinubulong ko, maririnig mo.

Ikaw. Parating ikaw. Bago kita malimutan ng tuluyan.

And then we were here again
doing the same thing we've always done before
hanging out
just when I held you by the arm again
I felt that something was lacking.

We are still friends but
there is somewhat a silent agreement to forget
all that we shared before
all the beautiful things.
Becasue remembering means reliving the trauma
the hate.
our pride.

You tugged me by the arm like "Let's go,"
to where the party is at,
where we never see the people,
where we hear them talk
but we never listen.

Just like that now
because remebering could be painful.

And then we the lost the conversations forever.

Maybe that is the greatest thing that we lost.
Maybe, the saddest part is,
we are not so sad
about losing it at all.