Silence

Priceless and spontaneous--
when voices cease in your head
when words that are not yours
never give you rest in bed

Avenging your heart--
when someone fills you with hope
and suddenly takes it back
zip your lips to bait the dope

A meaningful spare--
when they await your remark
and you choose the empty glare
over sad truth that will mark

Make it count--
when the clarity abounds
and it infiltrates the mind
hear yourself speak, safe and sound

Sunlight

Too much has gone by. One dream after another thrown on the pedestal for a hope that is fueled by extremely strong pursuits. Time passes fast and no matter how obvious this realization is, dreams never stop recurring as a security measure for the dream that will bring better dreams.

The cycle doesn't stop; the continuous prodding, the continuous hoping, checking, believing. All relatively blurry attempts to sail against all odds. Can you see it flooding in? Can you see how majestic it was, to take that step, to anchor a weary soul into a life-changing definition of bravery? For one to give it all, there is no judgement in that.

Stop being nervous about fate. Reward courage. Take pride in what had been worth fighting for even if it no longer resonates the same battle cry. Heal, then step outside. Celebrate the unfamiliar, celebrate its concealing blaze, and know that even when its fiery glare subsides, it goes back to make you see better.

I Can't Believe I Have Time to Write Again

In busy days and days that never seemed to end, I learned to bask in silence. At times, I would take good, brief walks, or laugh my entire being out. Pacifying myself had suddenly become part of my routine. Moreso, I learned how to manage doing one task at a time because I knew there were so many "nexts" to come and I would seriously lose it if I tried doing everything simultaneously. So when the days started slowing down, I found myself itching upon being confronted with a thousand uncertainties.

Be brave, they say. Grow up. Accept new opportunities. Try new hobbies. Do what you love. Never stop discovering new things. These days, these are the mantras I hear unceasingly. And I listened. I tried to be independent, fixating on the less than basic activities I could do in the kitchen. I brought myself to work, to the mall, and back home. I bought groceries and stuffed myself with fatty food. Every time, every time, I conquered a task by myself, I'd be proud, because, I repeat, I did it all by myself. Nevertheless, I do wonder sometimes. Isn't it a little too late for that, now that I have lived for almost a quarter of a century? Why do I feel this only now? Why was I not taught to survive and be, quite frankly, an adult?

Then time was of another matter, although as equally significant. I wanted to dabble in the arts. I have always enjoyed painting words, painting on blank canvasses, pushing keys and hearing wonderful, wonderful music. More than it being cathartic, I deemed myself to be a little bit better in this area compared to others, no offense. But when all my time was lost, why could I not push harder to invest on this? And then somehow, I ended up being a jack-of-all-trades and master of none. The pain.

It's hard to uproot me. When I find my niche, I dig really deep and claw my way down. I do not know if this brought me much good or much bad, but if I really, really, really trust someone else, I allow myself to be swayed. I have a strong history of harsh words and betrayal and somewhere along the way, I just wanted it to stop completely. So I put my guards up. How do I know if I'm trusting the right people? How do I protect myself from the awkwardness and intimidation while all the while enjoying new discoveries and being thrown away in a whirlwind? How do I become the person everybody is comfortable with in my endeavor to keep myself intact?

I have so many questions, most of which I can obviously see are contradicting or already provide direct answers. I just wanted to write. I have to say, my feelings are still twitching and sentimentally blurry, but seeing the words get strung together just like old times feels orgasmically good.

When Night Beckons

Dreams make sense, and there is so much to life, so much to look forward to in the morning to come.

Darkness is comfortable and cozy because it caves you in, and you rest, and you close your eyes, and you find refuge.

Midnight conversations bring out the truth as much as the best in yourself. So you start missing the people who have not changed; those who had voices you could confide to with all your heart and soul.

And the music. The music is more soothing, amplified with emotions, magnified in its impact. It becomes a beautiful lullaby.

The night calls.