Hanggang Sa Muli

Ito na marahil ang unang post na ginamitan ko ng diskursong Tagalog; ngunit hindi ito ang nag-iisang post na gagamitan ko ng puso. Gusto kong maiba naman ang atakeng aking gagamitin upang maipahayag ang bugso ng aking damdamin. Sumusulat tayo hindi dahil inutos, hindi dahil pinilit, at higit sa lahat… hindi dahil upang magmalaki.

Ako ay isang manunulat hindi lamang dahil ito ang napili kong trabaho, kundi dahil ito ang aking buhay.

Naaalala ko pa ang mga lumipas na taon kung kailan ko ginugol ang aking kabataan bilang isang indibidwal na sanay na mag-isa at nabubuhay nang hindi humihingi ng kahit anong panahon mula sa kanyang mga kasama. Masaya ako dahil akala ko ay malaya ako sa ganoong sistema. Sa pagdaan ng ilan pang mga kabanata, aking napagtanto na may kulang pala. Bagamat hindi sa aking pagkatao, may kulang pala.

Ano ba ang kulang? Gaano ito katimbang upang magdulot ng epekto sa akin? Hindi ko kayang sagutin. Ako ay namamangha sa kung paano nga ba pinahihintulutan ng pagkakataon ang bawat pagbabagong maaaring maganap sa loob ng pahinang bumubuo sa nobelang alam kong akin.

Noon, sumusulat ako sapagkat kaya kong gumuhit ng sariling mundo. Ngayon, pakiramdam ko’y unti-unting nagbabalik ang bawat teksto na aking nailarawan. Mayroong parte ng aking pagkatao ang natatakot sa posibilidad na magkakatotoo ang bawat detalye. Labis na nakabibighani ang pagsasakatuparan ng pangarap na dati’y binibigkas lamang. Natatakot ako. Natatakot ako sapagkat hindi ko akalaing ang daigdig na pinaliit ng aking imahinasyon ay isang bulgar na pelikulang nagdidiiin sa bawat eksenang makatotohanan.

Magulo. Tulad ng aking kwarto kapag hell week, tulad ng aking buhok sa tugatog ng mahanging bundok, tulad ng aking malikot na pag-iisip. Maingay, tulad ng pagtibok ng aking puso sa tuwing maririnig ang yapak ng papalapit na banta sa aking propesyong napili. Malungkot, tulad ng pinaghalong init at lamig na patuloy na uusig sa aking konsensya kung ako ba ay nagkaroon ng silbi sa araw man o sa gabi. Mapanlinlang, tulad ng mga markang akala ko ay papasa dahil sa puyat at pagod na inabot. Mapanghusga, tulad ng bintang na ibabato habang patuloy kong tinatanong sa sarili, “Sapat ba ito?” Alam kong hindi. Hindi, kailanman, ako naging kontento.

Lahat na yata ng sakripisyo ay aking naranasan makarating lang sa inaasam na paraiso. Mabilis. Matagal. Madaming tukso. Ang paglalakbay pala na ito ay hango sa postura ng impyerno. “Sige, ituloy mo”, ang palagi kong sinasambit. Imbis na magsawa, kailangan kong masanay. Malupit ang hagupit ng bawat latigong katumbas ng pagkatalo. Mabangis ang mga naghihiyawang boses, nakabibinging katahimikan, at nagpupumiglas na kaluluwang nais kumawala sa rehas na nagkukulong sa kung anuman ang sigaw ng karakter na binuhay ng nag-aalab na apoy ng pakikidigma.

Malalim. Ang pinaghulugan ng aking ipinaglalaban, ang mga salitang akala mo hindi maiintindihan, ang pares ng matang nakikiusap sa paglabas ng katotohanan, ang sugat na dulot ng digmaan, ang hukay na nag-aabang. Isang maling galaw at “patay ka!”.

Mayroon pa ba akong dapat katakutan? Nasindak nang paulit-ulit, isang ritmong sumusunod sa musika ng daigdig. Mayroon pa ba akong dapat pagdudahan? Nasilaw sa makulay na palabas, isa palang pagtatanghal ng masasayang payasong sa likod ng entablado’y may mga luhang nakalulunod. Mayroon pa ba akong dapat sukuan? Nasaktan ng matatalim na sandatang ibinabato ng hindi naman lubusang kilala… sino ba sila? Ano ang ginagampanan ng mga elementong ito upang magpadala na lang ang sinuman sa agos ng walang patutunguhan? Hindi dapat. Hindi dapat sagutin ang mga tanong na wala namang kwenta – walang kwenta sapagkat nakasuot sila ng maskara. Hindi pala talaga ako nagtatanong kundi umiiwas. Duwag! Walang silbi ang umiwas sa responsibilidad na dapat ay pinagsisikapang tuparin.

Walang tigil akong pumipindot sa pagtipa ng aking keyboard dahil umaasa akong may mararating ang artikulong sinimulan kong kausapin. Ayaw nitong matapos. Ayaw ko rin, ngunit kailangan na.

Kailangan ko ng bumangon mula sa lugmok na istilo ng pakikibaka. Hanggang dito na lang muna. Sana bukas ay may mapatunayan na.

Hanggang sa muli.

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Live

Hover above it, Pausing long enough to feel Pass by, pass through: live.

Source: Live

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Gratitude

For the risk

Of going beyond

The surface level

Gratitude

For compromising

Love that’s sunk

Too deeply

Not yet dug out.

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19 Sobering Realizations You’ll Have The Year After You Graduate College

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I didn’t know it hurts

Until I see it bleeds.

But just like each sorrow,

I look forward to every

Tomorrow.

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miles away

There will be times when I’d rather stay awake during hours in between 10 p.m. to 5 a.m.

It is when almost everyone is sound asleep. It is when the surroundings is blatantly quiet. It is when I have nothing to blame but myself for letting the silence deafen my disturbed being. I cannot close my eyes for fear that I may miss something. I can neither feel the warmth nor coldness of the empty space building up inside of me.

What I am sure of is that, I will remember each single detail that has been happening between hours of 5:01 a.m to 9:59 p.m. when there’s nothing wrong but my perception of reality. I seem to live in a world where only myself can see. It is the moment of disillusionment that perhaps the people occupy the sensitivity of my thoughts but there’s only one thing that I am longing to be with – and this is definitely peace of mind.

Noisy. The flickering lights, the blurring shadows, the swaying curtains, the palpitating beats of whose heart, the imaginative knocks and footsteps… all so loud I am not able to notice that while I hear them, I lose the capacity to listen to my own needs and wants.

Truly, I soon realize that there will be deprived chances no matter how hard we try to get them. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel like putting pillows on my bed, I avoid cute pets, I doubt your sincerity, I won’t give a damn to your words, I pretend to be funny. Because it sucks to get attached to stuffs that will soon leave me and I call them stupid inside my head. Not admitting it is me who’s more than weird. I am an unfathomable, reckless piece of unlovable mystery.

Darling I get hurt, too; but I don’t expect you to understand somebody who does not even dare trying to confront herself. Please see to it that I am not the one who’s going to conform to your ideals. I am not even trying to put an interest seeking for ways to get close to your standards. Because I don’t impose rules which I cannot follow. By accident, too many times, I have spoken words I cannot swallow.

Days pass and the urge is becoming more irresistible. You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to cast a promise. Free yourself. Stop. Stare. Smile.

We’ll go miles from here if we let go, still miles from here if we choose to stay.

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18 Kids Describe Exactly What Love Is

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Please help me understand the things that I am not able to explain by myself.

“The greatest distance on earth is not north and south, it is when I’m right in front of you and you do not know that I love you”, I heard someone say.

Nevertheless, I believed it the moment I read “you”

– Translated into texts that I cannot comprehend.

You are the story I do not know how to end.

You are the story I am unaware that I begin to write,

yet the pages flip with all their might.

This is something I am not sure if I can fight

For.

Not now, not anymore.

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Shall We

I could think about each questions

Lingering my head about stars

And the sky and the whirling winds

While waters splash and grounds

Starts to crack like the bubble

That shifts my mood from rusty

Colors of iron-ic bars behind

The chosen flow of thoughts

You’d not hear but had listened

To such sounds of palpitating

Beats of timeless what if’s just

Then I found out that the critique

Inside of me no longer lives

When what I’ve once thought

As numbness has been paralyzed

Dreadful, I said seemingly confused

With the utterance of indefinite words

Left undefined playing a role

Of stuck dilemma in spaces between

Inches of troubled cases we resolve

Together yet never admitted there

Is a deeper mystery

Here goes an even deeper mystery

No matter how terrible we’d see

Just ask me if you could

Shall we

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I’m running out of tears.

Rant. Or sentiments. Go type into words the feelings I am not even sure how to properly express. *sighs* *laughs out loud* *hashtag story of my life*

I could keep on talking to myself, talking to every people I see, talking about every issue I would hear about – I’ve changed. Years ago, I used to keep silent for hours whenever I feel frustrated; but I realize as time passed by, I am no longer that vulnerable girl who could just bear all her emotions without speaking herself out.

Since birth, I never had a love life. What keeps me inspired each time I need to get out of bed and be productive is the thought that I am given the opportunity to study. Yes, you read this right: Academics. Perhaps I am not that “grade conscious” type of student, I make sure that I’d be able to catch up everything that has something to do about schooling. I try my best to be a responsible, hardworking, motivated student. I have this strong drive to push myself to the limits because I know that if I study well, I could pay back the hardships of all the people who offer their sacrifices so I might be able to finish a degree and reach for my dreams.

Sleepless nights, restless days, hell weeks, haggard months, hardcore semester – college is, indeed, a pressure cooker! Who would have thought that a little girl who barely talked could take a Communication course at a country’s premiere university? Who would have thought that she might take the risk of failing so she could find out if she fits in? Who would have thought that she could go far away from home for consecutive months to study in an old, cold city? Who would have thought that she has to be me? Someone, please explain.

No point of reasoning may actually compensate for the numbness I feel at this moment. It’s that unfathomable expression of amalgamating emotions of “nothingness” and “the-whole-universe-combined kind of mood” both at once. Unbearable.

What am I actually ranting for? Unexpected defeats. These are the moments when it just feels like the world is slapping my face that’s already sore due to weeks of inconvenience. There seems to be no break from all the pain I’ve gained from working too hard – just heartbreaks. Sadly, there are heartbreaks. I experience heartbreaks from the things I am not even in a relationship with… but those things that I am in full commitment with. I fail even though I reviewed the notes. I fail even though I practiced the report. I fail even though I exerted my effort to present, to submit a requirement. There will be times, unavoidable ones, when my best isn’t even good enough for others.

Like a cycle, repeating itself, rolling over my almost-dead body. My almost-paralyzed brain. My almost-gone being. It would be easier if I cry this out and when it’s finished, the hurting is gone. But no. I was wronged. I discovered, in that isolated place where I am ready to give myself up, I couldn’t even cry. Not a single drop of tear is falling, as if my eyes are about to sweat at the top of a mountain full of snows that keep me cold all throughout.

Shall I pity myself for having that need to forcibly cry yet tears-not-found? – suggested by the robotic nature I’ve built up inside. I know myself. I couldn’t be numb but a routine of absorbing all the hurtful remarks has been mastered. I don’t want to call it unfair. I still hold on to that belief which promises me… I. could. be. better. than. this. The wind blows so roughly it messes up my hair. I feel teased at the mess summoning up my life. Still, I hold on to that belief which promises me… I would fix this soon if I started pulling myself together.

Are there any choices left? Aside from standing up each time I got myself knocked down. Aside from putting up a smile on my face behind each weary frown. Aside from telling “It’s fine” beyond mistakes. I don’t lie. I’m just doing a favor to the world. I’m just giving out what I lack, what I wasn’t able to receive… – and this is definitely to be interested with every story that I may encounter. It is to show appreciation to all the adventures I have the chance to explore.

So what remains to cry for? Tears no more.

At the end of the day, is the start of the night sky that is full of stars. I am on the process of training myself to indulge embracing such sense of strength… a sense of endurance from all the hatred I feel for myself. I am not sorry.

Dear, you are not sorry so don’t hide away from the transcending years. You, too, will soon run out of tears.

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