Once it was simple. I found it adorable. Passing notes, secret text messages, the facade. I miss the facade. No one knew about it. Neither did we. I thought it was too late when I realized that the facade was real. I thought I lost you like I lost all of our childhood friends.
I was forced to move out of my comfort zone, to try hard to please my parents. I met new friends. I lived a new life. But always, always in the periphery of my perfect little world were the grim things that were left unsaid. On a moonlit night, I would always remember those things, memories that are bittersweet. I miss those, too.
Years passed, and you came back. I risked my new life for you. I thought you were what I needed. I would not deny I was elated at first. I thought my fairytale was coming true. You were not just my best friend anymore. You were my prince. Little by little, though, I realized why Juliet did not end up with Paris, why Bella did not choose Jacob. I thought you were my whole world. I thought you were the perfect one, but you broke my heart. You stained my trust in you. Suddenly, I don't see my prince anymore. I see a villain. I think people are right when they say your best friend would be your worst enemy.
It was tough to see my dreams crumble to dust, my heart break to a million shards. At that moment I vowed that I would never fall for you or anyone like you for that matter. I just couldn't believe when you had the element of surprise. You appeared out of thin air after years of absence. Now I'm in doubt if I would accept you again. The hardest part would be the thought of one of us being hurt. I have no intentions to lead you on, yet I do not want to lose you just like that. I don't think I want to commit to you, but the thought of seeing someone else in your arms stabs my heart. I love you, but at the same time, I don't. It's irrational and selfish. Would there ever be hope for this twisted love story of ours?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Hopeless
I wonder what other people see through their eyes. Sometimes I wonder if I see the same thing as they do. Sometimes I'm just not sure of what I see. Sometimes things are just more complicated than they seem. Sometimes they're just not complicated at all. I once believed that signs are to be taken seriously, like destiny has things planned and laid out in front of us. I don't know what happened, I just lost my belief in fate. Since then I just became this puppet of reality. I follow this routine of life making me another living zombie. Try as I might, I simply forgot how to live. When I face the mirror I see nothing in my eyes. Sure, I get by day by day, but that's about it. I'm just lifeless, hopeless.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Elections 2010: Disappointment to contentment, then what?
I bet most teens would want to be in place right now. I am one of the few who turned eighteen in the right place at the right time. Though my friends would always think of eighteen as the legal age to be sent to prison, my mind is more focused on other things. I dread most of the stuff that comes with being eighteen like getting all sorts of IDs and documents and opening a bank account, but of course, I have also been looking forward to do some stuff like to exercise my rights to vote. This election would be a first not only to me, but to all my fellow Filipinos. The use of PCOS machines definitely caused a fireworks of emotions -- some were enthused and thrilled, while others were petrified and enraged. Of course, it could not be helped that some would be apathetic. Well, whatever it is that the automated elections sparked, it will surely be historical.
Honestly, in the beginning, I was very afraid to choose my bets because first, there were just too many candidates and I had no idea where to start researching about each of them; second, if my country suffered another six years going downhill, I will be one of those at fault; third, politics has never been an interest of my family; last, I have this mentality that all politician are the same vicious well-dressed hoodlums. I was able to make it through, though I'm still hoping that I made the right decision. My decision was established through an elimination process. It's long. I took me four moths to think it through. In the end, my presidential bets came down on Gibo and Gordon, and my vice presidential bets on Binay and Bayani. It could not be denied that Gibo is wise and truly a gentleman. The lack of financial support and the black propaganda thrown against him was gracefully ignored. Surely, a man like Gibo deserves to be ranked with other honorable leaders of the world; however, Gordon showed the most concrete and specific plans for his country. Everyone who has been to Subic would be impressed by its developments. He also gives importance to tourism, which could be, in my opinion, a huge opportunity for small local enterprises to rise. Gordon's rational sense is at a high level as shown through his interviews and debates. So then, I am hoping that our next president would be Senator Richard 'Dick' Gordon. Bayani was my first choice as the next VP. He is my answered prayer when it comes to teaching Filipinos discipline. His strict ways back in the days as chairman of MMDA amazed rather than repulsed me. Then again, his strict ways were also a little bit too harsh and insignificant as it may be, his participation in that certain singing show, clearly a part of showbiz, ticked my off. I decided on Binay just like what I did with Gordon. Makati nowadays is admittedly a place that I want to live in. I would also like to believe that Makati is one well-developed city where resources are maximized and utilized well.
This morning, I got up at 6:30 am hoping to be one of the firsts, but my parents woke up a little late plus there was no one to babysit my little sister. We got to M. Hizon Elementary school at around 9:10 in the morning. I got my cellphone with me coz I just couldn't wait to take photos. I also have my list of the ones I'm gonna vote for. Of course, I would not forget to bring my abaniko. At a weather like this, feeling hot is just inevitable. When my dad, my mom, my sis and I got to the school grounds, I didn't think I'd want to call it school grounds anymore. Every inch of the floor was covered with flyers of last minute campaigning which was of course not allowed. The sea of people was overwhelming. Random thought, on the way up to the third floor where our precinct was, I saw four people wearing 'jeje' caps. I was annoyed. Anyway, the system up there, if there was system, was very disorganized. I couldn't blame the venue, for it was simply a public elementary school which was abused every elections. We couldn't see the rooms at first. There were just too many people standing and chattering at the corridors. My mom felt nauseated. After a few minutes of wandering like idiots, we saw some of our neighbors and helped us through the two crooked lines where we would apparently get numbers. I was thinking back then that it should be illegal to call that a line because there was no line. People were just scattered everywhere. Anyway, we just stood there waiting for something to happen. Around twenty minutes passed before a BEI member came out and distributed number. Apparently, the hold up was because there were only twenty number available. After getting our numbers (I was number 14 out of 20), we had to line up once again. At that point, I was just about to snap, about to lose my temper. I was in the verge of being one of the selfish imbeciles who behaved worse than a child with a really short attention span. Luckily, Manong Yuson who was number 13 was this jolly man who sort of entertained everyone. I was just really disappointed though, when a woman (probably a lesbo), handed out an orange case with the name of a presidentiable. I was so mad that I wanted to scream out Gordon's name just to help convince people but that won't do any good to anyone. Inside the classroom, I handed out my ID to the first BEI member. Sorry to say, but she was kind of stupid. I already told her my precinct number was 1056B but she kept running over 1056A. They BEI member beside her told her about it so she grabbed the record of 1056B and asked me my assigned number from the given list. I did not have a chance to look at it when I was outside but I did not think of it as a bother because I knew the names would appear in alphabetical order. Little did I know that this woman would have trouble finding my name because she was so slow in locating letters alphabetically. It took me around two minutes before I got my official ballot signed. I just rolled my eyes as I stomped away. I sat at the very back of the room, away from people, for once in the entire morning. I quietly filled up the ballot. It took me five times the time to line up than accomplish my ballot. I then stood up and walked to the old teacher by the PCOS machine. I have heard lots of terrible experiences with the machine so I was as nervous as a chicken at a slaughter house. It was one of those slow motion moments in life. My ballot was eaten by the machine like it has not been fed for days, but I saw it as if it has been enjoying the flavor before completely swallowing the paper. Then the most amazing words appeared on the tiny screen - "Congratulations! Your vote has been counted." It felt so good that I almost got emotional. I was still dazed when the teacher led me to get my finger marked with indelible ink. I was still too dazed after that, that I did not bother to wipe out the excess ink that was dripping all over my nail. I got out of the room and back to the sea of undisciplined people, but that time, I saw nothing. It was one of the most amazing thing I've done in my entire life and I am proud that I did it intelligently. I was, in the end, actually content of what I did.
I barely noticed the short walk home after one hour and ten minutes of being in that overcrowded structure. Lunch and the afternoon went like any ordinary day, but as I am writing this blog, I can't help but think about the blunt future. Could this elections be more historical than it already is? If so, in what sense, for the better or for the worse? Would my opinion, tiny as a twig in the entire jungle, even be heard? All I can think of right now is, now what?
Honestly, in the beginning, I was very afraid to choose my bets because first, there were just too many candidates and I had no idea where to start researching about each of them; second, if my country suffered another six years going downhill, I will be one of those at fault; third, politics has never been an interest of my family; last, I have this mentality that all politician are the same vicious well-dressed hoodlums. I was able to make it through, though I'm still hoping that I made the right decision. My decision was established through an elimination process. It's long. I took me four moths to think it through. In the end, my presidential bets came down on Gibo and Gordon, and my vice presidential bets on Binay and Bayani. It could not be denied that Gibo is wise and truly a gentleman. The lack of financial support and the black propaganda thrown against him was gracefully ignored. Surely, a man like Gibo deserves to be ranked with other honorable leaders of the world; however, Gordon showed the most concrete and specific plans for his country. Everyone who has been to Subic would be impressed by its developments. He also gives importance to tourism, which could be, in my opinion, a huge opportunity for small local enterprises to rise. Gordon's rational sense is at a high level as shown through his interviews and debates. So then, I am hoping that our next president would be Senator Richard 'Dick' Gordon. Bayani was my first choice as the next VP. He is my answered prayer when it comes to teaching Filipinos discipline. His strict ways back in the days as chairman of MMDA amazed rather than repulsed me. Then again, his strict ways were also a little bit too harsh and insignificant as it may be, his participation in that certain singing show, clearly a part of showbiz, ticked my off. I decided on Binay just like what I did with Gordon. Makati nowadays is admittedly a place that I want to live in. I would also like to believe that Makati is one well-developed city where resources are maximized and utilized well.
This morning, I got up at 6:30 am hoping to be one of the firsts, but my parents woke up a little late plus there was no one to babysit my little sister. We got to M. Hizon Elementary school at around 9:10 in the morning. I got my cellphone with me coz I just couldn't wait to take photos. I also have my list of the ones I'm gonna vote for. Of course, I would not forget to bring my abaniko. At a weather like this, feeling hot is just inevitable. When my dad, my mom, my sis and I got to the school grounds, I didn't think I'd want to call it school grounds anymore. Every inch of the floor was covered with flyers of last minute campaigning which was of course not allowed. The sea of people was overwhelming. Random thought, on the way up to the third floor where our precinct was, I saw four people wearing 'jeje' caps. I was annoyed. Anyway, the system up there, if there was system, was very disorganized. I couldn't blame the venue, for it was simply a public elementary school which was abused every elections. We couldn't see the rooms at first. There were just too many people standing and chattering at the corridors. My mom felt nauseated. After a few minutes of wandering like idiots, we saw some of our neighbors and helped us through the two crooked lines where we would apparently get numbers. I was thinking back then that it should be illegal to call that a line because there was no line. People were just scattered everywhere. Anyway, we just stood there waiting for something to happen. Around twenty minutes passed before a BEI member came out and distributed number. Apparently, the hold up was because there were only twenty number available. After getting our numbers (I was number 14 out of 20), we had to line up once again. At that point, I was just about to snap, about to lose my temper. I was in the verge of being one of the selfish imbeciles who behaved worse than a child with a really short attention span. Luckily, Manong Yuson who was number 13 was this jolly man who sort of entertained everyone. I was just really disappointed though, when a woman (probably a lesbo), handed out an orange case with the name of a presidentiable. I was so mad that I wanted to scream out Gordon's name just to help convince people but that won't do any good to anyone. Inside the classroom, I handed out my ID to the first BEI member. Sorry to say, but she was kind of stupid. I already told her my precinct number was 1056B but she kept running over 1056A. They BEI member beside her told her about it so she grabbed the record of 1056B and asked me my assigned number from the given list. I did not have a chance to look at it when I was outside but I did not think of it as a bother because I knew the names would appear in alphabetical order. Little did I know that this woman would have trouble finding my name because she was so slow in locating letters alphabetically. It took me around two minutes before I got my official ballot signed. I just rolled my eyes as I stomped away. I sat at the very back of the room, away from people, for once in the entire morning. I quietly filled up the ballot. It took me five times the time to line up than accomplish my ballot. I then stood up and walked to the old teacher by the PCOS machine. I have heard lots of terrible experiences with the machine so I was as nervous as a chicken at a slaughter house. It was one of those slow motion moments in life. My ballot was eaten by the machine like it has not been fed for days, but I saw it as if it has been enjoying the flavor before completely swallowing the paper. Then the most amazing words appeared on the tiny screen - "Congratulations! Your vote has been counted." It felt so good that I almost got emotional. I was still dazed when the teacher led me to get my finger marked with indelible ink. I was still too dazed after that, that I did not bother to wipe out the excess ink that was dripping all over my nail. I got out of the room and back to the sea of undisciplined people, but that time, I saw nothing. It was one of the most amazing thing I've done in my entire life and I am proud that I did it intelligently. I was, in the end, actually content of what I did.
I barely noticed the short walk home after one hour and ten minutes of being in that overcrowded structure. Lunch and the afternoon went like any ordinary day, but as I am writing this blog, I can't help but think about the blunt future. Could this elections be more historical than it already is? If so, in what sense, for the better or for the worse? Would my opinion, tiny as a twig in the entire jungle, even be heard? All I can think of right now is, now what?
Friday, May 7, 2010
Same Old Songs, New Ears
It was four years ago when the sugar-coated bait was left sitting there. It sang to her with the sweetest melody, and left a soothing echo right there in her ear. The sweet and innocent little girl simply couldn't resist. She waited too long for this and her appetite would not want to be suppressed again. She fell into the trap, got her hands on the sugar coating, not knowing that underneath it all would be the end of her fairytale.
Today the girl saw the sugar-coated bait sitting there again, but she knew how to resist now. It was not that the bait was so much worse, weaker than before, but it was that she grew stronger and wiser to make the right decisions. She would not let the very same bait trap her again. She would not let the same old song play the same trick all over again.
The glory of first love is not worth the agony of the first heartbreak if the heartbreak is caused by a jerk who treats girls like Barbie dolls.
Today the girl saw the sugar-coated bait sitting there again, but she knew how to resist now. It was not that the bait was so much worse, weaker than before, but it was that she grew stronger and wiser to make the right decisions. She would not let the very same bait trap her again. She would not let the same old song play the same trick all over again.
The glory of first love is not worth the agony of the first heartbreak if the heartbreak is caused by a jerk who treats girls like Barbie dolls.
