Archive | September 2010

Dear John: I Love You

It hurts to see him lying in the hospital bed. One image I never wanted to be real other than just reading or singing it between the lines of an MCR song. I couldn’t bear seeing him twinge in pain, or shudder in the cold and could not even pull the blanket to cover his body. He could not even wear a decent pony tail. I loved his hair. It’s probably my third most favorite part of him. And now his hair is just plain rigid and heavy, saggy from dirt. I’d still want to brush my fingers through it so I could see his pretty face. His face now wore pain agony and devastation. I tried to look for a trace of smile, seemingly impossible. I want to kiss him, kiss him and feel him burn. But I could not, or it might hurt him and make him bleed. He was very sick, and he was in pain. His pain is mine. I’ll die ten times when he’s hurt. I’d die for him and make him live. I can’t believe just how much I love this man. I need him beside me, still or moving as long as he breathes and lives for me..
Get well soon my love..

Going Back to Grey

He came here ahead of me. It wasn’t him then, it was a girl: a girl so pretty and prim. For a week she didn’t last. Her blamelessness was lost. In her place came a man. Silent. Reserved. Suave. I took no notice since I was very much preoccupied by some other, whom I thought was far better. Indeed, I thought. How thoughts could go wrong! They were never certain anyway.

He was doing errands for everybody, slaving for them but me. He was aloof, or so I assumed. It took one little moment for me to need his presence. It didn’t hurt then. His glance caught mine, without the clichéd spark that every girl was dreaming to witness. That idea never came in for so many times until his voice is gradually penetrating into my comfort zone. What comfort zone?!

My daily routine was grey, and I needed some colors. I was used to the dead air I was living with for a month or so. That was my comfort zone. When I had no idea what was going on with the world out there. His voice was poignant and sharp and it could pierce. My comfort zone wasn’t spared. His eyes smiled and it smiled at me. My lips shuddered at the eagerness to respond back. I eventually trusted my ambiguous notions. After all, it was somehow good to have somebody to talk to. I was more bored than the dead and it was never prevalent to have me bored rigid of anything else in the world.

I found a friend in him and he instantly became the pages that I could smoothly write my whimpers onto, as I had things to tell but didn’t have the courage to. He was my diary, my breathing and bleeding diary. I could write and write and write some more and he would still crave further, which I undeniably fell in love with. I loved his enthusiasm to learn everything about me, like he cared. He said he cared. One word I despised. One word abused by every man who was caught in the shackles and is no longer free. How can one care? Apparently a lie I thought I should’ve forgiven, and yet, have not forgotten. As coward as my not telling those things meant to be unveiled.

I wanted badly to touch him, kiss him, and tell him how he had been the lingering dream I tried hard to eradicate every night. If he only knew how it kills me to see him, and her, whole together, while I’m slowly breaking apart. Sinful as you may call it, he once said he was mine. And I would have been his if I wanted to. That was stupid, of course I wanted to. We wanted to. But we could not. We should not. Somebody owns him and I was damned, years late.

Somehow I was able to live behind the deceptions of it all. While I was caught in my reveries of the him-and-I, creating funny noises on my mind exchanging words meant to exist within the spheres of my illusions. I chose to believe my own fantasies and learned to indeed believe them in due time. I was beginning to find bliss in it, and when I was ultimately blown away, he said goodbye.

He was going back to her. I heard him say farewell. But it didn’t sink in. he was walking away now. I was watching his every step, getting farther and farther away from where we used to be. But I’m still here, here where we used to be. I’m staring at his chair, the chair where he used to be. I know he’s never going to be back here, where we used to be. I think I’m seeing all the colors draining from the mainstream. And now, just about now, I’m beginning to go back again to grey.

—found this draft here, I can’t remember anymore who I was pertaining to but I thought I shouldn’t let my pieces die in the backyard so I posted it. No offense meant. :p

Going..

I hated it that I was able to catch an episode of “Magkaribal” through channel 2 last night. It was one great soap opera;  the actors, the script, the plot, everything was incredible.

I knew I had to anticipate a bucketful of tearjerker scenes, as they have Bea Alonzo in the cast. On one scene, Bea was all nerve wrecked and sweaty for her upcoming national fashion designing competition, and her boyfriend, Derek Ramsay stayed with her the whole night to cheer her up. She made him go home early, as it was pouring hard that night. Before he left, he hugged her really tight and whispered “I love you” many times over. Something he unusually does. She looked at him intently and asked what was wrong.

“I’m leaving” he said, almost a murmur but she heard it nonetheless.

“I got the job, I need to go to the U.S. in a month.” he continued. and then she cried…and I dont feel the need to continue the narration.

as I was saying, I hate it.  I was thinking about that scene last night before I went to sleep. I was thinking, what if my boyfriend leaves me? What will I say? Should I cry? Should I encourage him instead? Should I this? Should I that? I didn’t know it was a fucking premonition.

We had a date the entire day. I was excited as hell to see him. And when he met me, he had this really weird look on his face and he hugged me and kissed me and said “I love you” to me first..@.@ he never did that. The stupid idea was creeping slowly in my head and I shook it off, it gives me allergy. But the he said that something unexpected came up, happening in 3months. In my mind, I was screaming “fuck fuck fuck tell me you’re joking” although he hadn’t given me a single hint yet. But it was already slamming right in my face that I knew what he was about to tell me. I knew it. I soo knew it. I didn’t want to ask, it was eating me up. I felt my knees shaking but then, I needed something, whatever it is, just to tell me he’s not going to tell me what I feared he would. I had to ask. just ask, and he wouldn’t say it. I hoped he wouldn’t say it.

“I’m leaving”…

.

..

….

…..

I was in some kind of soap opera. I stared at him for a moment and turned back. It was taking me a while to digest the idea that he was going away.

“No he’s not..”

“I’m leaving”

it echoed in my ears as though I thought it was funny. It wasn’t funny. NOT FUNNY AT ALL. how can that be funny? he’s going away. it was funny that he said it at the exact same tone and dialogue that Derek Ramsay did. yeah that was funny. But it was not.

And then I was crying..I was hurting..I was..just..that..I dont know. it was just so painful. I tried so hard to stop crying and not ruin the day, we hadn’t even started our date and I already messed up my make up.

We had lunch, rode the roller coster and murdered the videoke. We watched half of Resident Evil and decided it was too corny that we left right away. We just made out in the dark, it was better than the movie. He took me back home and taught me how to record my song. I enjoyed his bulbasaur and squirtle mimicry. I tried to enjoy the entire day as much as possible coz I won’t be seeing him for a while.

I watched him ate dinner. I listened to the clanking of his spoon and fork, watched him drink the iced tea. watched him look at me and heard him say I love you. All these I tried to process in my head with every detail. I didn’t want to miss anything like I was preparing for something horrendous. and then he had to go home. he still had 3 hours and it was raining. I didn’t want to hear nor understand that he was saying something like “I had to go”..

I didn’t want him to go, tonight, or any night..or anytime..I don’t want him to go

Please don’t leave me..dont leave me..

I watched him go in the rain. I was telling him directions but not really hearing my own voice getting soaked and swallowed by the downpour. And then he left..

I rushed back to the house..to the bathroom..and let the tears that I’ve kept for so long, ran freely along my cheeks…

Dear John: “—“

I was thinking about you all day, my cloudy vision fallen fixed on the empty concrete, twitching occasionally  as my pen cries out blotches of ink in this indecent piece of board, which I found somewhere inside the training room. I was looking at your pictures, feasting my eyes at your luscious pale rose lips and wished I was kissing you that instant

I miss you…

I miss you so much…

I long for you…

I was holding back the tears as you would not want me to cry whenever we are apart. I struggled to recall how you want me to find something that could take my mind off of us, not together; how you want me to write and go on. I did. And I was writing. I was blissful, utterly blissful. Though I wrote a new piece with only you in my head. Putting in remnants of our juvenile love story. I was feeling princessly in my personal fairy tale, somehow, or maybe Misa-chan while dreaming of Yagami Light.

I felt feathery and warm, like I could go on being caressed by the breeze, taking me to uncharted grounds, caring about nothing but living. I felt peaceful. A sensation strangely vague in my perspective. If I remember correctly, I have wanted that for the longest time, to be happy. To feel serene for a moment. I was wishing that I had never learned how to cry nor to bleed, as I had found shelter in this dark room for the many years I endured. I sought for it in many a different places and found but ephemeral fun that eventually faded and bored me to hell, where I ended up being all by myself yet again, in chaos and in blades. I did not know what I needed. I just wanted something, or someone. I was never certain.

I found you.

And I did not want to be sure. I did not want to go back from where I left off, wallowing in pathetic prejudices I came up with to bestow on my head the loser’s crown. But then again…

In you, I found the happiness, the fulfillment I sought for almost forever.

I feel safe and loved when I’m all covered up in your arms. feel the warmth of your body.

I know you are there and that I am protected, because with you, I would never have to think that the sun would have to die; that life flows in grace in every dying raindrop, no matter how hard they fell into the grounds.

And on the surface of this desolate piece of land where my weathering soul lay, I feel rising and breathing, to see your smile and see my face in the mirror of your eyes. Where I could see through you and know that you see me too. Seeing me, the beauty in this frailty and senseless vanity. You embraced me and kissed me and gave life to me. You made me see how the sun could triumph against the night when she awakens at dawn. And in that strength and victory lies such pulchritude in the living, and hoping to live, stretching out my body to dance to the rhythm and hum the melody that was Life and Death. I would cry for your pain and celebrate your happiness.

I am weaving white sandcastle dreams with you. And when our tears finally reaches the sea and destroy these dreams, I’d sleep all my life to weave better fantasies for you.

So close your eyes and open your heart. You might feel what could have been too close for these eyes to see, or too loud for these ears to hear…

Do you feelt it?

Hey John…I Love you…:)