clear eyes. full heart.

no one ever stops wanting but they have to balance what is impossible with what might be possible and try to make sense of their hopes and reality. they haven’t got a lot of hope, it would be unfair if they did. but they do the best with what they have. i mean, we can’t plan everything. life makes its own plans. sometimes we let each down; sometimes we fail each other; sometimes we break each other’s hearts; sometimes we leave. and sometimes we come back and sometimes we stick around. or sometimes it’s okay, even if we don’t. things happen and they are hard, too hard. we just get through them. that we are able. clear eyes, full hearts.

clear eyes. full heart. can’t lose.

swimmer life

I swam. Surrending to the allure of the ocean. Absconding in need to overcome. Going across its openness to explore its promise.  Stroke after stroke. Very fast. Getting farther and farther.

Then the ocean’s allure lost its magical luster. It became just this familiar blank space. And I found myself not craving for its coolness or grace by how the waves danced, or that I was trying to escape. It became more about knowing what to do with my limbs.  So often they had ended up around bad people, on the incorrect side of the bed, reaching into jars of sand that they never belonged in. There is a world full of oceans out there, we were only pouring ourselves into the wrong one.

again… again…

This a test and I’m aware of my failure. I pretty much always knew I could never live up to such impossible standards. You may keep it in the back of your mind, I’d even like to think that you wish it weren’t true, but you, too, know I don’t fit well into that void. You’ll have no problem finding something else. I, on the other hand, now need to adjust to the differences in what I’ve recently learned.

by myself

I am lonely. Alone. People related to me tend to overlook that part of me. I stay quiet. Wallow silently. Appear like I have a life worth going. Act like the daughter, granddaughter, or niece everyone expected me to be. It’s the scrutiny of being under everyone’s utopia that breaks me. And sometimes, a minute miscalculated choice can sometimes condemn me for the rest of my life. And they’ll make sure I don’t forget it. Every day of my life.

Sometimes, when I sit in a corner and watch how freely my siblings can take charge of their choices and do whatever they please, I am envious. I desire how unrestricted they are on things that  when I was younger I often got in trouble for and occasionally being reminded of it.

It’s hard accepting to wise up, act mature. It’s harder deciding to be responsible for other people other than myself. Owning something that you were unprepared for. Being drawn into a glass house and feeling like a stranger in the inside looking out. Losing what you want for what they want.

Somewhat a spotlight has been lit over my head and I interrogate myself. Why I have never taught myself to be selfish? Why I’ve always put what others’ want before I want? Why do I feel like I’m still failing everybody else’s expectations? Why I’m stalling the dreams I had when I was younger? Why I’m so much yet so chained to the worst circumstances?

And then I end up with no answers. Just this echoing song in my head to endure what is fact: just one more day it says and all will be okay. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn’t. Then I live life all over again.

pity.shame.silence

The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on anyone or anything. You realize that you control your own destiny.

We are powerful because we have survived.

No pity. No shame. No silence.

..again

I don’t know if I can call myself happy. I don’t think I can really – at the moment. What this euphoria I am feeling may well be because I’ve just recently discovered it. It’s not even because I neglected it but mainly because I’ve took some sweet time focusing on one person.

I wish this euphoria last. I really do. He makes me smile again – even in just a fleeting moment. And it’s nice, heartwarming.

..follow u

I need someone to crawl inside my head and make my decisions for me.  There are just some days when I cannot trust my own head—days when I don’t know what I want and cannot seem to figure it out.

My head is a strange, complicated place.  I always come around, though.

For now, just tell me what to do.

Morrie’s advice: “When you learn how to die, you learn how to live.” (Tuesdays with Morrie, p.104)

live like you know what death is.

He lives like he has experienced death before, like there’s no more surprises for him in store. He’s acidic to the base, and solid to the core, whatever he asks, he is given more. He litters language and goes to war, beat back the waters of delirium’s shore. He steps to the cadence of an endless score, one step, two step, three step, four.  His tongue has an edge that leaves your ears sore, his pride’s a shield that’ll never yield anymore. Hear his diction, and fear his roar. A blade to your throat is hard to ignore. He will change the ideals that you live for, as he pushes the boundaries of life’s last door.

superhero grown out

Growing up we were superheroes. I wish we could be like that again, seeing the world the way nobody else could, through the eyes of an invincible 12-year-old boy. We saved millions of lives, not real ones, but ones that were close enough anyway. Growing up, we were superheroes, but now that we’re here I must say I feel fragile. I’m sortedly mortal when Ive always tried to stay out of categories. There’s only one thing to do now, that’s to prove that I’m not mortal, that I’m different enough to be a legend.

Growing up we were superheroes. Now I’m just a normal old woman training children to save the day when they’re old like me. Everybody knows that a 12-year-old is invincible but once they reach 17, they realize that it’s not just a comic book, or a video game, or a song. It’s life, and life doesn’t last long.

Growing up we were superheroes. We remember the things that happened in the past as if they were yesterday. Our superhero memory. The latent ability stored in our creaking bones is diminished but not gone because we haven’t forgotten.

Growing up we were superheroes, and now we’re just normal old men.

Life’s a Bitch & I’m Living.. It sucks!

what am i to do? I’m just a sacrificial lamb of life’s inadequacies and imperfections. I am a product of compassion and of indifference. I am the infant borne through foolish ideals and a defeated purpose.

Life has unmade me when it has made me. For in between this process, the soul learned to yearn for freedom; he mind teetered on its sanitgy and; the heart held on to its humanity. How ironic it is to become aware of a world nurtured in hate and misunderstandings? How cruel it is to be awakened to a spoiled environment cultivated by the struggle for power and superiority! A soul could only walk upon this life blinded by confusion, uneducated by the ideals of yesterdays; a heart loves in spite of its tiredness.

I’ve learned that to get out of life, I need to get through it – I need to complete the cycle, accept the possibilities and realities, and be a slave to its cruelties – then pack and leave. Move on. It’s quite disheartening when I’ve chosen to follow shortcuts all through my lifetime; but in the end, I’ve realized that setbacks and failures hit less and create less impact if I have stuck by the rule, and if I could have chosen the longer route. This is because, by then, the whole trek would have numbed me and it would have taught me to deal better with the other journeys ahead. What lies outside of life is nothing but a barren sea of serenity, which could be enjoyed better when I’ve made sense of what it is really contained in life had I penetrated deeper than the surface.

To go through life means having to prepare one’s self for hardwork and an extra more for the disappointments.

i

You
ascend towards the heavens
Where
your dreams take flight
With
wings that glitter of ideal –
the product of an infinite desire
to alter tomorrow with hope
That
envelope the world with an
untarnished realism of fantasy
Then the
world pulls you back to earth
Where
injustice awaits to devour you
to consume you through the
unlikeliness of a visible reality…
You
struggle to break free
To
ungrasp the chain that binds you
to the disrealization of your dreams
To
unshackle the fear that ties you
to an omnipresent doubt
Stronger
and braver you become
Unmindful
of the barriers that h inder you
Unmindful
of the footprints of triumph
that follows you…

OPEN SURGERY

I feel like crap, sort of like an open wound,left to heal by itself. No matter how carefully I stitch myself together, the pain lingers, infecting the life that has yet to be lived.
I hate hating myself. It’s exhausting.  I hate hating my life. It drains my energy. Yet, I can’t help feeling like it. I wish. No I pray (never much of a religious person) that this addiction, this hating-myself-routine, would change so that my life can move on. i don’t like to have my heart broken every time.

I’m tired.

Suffocated.

My limbs, appendages becoming machines of an unsupervised desire to be someone. To be someone who hands out her choices to those who she thinks has the right to own her life, because she is thankful. someone who’s worth the effort to be loved, to be cared for.
oh crap, i hate myself. i hate speaking out in volumes of text yet is a coward to speak it loudly. I hate lying on a cold bed, emotionally drained out to feel anything. without anesthesia to keep me from caring,i lie here, kept awake to see my life wasted.

Oh crap, I hate my life!