3.16

i am who i am. i said what i felt. even if it was irrational. even if it was overzealously articulated out of sheer frustration. i am me.

i will not apologize for feeling what i felt (or will ever start to) or how i choose to feel it. i am not fueled by reasons. i am a machine of my emotions – its acceleration depends how happy or how angry i’ll get.

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second chances

Never try to apologize for what is done
I can no longer endure the sadness of another betrayal
Making the deep invisible wounds reappear
Claiming another emptiness in me
Telling me to curse, ending in regret
Pushing my self-esteem lower itself
Into complete oblivion
Overlooking such truth that I am worth more
Than I superficially seem.

Irony flatters the way of your existence
Creating the illusion of a home
You can never return to in light
The promise of sanctuary fades
Just as you looked past the acceptance
Of the imperfection of a love in the shelter
Trusting to rest a heart
That is defeated with discouragement.

Unconditionally, hatred and shame welcomes you
Back to the mirage of a hopeful love assumed
From the lover slowly dying with grief
Threatening to flee from the world
With such terrifying conclusion
Of their agony, for the sincerity of fidelity
Crowding their sense with the opulence of contempt
Sealing, signing its end with your unforgivable treason
The ultimate clearance of your redemption,
passing as your repentance.

You’re an act too late to become a savior
Neither a plea nor a bargained self-sacrifice
Can ransom the very foundation of your happiness
No matter how you try to bring back what has been lost
Time is no longer your dependable alliance
But it is the worst friend you’ve ever had
Committing  the same treachery you’ve done
Denying you of another chance to make things right.

Second chances are the luxuries of the privileged
Discriminate of the offenses made
Yours are no longer a work of dissatisfaction
But an act of defiance of a powerful rule
That struggles  to untangle itself in the center of chaos
To embrace every flaw and the search for good
When that alone is ignored and overlooked
Many times until you can no longer measure
Then,
You never really deserve to receive it after all.

despair

I give much applause to the effort she takes just so she could redeem herself. It’s a pity  she could waste all her time knitting this tapestry of lies so she can manipulate people into liking her or be with her. It’s amazing how she can twist tales for pity, for some sort of concern for her well-being, under her so-called selfless disguise to care for another being.

puppet master

She watch herself
fall prey to her own trap
Slipping,
going further down the spiral
of tall-tales she so carefully
took time to spread.
Aiming to be victorious
to forge friendship
under a cloak of concern
for the well being of the other.
Down she goes
Into the spiral of lies she orchestrated.
Unmasked, looking in every direction
A pedestrian crippled by
revelations that she thought
she can get out.
Struggling to find redemption
Seeking the solace of the lies
She buried on top of the junk she offered
Finding herself drowning in pitiful shame
Rage consumes her
Trapped in her own deceit
Spinning another tale
That she thinks will save her
Like the fly caught in a spider’s web
Only the web’s her
Frustration.
Treacherous frustration.
She clamors for attention
Taking every bit of morsel
of pity she can have
out of the false face
she so consciously portray
Only this time,
she carelessly
miscalculated the people
who she each made a puppet of
Now that she’s been outsmarted
she still clings on to the very pedestal
she thinks she own.
Her own demons
continuing to haunt her
Not letting go,
Feeling abandoned,
Thirsty for companionship
Only there’s nothing left
she cling on to the
only the grapevine
she so painfully
attended to
and that even in itself
is no more.

outcast

This was an old post:

Walk in my shoes
Image is a curse
A label better left unspoken
It is not a measure of my worth
I am a man as you are a man –
A human being housed in
an anatomically correct body
Clothed in an embarassing hierarchy
of standards that should never stand
For anything but worthlessness.
I am you as you are me
We share the same air
And a universal language
That can neither be denied
Nor forced fast forward
Neither can it be ignored
Nor set aside,
For otherwise , you have disowned
The legacy of your existence.
I am as much part of the circle as you are
A participant of the same cycle
That allows you to become an entity,
To become the living perpetuity
Of something built upon a complex
Foundation of responsibilities,
Expectations and assets.
So what do you have
That I no longer have?
We are two peas in a pod
Mere reflections of a higher being
So as I am walking in your shoes
You are also walking in mine…

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.

fix.you.me

How do I fix it if I can’t take it much longer?

It’s insatiable. This need to be over and done.  Anxiety claiming every part of this consciousness. Caviling every thing that retards the process. Getting out of control.  Each rationalization is an antagonist who needs to be forsaken.

You become a vulture. Still desirous of a past that can never be brought to present. Consuming the control you  have carefully had only power for. Sadly. It isn’t how things work. Take and never look back. That’s how we live. Take everything you can. Risk. Lose. Win. Either way, you become the sum total of you.

You rise. You fall. Break. Be whole again. That’s the beauty of changes. No matter how cruel it may be, you still need to be a part of the process. That’s how you grow. How you distinguish between what is real and an illusion. Life isn’t built out of a scale model. Or a movie set. You are a chess piece. Forever taking a chance to beat what is fated.

Thus, how you fix it is an outcome of how you act on what life throws at you. Repetitions maybe necessary. Nevertheless, it’ll wise you up. Learn. Never falter to learn. Never falter to accept. That’s how life fixes you. Or it may be the other way around. This is how you fix your life. Even if you can’t take it any much more.