Her footsteps are lost in the endless pitter-patter. They used to echo across the hall as she strode towards him. Her gait is melodious, as if moving to a beat, a slow ballad perhaps. Her eyes are mesmerizing, filled with wonder yet if one would look closely, just beneath the surface a storm brews.
And I’m scared for myself. I want to know her, but I dare not lose myself in her hurricane.
Under Acacia leaves we stay. Endless serenades of cicadas, the night is young. Us, more so. The world dissolves into a blur of lips and we fade into each other. Going in and out of the influence, we neither know nor care what is happening. Adrenaline and alcohol in our bodies, we don’t stop. The rush, the excitement, the feeling of flying while I fall into you. I dare not give it meaning for fear of falling woefully short or tragically overshooting. But whatever happens, this night will remain. It will forever be emblazoned in our minds, even if it manages to fade away from our hearts. This was special. In what way? I don’t know. But it was. Special in just the way that we are.
The moon is bright. Thought I’d start with basic sentences to get rid of this writer’s block. Not sure why I have this though. Am not much of a writer, these days anyway. I’d like to believe that I lost my touch, but not sure I had much of a “touch” to begin with. It’s hard, not having anything to write of. Harder still, when you do have something to write of, circumstances prevent you to write of them. I digress, as I always do. And with that, my train of thought disappears.
Back to my original sentence. The moon is bright.
Is it inspiration or something else that is driving to put metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper?
Am I just wasting my time when I should be getting to sleep?
Maybe something’s off about tonight. Hope I’ll find out though.
Lying down and closing my eyes, doesn’t make everything disappear.
Of that I’m sure, but it helps, however little.
Nothing can really take away the fact that no one gives a damn.
Especially if you’re all alone. According to first-hand experience, that sucks.
Lie to yourself all you want, but that pain won’t go away.
Your on an express train going nowhere just hope that you won’t have to stay.
Today was just like any other work day; pushing pencils, making calls, taking names, filing paperwork and staring at her.
She was wearing white but her skin glowed far more radiantly. She outshone even the glaring fluorescent of the office.
I’ll admit it. I am smitten. That cruel deity’s arrow flew straight and true, pierced me through and through. But enough with the crude attempt at poetry, I was telling you about my day. Ah yes.
Statistically speaking, 83% of desk/office workers admit that they hardly do anything productive before 12noon. In other words, I had a somewhat-scientific study-backed excuse to just look for ways to interact with her.
I do realize that I’m acting like a schoolboy and that it doesn’t really suit my 30 yr. old self but can you blame me?
Her laughter is more joyous than the tinkling of bells in the Yule and her gait more graceful than any ballerina. Though, I suppose I maybe exaggerating.
Staring at the slow ticking clock in my desk, I realize that tonight was the going away party for one of our co-workers. I began to reach for my cellphone and settle any affairs that I might have scheduled.
So the day went on. I could tell you all about the misadventures I had but I’m gonna skip to the part where it all becomes heavy.
She left the office early, said she had to make herself pretty, as if she weren’t already the most beautiful woman this side of Helen. So we arrived at the bar, and I took a seat at the corner. Air was heavy with white ribbons and alcohol. Who’d have thought? It was about an hour, 42 minutes and 13 seconds before I saw her enter. I counted. She came in and sat down two booths away. Black dress, mid-thigh, silver heels, pearl earrings and beauty even the Sun would bow to. I choked on my beer, when she came to the stage. She was going to sing. Now if you know me at all, you’d know that I’m a sucker for a girl with a good voice. Curiously enough, I never took her as the type. She was nervous. I would’ve been to. But after the first chords struck, she sang like an angel. She had her eyes closed the whole time, like she was savoring every note, every word.
By the end two people in the room had tears in their eyes, her and I. She walked out of the bar, I followed her.
By the end of the night, we were in each other arms. Fully clothed and stained with tears. Turns out she had just gone through a breakup and was left devastated. I practically volunteered to be the rebound guy, even if it was just for a week. Hell, I’d take a minute. I’d take anything I can.
One things I realized though, is that I love this girl. I don’t know her as much as I want to, but my heart beats for her. Then again, you’ve seen enough love stories to know where this is going right?
Think about it for a second. How did you get there? Wherever you are, what had to happen in order for you to be reading these words at this very instant? If you had decided to take a different route home or elsewhere, you may have missed this post. Every little things counts, or so they say. It’s a chain wherein if one link falls apart, the whole system crumbles down. Or then again, maybe not.
Here’s the thing. I thought about it and have come to conclude that should we choose to make an impact or change, then it’d be easy to do so. I have no doubt that if I went somewhere and invited a few friends to a round or a game or dinner, then the day would’ve gone much differently for all parties involved. However, should we choose not to, it barely makes a ripple in the pond.
Welcome to routine. Nothing interesting. Nothing happening. Everyday just loneliness interspersed with infrequent bouts of genuine happiness.
These are the days that you just HAVE to ask, “What in the blue fucking hell is it all for?” Or maybe I’m just mad that everything hasn’t even began to make sense yet. But hell, will it ever? Nothing ever makes sense. We breathe, we walk, we live, we work, we sing, we dance, we die. There are some moments that really make it worthwhile but it’s often offset by days when it just sucks.
Is it worth it? Are we really just pulsating fragments of dim light? If so, how long ‘til we burn out? I think I’m getting there. I’m fading out.
~~~~
What does it take to be found?
Too dim light, too mute sound.
What does it take to be heard?
Too small voice, too little words.
What must I do to be seen?
Too transparent, must I be green?
What must I do to be understood?
Too hard to explain, I would if I could.
I know, I know. The “word” monthsary doesn’t exist in any dictionary but hey, sometimes you’ve just got to go with the flow. Especially when they haven’t invented words for the occasion you’re trying to celebrate just yet. But cheers to us babe, 10 months and still as stupidly in love as ever.
I don’t know if 10 months can ever be enough. Hell, I doubt 10 years would suffice. I’d probably need 10 lifetimes to show you just how crazy I am for you right now. I’d jump off a bridge, ride on top of a train, hitch a ride under a horse, and swim the deep green Manila Bay if you wanted me to.
Here’s to us babe. Here’s to waking in the morning, afternoon or evening, and smiling, just knowing that you have someone to live for. Here’s to agreeable disagreements, in color (Red is still awesome), music (fun. is the best thing since FOB, and Miley Cyrus kinda sucks), food (yes to bottomless drinks) and, sport (Basketball > SOCCER).
Here’s to falling in love all over again within a smile, a wink (even though you have a creepy wink), and a laugh. Here’s to fighting and fighting through. Here’s to you and me, ‘cause when all is said and done. You’re probably the only person I’ve done good by and will do good by. Never, though, will I ever say goodbye. That’s totally different.
Anyways, here’s to us Ms. Alyza Marielle Lim Cruz. 10th month? Sure. See you in 9 years and 2 months. Then we can freak out over presents. :)) Love you babe. >:D<
I can’t sleep tonight. So I might as well just write it off, right?
A keystroke here and a yawn there.
Monotony broken by an urge to be heard and restraint enough to let it go.
Just another night, there’s no point in making mountains off of molehills.
Either way, this feeling won’t go away anytime soon. I’ve learned to cope though.
After all, when it’s either that or losing her, it’s not exactly a difficult choice.
Love may make the world go round, but it sure finds ways to stir shit up.
Obviously, I’ve been particularly vague in this post, but look around and you’ll see.
Unless you’re a total buffoon without so much as a brain cell to spare, like me.
So here ends, my half-assed attempt to hide my feeling. Do you see it now?
On the last 6 days of my teenage years, I only wish for something to hold on to…. I kid. Here’s what I want for a gift, if anyone’s interested, starting from the absurd to the more achievable.
Basically, I want something that will last and I can hold on to. So I guess I was just partly kidding.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
//Now for the more conventional part of this blog.
Speak not of loneliness. Lest you make it real. Write it down and light it up. Send ink and tears to the heavens and hope to reach stars. Bottle it, throw it to sea and hope it never strays ashore. Nothing ruins a day more than sober melancholy.
Speak not of loneliness. Lest you make it any more real.
Edge of the bench, alone, me and my lonely cigarette. Embers burn through me, but I am cold and I gladly welcome the tainted warmth.
How long has it been then? Since that dream? I’ve longed for this. Quiet nights with a book and a light on some park or mall somewhere. I hear vague laughter beyond my earphones blurting out fun.’s “Some Nights”. I am young or perhaps, I only feel like I am.
Lofty expectations bring forth great disappointments. Young as I am, I’ve had more than a few of those. I’ve written rain on clouds and free-fell with the raindrops back towards the ground, stumbled across rainbows to find nothing at its end. Now, I lay, back meeting asphalt and hope that I reach what my eyes perceive. Someday, I guess.
I’ve strayed from the road that was lay down in front of me. A hint of my rebellion? Maybe I just lacked what was needed to follow it to the end. Either way, I am too far down this path to double-back and follow that path again. At least, not if I want to achieve my goals before Time takes matters into its own hands. I find myself to be in a field of tall grass, stepping into unknown regions, hoping that I find my way through. Once again, to see the faces I started that road with.
I sit on the edge of this bench alone, calling out to no one in particular. I shall live to see the day that my dreams come true. I will find myself back on this bench once more, happier than I am now. I shall be whole. I will know myself fully. And one day, when I look back at this post, I will smile at the journey I’ve taken since.
