this is the calm after the storm.
clear skies
silence
numbing stillness
as if yesterday never happened.

yesterday:
the winds howled, raged
rain poured
like it would never stop.
i was wet and cold
until i could not feel anything anymore.

reminded me of the time
i was cold...down to my bones
not from any gust of wind.
wet...but not from a single drop of rain.

now it feels like
you were never Here.
like the storm
you had moved on...

you were my raging storm...
with you around i self destruct
i fight to live
i struggle to breathe
but... i am alive.

without you
i wilt
i despair
i asphyxiate
i slowly cease to BE.

so now my life:
is still
my heart:
numbed from cold
my eyes:
are always awash with tears.
my mind:
is full of memories, of still life images
every cell, every nerve screams:
no one else...
but you.

chaos theory

right. how inappropriate to name this happyvanny. i am sorry. i never meant to mislead... i have never written anything about happiness. i am counting miseries rather than blessings. i cannot see beyond the gray. i can never get past this blackness. i don't think i will ever be warm.

there isn't much to be happy about in my life these days. i understand there are people who are in more painful situations than i am. but that fact does not lift this cloud of doom that is hovering over me. i feel like i am waiting...waiting for the ax to fall. or maybe it has... and i am just running around like a headless chicken.

i don't know anymore. maybe this is the calm before the storm. beneath the stillness, a raging force - waiting for the right time to unleash a long suppressed fury. i am torn between holding it all in and just letting it all go. but i fear the aftermath more than the explosion. i don't know if there will be anything left...of me.

but the temptation to lose sanity... and to give in to this madness is becoming more overwhelming. i am losing my senses. i am floating in a sea of madness. there is no beacon of light, no shore. just an endless sea of madness. i am caught in a riptide i am too weak to swim against. i am being swallowed whole. the more i fight, the more i lose. the more i struggle, the faster i sink. i am hovering between hysteria and full fledge panic. i am losing my grip. i am slipping away. damn it...

i don't know anymore. i don't want to know anymore. i don't want to think. the more i think, the more i hurt. the more i hurt, the more i hate. this is my self inflicted hell. the more i stall, the more i am torn apart. torn apart by my desire to fight and my desire to be passive. i am sick... sick of my indecisiveness, my predilection for self pity and my predisposition for self destruction.




but i will gladly sink.
i will happily give in.
i will be tempted.
i will...



if you promised to meet me at the bottom.

i am restless.
...flighty...
i am trapped in a cage.
i have always wanted escape.

it's been 3 years
staring out of this hole.
sun up...
moon out...
still in here.
waiting for rescue
that never came.

the longer i stay here
the harder to breathe,
the harder to hope ,
even harder to imagine
what life would be like
outside these walls.

must get out
the first chance i get.
when that door opens,
seize chance...love...life...

for someone who loved and lost
to time and fate
.

you'd think periods signal the end of everything.
i did too.
but if you look closely.
it is actually ambiguous.
it signals the end, yes.
but also the beginning.

so when you're ready, wipe away the tears.
look beyond the dot.
then start writing again.
it's crazy but life goes on.
when the world turns,
just roll, and go with the flow.
the journey may seem long.
but when the time comes for the final statement.
make a big D-O-T.

pocket change II: the dark truth

went home late on september 1st. i've been at the office for more than 30 hours already. doing some 'clean up' work, doing nothing, surfing, chatting with my niece and more surfing. i went home past 10pm.

it was a warm night. no rain. there were few people on the street. i passed through paseo de roxas again. as i neared the AIM, there at the corner, were the same two kids i passed by one rainy night. i did ask for a second chance. i got it. i was sad, disgusted and perhaps a little mad...

if you were a decent parent would you let your kids beg on the street? at this time of the night? as i neared them, i noticed the backpack. they were not dressed grubbily. the girl approached me, she asked for pamasahe (fare) again. she was lucky i had more change this time. i gave her two five peso coins. i don't know if they recall seeing me from a few nights before. it's sad knowing some people use kids for mendicancy. it's sad that this story must end like this...

i recall a short story that we discussed way back in fourth year highschool. it's actually one of the reasons why i don't usually give money to street kids. i forgot who the writer was. someone named francisco. i could not recall exactly. he said something like, "For every penny you drop onto a beggar's palm, you degrade him of his dignity."

counting the amount i have already dropped onto those kids pocket...thirteen. what a (un)lucky number. for a mere thirteen pesos, i have sunk them lower into the pit they are currently in. i have robbed them of their dignity. i have encouraged them to continue begging and maybe to never rise from their current state. i might have bound them to that fate.

life sucks. what is wrong? what is really right? maybe i will see them again. i hope not...wo hen lei...

i told you i loved you
but you laughed it off.
you said:
you and your funny jokes
have just made my day.

well i hope i did
because you have just made mine.
i wished:
i had kept my silence,
maintained my distance.

instead i told you:
yes what a joke.
but i choke on every syllable that left my lips.
every word was tasteless in my mouth.

i will never learn.
you will never understand.
i don't know when to stop.
and we will go on as before.

i know you will never see me.
even when i am in front of you,
you have always look beyond.
when i speak, you never listen.

i am caught in a spiral.
the faster it spins the deeper i go;
the stronger the pull...
the harder to let you go.