dying inside

not really happy anymore.

1 1/2 syndrome

what the hell's wrong with you?

do you have a ball and chain tied round your ankles or something?

why do you keep falling? you're always just in the same place all the time. you don't budge an inch.

i see you struggling. always struggling. with everything you do, you struggle...and yet you never win.

what's wrong with you?

you don't look so bad. you actually have a pleasant face. too bad, though, you're just not beautiful enough. people don't like nice and pleasant, you see. they like flirty, and bouncy, and voluptuous, and long curls, and sexy, and taunting, and flamboyant, and fun. they don't like nice and pleasant and simple and cute and shy.

you seem like a smart kid. you seem like you're actually quite brainy. but then, i guess, you're just not brainy enough. the things you know aren't important enough. you do know a lot of stuff...i give you that...just not the stuff everyone else cares to know about.

you write quite well, too...given the right circumstances....but then, again, as with everything about you, you don't write well enough. no one notices. the people who do, notice what you write only coz they want you to notice theirs, too.

you're always just a tad shy of success. you're an "almost" person. you almost won the contest. you almost topped your exam. you almost stood at the podium. you were almost chosen for the job.

but someone's always better than you. you're really just not good enough for the top spot.

so what the hell's wrong with you??? what do you have to do to be good enough??? why are you NEVER EVER GOOD ENOUGH???

The Windless Kite

There was this one day some time ago that a small and lowly kite decided he wanted to take to the air and fly. Unfortunately, though, he had never done this before. He didn’t know where or how to begin. And his wings were tiny and uneven…he had not what it takes to fly. So he lay there on the sand, immobile and flightless…until a small gust of wind lifted him slightly off the ground. Noting this, he timidly asked the wind to help him out on his quest to fly. The wind, thinking this to be such a simple, even silly request, obliged…and he huffed and blew until the small kite rose higher, and higher…and higher still into the great blue sky. The small kite was elated! He had never known such sights! He could almost see til the ends of the earth! And so he flew and flew, his spirits buoyed by the wind. Lost, however, in his thoughts of wonder and awe, the small and lowly kite didn’t notice that the wind had gotten tired. Tired of floating the small kite around. Tired of riding beneath the kite’s wings. For surely he was meant for much greater things than this! Was it not him, the mighty wind, that billowed the sails of great ships in search of treasures untold? So the wind ceased his airy dance, and slipped quietly from under the small kite’s wings. The kite, now with no crutch from under his arms, fell slowly, languidly, to the ground. As he gently touched the sand whereupon he used to lie, he saw at a distance, his old friend, the wind, now in search of greater adventures, grander quests, and loftier feats. The kite, now once more flightless, whispered a silent thanks, and bid the wind goodbye.

Ali

Whence in life your path seemed dry and long...
And rocks beneath your feet they cut and stung
Your skin it burned, scorched by the unforgiving sun...
You trudged alone on a lonely song.

The day seemed endless...no rest, no shade...
Your body weak, your spirit frayed
No wind, no rain...had mercy gone?
You trudged along on a lonely song.

And as you walked, the night it came...
A blanket of rest...it shall remain
Where once you were, now just a song
of your journey short...and it shall linger on.

So now you've gone to sleep in night's sweet embrace
Your toil has ended...rest now in God's boundless grace!

I will remember you, Ali.

At the Corner of 14th Street (March 14, 2005)

Feb. 19, 2005 (Saturday)...5:30 am

And so I pass under that same watchlight for yet another time. funny how it seemed to shine a little brighter than the last...I should've seen it coming, though. There was a blur somewhere, a cottony wisp I couldn't quite place...and it nagged on me, tugged at my consciousness...but I chose to turn my back and plunge forward.

For a split second there (though it seemed much, much faster than that), the blur appeared to clear...or so I thought...maybe hoped...I dunno. Doesn't really matter, does it?

There's a haze now, thicker than ever...a veil of gray, dimming my watchlight.

Maybe I'll stay just a little while longer, just to see...

...just to see...

Feb. 28, 2005 (Monday)...sometime in the afternoon

...I've decided to drive off for a while now. I need to clear my head, rest my mind, free my spirit from the confines this exploration has ironically boxed me in.

Perhaps if and when I come back, the fog has lifted, and the watchlight burns brighter, clearer than ever.

...then again, maybe there was never really any wathchlight to come back to in the first place...

Mar. 14, 2005 (Monday)...10:30 pm

Now I'm back out on the corner of 14th street. The air has cleared, and I see that the watchlight still stands. All is calm...the storm, it seems, has passed. Daybreak nears, and as the night begins its graceful exit, the watchlight flickers...once...twice...three times. Then, as brightly as it had shone hours ago, it slowly fades away to black. And though I am suddenly in the dark, somehow, in some strange way, I am at peace.

It is time for me to leave this place. It is not without a heavy spirit that I drive away form here. I don't knkow where the road takes me to next...I don't know how this journey ends...Perhaps, on another night such as this, I'll find myself once again, out on the corner of 14th street...that familiar watchlight burning brighter, clearer...and through the thin, still air, maybe...just maybe...I would hear the not-so-distant strains of a guitar...softly strumming my favorite song.

NB: This was written early this year, from Feb. to Mar...as the dates in the body indicate. I wrote this during one of the rather many dim and dismal times in my life this year. It seems my creative juices rush more freely when I am in pain. At least something nice comes out of dire situations =)

Glass House (March 21, 2005)

One hot and humid, lazy afternoon, two years before today…by the side of a forgotten, dust-laden road somewhere down south…a house of glass…I remember.

In the middle of that cluttered room you sat…that old guitar resting contentedly against your body. You were lightly strumming, plucking at the strings. The strains of a song, I still remember which, floating through that hot and humid air. And it sifted through, past the corridor, to the other room…where she was…and she was drawn to you…

As though in a trance, she followed…past the corridor, to where you were…sitting in the middle of that cluttered room with your old guitar…and I remember…how it became then. From the bongos, to the egg shakers…by the side of that forgotten, dust-laden road…outside the house of glass…it was music that flowed between the two of you. Through your fingers as you strummed your old guitar, past her lips as she sang in tune with you…within the words and laughter, over and under a few awkward moments, beyond every casual glimpse or glance, there was music…and it flowed…like a fine, silver string…and she was drawn to you…

I remember…one night, you ran with her in the rain…no umbrella, just your handkerchief, drying her off…do you remember? It was there, still.

A month’s worth…and like every song, it had to end. Do you remember, you rode with her on that last night. She wished the road would stretch on and on…but then you had to go…and I remember she was torn.

It was two years before today. She had carried on. You trudged along on your own path. There were times when your roads would cross, and though only fleetingly, a longing would pass…and for a brief moment it all comes back…and you both knew then, it was there, still…

And so I come to the now. How weeks and weeks ago, you came back to her…and, how, inspite of herself, she ushered you in. She was drawn to you again. Then, like two years before today, there was music once more…

…So, it is not without great wonderment that I close this chapter. For no sooner than when it began, you slip past her fingers for yet a second time… with nothing short of an explanation…nothing close to a promise…. And she is left wondering…hoping…for deep inside of her…I know…she is still drawn to you…

NB: Written March 21, 2005, it traces the beginnings and the abrupt end of an episode in my life. It's funny how inspite of the pain, hurt and confusion, when all's done and over with, you suddenly realize that, after some time, you CAN look back and just laugh at how silly and stupid you've been before.

Justice Served (December 29, 2005)

I just realized something today. Justice comes in various packages. Not long ago, I had been on the receiving end of a rather misleading partnership. To the best of my knowledge, I had commited no mistakes, delivered through all expectations, had given more than what was asked of me. In return, I was used, blatantly lied to, thrown the sudden shrug-off, dropped like a hot potato, left for dead, and replaced by an entity that, bluntly put, oozes with mediocrity when placed beside a morsel of me (yeah, I am mad...and I damned know my worth). I fought and I struggled...through all the confusion, anger, hurt and pain...not to mention financial turmoil the partnership had hurled at me. I am fine now...to say the least...my toil has ended. I knew the time would come that the scores would even up. That time arrived today for me. It is interesting that news come to me without my prompting or egging ...they really quite simply just fall on my lap. A couple of hours ago, a friend texted me some bad news...about the object of my hardships. It seems the person had not been able to ride through the wave of a particular storm smoothly, and has sunk (once more) to the depths beneath. I don't feel at all glorious, nor do I feel the urge to gloat. On the contrary, I am saddened by this sudden turn of events, and wonder what the future might hold for this person. Through our brief encounter, I had caught a glimpse of this person's life, and I still thoroughly believe this person is inherently good...confused and insecure...but good, nonetheless...and this person's actions, albeit hurtful, misleading, and oftentimes just plain foolish and silly, are brought on by particular needs...a need to be loved, to be accepted, to be lauded. Still, though, the thought of justice being served could not leave my mind, and the word "karma" keeps echoing through my head. And although I feel a little bit guilty, I could not help but think...the wheels have turned...it is someone else's time now to be at the bottom rung. Case closed.