There’s a song for everything.
I said let’s start with head over feet and then ironic.
But you said ironic should go first so it goes:
It’s traffic jam, when you’re already late. It’s meeting the man of your dreams… isn’t it ironic? You treat me like I’m a princess, you’re my best friend…
When I’m mad, you sing mardy bum; in calm and quiet, you’re stuck on the puzzle just like those smitten first days. When we prepare ourselves, you sing La la la la la la I swear I’ll never be happy again! Is this really happening?
I didn’t know we should have taken Pink and Nate seriously. Just give me a reason, why did you vanish like a murderer, Mr. duplicity? Are you thinking of me in the middle of dinner?
Most of the time, when I remember you, I just put my hands in my pocket because we lived, we learned. We loved. I still hope we’ll be coming back, are we? But please, please don’t make me sing for 25 minutes.
Create a dreamy afternoon, the sun melting a tangerine sky; on your feet is fine sand becoming finer with every bitter-sweet rendezvous with confusing waves.
The people stare at your open back baring inked skin and no longer toned physique.
They also stare at his piercing eyes of confidence, of holding onto this moment with you. He knows it will go by as fast as you came into his friendly little hometown.
Picture out the night you got there and the bars that you would hop about; the smell of beer and the men who think they’re living the life, and the women who don’t know why they are fucked up.
Draw in your mind the music that will make you stand. And you both will dance because not a pair of eyes could tell that you are victims of time, criminals of the law.
Sculpt very well the touch of his hands as he drags you out to watch the stars he booked just for you. Tonight the clouds take leave to make you fall even more in-love.
Hug him and fear the dawning of the reality. Believe him say that he’ll do something.
Create this dreamy paradise and visit it every night-mare;
and your heart shall become wiser every mourning.
Can’t help but take a photo of this little boy sitting in front of me in the jeep, who had a nice mixture of tired-adult look in his eyes and the i-care-not comfy-ness of a kid.
I grow strong when you are weak
So can you just be weak?
I’ll be gone before you know it.
So love me before I’m gone.
It could have been the best journeys
of our ironic lives
but the Universe was quick to say no,
your separate ways.
A whole lifetime stretches ahead of us
The road is long before the next.
When you look back for me,
I may be the road you’re walking on,
the light that gives you life,
And the tomorrow that you promised yesterday.
If you’d want to look back for me,
So you may join me when you’re strong.
If I would die between 10 and 11:20 tonight on my way to starting a new life, I would die a happy woman.
– I have nearly closed the loops of my friendships, and each will have an ever stronger support system because life is hard.
– Kash has learned to become more compassionate and that prayers always come with action.
– Aziel now wears shorts, w/o care what people will say about her legs.
– Prinzel will remember how she ferried a friend to survival and renewal.
– Despite losing her little boy, Lanie remains strong, loving and purehearted. Everyone must learn from her “growing up with grace.”
– Abegail will realize that life is short and start pursuing freedom.
– Khai will teach herself that being alone is totally fine and enjoyable sometimes.
– Helen will not read diaries anymore hahaha
– Katy will still be like Pooh.
– Rhea will be ever more comfortable with her mal-adjustments because she’s one of the wisest I know. She’ll love herself more and assert what she deserves.
– Anj will know that I treasure every moment she stood up for me.
– My family knows I die on my way back to them 🙂
– And Dennis will go on find the best woman for him, one who has true “soldier-wife skills.” He’ll also know that he would be the last man I loved.
Truly, the universe never runs out of support systems.
There was a boy who met a girl…
… so that’s how Den wanted me to start telling this story, if indeed this is already a story.
We met on the 16th of May after a peacebuilding mission on a mountain (to gloss things up a bit), while looking at this view, posted immediately on Facebook with the following caption:
A stranger… That stranger came to Manila 15 days after having dinner and 4 bottles of beer with me. A stranger who claimed to have fallen in love. Who in her right mind would buy that?
He had a plan, and a number of backup plans. He said he was sure, I believed despite my doubts, but my doubts were apparently right (men!).
Four bottles of beer and he wanted to marry me. We met again a few days later, him in his mask of certainty. At the back of his mind, “10 days might just be too much.”
Then 10 days stretched into what seemed like forever. Both anticipating the worst, the best was yet to come.
Yes we started off quite foolishly, but maybe gratitude brews foolishness into grace. Maybe he was sure after all. While I thank the mask of certainty.
I found a scratch paper inserted in my notebook, think I wrote it while leaving on a plane. Kash told me I haven’t updated the blog for a while, that’s because the Chickenshit Lover that I was is no longer. Thanks Dennis, please don’t find this poem sick, I like it for its literary value, if any at all.
This is not a 10-things-I-hate-about-you sort of thing
But I’ll start with hating you
Because I hate it when you saw me off the airport and disappeared after 3 seconds
Then you did the same when you saw me off before another flight, last night.
I hate that every time we’d meet, I was always full of expectations
But that simply means time together and knowing each other
Wasn’t that why we would meet?
But all you ever gave me was 3 seconds.
I hate how you put me at the backseat
And you’re surprised that I’m suddenly upset
But the backseat was probably where I fell,
I fell off at the backseat.
Love, lust, or the in-between
I hate that I was in-between
And made you say ‘sorry’ so many times
For making me upset.
I honestly don’t know why you still came by last night
3 seconds, hello-bye.
I’ve always been the great lover that I’ve known. I would love, no conditions, no returns needed. That I would love: the be all and end all of my existence.
I never thought it would be scarier when someone actually asks you to love him. Never imagined I would chicken-shit.
Is this about aging and my now frail bones?
About wisdom and not making the same mistakes?
Must be fear of getting ripped, irreparable
Or trying to maintain balance?
Is this death of a tomorrow?
Or is this faith and hope, that he would hold on?