But this is a different story. This is Samar and Leyte.
This is where people greeted and helped us with directions just after stepping out of the airport, instead of the usual haggling for scams.
This is where my current facebook cover photo was taken where I can wake up, not take a bath and still feel embraced.
This is where we were children again. Played with random kids while amused by the cleanliness and serenity of the bay.
This is where we opened bottles of Tanduay Ice using stones and rocks just because we had nothing for breakfast… and it was insanely good.
This is where we had a boat ride and a cave tour for free, with assistance from three really nice guys: Kuya Jason (resort’s helper), Kuya chef (resort’s chef), and Kuya Manager (resort owner’s son). That was very memorable, one of us even almost fell in love :)
This is where we had unlimited buko because kuya Jason was so generous and enthusiastic to climb the coconut tree for us.
This is where we stayed in a hotel room with a stranger, whom became our second mother for a night.
This is where I got really pissed off and hated everyone I see, and later on laughed out loud because there was nothing else I can do.
This is where we met a modern day Samaritan who toured us in Tacloban and Palo just after we asked for directions. Yes, kuya Rizal was just jogging in Tacloban City Hall when we approached him to ask for directions. He did not only offered to take us to our destination, but he also toured us to the Capitol, MacArthur landing memorial, historical shrines and museums, public parks, and shopping malls.
This is where I forgot the world. This is where I had the Samar feeling. The feeling that only that Samar-Leyte trip can explain. I didn’t have this kind of feeling in any other places I visited. There is something about Samar and Leyte that made it to the deepest part of my heart.
These are some of the many reasons why seeing all these devastations in Samar and Leyte breaks my heart to pieces. None of the people I met are reachable at the moment and I sincerely pray that all of them were able to make it, and will be able to move forward and start again.
The people of Tacloban were the most friendly and helpful. They are easy to be trusted so stop calling them thieves because they are not. They are just desperate to survive because help is too slow to come. All the destruction, chaos, and stupid politics are hard to bear already. Stop tormenting them.
These people were so special to me. Samar and Leyte will always be special to me. I ask everyone to do whatever they can to help in whatever way possible. I am begging.
And to the government which is mostly proud of Filipino’s resilience—shut up and get your act together! It’s about time the country itself becomes resilient and not just the people.
I guess it’s safe to say that you don’t know me, and you probably never will.
And I can honestly say that I don’t know you. I wish I do. I want to know you. I want to hear the deepest set goals of your heart, and be there with you while you achieve it. I want to feel your pain every moment I catch your eyes in sorrow. I want to laugh with you, and see you smile first thing in the morning. I want to be the reason why you’re happy. I want to know what you’re afraid of, and be with you while you fear, find courage in me, with me. I want to spend my days with you and travel the world while I hold your hand. I will not demand anything from you unless your eyes beg for it. I want you. And I want you to want me too.
But that seems impossible. You don’t know me. You only see me in my dreams, in the pictures I paint in my mind. The pictures of you and me that whenever I see, I can’t help but hope that one day it will work out between us. You know, I wish I could tell you every word my heart is longing for you to hear. I guess I am that fearful. I am so afraid of you. I am so scared to lose you when I don’t even have you. Maybe one day, I will. But until then, I will wait no matter how long it’ll take just to know that I will have you… if I will have you.
For now, you don’t see me, and I have to live with it even if I am in love with you.
You’ve been haunting me for days since the night you appeared in my dream. It was supposed to be really nothing, but the dream was so real. I saw you in your complete form, I heard your voice too clearly, and I absolutely, entirely felt your presence. It was really you. It was very you, and it is sick. I gradually woke up, little by little realizing that it was not real. Little by little trying to accept that indeed, you’re just an amazing creation of my subconscious mind. And at one point finally, I understood the entirety of the false hope of having you back.
Do I really want you back? Did I even ever have you? No.
But, I felt you in my damn heart — again. All the feelings I had for you that I thought I had overly forgotten just reappeared too abruptly. It is as if it was just there all along, but maybe I was trying to ignore it. Or maybe because I thought it’s not about you anymore. You were the last one.
And, what about you?
You’ve been making me happy for the past months. And just like before, you know nothing about this. This is where I’m good at — secretly admiring a person without realizing that I am actually gradually falling in love.
Love? I might not be there with you, yet. But I think of you for more than half of my day, everyday. I like you too much that I am starting to see myself with you, and forcefully believing the beautiful lies my mind creates. Thinking about these fake memories of us brings pleasure to my semi-non existent life. I will still see your face if I go blind, even if to you, I am invisible. You make me wonder, what is it about you?
You showed up in front of me today, and I was looking at you so intently — observing how you talk, how you blink, and how you breathe, but I didn’t get the feeling I used to have when I was so deeply obsessed with you. The last one appeared in my dream, and for two nights in a row, I am kept wide awake until dawn. This is driving me insane. The feeling of trying to move on over and over again from someone I never really had. Never will have.
May mga araw na sobrang busy ko sa pagiisip na ayaw ko nang magisip. Kakaisip ko na ayoko, napapaisip ako lalo. Hindi ko mapigilan, kahit gusto ko nang mawala yung naiisip ko na yun. Wala ako maintindihan.
Nakakaloka dahil isip ako ng isip kahit na ni minsan, hindi naman talaga to dumating sa buhay ko. Parang tanga lang, nagiisip at umaasa ng darating, babalik, kahit wala naman dapat balikan dahil wala naman talaga sinimulan.
Paano ba balikan ang hindi mo pinanggalingan?
Gusto ko tuloy na mawala na lang bigla. Hindi mawala sa mundong to, kundi yung basta na lang mag disappear kahit saglit lang. Gusto ko maligaw sa lugar na wala akong alam kung sino o ano ang mga pumapaligid sakin. Parang isang alien sa isang kakaibang mundo. Gusto ko hulihin ako ng mga tinatawag na tao, pag-aralan ako, kalikutin ang katawan, utak, at lahat ng lamang-loob ko… Baka pag nalaman nila kung sino at ano ako, malaman ko rin at maintindihan ko ang sarili ko…yun ay kung buhay pa ko.
Inabot sa akin ang salamin at tinanong ako kung ano ang nakita ko. Nahirapan ako sagutin, dahil wala akong makita. May imahe pero walang malinaw na porma. Sino nga ba ang dapat kong makita sa harap ng salamin?
Sa ganitong panahon na hindi ko alam kung ano ang meron bukas, di ko maiwasang itanong sa sarili ko kung ano nga ba ang plano ko. Teka. Sa totoo lang, hindi ko naman tatanungin ang sarili ko kung walang ibang tao ang nagtanong. Siguro, nasanay lang ako sa buhay na walang maayos na plano. Pero ngayon na magulo at nakalilito, napaisip ako, kung sino nga ba ako para bukas. E sino nga ba ang mortal na nakakaalam ng bukas?
Ngayon, nakaharap ako sa isang salamin, pero wala ako makitang reflection. Kahit anong punas, kahit gaano ko pa pakintabin, wala pa ring pagbabago. Pwede siguro na basagin ko na lang ito, baka makita ko ang sarili ko sa wasak wasak na piraso ng salaming binasag ko.
I close my eyes, and let my fingers move. I am not sure if what I am writing is aligned. Maybe words overlap, I don’t know. My eyes are close so I can see you clear. With music of happiness to my ears, I try to find you. My heart pounds as I feel you. Tears are starting to build up for I am happy, I am thankful. One moment of everyday, I will close my eyes, find you, and write with candour. Let my fingers speak for my heart with eyes closed so I can see clearly. And so I may declare, I am happy. I am thankful.
You stare at the cover of the book, trying to imagine the atmosphere. It took a while before you finally flipped the cover to the first page of the first chapter. And by the time you reached chapter two, you are already hooked. You can’t close your eyes even if you are too dang tired. You prefer being a zombie in the morning, just so you could be the characters’ imaginary friend at least for the night.
This happens to me every single time I encounter a really good book. And by good, I mean emotionally catchy. It is when you first came across the main character and you already know you are interested in him. And when you heard him speak for the very first time (even if you are just reading), you smile for some reasons you are not sure of. Sometimes, you are reminded of someone you know in real world. But most of the times, you just enjoy being around him, seeing him, hearing him, feeling him, even if in the other way around, you are nowhere in his life.
You think that no one can relate to your being hurt ending a naturally good book. Knowing the characters will no longer be with you pains your heart as if they actually do mean a lot in your life. It is as if you actually really met them. It’s sad. You just sit there sadly for a moment, or a day, or weeks, wishing it didn’t end too soon. You sometimes wish that it doesn’t end at all.
Right now, that’s what I’m feeling. I am so utterly sad, teary-eyed listening to the song I somewhat imagined as its soundtrack.
It’s the third day now. And I can’t start reading any other from my list of unread books.
I can’t start because I still can’t move on from the enormous happiness I had from the previous I’ve read, and the uber sadness that replaced it while slowly reading its last page. I still imagine pictures of the main characters. I am trying to write its second book, its third book… writing them in my mind. I still long to hear their names. It is as if I’ve spent much of my time with them, when in fact I only have read about them for a couple of hours combined.
Oh how I wish I didn’t finish the book too soon. Maybe one page a day, so I’ll get to have 382 days with them.
You know how good it is to pray for someone? How good it is on your part… How overwhelming?
Back in Highschool, I used to be someone who does not care at all. If there is God, if there isn’t, what’s the point? I am going to die anyway and whatever happens after death is something I am not bound to know. Yes, I was agnostic. And I remember already writing about it before.
However, sometimes in a person’s life, it does not have to take a near-death experience just to have a life-changing occasion. I was not diagnosed of any disease, nor was I hit by a truck. I didn’t wake up one day realizing how useless my life was. No. I was only invited to attend a Christian service, but it wasn’t overnight that I cared about a god.
It was seven years. It took me seven years of hearing the word of God, before I finally cared, and believed. And it’s not over yet, not even halfway. I’m not there yet. But now I know in my heart and mind, that the God I believe in and serve now is the only true God. And He is faithful.
I have a friend whom I have been talking for a couple of weeks about her life and problems. I have been giving her worldly advices for days, but she is still suffering from the same scenario that keeps her depressed. It was only this morning that I get to pray for her. I did not know why I did it only now, but I did. And after that, she cried and felt better. She was very thankful because she told me that for the past few days, nothing felt good, until I prayed for her. Surely, it was God who touched her. It was God who made her feel loved and special.
My God is so true and faithful that he can heal emotional sufferings. Praying for my friend felt good, even if she told me that she was not used to me praying. She felt good as well, and I am overwhelmed with what God can do. If he can heal emotional pains, what else can’t he do? I am not there yet, but I am excited for more of God, aren’t you?
Okay, sa lahat naman ng pwedeng mabunggo bakit yung mataba pa? And no, hindi ako nagrereklamo dahil tumalsik ako pagkabunggo nya sakin…. kundi dahil yung matabang nakabungguan ko, e basang basa pa ng pawis…..
Ramdam na ramdam ko ang init na nararamdaman nya, at ang tagaktak ng pawis nya e napahid sa braso ko.
Buong araw kong iniwasan na pagpawisan.. Nagtaxi ako dahil coding ngayon. Ni hindi ako lumabas for lunch dahil sobra ang tirik ng araw.
Oo inaamin ko, ayaw na ayaw ko nang pinapagpawisan. Ayoko unless nasa bundok ako… sa beach… Nag te-trek, nagpapa-tan, or nagke-caving. Ayoko pinapawisan sa Metro Manila dahil mausok, maalikabok, nakakasipon… Hindi ako nag co-commute dahil sumasakit ulo ko pag naiinitan. Di ako mahilig sa sports dahil ayoko ng pawis… Kaya swimming lang ang nagustuhan ko, atleast pagpawisan man ako, hindi ko ramdam dahil malamig….
Pero nitong paguwi ko galing opisina, naglakad ako at nabunggo ang isang matabang babaeng pawis na pawis. Bakit naman sa lahat e sya pa? Pwede naman yung taong grasang tuyo. Mas okay pa yun sakin dahil atleast hindi basa. Hindi maputik sa pakiramdam… Hindi ko maipinta ang reaksyon ko nung nagkabungguan kami… Para akong dinukutan, napahimutok ako.
Okay, alam ko walang kwenta to. Pero grabe lang talaga, ayoko ng pawis…lalo na kung pawis ng iba!!!!
Sometimes I wonder why I’m at where am at now. Sometimes I question how I am doing what I wish I am doing. Most of the times, if not always, the wonders and questions I have remain as wonders and questions, yet still I do.
I just need one day. One day to finally decide to start, to find the courage to go away.
Be far away to feed my brain and emotions, to satisfy my weird cravings of being gone. Not completely, not finally; just disappear.
inigyan ako ng mga larawan na kinunan sa Banaue. Di ko sinasadyang titigan ang mga ‘to, pero hindi kayang pigilan ng mga mata ko.
Ang sarap nila tingnan… Berdeng taniman, asul na kalangitan.
Tila ba aking naramdaman ang hangin at naamoy ang simoy nito. Ang sarap. Pero sa bawat kisap ng mata ko, nawawala yung pakiramdam na yun—bumabalik ako sa aking silya, kaharap ang computer sa loob ng isang silid na malamig pero hindi nagbibigay ginaw.
Ngayon ay gusto kong tumakbo at lumipad. Walang pakialam sa kung sinong mababangga o masisipa. Gusto ko, pero di ko magawa.
Gusto ko magpunta sa malayong probinsya sa Pilipinas kung saan hindi tagalog ang gamit na wika. Gusto kong mapadpad sa kawalan, makipag-kaibigan sa sanlibutan ng ibang mundo.
Sino ba ang dapat ko lapitan? Ano ba ang dapat kong gawin para makaalis sa silid na malamig?
Only quite a few can relate to me about how I feel when I listen to music. All the more, most of these people are people I don’t know. These are the people I see online commenting on Youtube videos, lyrics site, music sites, etc. We don’t even talk, but I can relate to them as well.
I don’t sing, nor do I play any music instrument, but I love music more than anyone I know. I listen to any kind of music, and I love them.
When I listen to music, I feel like being transported to a place like chalk and cheese. I feel deserted, and even if so, it feels good. Often times, with my headphones on, you will see me with teary eyes. Sometimes, I could not help tears from falling down my eyes. I am not emotionally under chaos, but sometimes, it’s like I have a relationship ending, or a family that’s breaking even when I really have none.
Sometimes, I cry because the goodness of a song is worth my tears. Some songs are just so brilliantly made; I admire how genius the writer or composer is, or how emotional and real the artist is. I like my music loud, just so I can hear the individuality of each vocals and chords. I see the emotion and passion of the hearts of the artist when I listen to their own eccentricity.
When I listen to music, I close my eyes and see more than what I can see when I have them open. And everything I see may be sad, happy, extreme, chaotic, fly…. But regardless of these being good or bad, I still do love what I see, and what I feel when I see them.
One day I was crying, listening to Mayday Parade’s Save Your Heart, my dad saw me and asked why. I told him it’s because of how good the song is, and when he heard it, he laughed at me. Other times I listen to Ghinzu’s The Dragster Wave, and I feel so high, with eyes closed, and hand up high, feeling like watching a concert, my friend called me crazy. I can’t help it. Music is full of emotions, and I think it is just in my nature to pick up the emotions of the song and the artist singing or playing.
I feel a little heartache listening to Tori Amos’ A Sorta Fairytale, Keane’s We Might as Well Be Strangers, Katy Perry’s I’m Still Breathing, Finger Eleven’s I’ll Keep Your Memory Vague, and a lot more. I feel in love with Kevin Rudolf’s Love Letter, The After’s Beautiful Love, Lifehouse’ Blind, Howie Day’s Collide, etc. There are songs that make me gloomy like Radiohead’s Street Spirit, Good Charlotte’s Emotionless, Kerli’s Scar Tissue, 30 Seconds to Mars’ Alibi etc. Songs like Simple Plan’s Jet Lag, Circa’s Hintay, Katy Perry’s The One That Got Away and a lot more make me feel desperate.
There are many songs to mention and I could go over and over, but then I won’t be able to stop writing. Now, I am listening to Vega 4’s Life is Beautiful, so I better stop writing and feel the song.
So if you see me with my iPod on, bear with me, I am poles apart when I listen to music.