Forgiving You, Forgiving Me

Everyone was once as vulnerable. I was reminded of that feeling. Of a juvenile memory, slowly waking up and reliving that deep cut of hatred and distress. The pain piercing the core of your essence and heaves you into a bottomless abyss of depletion. You could've avenged yourself but no, apart from being powerless, you know it will never do any good.

Nothing has changed. Or perhaps something has changed, but not much. What you see and what I see, differently of a seemingly exact same thing. Everything's different and yet the same.

I want to forgive as much as I want the wounds to heal.

Hide-and-Seek

Why do we always play hide-and-seek? We speak loud and fast on things that we won't remember tomorrow, and whisper only to ourselves what our hearts need to say the most. We listen to the words. Why can't we hear what comes underneath.

The Detonated Bomb

In the confusion and the aftermath you are my signal fire.

This morning I woke up with this feeling of somewhat peaceful and simple and sober. I’m seeing the higher road. A little push. A little intervention. A little attention to stop temptation to cry. It was a good day.

Famous quotes from yesterday (see February 25, 2007 post)

just this morning...
love spells t-i-m-e

Drowned in my well-hidden thoughts

I didn't think I would feel so tired until this morning. This morning I felt its urgency like an incisive cut through my skin. I'm feeling rather emotional these days. I wanna paint desperately but first of all I wish I can paint. So for now, I want to draw something intrinsic and extraordinary. Something that is true and pure. A work that tells everything and nothing at the same time. I need substantial time. To maneuver a paint brush. To illustrate a noble artwork and to put my soul in it.

Submerged

(sketch removed)

Sinking. How does it feel to sink, relenting to the pull of the tide, the waves..

Trapped in a rectangular space. Filled up to the head with water. Water that is tasteless, water that bubbles at the point of your nostrils.

Wave. Waving at me. Change. The colors are changing.

Blue. Cobalt. Refracting lights. Pale lips. Wide-open eyes, glassy. I can't get hold of the lights.

I am swallowing water. I am taking in deep breaths. I want to fill my lungs with water, so that I don't have to breathe anymore.

And the endless ocean. At world's end. No such thing. I wished I never knew. I wished I never came. For it is endless, ceaseless, forever out of reach.

And Myself. I watch as the me I saw underwater float lifelessly, with wide-open eyes, glassy and hopeless.

It is better that way. To ignore and drift, watching Myself than to watch Her turn into something else entirely alien.

I am so afraid

I can't concentrate. I am looking at the bright side, the silver lining, but I am still so afraid.

I am so afraid that I will not make it. Yes, shamefully, I do concede, it has something to do with everyone else. But most of all, it has everything to do with my future, which is drawing nearer and nearer, time ticking away ruthlessly, with its girdle tightening around me every day. I still jerk awake in the middle of the night sometimes, to a sudden fear that seized me by the arm. I need to remember that I will do what I have set out to do, and only hope and pray hard that it will lift me off and send me to the right direction.

If only I knew what to do. I want to think positively. I do. I just am so afraid.

Raindrops

How frequent do we ever get to sit and talk? We are perpetually running errands, doing something--busy busy busy, ignore ignore ignore, go go go, run run run--we never can grasp that little sliver of time just to sit down, face-to-face and talk.

Maybe that is why we sometimes find it awkward to be sitting right before a person, in flesh and blood, talking. Our whole lives are run by technology, so much so that we start blaming lack of communication on it.

Miscommunication. Words left unsaid. Reeling for a long time. Sitting in the darkness, perhaps we will get to understand each other so much better. Who knows.

There's much to heal in this world. For every wound that refuses to heal. For every angel that falls from the sky. For every hurt that hides beneath fragile wings. There's much to heal.

And so we turn to those we love and wonder, how can I make her see? That the key to her own happiness is within. We ask, how can I help her get through the pain? How can I mend the heart that shattered into a thousand little pieces? How can I make her see life is worth living again?

I sit with myself and the words echo in my mind. I cannot heal in others what is wounded in me.

I sit with myself and find faith. Faith that can see. It is the candle that glows in the dark. It is faith that tells me there is no need to suffer in spite of the pain, no need to lose myself when sorrow comes my way. That which tells me to be brave so I can inspire others to do the same. I am no longer blinded. I sit with myself and know. That in spite of all the hurt and sadness that creep their way in, life remains beautiful. Because I let it.

It has started to rain. No more rumbling. Just soft tears, pelting against my window.