Beast

I’d like to believe everybody is good by nature.I’d like to think I’m one of “everybody” but I maybe wrong.I could be a freak, a beast or just a plain nobody.I could be not worth anybody’s time and affection. But I’ve seen myself higher than this until now.Some beast triggered the beast in me and I am scared.

I’m scared of the helpless little girl in me.I’m scared every time she goes out.She is painful, fearful and scary. She is hurt, helpless and alone.She is that girl I thought had long gone.I was wrong.She was just fearfully hiding herself somewhere deep and dark.

But now, I saw her,  again.I felt her.I felt her pain.I felt her tears.I felt her chest harden as she struggled to breathe.She wants to live.But she is scary. She is painful. She is the remnant of the battles I fought hard. That was so long ago. So long ago. But the pain is alive, fresh and vivid. And it is scary. It scares me now. Completely.

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Fairy tales No More.

I thought it is never good enough to just write about anything. I mean anything under the sun. I believe one should write about something grand. Something fab and trendy. I thought writers are noticed and given breaks because they write about cinder beginnings and happy-ever-after endings. Blame Cinderella for my twisted way of thinking.

I blame every happy-ever-after endings of television series, novels, comics and every fiction made in history. It conditions my mind to believe that everything is going to fall perfectly in place after several ups and downs. That every teardrops are worth shedding in hope for the magical smiles to come. Yes, magical.

I fail to see that believing in magic is an unconscious effort to be lazy, to be a failure. Most damsels in distress with fairy godmothers and magic wands who only have to get timid and perfectly prim in front of their prince’s, lo’ and  behold, they earn the castle and the crown that every girl’s been dreaming of not to forget the prince.

I have been dreaming that I am a princess swept off by my feet not by my prince but my dreams. Like Cinderella who only get to leave a shoe before running for her life, I thought that my daydreams will become a reality in an instant because of my strong will to dream or so I thought.

I am almost 25 now, while some of my dreams are coming to reality there is a big part of me down there that wasn’t filled. It was shallow then and until now. Sometimes, I figure it like a deep, deep well overflowing with words. Words that I cannot seem to organize, like thoughts that I cannot afford to say or even write. And yes,they are haunting me. I think they believe that they have to be set free.

“Happily ever after is so once upon a time”, I stumble upon this in the internet and it got me nodding, saying  “Yeah, it is that old.”

I Wanna

Let’s talk about what I want.

You probably do not care about what I want because you only care about yours (now that sounds so judgmental)  however, I feel the need to write down what’s in my head, allow me.

I WANNA WRITE. When I picture myself writing about anything or for a certain topic, I feel elated. I feel like I’ve shed off tons of fats that makes me feel heavy and tired. You know, I don’t wanna talk about how I feel and what I think about a lot of issues may it be political, economic, financial, social and even personal. I find writing as the best way to dispose my not-so-great feelings on things. More than that, I want to write. I want to become a writer.

I WANNA FORGET. Not talking about the things that have been running in my head makes me think that I’ve unconsciously absorbed the negativities. Maybe now, they’re stuck in my subconscious and just needed a little fire to explode. That is scary. The most scary thing a person must fear are the thoughts that have been kept hidden for a very long time. Unlike wines they taste better when stored for a very long time, thoughts become bombs when kept for long.

I WANNA DANCE. Talk about sanity check. I’m no dancer and I’ve got no Beyonce’s body but I wanna dance the worries away. “Hey, don’t mind them and get happy” and I’m like ” Yeah dude, like that’s very easy to do.” When I want to get positive about things but I just can’t ignore the doubts, all I wanna do is literally shake the worries off.

I WANNA RECONNECT WITH HIM. Not that I’ve lost the connection to the Almighty because I know he’s  always here but I feel the need to really strengthen it because that maybe the reason why I’m feeling on the edge always. The guidance and strength from above is just beyond everything and I think that’s all I need to be back on track. I need everything from HIM.

That was quite a list but I can’t help it considering the tempting inclinations pulling as away from what really matters in life, I think that’s far from enough but I could only think for a few now.

Just Can’t . . .

Unsettling.

Yes, this is the perfect description of how I felt for  the past few days. I have all these feelings I can’t named and understand and sometimes I thought they’re just in my mind.

I can’t explain why I get tired, like really tired, when I am not into strenuous activities lately. Well, if you could call hitting the gym twice a week, for an hour of cardio then maybe, I got the answer to my questions. But you know, it’s not that.

I get really pumped up every time I thought of writing an entry for my blog but every time I sign in, I lost the focus on which one to do first. I feel like I wanted to change the appearance first, the name and I even think of deleting all the posts but didn’t because I thought of the few special people who politely commented and liked my posts and it gets me excited even more.

I thought of the hormones. I think my eggs are in some kind of zumba in there. Yes, ovulation period. Yes, I do sense them like a normal woman does. Do you?  But as I’m writing this now, I don’t really feel proud blaming the hormones for all these blabber.

I thought of my full-time job. It’s right here and I’ve got lots of checks to deposit, subscriptions to trace and follow up, periodicals to index and a whole lot of unfinished works I no longer know where to start. It’s creeping me out.

I thought of how unfortunate it is to not have water in the office so, I get to buy my own water downstairs. Hey, before I was able to write that statement ahead, I think I got a 3-minute lapse. Geez, such a waste of time. Thinking of time, I remembered a quote ” A time enjoyed wasting is not a wasted time,” and I dunno it that was the right passage.

Suddenly, I remembered how I wanted to take a leave this morning when I woke up at 6:43. (I reread the first statement of this entry, stopped and wrote this.) I feel funny. Wait, yeah, this morning I wanted to take a leave because I was tired and I woke up late because I slept late but I don’t think that’s too late. Anyway, I slept at 12:43 last night or was that this morning? but yes, that’s 12:43. Read the next paragraph to know why.

I get really addicted to make-up video tutorials. (Wait, before I was able to write the addiction on makeup tutorials thingy, I was tempted to read again this whole entry from the top.Gosh, and you know what happens next if I was able to read this entire entry again? I’ll be tempted to edit, restructure, recreate this post, whatever is the term and this post will surely go nowhere. If I did succumbed to my habit of editing posts in the middle of writing them, I’ll surely end up trashing this post away. Good thing I didn’t (trash or edit?) Of course you’ll know because of the next paragraph.)

Suddenly, I thought of my students, my class tomorrow and the midterm exams next week. (Gosh, I must stop. This has to end!) See? Now you know how uneasy, disorganized, crazy and plainly cannot-be-figured-out-attitude I got today.

END.

Wait, I’m not supposed to put an end to this post yet, but I think I have to. 571 words of barely nothing but sentiments. Oh, it’s 577, wait 580 words already. No, it’s 583. (As I write, my eyes were on the lower right of the screen chasing the automatic word count. I must say, it’s worth my time 🙂

 

Hypocrites!

Weird. Uncanny. Used to believe these words were enough to describe life.

Must have been dreamin’ for it wasn’t, it isn’t.

Life has its own way of saying “f*ck you, ‘m winning this round”

And you gotta stand there watchin’ how someone’s screwin’ you’ life.

“You gotta be strong.” Empty words from strangers that don’t make sense.

Words from encouragers who can’t f*ckin motivate themselves to go wake up at five and go to gym.

Self-proclaimed encouragers. Hell, yeah. Tell me something I do not know.

Tell me something I didn’t once use to lie to myself.

Encouragers were once broken perhaps unkempt ’til now.

Yet, they tell you, “Get going. Keep moving.”

Encouragers.

Think I was one.

But already dropped the tag a long time.

And life?

I’ma keep beating you.

Stay strong.

The Girl

Long time ago, there was a girl.

All she wanted was to be the best girl that anybody could have.

She studied well but she laughed less.

She kept things to herself.

She believed she was just born the silent type.

She blamed the genes. She was a victor in school.

She has a tough facade.

The facade was her safe place.

Because in truth, she was scared.

She was insecure.

She was tired and helpless.

She needed them but could not admit.

How many times have we been like the girl?

Weary and hurt.

Shaking but smiling.

For this one, pretending is beautiful.

It is a shield.

A shelter from the toxicity of pain.

Lucky are those who were not drown in the lake of pretensions.

Good are those who emerge to the surface and breathe.

The girl of a long time ago is a new girl today.

She has learned but she choose to be human.

She accepts the pain and moves on with her life.

Boom!

Boom!

A loud bang.

No, it is more than that.

It is a deafening news!

I cannot hear anything.

I can only feel tiny consistent force choking my heart.

I cannot explain the pain but I know it is hurting me so much more than I think I can handle.

It is way beyond my emotional strength.

I can’t help but hide again to that one place I call safe.

Myself.

Deep down there I know I cannot be safe but I know the dangers better than that of the outside.

I cannot stop the tears rolling down my not-so-rosy cheeks.

Yes, I find humor in my pain.

I needed to.

I wanted to.

I dreaded this moment.

I wanted to forget this chapter of my life.

If I could only use a delete button, but I cannot.

But I cannot go through this pain again.

That is for sure.

I cannot be hurt again.

I promise myself, it would never happen again.

Seems like I’m fooling myself.

I am bound to be hurt over again.

I can’t be ready.

I won’t be ready.