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dear june

I fell in love today,
a rainy day.

Summer is over.

I always thought of it as a revelry of things–
somewhere between happiness and exhilaration,
between hope and yearning.

Indeed it was.

The sun burned to the point of blinding.
I almost lost sight that I was in transit:
just passing by a season,
nothing more but a point in time.

There it went.

Intoxication sank faster than the sun could set.
My nerves twisted and throbbed to a single,
inconsolable ache.

The events came in clusters.

They broke down into anecdotes,
and resembled a sketchy reminiscence –
a cyclic celebration of all things lost.
I shrouded my struggle to forget.

A drop of rain fell.

I made summer eternal and I end it now.
Today, I drench myself under the drizzle,
and soak the smell of mud and puddle.

The sunshine embraced the shade.

But I know the rainshower
and its transcience will be mine to keep.
Each trickle to cool off the swelter,
Each drip to wash the dust off my feet.

Good bye, summer.

It is raining,
and here is where I’ll stay.

dear Kings of Leon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every time I hear one of your songs,
the tides of recent past swell up inside my chest.
They refuse to burst as tears,
flood thoughts with remorse,
nor drown in endless rehash of what has been.

Instead,
they sweep across all longing,
crash on anger
upon anger,
and roll over all lost words toward silence –
until a heaving sigh slices through.

The present parts.
The path is cold beneath my feet.

dear singlehood

I am not desperate. Sure I still check how my ex boyfriend is doing. But there’s this other boy, and I check him out too (pun not really intended. though for the record, he made me understand what sexy back means. harhar).

there's this one time, at the lagoon

 

But really, I feel lonely when I say I do. No matter how the idea of permanence scares me or makes me feel queasy, I am getting dizzy with all this transcendence. I just want to feel that there is still something constant out there. All this chaos, this lack of direction — I am totally fine with it. But like my messy room, somewhere beneath the debris, there will always be something or a couple of things that I can locate. It could be because of mental picture or sheer instinct, it does not matter. I know where it is and I can dig it out when I need it. Right now I need that kind of constant, the one that will make me feel less alone when I really am.

And as of the moment, I am projecting that search for something constant into this boy who is as inconsistent as the weather in the age of global warming. (sorry for the mixed metaphors)

The only comfort in it is the possibility of a day not too sunny, not too cloudy, and the wind blows just right — the kind that comes around once in a while, which I hope will last for more than a day, but usually does not.

 

 

ang larawan ay hiniram sa: http://lakad-pilipinas.blogspot.com/2010/09/quezon-city-university-of-philippines.html

dear drunkard

i will watch this movie soon.

 

 

i imagined you asking me this:
why do we do what we do?

 
and i will answer:
you know very well why i do. it is more of –i don’t know why you do, but i don’t care.

 

dear heartbreak

right now, i feel like i’m on the edge of a cliff — and you are waiting for me down there. i am caught between the thrill of dying and the fear of death.

dear default smiley face

i know you haven’t gotten over your last girlfriend (your hs girlfriend). sometimes i just want to whack your head and tell you: goddamit, it’s been a decade, literally! but she’s pretty and you must have loved her beyond comprehension. and maybe you still do. i mean, who am i to judge you — i have hangups like your average rebel 80s teen (and i was born ’86).

moving on is a bitch, i know. you’re like little mr. sunshine, so you’d probably deny the whole thing. but when i look at you, i can’t help but wish to have loved like you did (or still do).

i cannot move on because i feel like i’ve been left out, abandoned. the love part, i’m not so sure. i’ve inherited coldness from my father — the sheer inability to express love, no matter how overwhelming. when i see my exes, happy and contented, in the arms of pretty girls that showered them with attention and affection, my head starts to ache with recurring thoughts.

should i have been pretty? should i have been sweet and cuddly? was i the worse girlfriend in relationship history? but then my father’s heirloom takes over, and i dismiss everything as a pile of mush that i could not live with.

sure i still have relapses about my past love life. i still cringe at lovers on the street. for a second or two, i still long to be in my ex-boyfriend’s arms. but then you look at me with your default smiley face, and suddenly, i’m not so sure.