Hey.

I don't expect you to read this. The fact I'm writing this out surprises me too.

You see, I thought I was gonna be fine. I was gonna drift away on my own. I'd be changed and different and hopefully happy.

But now?

I wonder if I can ever really be happy anymore.

Let me rephrase: I don't know if I can fully achieve the inner aching that I only now can admit to having within me.

You see, I wanted to be a bright spot in the world. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to shed light where there was none. I searched and toiled and tried many things. I took my chances at trying work that adds to others' lives.

Yet, when I got home, I was nowhere near brighter. I was not any happier. I was not any more fulfilled. I felt only emptied, run dry. I felt like I was stumbling in the dark.

A teacher once explained "you feel blind because you're probably immersed in so much light," as though to say that my struggles were a natural part of giving of myself. It was a nice thought. I wanted to believe it so badly.

But I realize now: I burn bright when I have someone else who fuels me. Who gives me strength. Who gives me a reason to wake up in the morning, and a warm thought to ward away cold nights.

I also now know: never have I burned brightest than when I burned passionately for you.

I want us to be together. I want us to make this work. I want you to believe in this once more.

And if not? I'll just go. I'll find another. But I'll never burn as bright, and the world I know will be darker for it.

Slow Dash

This time in 24 hours I ought to be in the beach. I am excited. I'm also stressed about the logistics - transportation, packing clothes, food, drink, etc.

But yeah. I am hopeful that it's the first of a series of decent days. I'll be with old friends, and maybe make a few new ones. I don't think I'll transform things magically, no matter what my astrologers say. I'll likely see the world slowly twist in ways that work in their own fashion, and never in how I want it (because it hardly ever is the way we want it exactly).

I am slowly trying to piece my life together again. Granted, my grad studies still feels like it's stuck in a swampy mire. That part is slow and progress really feels like marching in mud.

But I found a nice enough job that lets me do it with my studies. I have been steadily working on my fitness. I am working on becoming the best version of myself, and hopefully be somebody that I can be proud of (or at least, be prouder of).

Is that enough? Is that how life is supposed to be lived? I don't know. I look at my elders and know that they made something of themselves, and carved opportunities where there were few. Today, there are many opportunities, but not many are new - not many will land you a life that is relatively comfortable.

Or maybe I should shut up from comparing and blogging about it and just hang tight. I'm already dying to get to the finish line. I forget I still have to do the running.

Awful 2015

My weekends are not restful. My sleep is troubled and waking up hurts.

I'm starting with a new part-time job, and yet I can't ease into it. Every day new things are piling up and I can't zero in on anything. I feel lost and discombobulated too often.

My family mill about the house and ask me to do things, hardly really listening when I try to tell them how I'm doing, or what confuses me. All they do is tell me what to do. They don't see it from how I see it.

I'm surrounded by friends but feel more lonely now than ever before. They don't connect to me in a deep, personal way. They distract and they entertain, but they leave me at the end of the day.

I can't even consider finding a lover. I feel more ready than ever, but I feel there might not be a lot left in me to give. I think I find somebody who can brighten my days, but I can't say they really care. They only really care about what I can give them, but never really return it to me.

Praying doesn't console me anymore. I'm hungry for reasons to wake up early, to get going, to do the things that will improve my life.I would much rather retreat away and hide from the world. Instead, I am persistently pressured to be better, to eat healthier, to find time to exercise, and to live the long life everyone wants for me.

But why live longer when you already feel like wanting to die?

So this is how the 2015 is panning out. I thought it would be a lucky year. I thought wrong.

Wise Words

"Don't you want somebody who chooses you, and puts you first? Because I wouldn't want to be somebody's consolation prize."

Crack Goes My Heart.

It's not like i didn't know. It's not like I didn't see it coming. I'm not a total delusional idiot. 

I knew you don't see me that way. And I don't blame you for choosing not to spare my feelings. I k ow that this is what you felt and you don't pull punches when you tell the truth, even with others. I'm not mad.

I'm hurting and mad, okay. Sure.

But I guess I'm more mad at myself.

I should have walked away when I had the chance, when I still felt free. (I don't anymore; I feel so attached.) I should have held back when it was easy. (I can't anymore; I feel trapped in bad habits of taking care of somebody, anybody, even if it's not you.)

Most of all I'm angry at myself. Because I'm not good enough. Because I behave the way I do, and it's not what you want. Because I speak and write and act and live like I do, and that's not good enough.

I'm upset at myself because "being myself" was what went wrong. Because I never knew you were not happy with how I did things. Because I failed to recognize my shortfalls.

I'm upset at myself because I am so concerned and worried about what you think, that I lost track of what I need. Because I was trying to suit your needs, I lost sight of mine. Because I gave all I had, and I forgot that I shouldn't care so much about what people think, and try as i may, I still give too much of a damn about your thoughts, opinions, wants, needs, of me. It crippled me and held me back from expressing this deep passionate affection that swallows me whole everyday.

Because I went ahead and had feelings for you. And my life, while so much better with you, isn't real. 

It's just a dream. It's just borrowed time. It's just a passing phase. 

I'm still working on becoming the best version of me possible. Day after day, I make the slow changes for improving myself in ways that last. 

I know when the dust settles I'll be great. I'll be amazing. And I'll be proud of myself.

But I'm worried I'll be without you. That you'll be with someone else and I'll be alone. And after what I heard, this weekend, I feel it's more of a certainty, than mere worrying. 

Trajectory

I believe, with all my heart, we don't get what we want in life. We get what we need.

Life isn't like that magic mirror in Harry Potter. We can gaze long at what we want. It is nice to do that. But that's not what we are going to have. Sometimes that which we desire is impossible.

Yet in many cases, we fail to focus on what we actually need. Sometimes we get wanting and needing mixed up. Sometimes they are one and the same, but often they aren't, and we fixate on the wrong things.

I'm in a spot where I can't say I have what I want. There are sides to my story i would rather keep from curious eyes. 

What I do know is that where I am, and the trajectory I've been cast towards leads me to a nice future. One where I'm needed by people I need too. It's a bright future where I'm valued and kept. 

I don't know what it is yet, but I believe good things will happen for me, just as I am being sent to make nice things happen for others around me too.

Snapshots, July 2015

- I've been looking for work. I want a job that both pays well and will fit in my greater career plan. I thought I found that spot, but they turned me down. Now I'm looking still. It's not easy. It eats away at my self-confidence the longer it lasts.

- I'm in debt and I can't find work. I'm still just grateful my family are patient with me, though I know I feel the strain my situation causes. 

- I've been trying to get fit. That part is working at least. As of today I lost about 50 lbs. I need to keep going. At the very least, I'm making progress on that front. If only I can get paid to stay fit, or if there were a program that gives you money the more weight you lose. I used to lose weight quickly but I'm grinding away at the plateau. Hopefully I can be healthier and stronger.

- My grad studies are stalled and I don't feel confident enough to start the process to fix things. It's been so long since I left my papers alone, and I need somebody to help me pick it all up again. Except in grad school, like many things in life, you are alone. You need to learn to work without the safety of groups. Ironic, since most of the work grad school asked me to do involved lots of groups. Then when it's time for greater reckoning, you're alone and got to fend for yourself, or even compete with the others you were working with.

- I went out on a date last Monday. There was music, and dancing, and nice drinks, and nice food, and the new friend I made helped cover the costs! It was perfect. Except for the fact that I didn't quite like my company. I'm not attracted to her, and yet she's drawn to me for whatever reason. I suppose this is what it's like for every other girl I liked - there's this nice guy who they just can't find the attraction for.

- The girl I'm actually attracted to, I don't know what to do. I still want to make things work, but I still want to fix the rest of my life. Like, if I can be strong enough to stand by her and her life's many complications. She's really busy though, and that somehow buys me time, but I know I need to muster the strength to push forward, or to walk away.

- But when I ask people what they think, they tell me that sometimes it's not about being the answer to all the questions. It's about finding the value within. It's as though I should be enough just the way I am, and I should know that feeling innately in me. And I can't do that. Not yet. I still actually feel dissatisfied with myself.

- So I continue. It's hard. I want to keep my heart full of hope. But there's not an awful lot of reason to hope right now.

Reset pls?

Unfinished

You don't see it but I feel like a tree.
Little by little, you whittle me.

Every day you keep me at bay,
or when you keep my feelings at arm's length,
you carve little scars.

Every day you pay me visits
but you tell me always of these foreign shrubs
blooming far beyond your reach -
you tell me of your love of things I can't be.

I grow, but you'll see:
less and less I will be able to shade you,
and your ways will wear at me,
broken branch, broken leaves.

Or maybe
is it something else you want of me?
A chiseled statue? A bed? A home?
Is this why you work away,
chopping away what I don't need?

I don't know. But I can see in me
the lines where my flesh breaks
scattered all over me.

2015 - Hell Froze Over, and How Life's Treating Me

"I'm glad the end of the world is working out for someone," said Jon Snow to his friend. It feels like great for me too.

It's been six months and this year has been earth-shatteringly new for me. I know that I like to think that I go about my life thinking "I'm fine, I'm content". Then life sweeps you up and the world is so different.

I thought hell would freeze over before I would think about the choices I've made. I'm running and losing weight. I've made better ties with distant friends. I mended bridges with people I thought I'd never reconnect with.

Most recently: I applied for a job I never thought I could have. And it's promising how. And I hope I get it. And I hope I'm worthy of the trust it entails.

See, I thought the world would end before I would set my life straight, or before I could have even a hope at the things happening now. I thought that I was satisfied with how life would play out. Now I'm shown doors I never thought I could open. And they're within reach. 

But I need to remember to be patient. There are events unfolding now and they still take time. 

Just as I waited before things could come around, I still need to remember to wait until they are competed. 

But when once I had given up, I'm given hope. And I'm praying it'll be something real, honest, and true this time.

"Soul Mates"

That's what they called us. In our small, very insular high school, I was classmates with this girl. She was tall, slim, and had long curly hair. I was fat. That kind of summed up the sight of us.

Except there wasn't much to see. You see, every school year the administration jumbles up every class section. You end up with different classmates every year. Sometimes you like them. Sometimes you don't. Some are blessed with the best basketball teams, and others have the pieces for a killer choir.

I had that girl, somewhere, in the corner of every seat plan. Every year, without fail,. we were in the same class. Every year, I was far in the back row, and she sat far to the left. We said hello in the hallways. We were professional about school were. It was friendly, if anything.

"Soul mates," is what they called it in high school. Maybe only 8 or so students are so "lucky" to be put together like that, from the randomness of class listing.

But we weren't friends, not any meaningful way anyway. We were never seatmates. We didn't really talk much. She was from the north, from a province that I knew little to nothing about. I was from here, in the capitol. She stayed in a the dorm on campus. I lived something like an hour's drive away. We had not a lot to talk about, and very little in common.

Today I saw her on Facebook. She's married. She has 2 children. She lives overseas, I heard. To this day, I still can't be bothered. I still don't go and say "hi," or try to "catch up."

Nobody asks me, nobody prompts me, nobody suggests that I look deeper and ask, "What if?"

What if I tried to be nicer?
What if I tried earlier to start a friendship?
What if from there, we had become closer?

I guess I'm writing this because there are so many people we meet in our lives. We pass them in the streets, or greet them when we go to work. They serve us our coffee, or clean our floors. We never go about trying to know them better.

Yet we always talk about "meeting new people," and "making friends," when there are people all around us we don't notice, until much later.

And more worryingly, do we lose out on the people we could come closer to? The Soul Mates of cheesy romance novel variety? Do we miss out on meeting them, because somehow we already know them? That we gave up trying to be brave, and be warm?

Pananatili

current music: Pananatili - Hangad

Maybe some of you don’t believe in God. Maybe it’s a greater comfort to feel that the world is just happenstance, just random firings of nature’s laws and physics and human error all rolled into a mess.
I’d feel that way too.

But today, at a day when I wanted, so badly, to walk away from something (someone?) that just does not give, that just wounds my pride, and just fills me with despair and frustration, I went to church. I wanted to find some release. I wanted to feel that feeling where “Yes, I am doing this. I’m letting this go. If I can’t be a priority, then I should make my own priorities follow suit. If I can’t be loved, I should just leave and be done with it.”

Then I hear it, the familiar strains of the song, entreating me to stay:

Huwag mong naising lisanin kita;
Wala ‘kong hangaring ika’y mag-isa.
Sa’n man magtungo, ako’y sasabay,
Magkabalikat sa paglalakbay.
Mananahan sa tahanang sisilong sa ‘yo,
Yayakapin ang landasin at bayan mo.
Poon mo ay aking ipagbubunyi

At iibigin nang buong sarili.
Sa’n man abutin ng paghahanap,
Ikaw at ako’y magkasamang ganap.

Ipahintulot nawa ng Panginoon:
Ni kamataya’y maglalaho, anino ng kahapon.

Dahil pag-ibig ang alay sa ‘yo, mananatili ako.
H’wag nang naising tayo’y mawalay,
H’wag nang isiping
Magwawakas
ang paglalakbay.

Huwag mong naising lisanin kita;
Wala ‘kong hangaring ika’y mag-isa.
Sa’n man magtungo, ako’y sasabay,
Magkabalikat sa paglalakbay.

I wanna cry. I feel confused and troubled. “Lord, where are you taking me?” I want to ask.

I'm Currently Memorizing This.

I've liked this poem a long time already, but lately they ring harder, truer, to me. 

I feel like I saw a dream where I was on my way away. And I had to tell someone I loved something. And what I chose were these words. 

I don't know. It moves me, and I love them. Too bad I can't find an audio copy of this being read properly!  

 

 

i carry your heart with me

by ee cummings

 

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

I Just Do.

You don't have to do anything to earn me. You already have.

You don't have to do anything to get me to stay. I choose to.

You don't have to hide, or pretend, or keep secrets. I've known you long enough not to take them against you.

All I want is for you to come around. Because I did, with you. And the view is quite a sight to see.

So let's take this in together. Let's make nice things happen, together this time.

The Leap

My brother loves basketball. His current favorite player is Kobe Bryant. He loves the story about how somewhere in the mid-2000's, Kobe decided to take "the leap". This leap was a physical one. It meant that the player add several pounds of muscle to his slight shooting guard frame, and work on post moves. He would be more than just a guy who took shots on the outside perimeter. He would have more physical power to work closer to the basket, and defend bigger players. (I'm trying my best to make it simple for non-ball-loving friends!)

So yeah. "The leap" my brother likes to say, quotes stressed by his fingers.

It makes me think about my own life.

In all honesty, I'm really lucky. I've managed to survive and thrive this long without making major adjustments to my life, and the changes I made, I could go back from easily. I learned to live alone, in a strange land with strange language barriers, but I got to go home after. I may have failed my subjects and lost a scholarship, but I never had to stop studying.

Lately, I've found that something...crashed in my life. Maybe it was from the car accident I recently survived. Maybe it was from watching people close to me get hurt, again and again, and see them get back up. Maybe it's because, as Pablo Neruda put it, "I am tired of being a man," and the sameness of this city takes away my sharpness.

I have chosen to not sit around. I want to take "the leap". My life has a lot of "high time" markers.

That means:
- I get a decent paying job and amass some meaningful wealth in a year.
- lose close to 100 more pounds of weight within the next few months
- finish my graduate studies
- move out of the family house and into something different
- get really, really good at being alone (more on this another day)

I don't know where this will take me. I only know it will change me. And maybe that's reason enough.

Walking Wounded

I look fine. Everyone thinks I'm ok. They smile. I smile. I drive to do my errands. I do what my parents ask now and then. I listen before I speak.

The past few days, my arm has been pinching me. It's in pain. I can't say why yet - we might get results of the x-rays in a few days. On the outside it looks totally okay. When I put it to work, things change.

I'm starting to appreciate little things. For example, when I'm laid out on a bed, the act of turning to my side or hugging a pillow makes use of muscles and bones in my arm. Those muscles and bones now hurt. A lot. They didn't before. Now the little motions hurt.

For another example, I cannot turn a steering wheel of our cars. Another example: carrying shopping bags. So is lifting my camera and keeping it steady. All these things you need strong bones and muscles in your forearm, shoulder, elbow, and wrist. I don't have those. Not anymore.

We have all these things we take for granted. We don't realize what they do for us until we can't use them anymore. Right now for me, it's my right arm. What more if it's something closer to the heart.

Crashed

I forgot whether it was some kind of Harrison Ford movie where they joke about being able to walk away from accidents being a good accident, complete with a picture of wreckage and burning debris.

Last Sunday, I walked away from the wreckage of the family car. I drove the car, and I nearly spun out of control on the highway. Quick thinking made me dive it into the center island of the road, to avoid collateral damage. I ended up smashing against a concrete barrier.

We were on the way to the beach for a week. We wanted to see mountains too. We were on holiday, all for the birthday of an adorable little boy.

We ended up seeing the white ceilings while doctors looked after us.

I broke the car, I ruined our vacation, and I basically sent two people I care for most dearly to the hospital. I also have trouble working with my right arm, but that's small potatoes. I still haven't wrapped my mind around how much fixing the car will cost, even with insurance. I still don't know how much the hospital figures will end up as. It's mind-boggling.

Truth is, maybe my moods are all just Survivor's Guilt. Or PTSD. Like, I came away from the event where we all could have died. And I'm here, and yet other people are suffering, when I was behind the wheel. They told me not to blame myself - they're right. It just nags at me deep down. Whenever I shut my eyes I smell the smoke, I see the windshield cracks bloom open, I can feel the blood caked on my fingers. 

I'll get through this. I already count my lucky stars - we're alive, safe, and emerging stronger after the event. We didn't kill anybody else. Insurance will help shoulder costs. We did not lose our eyesight, or voices, or memories (as far as I can tell), or more. Sure, we lost some sleep, a nice car, and a little time with each other on holiday. But some have it much worse, so we are still grateful. It's bad luck. Happens everyday, on that highway, I was told.

I just wish I had easy answers to use, or had somebody to talk this through like I do for my clients. Everything feels like walking on thin ice, with time pressure.

The Broken Pieces

There was this book that a friend loaned me. I won't say the title. That would be telling. But it stuck because I heard that it was something a girl I liked a lot was a fan of, and I heard my friend liked it too, so I borrowed it, read it, and it struck me somewhat too.

It explained that when we love other people, it's like giving a piece of your heart to someone. Every new person in our lives comes in and takes a piece. We go from person to person, forming new relationships each, and they all get a piece. We break up, we break off another part of our hearts, then find someone one to give another part.

Then, at the end, we find someone we really want to give the whole heart. So we try and look at what of our heart is left to give. We find out we've given away our heart in bits to others, like little floating shards of glass. We give the one last person a heart missing parts. We cannot give our 'whole selves'.

And you know what was funny? I was a college student then, reading this, and seriously, seriously thinking it made a lot of sense. I felt, "Hey, I can't go committing to others so easily. I need to take every single girl I want to take in my life very seriously, and only one can get to keep me."

Hence, I became a Man who Can't be Kept. And I learned to be vindictive, jealous, and self-centered in some ways too.

This line of thinking poisoned me, and I think it poisons others too. We think we feel less of ourselves the more we open our lives to others. We add to our list of partners in bed, or the people we date, and when it doesn't work out we doubt if we can love as hard. Then we try again, and we add to our fears. "Can I still do that? Will they think me dirty, having had others in my life, having shared my love and my body? Should I have waited until I met the right one?"


It's a nice picture, seeing our hearts as breakable, and made of sharp pieces. But it's not accurate. Hearts are not glass, hard and fragile and dangerous to others and ourselves. Hearts are muscles. Hearts beat. They quake and shake and are surprisingly strong. They also heal, mend, and grow. Like every muscle it breaks in little parts, so it can be bigger than the last one, the muscle fibers wrapping around the tiny cracks it breaks off.

I learned that loving doesn't mean we break off parts of our heart. Real love doesn't use itself up. It doesn't drain us - it renews us, refreshes us so we can go and give more. Even when we think we can't, we find it. Even when we feel lost and alone, the heart is strong. And full of powerful stuff.

We can love more than we ever had, if we allow ourselves.

And I guess that's a lesson I'm learning and picking up for myself these days. Better late than never. 

The Perfect Day

She knows where I live. That means one day, I can hear the call from the village guard, or the telling barking of our dogs. Somebody's at the door, and it's her. I'll likely still be in my house-clothes; a T-shirt, my shorts, slippers. It would be a chilly evening. Nobody would be home.

She would come in at my request. She'd go straight for the den, the room I appropriated for myself at the ground floor, turning right from entering the door. I'd ask why she came by, but her eyes wouldn't break focus. She said she sought me out to talk. And it was urgent. That a phone call or a text wouldn't do. I'd offer coffee, tea, water, and they'd all be for later, after we had words.

I'd ask what's wrong. She's said nothing's wrong. But that she had something to tell me, to let me know. And I'd concur, and I'd had stuff to let her know and feel too.

She'd shut the door. We're alone now.

And we needn't say words. Our eyes, lips, hands do the real talking.

Depression is Like...

Real life often is like fighting a dragon.
So I do little 'escapes' from real life.
My imagination reminds me I can fight dragons and win.