It has just rained. It is 11 PM. You are probably on your way home, hungry and tired, and frankly, so am I.

It is nights like this when I miss you the most - when I could tell you'd text me or call, looking for company or food or any other kind of small comfort. It's times like these I know somehow you'd seek me out, and I'd feel how you treasured and valued me in ways nobody else does.

Right now I am still waiting for someone to seek me out. But nobody did it like you.

current music: Glee's "Borderline/Open Your Heart" mash-up!


I agree with Sarah Meier: Twitter is BAD for you if you're a writer.

Why? Read the above paragraph. There it is! To paraphrase her, my entire thought is right there, in a short, blue bird friendly line.

So basically, I don't have much to blog about anymore! I tweet way to much, and my life's day-by-day events are chronicled there.

Not everything make it: I am conscious enough to know what other people will read. My Twitter account is linked to my Facebook status, after all, so I try to watch what I have to say.

Incidentally, if you have Twitter, follow me at @heaven_spawn!


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Yesterday, (most of) my former UP Law classmates graduated from law. They will take the bar soon.

Yes, I am immensely proud. :)

[And for the nth time, no. I don't want to be a lawyer.]

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My current music is awesome.

Never heard? Listen up: here's YouTube.




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I am currently at odds with my family.

But I guess, it just means I really, REALLY need time away, and time alone. REAL time alone. I realize I used to have at least 2-4 hours of time alone everyday with my job, with my long commutes to Makati. Now I have to live with pesky family 24/7. I miss having time alone.

So. It is Sunday. Maybe I'll resolve to walk to UP Church instead of taking a jeep. This will buy myself some alone time and accomplish exercise in one swoop.

That is, if these post-drinking session dehydration cramps don't get the better of me. Owwww.

In the E-mail, I got a message that, in so many words, told me:


We are pleased to inform you that you are accepted as a Jesuit Volunteer for Batch 31, Program Year 2010– 2011.



:)

I miss her small, bony, and ever so fragile hands.

I miss her tinny, tiny, squeaky and adorable voice.

I miss her eyes, with a gaze piercing like knives and yet delicate like a caress.

I miss that bright body of hers, and how it shone in the sunset.

I miss her "negative" moods, which I'd tease, much to her anger.

I miss hearing her sing.

I miss making her laugh.

I miss how she laughed at my jokes.

I miss surprising her and making her squeal in delight as a result, every time.

I miss her beautiful family. Every one of them.

I miss her cool friends.

I miss cooking for her.

I miss how she'd sniff her hair.

I miss the smell of her hair.

I miss her hair, always pretty no matter what.

I miss driving her to and from work. I miss driving her home. I miss how she'd hold my hand while I was driving, out of the blue, ever so unexpectedly.

I miss how she asked if I already ate, or how my day went. I miss how she was actually one of only 4 people in my life who care about me to ask.

I miss how she broke rules for me. I miss breaking rules for her.

I miss how close we became, and yet, we never broke boundaries on principle. We never had sex, let alone kissed like lovers do. Not once. And I miss how close to breaking those walls we got sometimes, and how it excited me to see her next time.

I miss her surprise texts, Facebook chats, phone calls and all those just to get me to go with her somewhere out of the blue, no matter how difficult it could be for me. I miss how I'd hear from her 5 out of 7 days in a week.

I miss having somebody to travel with.

I miss having somebody to plan travel with.

I miss how she'd nit-pick every little thing about me.

I miss being motivated, driven, each time she'd comment negatively about me. I felt ever so strong each time, determined to prove her wrong.

I miss fighting with her. Because when we were friends again, it was like a newfound strength to the bond we shared was forged.

I miss hearing her laugh, even with jokes that weren't funny to me.

I miss how she encouraged me to save money. I miss her nagging me to save money.

I miss seeing her face on my Facebook Top Friends. Hell, I miss seeing her on Facebook, and I missed out on copies of pictures on the "dope times" we had. I look at where her face should be on my apps and see a hole, like the hole in my heart right now.

I miss talking to her about everything and nothing at once.

I miss not having to cry when I hear love songs.

I miss singing love songs with her.

I miss going to church with her.

I miss watching American Idol with her. I miss watching TV with her, period, and making popcorn to watch.

I miss how she gave me what I needed, never just what I wanted.

I miss how her perfume would flood my car. I miss how it turned me on for days.

I miss planning a future together, a future we were both skeptical would ever happen, but excited me to make real nevertheless.

I miss helping her out with her thesis.

I miss arguing with her.

I miss her yelling at me, and how I yell back.

I miss seeing how hot she becomes when she's angry.

I miss her warmth when it's cold.

I miss how her small arms had so much strength, that night she held me close.

I miss the beach because of her.

I miss partying with her.

I miss daydreaming about her.

I miss remembering the color yellow meaning more than just another shade, because it was her favorite.

I miss late night food binges in Mister Kebab, or at Bellisimo, or Greens or Taco Bell or KFC. I miss how coffee tasted because of her. I miss collecting stickers for Starbucks and stamps from Gloria Jean's for her.

I miss lining up at 2AM at Araneta Center, or rushing out of the office to get to Blue Eagle Gym, so we could watch UAAP together. I miss scoping out Araneta for tickets to the Cheerdance contest which I couldn't get. I miss buying tickets to BoyzIIMen, amid a throng of PBA fans. I miss knowing she'd love these shows and she did, and I loved them because I was with her.

I miss exercise and running with her.

I miss our walks.

I miss how she got along with my family pretty well. I miss that a lot.

I miss writing her letters.

I miss having her sleep over my place.

I miss serving her breakfast in bed.

I miss shopping for cheese with her, and experimenting with it in my kitchen.

I miss making her iPod play lists. I miss having someone I could talk to about music, and how I'd learn from her.

I miss planning things to do for her, like buying her earphones, or making her a scrapbook.

I miss listening to her rant about boys.

I miss (yes I do) , I miss being jealous about her and the boys who liked her and the boy she loved. I miss the arguments. I miss how tenderly I'd try to apologize, and how harsh she could be when not in the mood to be friends, because it'd make me have to be braver.

I miss how she'd never say no.

I miss how she picked up my lingo, like lines like "sounds like a plan" and "gudjab" and "Whatevs" and "Sooobrang galing". I miss how cute it was, all the time.

I miss helping her find a job, and driving her to interviews and waiting for her to finish.

I miss the bets and debts we never got to keep.

I miss how she made me feel this was inevitable. That we would not be able to avoid it, ever.

I miss preparing her dinner for the evenings she didn't get to eat, and driving them to her so she'd have something to munch on in my car.

I miss how we'd sit quietly and look at each others' eyes, wordlessly, both like and not like how lovers do. It's hard to understand unless you actually do.

I miss feeling her pat my back when I coughed.

I miss our sweldo-day adventures.

I miss holding her hand.

I miss long road trips with her.

I miss how warm she felt when she leaned on me, and how it always made me feel so much stronger than I did that day.

I miss knowing that all my dreams, she'd support me, and wouldn't keep me.

I miss hitching my future plans to hers, of her hopes to leave the country and make a life there. I miss the knowledge I had then, deep down, that it would be worth it.

I miss getting drunk with her.

I miss letting her tell me what to do (which I don't let just anyone do).

I miss how cute she'd be, resisting me from hugging her.

I miss dreaming about her. I miss how those dreams made me wake up every morning feeling refreshed and energized, and not broken and in tears.

I miss feeling like every day our hearts could turn.

I miss how my friends looked at us. Not just at me. Us.

I miss having friends tell me "She's awesome, Raph. I hope you two make this last."

I miss how every little thing seemed to go right when I was with her, and we were on "an adventure". That even the bad things became positives along the way, and how the good things became intensely wonderful, as if by some miracle.

I miss doing random errands for her that I can't remember anymore.

I miss volunteering for causes with her.

I miss the sound of her name.

I miss the softness of her lips on my cheeks when we say goodbye.

I miss praying with her.

I miss praying for her.

I miss telling her I love her.

I miss whispering "I love you" whenever she left, just softly so she wouldn't hear it out loud.

I miss having the right to love her.

I miss her.


And now, I am mute, alone, emptied of everything without her, except my regrets. I walk among the wounded and until things lift, I know no joy.

current music: When She Loved Me - The King's Singers


Nelli, Dearest of all my friends,

I wish I had more than a few hours to really say my goodbyes. Then again, the goodbyes should've happened a whole lot longer ago, when somewhere along the way, I learned you wouldn't ever be the one I would call mine.

Still, at every turn, at every little moment of quiet I remembered you. I recalled your small hands that felt like a keychain of keys that open me, no matter how mad or closed-hearted I was. I would wonder how you'd think or sort through problems if I found myself stuck. I'd see beautiful things in life and wonder how you'd react if I showed them to you.

I say these because these thoughts will have to stay for the time being. You love Mike, with a kind of passion and courage and loyalty that I was ready to give you. There's no way I could tell you to leave him, not for my benefit, but for yours, because I could never be dissuaded to stop looking out for you. (And you know this.)

You and I both have a shot at not just being happy, but at making other people's lives a whole lot brighter. I like to think that this is what Jess wants for you and I. Angels don't own, keep, desire anything after all. And as angels, we both know we must go.

In the course of a year, you've shown me much about what it means to love, to REALLY love. Yes, you say often how sorry you were for trouble. But I wasn't perfect either. I hurt you, made you cry, and kept you from being happy sometimes too. I treated you like I would a girlfriend and I'm sorry if you hated me for it.

And then there are days that are simply magical. Days I'll cherish forever. They light up my dreams like a Bolinao sunset, fill me with music the way that makes roaring basketball crowds sound like a whisper. They touch me more tenderly than the most heartfelt words, such that haven't been thought of yet. And it's all because you, the one I love most, was there with me.

It's almost a year since you crashed into my life. I still feel it like yesterday. It's almost 4 years since we first met. I still haven't forgotten how I went home smiling that night, wondering if I'll ever see you again.

And now, we go, we walk, we fly. I pray my time with you was able to give you something, anything, that leaves a mark in your life as you do in mine, everyday.

And someday, if ever you wonder where I am, or yearn for that love which I've never kept from you, pray. His is a greater love.

And if you ever find me again, the way you did that one magical summer of 2009, know that I'll still remember you, your laugh, your voice, your lovely, angelic eyes. You always were that first angel I prayed for. You'll always be.

Be safe. I love you.

Basta ikaw,
Raph

No, I'm okay, really.

I just miss her.



current music: X'mas Lights - Ang Bandang Shirley

I hate February. I hate hate hate it.

February was invented by the Romans. Its name comes from the festival they held on the 15th, called "Februa". It was meant to be a special time of purification and cleansing, where they burned things and prepared for a new year with the coming spring. At first, they didn't have a January or a February, because they didn't want to count winter. Later on, they decided to count the time to it, and the month was thus made.

It's not ALWAYS miserable - I won an award on a February once. But that's about it.

In my life the past decade, I notice that most of the tumult and disruptions I have lived through found roots on February. That, or the tough, chaotic times of my life happened around this time. My life is just weird around the time winter dies, and the warm air comes back to bother everyone in Manila. Maybe it's me getting grouchier with hotter weather, or if some forces are at work in my life, but somehow I am thrust into spots I don't like on this month.

And it's not always about being bitter on Valentine's Day either. I've gotten sick, and have had painful injuries on February. I've lost a job (resigned from work) on a February. I've flunked exams and gotten my schoolwork crash and burn in failures on February. I had to survive some of the toughest build-ups to a traditional March graduation on February months. I had to be a hero in group projects, be a quiet team player at work, be the villain to get things done when nobody wanted to on months people are too focused on other things. I've lost bets on Hollywood awards season on these months. I watch my beloved Arsenal FC get torched during these months, the months when the optimism that filled me in winter gives way to shocking reality of underachievement. I even parted ways with one of my favorite pets, Dimitri, the adorable Lhasa Apso-Shih Tzu halfbreed, entrusting him to someone else, but effectively giving him (and all my love) away.

I had to watch one of my dreams disappear into vapor on a February. I was once offered a shot at starting a batch for Days with the Lord, and I was asked to be its leader, the Rector. I said yes. And as the ball got rolling I watched people's support for it die, and I never got to be Rector again. It was a dashed dream that stings to this day.

I had to spend one Valentine's Day consoling a crying friend over a heartbreak (yep, it had to fall on my lap). I spent one one year with no plans, and me WISHING and PRAYING that I'd have WORK, just so I had something to do. But no - this is February, when (depending on your life) most people around you won't focus on work because they're sentimental, or they'll focus on it so much, you'll have nothing to preoccupy yourself with, or distract your mind.

Heck, I spent one Valentines Day in JAIL. It was a project I had to do with my law classmates. We had to shoot video and interview people, and BARELY make it back in time for class. We were tired, sleepy, and as soon as I got home I still had to edit the stock footage we took. That's what I did with the evening.

And yes, I've had my heart broken on February. Over and over and over again, I've lost count how many now. It's been broken by more than enough girls, some of whom have broken it multiple times, too. (And no, it's not their fault I get hurt - don't hate them please.) I've seen promise, hope, laughter and joy on the month of Valentine's Day, and every year the past 26 years of my life I've watched it crumble and ebb into the wind. All the effort, hope and care that I put into showing someone special how I feel goes to naught, as the girl finds someone new, or decides I'm not worth keeping, or both, and it just the way it is - I get miserable this time of the year.

What's worse? How about being miserable when everybody else is happy? I mean, right here at home, my parents celebrate their birthdays on the 3rd and the 10th of the month. It segues into Valentine's Day, when the people everywhere I see are loved, and I'm the ostrich with his head in the sand.

For me? This year, if the way the month started is any indication, is no different. I mean, I think it's safe to say I have reason to be unhappy for how my own life has transformed: single, working hard, and still finding myself hungry for more, and not being satisfied never mind others have it so much tougher. I have many friends who don't seek my company. I had to walk away from something special with someone I love so deeply and passionately, just so something better can bloom for them, even if deep down I know the situation really kinda bites for me.

It does not help that I am spending more days home alone, because my family hardly sleeps here at our home-base house anymore. It's as if my life is just... not all together now.

Yet just this afternoon I had conversations with two friends who said they were just so happy. And you could hear it: they were single, busy with life, not looking for a date on Valentine's Day, and just so fulfilled with their families and friends and existence.

It makes me confused and frustrated, being unable to say why I can't be as happy as they are.

It's not always about romantic love. That's not in my immediate control. What sucks is how underappreciated I feel now. If there's any one thing I miss about being someone's better-half-but-not-quite-yet, is how I was missed. How I was sought out. How someone, even just one person, wondered where I was, and made the effort to seek me out and choose to spend another day with me.

It's February and without anybody to share my days with, I feel so alone, useless, and unnecessary. It sucks, and to be honest, it's taking all that I can muster to stay strong all alone.

This will pass. Thankfully, the month also has the least number of days. I just hope something nice comes to my life soon. Or, if some miracle, someone crashes into my life soon. I still fantasize, after all, that I could spend the 14th with someone significant, an innate knowledge that all the frustrating months I've had being miserable on the second month of the year... well, I just want it to be worth it. That'd be enough.

But this year? Hmph.

current music: Come on Home - Everything but the Girl





Hey Nelli,

How are you? Thanks for the planner, by the way. I can't wait to start writing out my year's future plans. It's the GotHeart planner like I asked. I got what I wanted for my birthday, and it came from you, of all people. Thank you.

I turned 26. Christmas and my birthday came, saw, and came again, bringing much joy and laughter and good times shared by all.

My life is good: I am surrounded by good friends, a loving family who believe in me, and am doing a job that pays me well for what I do. I have plans laid out for my future. I am doing the steps to make them real, and while they demand much of my future and will take a lot out of me, I can't wait for them to happen. And if they fall through, I feel confident I can make something nice happen still.

But to be honest, Nelli? I'm still bummed, because I don't have what I want, more than anything in the world.

I want YOU, you who was the answer to the prayers I begged God to grant almost a whole year ago. You were (and still are) my life's shining star, and I'm glad we're friends. I'm glad you met your new angel, never mind that he can give you so much less than what I could (because he makes you smile, after all). It's all good we're making the most of the time we have left before I disappear for a year, and at least you're in good hands until then.

But to be honest?

I want you. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.

And I want, beg, hope, pray, wish for you to wait for the day I return. And maybe one day we could finish this story that we never quite started.

Because as much as it isn't in my character to say it, I feel it quite keenly: the altruistic, "For you, Lord" sacrifices I make mean nothing if nobody's there to make me happy like you have all this time.

I love you. And I want nothing more than for you to wait for me, and upon my return, hold me and tell me you love me, just as I whisper how I've set you apart, and how I can't wait to build this perfect life you confide in me so much about together.

It's you, Nelli, dearest of all I know. It's you. All that I want is you.

Remain in my love. Wait for me.