Pensive moments…

Rock music has a strange appeal to me. Its appeal is unexplainable. So is this god-like creature I beheld a few days ago. God, for a moment there, I thought a god went down to mingle with humans just to see if anyone would notice him. Duh! Anybody with an IQ greater than 20 will! I mean how could you miss him? He’s like a rock song blaring out of gigantic speakers when he walks through the crowd- yes, he walks through a crowd, not with or out or any other preposition I can think of right now (that’s how he stands out in my opinion). He’s like a rock song whose potency is not lost when the volume is decreased but intensifies when the volume is increased. He’s like a rock song that fills your senses, then your head, then your entire body, then your entire soul and then your entire being (the good part of this possession is that you enjoy it, you get to break free for a while from reality, the bad part is that you’re not in control of yourself, the worse part is that it happens with your ‘consent’, you LET the possession happen). He’s like a rock song that gets stuck in your head long after the final note has gone with the wind and stays in your head even if you try to wash it away by listening to some other song. He’s like a rock song whose elements (i.e. rhythm, melody and the like) are new yet somewhat familiar to you; familiar in the sense that you can relate to it the moment fate introduces it to you. He’s like a rock song that fate designed especially for you to call your own. He’s a like a rock song whose lyrics don’t make sense to you at first, but as time goes by, you understand the meaning of each line as you unintentionally memorize them by heart. He’s like a rock song that can er, poetically express or materialize love without being actually cheesy. He’s like a rock song whose appeal is strong and sometimes somewhat vulgar yet cathartic, unreasonable yet somewhat sensible/ understandable (well, for you at least). He’s like this “right kind of wrong” type of rock song… the type that your parents don’t want you to listen to. The whole world may object to it but you don’t give a damn to the world and you still listen to it anyway just because you love it in a strange way. You love it in a somewhat masochistic way such that you continue to listen to even though your ears already hurt but you don’t care about the pain…all you care about is the rock song that fills your ears with so much pleasure and pain that one is worth the other. Do you know whom I’m talking about? Good, coz I don’t. hehe. All I know is that he’s PROBABLY, HOPEFULLY somewhere out there, PROBABLY, HOPEFULLY, looking for me too. Nah, who am I kidding?! Ofcourse, I know more than that. I know who he is. You know who he is. He’s everywhere yet nowhere within my sight. He’s always on my mind. He’s…just a figment of my imagination…nothing more. Gotcha didn’t I? Nyaha…

I want to cry. I’ve been wanting to cry ever since my dad started trying to find things to be angry about. Fortunately for him, he found quite a lot to satisfy him (I know how bad it is for him not to find any). In fact, he was such in a nice mood that he didn’t find it hard to say a pleasant-sounding goodnight and to sleep at all. Being the weird rebel that I am, I retaliated in the way I know is the most effective: giving him the silent treatment to remind him who’s boss here, ME. As usual, this worked. I guess he was not so fortunate to have a villainous daughter because the fact that he’s my father never made him an exception to my occasionally but nonetheless terrible temper. Anyway, I’ve been shuddering ever since my dad started making vain attempts of being bossy/angry. God, I’m so much better than he is. Anyway, the shuddering wasn’t fear but it wasn’t anger either. Maybe the cathartic tears who have been longing to escape me were the ones causing me to shudder but they couldn’t escape because I lost the ability to cry a long time ago. Yes, my tears are a much rarer commodity than Azzel’s voice. To most people, this inability to shed tears may seem as a great gift and one that is hard to master. Well, in moments like these, such ability is extremely tormenting. I think you know that there are a lot of detriments in not being able to cry so I won’t exhaust both parties by elaborating. Anyway, I’m typing right now to experience some other form of relief, catharsis. I want to force myself to cry but I can’t and I have this feeling that a huge part of me doesn’t want me to either. Besides, if I do manage to force myself to cry, it won’t be as cathartic as the tears that naturally starts roll down one’s cheeks and naturally ends as well. I also want to force myself to keep my brain preoccupied with “The Chronicles of Narnia” but this is as hard as the previous form of catharsis so I’m resorting to this instead. I don’t want to try to go to sleep either because I won’t be able to anyway so why bother trying? Besides, even though I do manage to get some sleep, I’d have nightmares and nightmares aren’t in any way cathartic for me. I do hope you’re not needing catharsis too because of me. if you are, well, I’m sorry…to inform you that I’m not into being selfless at the moment. I’m currently suffering the inability to cry and to give a hoot. I want to be able to do both but right now, I don’t know which one is harder. Okay, I know crying is harder for me. Yes, that’s how long I’ve lost the gift of being able to cry. If I’m not mistaken, I’m only given the privilege to cry once a year; twice if I’m lucky. Anyway, I already spent these privileges before school started. I want to cry but I still can’t. my heart feels heavy and my throat feels like there’s huge lump in it but, unfortunately, the lump is big enough for me to swallow which leads me to hypothesize that this is the reason why I can’t cry: I can swallow huge lumps in my throat thanks to constant throat exercise (i.e. talking, eating,etc). Well, one of them at least. You might be wondering why or how I lost my ability to cry. Well, Kelly Clarkson’s “Because of You” answers that quite dramatically if not poetically in the lines that say she never cried because her parent saw crying as a form of weakness. Don’t get me wrong though, I don’t hate my parents, especially my dad. In fact, I think I love him so much that I gave up crying just for him. I wouldn’t be trying hard to maintain a scholarship if I didn’t love him. He may have told me to see my accomplishments as rewards for myself but he knows that I never did and probably never will see them that way. I love him so much that I see everything I do, well, almost everything I do as a means to please him, to make him happy, to give him more reasons to laugh and smile and less reasons to be angry. Right now, I feel like I haven’t done enough to accomplish this. Wait, I think I’m about to cry. Great, I lost it. Great idea Chia! Really marvelous! There you are wanting to do something and when you’re about to do it, you ruin it! Wait, I think I’m feeling better. Goodness! I’m so pathetic that I can’t even cry! Worse, my catharsis is actually something close to and not the real thing! Oh well, at least I’m feeling better…hey! I’m being optimistic again! Or so I’d like to think… oh ,I better not go back to being miserable and ruin the flow of happy, sleepy thoughts…time to read “The Chronicles of Narnia!” au revoir!