Pensive moments…

As I read “Les Miserables,” I couldn’t help but adore this sentence: “at his feet something to cultivate and gather; above his head something to study and meditate upon; a few flowers on earth and all the stars in the sky.” It reminded me of the exhilaration I feel whenever I gaze into the heavens. I’d admire the beauty and the majesty of that dark yet brightly illuminated expanse. Then, reality would interrupt this meditation in the form of an aching neck from looking up too much. This pain would stop me from looking up. It would force me to look down once again and be reminded of where I really am— at the earth. Then I’d realize how far those stars are, how beautiful they are and how far above they are. The exhilaration I felt just a few minutes ago would instantly disappear as if it were never there in the first place and would be replaced by the realization that such beauty is way out of my reach. This is how I feel whenever my eyes meet his. At first, I’d feel exhilarated by the “interchanges of the depths of my heart with the depths of his eyes.” Then he looks away and the exhilaration would ebb away and be replaced by bitter realizations. i hate that feeling. just like what Nobu said, "i don’t like things that are held out in front of me which i cannot have." or something like that.

I wish I could make myself good enough for you so that we’d both have our happy ending — instead of this twisted, sickening masquerade/mind game — but I couldn’t because I don’t know what you want. I don’t understand you. I could not understand you because you always shut me out, push me away when I come too near and call me morose when I go too far.

I wish I could make you look at me so that I’ll know what it is like to see and to be seen by you. You may look away afterwards, just don’t look past me. I just want to know, even for a short while, so that I won’t wonder for the rest of my life what it’s like to live in your eyes.

I wish I could look through your eyes so that I could see the world as you see it. So that I could see me as you see me. So that I could see if you see me at all.

I wish I could look at you casually so that I could look at you the way I look at everyone else in the world. So that you will no longer stand out in the crowd. So that your face won’t be the only one I see in the crowd. So that you would never see the look in my eyes that could betray the truth — then again, even if the truth is there, you won’t see it anyway. So that there will be nothing — nothing but the anatomy of my eyes — for you to see. So that the wretched look in my eyes will disappear permanently. So that you will cease to be someone extra special to me even though I am nobody special to you. In fact, I think I am nobody to you.

I wish I could find out what’s going on inside that head of yours so that I’d stop filling in the voids with what I want to be in those gaps. So that I could stop pretending that I know you inside out. So that I could stop playing jigsaw puzzle in my head. So that I could stop playing chance with the cruel world.

I wish I could distance myself from you so that I could “mature” without taking nourishment from you. So that I can write casually about you — without so much emotion, without so much endearment. So that I could tend to my wounds, let them heal without cutting them fresh all over again. So that I could stop healing myself just to get hurt all over again.

I wish I could teach myself to be strong so that you can only build me up but never break me down. So that you can stop playing the crazy engineer who builds things just to have something to destroy. So that I could stop patching up the holes, picking up the pieces and assembling it back just to let the vicious cycle continue.

I wish I could find someone else to write about — I did manage to find someone else before but it turns out it was only so that I could go back to writing about you — so that I could stop contemplating on the wonders of you. So that I could stop writing about you.

I wish I could make time go faster so that I could stop writing about all these pointless, meaningless I-wish-I-coulds and end this torturous period. So that I could move on with my life — as miserable as it may be, I still prefer it to this damned subject.

I have long established that I don’t look like a movie star- let alone be one- but I just realized that life is no big-budget Hollywood movie that can be sugarcoated with a gorgeous cast and special effects if the plot sucks. No. Life isn’t like that. You can’t edit or retake a scene that didn’t go right. You can’t cast a divine actor as your significant other to spice up your movie. You can’t hire an excellent scriptwriter to make things work out. In short, you can’t make your movie glamorous enough for everyone (sometimes, you can’t even make it glamorous enough for yourself). Well, mine at least. In life, people don’t look like Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Orlando Bloom, Liv Tyler, Emma Watson or Daniel Radcliffe. Well, in my life, there’s someone who doesn’t look like any of those gorgeous beings but this person has a unique “gorgeousness” that sort of continuously twists the plot over and over. Anyway, in life, people do not have scripts to rely on when they need the right words to say. In life, people only have words. Sometimes, they even don’t have words. Sometimes, all they have are feelings and actions that they hope convey the thoughts that they can’t give form through words. Well, I guess there are times when people do have the right words, they just don’t know the cue. Take me for example. I think it can be said that I have trained myself to know the right words but I just don’t know the right moment to say them. Hell, I don’t even have the right person to say them to (so screw the right words and the right moment). This makes me think that all the training would be rendered useless because the scene I’ve been preparing for may never come to be. I am not sure though because in life, there’s no visible director who can give us the cue and guide us in portraying each scene. In life, the one who wrote, read and holds the script and directs the movie loves freestyle- let the actors be. The director may sometimes intervene if the scene is too deplorable to endure but when and how the director intervenes is another part in the realm of the unknown. Since someone’s probably watching us, all I can say is that play your part right and hope that it pleases the director and the audience.