Pensive moments…

On yet another lonesome walk home, I contemplated on the mysteries of the universe that reveal themselves in everyday experiences. This is what I contemplated on:

            People tell me I’m cute. I’m sorry if I sound narcissistic but trust me, in the following sentences, you’ll understand why this probably won’t count as such. Anyway, I see nothing wrong with that and I know that people mean it as a compliment but if you really think about it, it’s not really a compliment. It’s not an insult either. It’s just suspended somewhere between being a compliment and an insult. In the same way that the remark hovers between opposite, the meaning hovers between opposites. Being cute doesn’t make one ugly but it doesn’t make one pretty either. It’s also suspended in between, a sort of gray area.

            Guys, specifically the, er, crushes I’ve had, see me like a guy buddy in a girl’s body.  Being in a girl’s body probably hinders them from considering me as a close friend but being like a guy buddy doesn’t make me a mere acquaintance either. I’m guy enough to be a buddy but not girl enough to be *insert appropriate term*. I’m a friend who’s a little more than just an acquaintance. This little may go as far as making them remember my name but this little is not enough to go as far as making me a close friend and all the more a candidate for their significant other. In short, I’m suspended between being an acquaintance and a special someone.

            Even my brain is in a state of suspension. It’s suspended between consciousness and oblivion. A part of it wills the body to keep walking and avoiding getting hit by moving and parked vehicles. The other part is in yet another state of suspension. It’s stuck between “Memoirs of A Geisha” and “Les Miserables.” Speaking of those two beloved books, I tried comparing myself to the characters I have known so far so as to at least have an idea whether I’m on the pursuing end or on the pursued end of the chain. Then, I realized I couldn’t tell which character I am most similar to. I don’t know if I’m the Nobu or the Chairman or the Sayuri in this novel. I also don’t know if I’m Eponine, Cosette or Marius in this version of “Les Miserables”. It seems to me that I am at the center of this wheel of characters. If I could just tell which one am I in this story, I’d probably be able to concentrate on playing my part right.

            I’m also stuck in uncertainty, the river between two blissful lands: knowledge and ignorance. I’m not sure of what’s true and what’s not anymore. I’m not sure of what’s wrong and what’s right anymore. I used to be quite good at telling these things apart but now, they’re all jumbled up in the haze called my contemplations. Take my having crushes for example. I always reach the point where I don’t know if I really like the guy but I’m just too proud, too ashamed to admit it or if I really don’t like the guy (anymore?).  Then, the universe lends its hand to this confusion by having people tell me that I may be in love with this guy. Then I’ll go, “Great! Now, I’m stuck in an intersection where I choose from being in love, just having a crush, going towards living a single life or going back to ignorance of such complexities.” It seems that the last option may be improbable but that still leaves me to three choices that are hard to swallow. I’m not holding the map and it seems that I can’t trust all the signs. There was a time when I got lost by following such deceitful signs. Now, I know that it’s hard to tell the honest signs from the deceitful signs. Duh! That’s why they’re deceitful idiot!!!

            All this is like sitting on a window. You’re not outside the house but you’re not inside either. You’re suspended in the twilight and this suspension is probably the most torturous form of damnation. You’re suffering neither the lack nor the abundance of something but suffering nonetheless. You’re suffering in between…teetering between suffering one or the other. On one hand, it’s good because you’re not doomed or confined to a single fate. On the other hand, it’s bad because you’re constantly at the risk of losing your balance and falling off on one side thereby sealing your doom. In suffering suspension, you suffer neither yet in some way, you also suffer both. In short, you suffer in more ways when you’re stuck in between.

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.

As I walk you home without your knowledge, I watch you walk silently. I noticed you’re walking extra slowly and your steps are somewhat zigzagging today. I know you’re burning with fever right now yet still, you walk on…fighting the urge to collapse. I can see you struggling hard to keep your head from swimming into God-knows-where. As you fight the fever for control of your motor and mental skills, I fight the urge to just walk up to you and give you a ride home (yes, give, not offer but GIVE) as I have often done many times before. In these struggles, the only thing preventing me from making my existence known to you is the fear of rejection. Yet, I have to admit that there are times when this fear is overcome by my longing to just carry your burden for you, make you smile, end your suffering and come what may. In moments like these, awe cripples me. I’d be awed by the fact that you manage to hold back that wave of tears threatening to drown you inside, keep your inner struggles to yourself and still face the world with a smile. I know we share the same struggles for the same reasons but because of different people. Knowing this amazes me even more. You may have been defeated by this guy but you’re not letting him destroy your life completely. Yes, I know your strength has been defeated. You have been defeated. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look down on the pavement as you walk. I can see how you see him and this makes me wish that you’d see me the way you see him…or even just that he’d see you the way you see him, the way I see you…and right now, I see you trudging home slowly (where’s the asshole that you like so much when you desperately need a ride home?! Doesn’t he even care that you’re walking home alone when you’re sick?!). I see you concentrate on willing yourself to take a step that’ll lead you home, a step that’ll lead you away from me, away from your comfort, away from – hopefully- your happiness and your home.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you that sometimes, it’s better and easier for you to lie down, succumb to the sickness and rest until the fever subsides. That way, on the following day, you’ll be able to get up with fresh energy and less to fight.
I’m sorry if the words came out weird. They were very beautiful when they were still untarnished, newly conceived and safe within confines of my head. Now that I’m actually giving form to those thoughts, they aren’t as beautifully sincere as I first conceived them to be and for that, I am sorry…
P.S.
These are thoughts of a feverish, deluded girl in an effort to keep her brain up and running so…you decide…hehe

One tear is all I need to shed to stop my eyes from welling up. One tear is all I need to stop my eyes from betraying me. One tear is all I need to make this sickening masquerade party with the world stop. One tear is all I need to erase all the sadness in the world. One tear is all I need to see the world’s beauty once more. One tear is all I need to be able to move on with life once more. One tear is all I need; then I can face the world…smiling. One tear is all I need to wash away all my negativity. One tear is all I need to keep myself from succumbing to self-pity. One tear is all I need to vent out my frustrations. One tear is all I need to cleanse the heaviness, the emptiness I feel in my heart. One tear is all I need to be able to breathe freely again and to rest from this great exhaustion. One tear is all I need to make life bearable once more. One tear is all I need to save myself from self-destruction. One tear is all I need to put an end to this sadistic self-indulgence. One tear is all I need to stop this madness. One tear is all I need to let go of loneliness. One tear is all I need to be mended, to feel whole once again. One tear is all I need to be happy again. One tear, I hope, is all I need to shed to find the one who’ll wipe this one tear away…the one who’ll give me no reason to shed not one tear ever again…but right now, I need to shed one more tear until he comes.

I want to give in to self-pity -and I have enough reason to do so, mind you- but I can’t. I want to break down and cry so that these thoughts will be washed away by my tears and be forgotten- or at least the crying will stop the nagging in my head- but now that I have reason to, I can’t.
I’ve been here before; felt these things before; unable to do what I want just like before. Just like before, I’m planning to go on a “psychological strike” once again. You see, I have a weird way of rebelling; I have a different way of destroying myself to destroy my beloved enemy. I let schoolwork and negativity consume me so that the bubbly, foolishly optimistic dreamer (i.e. me) will be seemingly wiped out of existence. Once this “illusion” is complete, my beloved enemy’s conscience will keep nagging “It is because of you that she is like that…you destroyed her.” Then, once the beloved can’t endure the guilt anymore, I’ll resurrect the bright side of me. unfortunately, though, I’ve never been able to let this plan come to full circle…at least I don’t think so…but on every attempt, I get closer and closer to its completion. Last time, I think I got to the destroying myself part…or was it the step after that? Anyway, the point is, I’ve managed to “destroy” myself lots of times before…I just resurrect myself earlier than I planned. The foolishly optimistic dreamer gets the better of me in one way or another that my intricate plan for revenge is thwarted. I’m easy to buy through smiles, hugs and compliments. Anyway, last time I tried, the foolishly optimistic dreamer was resurrected with the help of my friends (guys, you know who you are…though I don’t think you know what you did…). Right now, I’m planning the same thing again…but considering the people I’m with, I don’t think I’ll accomplish much of my plans…
P. S.
Blockmates, if you still don’t get it, the previous sentence was a compliment…my way of writing a compliment/thank you note…
P. S. S.
If you still don’t understand the compliment, go figure! Sorry, ganyan ako mag-compliment, I want you to work hard for it! Hehe…
* great…how appropriate…I’m writing about worthlessness! How redundantly cruel could the world be?!

he doesn’t have or even know shampoo and conditioner but he has long, gorgeous and seemingly silky and smooth blonde hair. he doesn’t have soap or practice daily bathing but he has a perfect complexion except for a scar across the right eye but then again, the scar makes his beautiful face stand out even more. by the way, by beautiful i mean it in both the feminine and masculine sense. (in filipino, maganda na gwapo siya). he doesn’t know what contact lenses are or what they’re for but then again, he doesn’t need them since he has clear blue eye with perfect vision…a perfect vision to behold indeed! as i’ve said before- and i mean it more now than i did before- that those are the kind of eyes that i would never grow tired of staring at for innumerable eternities. he wears this unbelievably perfectly polished armor (considering the travelling and battles he’s supposed to have been through) that makes you wonder what you’ll see underneath the armor if you er, ahem! strip it….slowly…hehehe…kidding…anyway, makes you wonder if all the metal is for protecting skin and bones or concealing er…you get the idea…anyway, as of an answer to this query, he wields this big ass sword that makes a statement for itself but more importantly for the hottie who’s wielding it. the sword clearly shows how strong- and how heavenly the body of - its carrier is. i’d love to have those arms around me…ahem…i need not describe the lips but oh! the voice that comes out of them! deep, husky and even sexy don’t quite do the trick. the closest thing to a description that i can supply is that it’s the kind of voice that entrances the listener (as if the sight of him isn’t entrancing enough). it’s the kind of voice that will make you melt and evaporate a million billion gazillion times over. it’s the kind of voice that i’d love to hear uttering my name over and over and over again…and each time would be like the first. it’s the kind of voice that -excuse me- can make a simple sigh knock my clothes off and sweep me off my feet. reader, minion, meet my knight (not night) in shining armor.

and as if he’s er, not enough trouble already to drive an innocent (ops…choking) 17 year old like me crazy, he has a rival mind you! if the he is a nightmare restored to a knight, this rival is a once-good-but-turned-evil guy. he doesn’t have blue eyes but his eyes have this look that’ll keep you staring at it to be able to distinguish its color…if the knight has a yummy voice, he has a yummy snobby sort of accent. if the knight has gorgeous hair, he does too! only it’s styled differently. if the knight conceals his heavenly bod, this guy flaunts actually more like taunts you with a glimpse- yes just a glimpse- of his specs…(gee, i must sound like a perv but what the hell!i can’t help it with these two!) if the knight wears a shining armor, he wears a classy noble’s outfit and a matching perfectly villainous, sexy sneer. if the knight is the king of cheesy, serious lines, he’s the king of snobby and somewhat witty lines.

i could go on forever about these two but i have computer rentals to pay so…i’ll cut this short: we clearly have an even match! although frankly, i’m spoiling and favoring the knight more than his rival so…we’ll just see…

oh yeah, there’s another one but he’s no threat to the other two. this one is a samurai with nice jet black hair and a wonderful bod as well but…2 is company and 3 is a crowd! the two are keeping me up all night already! i don’t need more reasons to stay up! i need more reasons to sleep and do well in school!!!

phew! the break is over and i didn’t experience what i feared i would (don’t ask what it is…the fact that it er, cannot be remedied during the break is all you need to know). i dunno if it’s because two PS2 characters occupied my fantasies or because i was (and still is) so keen on perfecting torete and kung wala ka on the guitar that i didn’t have to deal with the dreaded situation but i don’t care what the reason is. what’s important is that the worst didn’t happen. wait, i think i should think of what the reason is so that i will not have to deal with "it" anymore. i think it’s because those 2 occurrences were present during the sembreak and "it" didn’t happen either. hmmmm…interesting,,, i have found the anti-"it"! seeing the videoclip of someone being beheaded probably helped too. how? well, in case i might see the clip play over and over again in my dreams, i filled my thoughts with my gorgeous knight in shining armor (literally) who exists in the realm of a playstation 2 game where one has to find an evil sword in order to either acquire it or destroy it. anyway, i better go and play the PS2 or practice playing the guitar before "it" happens. bye! sandali na lang…