to francis loyd

they say that there is no such thing as a mistake, just a lesson learned. because in every u-turn, in every work that needs redone, there is a lesson that needs to be learned so we don't do them again.

in your case, there was no lesson. it was simply a mistake.

i guess if there was only one regret in all this, it was the regret on how i have let this drag on this long. it was unfair.

it was a long bumpy ride that i held on to hoping it would get better all along but it didn't. it just tired me, all the hoping, but nothing really compensated on all the hurt. i got tired hoping.

i wish i could take it all back, demanding there should be some sort of remorse in all these, but the hurt just echoes back with more hurt, no sign of life to hope for.

i wish i could put all of these in writing and just walk away from all these casually, but the pain lingers on. God forgive me, but you are one case I could never get myself to forgive. i still pray for the strength to forgive but i never regret every single thing i said to you. i meant everything i said, even on the part that i said i hope you would die a slow painful death. even that would not suffice, but what are my options?

i should let this go. i know, i know.

but in the meantime, i should let this sink in. in time, i will forgive. in time.

but one thing makes sense for now. you were not worth all of it.

Today, I had lunch with a stranger.

You were not there, we were not there. I can't find us. Somewhere along the way, we wandered apart and maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe, it's meant to happen anyway, it just took a bit of a while.

They always say we should know when to hold on and when to let go. But what I wasn't told is that there comes a time when you're simply given the choice whether to continue fighting or not. It's not letting go, but simply just letting things happen with minimum effort.

I'm too tired for petty mistakes and fixing them just to realize efforts wasted in the end.

I don't want any more lunch times with a stranger. Maybe it's about time I get selfish for a change. I'd rather be alone.

i've never been a believer of new year's resolutions. surely, no one can change overnight just by the mere flip of the calendar page. but changing has to start somewhere, and it's always a good excuse.

aside from the haircut, i'm still the same old me; the same battles in the head, the same whining of the traffic, the same RATM song for the call alert tone. pretty much, nothing has changed.

but recently, i learned some heartaches die. the most precious ones die very very old; slowly but they eventually do anyway.

so this is how it feels like. finally.

happy new year to me.

you got to learn how to listen to that song without breaking down.

- from the Silver Linings Playbook

scribbles anonymous

yesterday, i saw one of my standing regrets downstairs. looking at it in the eye again made me realize how i cannot be more intelligent than the pounding sounds of the heart. more than ever, I felt fragile.

i used to think that the strongest people are those who easily let go as necessary. no, I don't mean just of people; but of fears, worries, regrets and everything that needs letting go. but then again, who can judge strength based on these ideals?

as much as I'd like to let go, i linger. the pain needs to be remembered as detailed as possible, so when I look back, moving on will make more sense. this is strength for me now; enduring.

scars breathe and never die. they're always there, like the moon that follows you home each night. then like a random thought of scars, i write these all in my head while i watch the needles sink into my skin.

there is always that one perfect thing you had to let go for the shallowest reasons. regrets, just like scars, are breathing. they're snapshots of pleasant misgivings and miscalculated chances taken.
but they live on. like blood that blots the ink.

birthday wish

so. what do i do with all these maybes?

come on, let's move on.

today I realized, that sometimes people say things only because it feels right for that moment. over time, it loses meaning until you start to wonder whether anything at all was meant.

maybe not.

emotions are but passersby in the train station waiting for the next ride. they're deceitful; they make you feel special and leave you behind hopeless and irreparable, like ice cream falling off the cone.

not everything that feels real is real, but being misled is an art.

the heart is a battleground.

don't come into my life, if you have no intention to stay.

i guess i wasn't loud enough.

maybe, maybe, maybe.

if we hope too much,
things will be different.

the smiths

i like it when it rains because i get to watch people on the streets with their fancy umbrellas from my third floor apartment.

i like this random feeling when it rains, it's surreal- like a unicorn of bright, blue clouds brought about by your what ifs that i never doubted.

i meant it when i said you're beautiful. so let's make a deal; i give you my heart and you take me for granted. afterall, i have a lifetime of broken promises to spare. i will be fine.

come, the rain has started. let's continue with this fiction as 'the smiths' play on the background. everything down below looks pretty from my third floor apartment. everything.

fear is tangible. it takes you by the hand into a whirlwind of fragile half-truths and dismay.

fear is a person. and it breaks your heart.

black forrest cake

lazily, i forked on my black forest cake, slicing and moving it around the plate but not eating it. it was too tempting when i first saw it, like a full-blown infatuation when i leaned towards the glass display to order my first cup of espresso. now, after my third cup, it just stayed there untouched, looking old and fake and shrivelled.

i stayed up late last night just deciding on what to tell you. i did not want to miss out on anything, i created a list just to make sure i get to mention everything in succession. you know me when i'm upset, i tend to speak faster than a train crash, but this time is very important. i need some sort of cohesion and planning to make sure i don't mess up on this this time.

then, at 2 past 4 in the afternoon, you cheerfully slid through that door, letting in a bit of late sunshine as it shone behind you like a halo. i just sat there still, confused, frowning, and undecided on how to feel. noticing my reaction, you immediately mirrored my frown, like a remote with fresh batteries. "what's wrong?" was all you managed to say.

everything, i wanted to say. you, me, these three cups of espresso and this heart that outweighs me. some questions just hurt more sometimes. people say answers do but they can't always be right.

"nothing," i lied. there goes all the things that i wanted to say. always, those things just get snatched off my mind before i even have a chance to protest.

"that's good to hear," you lied back. how can there be nothing wrong when you had to go out of your way after my phone call to meet up in that lame coffee shop?

but then again, we have been in this scene before; a dozen hundred times i almost have a queue at the back of my mind on what is going to happen next.

you held my hand, like you always do when you run out of things to say. as my tears start to flow, i wonder if i would ever get the chance to tell you what i really want to say. i want to explode just to relieve me out of this heaviness, but crying will do in the meantime.

then my phone rang. it was a familiar name, and after the conversation ended with me saying okey, you gave me a meek smile and silently you said, "you're going."

"yes."

i finished my cup, taking my time while taking deep breaths. why can't you just steal me away? why can't you just take me away, somewhere far and behind all these?

wiping my tears has always been a chore. it washes away my make up, so at 4 in the afternoon i have to wear shades to hide the clues. why can't people just be with the ones they want and let everything else figure out its own place under the sun?

sighing, i went out of the coffee shop, thinking, that things would have been less complicated had you not told me you are going to wait for me.

it all starts with betrayal. everything seems to start with that subtle feeling of betrayal; how you run out of coffee for your coffeemaker, how the weather becomes sunny all day when you decided to wear a coat on a gloomy morning, or how you notice that glaring, self-disrespecting grammar crime right after hitting the send button on a text message to your boss.

i thought for a while my greatest fear was to be left alone. there's me waiting for a cab under an unglamorous rain, and you slowly drive by with some cappuccino-colored-hair girl on the passenger seat. but the more i realize how i couldn't be that girl, the more thankful i am why it didn't work for the two of us, that in the long run, i'd rather be out in the rain than be comfortable beside you.

years go by and my fears have matured. from running out of coins for the vendo machine, to the fear of deciding on a wrong hairstyle after my hair had been cut and sticking with it for x number of months until my hair grows back. but thank goodness fears should change constantly. we grow out of our current fears and move on to better ones as we grow older.

last night, you begged for me to stay. that's one fear i never anticipated. fears are planned and foreseen, but never, never catches you off guard.

i decided this was my biggest fear. it was never entertained, always shrugged back at the back of my mind. it's that big of a fear that i feared to confront it. i know i would never bring myself to saying yes for staying, because i might actually do that, and bring a convenient end to this drama that's just building up.

as i press the button for the  elevator doors to my office to close, these little stories of betrayal come back. the coffeemaker, the weather, my basic grammatical instinct. and yes, of fate too for making me move on and bringing me up close to this fear.

the world, in fact, isn't flat. we move inside this circular bubble; the faster we run, the faster the things we try to get away from come back to us. everything just sort of ironically comes back.

but betrayal leads to happy endings. it's that thing that keeps us hoping, that while we are out there waiting for a cab under the rain, someone could actually walk by and give us company.

out of my head by theory of a deadman

maybe it was the way you talked
maybe it was the way you laughed
i don't know just what it is

but i know i want you back

random ramblings

i pass judgment on people based on their fingernails. i think people should walk more and littering should be considered a heinous crime. i listen to the beatles, read the news, and yes, i have opinions on almost anything. i decide on my own faith and no one has the right to tell me what to believe and what not to. i read the bible and search for my own truth. i love soya and i don't eat pork, and while i don't argue on other people's gods, i believe mine loves me to the point of death. people should read more and spend lesser time online, maybe plant more trees but definitely stop so much hate by starting to talk more and stop parading on the streets with placards that bear caps lock statements and exclamation marks. we are much more educated and civilized than that. i love to laugh, but on everything, i decide with my heart. i believe hitler didn't get enough playtime when he was a kid, and when the wind blows against my face and hair with a cup of hot tea on my lap, i know, somehow eveything will be right again no matter how wrong.

mixtape by butch walker

cause you gave me the best mixtape that i have

and even all the sad songs ain't so sad

i just wish there was more than that

about me and you

i guess the most painful thing that could happen

is to be asked by a stranger

why you're crying

almost 5 am and i am still awake,
humming to a song of the corrs.

i still don't get it.

the spaces in between by ria osorio

while heading out today
i paused to feel the morning sunshine
on our busy street
and then I realized
that’s what you are you are
the reason that I’ve made it this far