.....!

Saturday is
was
ok
at first.

No special occasion.
Did some errands.
Preparing for my travel
to Bicol.

Numb.
Yes that's what it is.

And I worry
that this feeling of limbo
feeling
dead
is the closest thing
to
peace

But
I'll take it.
Anything.

Then I got triggered
by a certain episode
about dating
from a dumb Netflix sitcom.

Then I watched
that spoken word performance
of the dad talking bout
the rules of dating his daughter

Then I found myself
HERE
which was supposed to be a safe place.

Saw a post where I thanked God
for Mawhi
because she's the only person
who can stand me.

Where is she now?

Can I just go back to numb?
I am pathetic.

....

The mindboggling contradiction
of leaning to your Christian faith
then listening to your single friends
who claim to know what love is about

Smoke screen.

2:27 AM

And I am hoping
that clips of your face
won't keep replaying
in my head

God bless dumb sitcoms

A friend casually drop "labyu"

Got teary-eyed

Square one.

Lost.

Hoping to be found.

...

I am breaking down more than usual.

What do you do when you have been trying to be a better person
but she can only see you from what you were: a trigger.

I know I've changed. Damn I know I did.

People may scoff against the idea of leaning to Christian faith
in times of need,
but I have been praying. a lot.
It helps.
I mean who else can ever have the patience
to listen to my litany in this season
where everyone has their own battles to face.

I always thought that I was faking this sudden move to impress her

but I have caught myself kneeling down so many times
weeping, calling out His name, without an audience.
It gives me comfort. Enough to get me through the day.
Before I crash again.

Oh Lord.

Oh what I can give for a little peace of mind.
For a little joy.

Back to square one.

I wept like someone died
when a friend told me about getting closure
from an old flame today.
I cried for his win.
I cried in envy.
I cried for what I've lost.
I've cried for doing my best
For 2months
and in just a day,
I was erased.
I cried because I know
I have changed.

I honestly don't know now what is real.

I have to pour out everything here
'cause I can't contain it much longer.

Blogspot has long been dead.
Perfect for an anonymous cry for help.

I pray to be better. Please.

CURTAIN CALL

I don't trust my feelings.

Sometimes I question if what I am feeling is all for show.
Blame it on me for being a romantic. Blame it on me for loving theater.

I look at each chapter of life -from the quarrels to the make up- as one big narrative that needs the perfect lines. 

I still do.

Why waste the perfect pause when the moment calls for it?
Why not blow the perfect kiss if the timing is right?

I found you to be my favorite actress.

And I molded us as the perfect loveteam that we can sell to the world, worthy of the frenzy and curiousity.
We didn't mind the attention, to be honest.

We even have an interesting backstory that may pass as a classic.
You have your own tale you want to be highlighted, 
but oh, the reel wasn't enough.
My god, I didn't even notice what you were reciting at times.

It must have been a monologue for a quite a while. 

We peeled our skin little by little to reveal us as fragile beings;
and realized that these roles

are concepts we enjoyed playing.

It wasn't that bad; don't get me wrong. 

Our madness can't be captured wholly on a peephole, but it was pretty most of the time. 

We were proud of that. 

Friends and family of yours caught a glimpse and pass judgment
as cruel as those self-proclaimed experts in Rotten Tomatoes. Spectators will settle on whatever is headlines-worthy in our world, you see. 

Who can blame them?
I just know we were happy. Contented.

Then again

I never trusted my feelings.

Then last night, I cried loudly.
Broke down harder that usual. 

Lost myself

On the edge of sanity
Without an audience for my performance.

Just this montage on my head for lost opportunities
of things left unsaid
and promises left undone.

Only now did I feel that I am real.

that WE are real.

were

THE LUCK OF LACK

I cry when I do certain acts of kindness to anyone. I get overwhelmed by the intensity of the act that I can't even pretend to show that it is not a big thing.

Maybe because I am naturally a cruel bitter person.

I have been crying my hearts out every 3am in the morning about nothing. 3 nights in a row. Just this loooming emptiness that I can't figure out. 

Last night, Vishnu stared at me with a seemingly curious but loving expression that I burst out crying.

I am that fractured.

What do I need? 

Whenever i think of therapy, I can't even imagine what to tell the concerned person because I already know the questions and corresponding answers

 so what's the use?

It is the lack of real friendship in my life.

It is the lack of forgiveness in my part for myself.

it is the resentment of not being the best in every situation

and just regretting what I said or did.

It is the shame of my angry outbursts against my loved ones.

it is the lack of creative expression in my art that is making me think I am not as good as I thought I was.

It is the suddent realization that my kids are growing up without me

and the fear that they won't need me in my life.

It is the lack of resources in my arsenal to make Mawhi stay. 

It is the lack of God.

november

This space has been taken for granted.

but you are still my confessional since I don't have any willing ears that
won't judge my sorry self.

I still feel trapped. For not having enough to solve all these contraints.
Wish a genie would magically appear and pay for my annullment case.
Wish a genie can point these dimwitted congressmen and senators to the realization
that we need the divorce bill.
Wish I can go back to certain scenes in my life to correct everything.
Wish I have the right words, the right reactions...

Wish I can be better.

Narcissistic prick.

Every time I complain, I charge it to being one. It is unfair
because my mind is my sole enemy. I can't even be honest with what I feel

to myself.

It is ok to feel this way - I need to convince myself. 

It is ok to admit that I am not ok. 

Lately I have been thinking about what legacy I am leaving to my kids.
To the world. My parents are getting old.

I AM GETTING OLD.

everything is fleeting.

I am sure there will be testimonials about being a wasted talent when I die, but I'll just be another status post.
a statistic. 

But do they really know me?

Do they even bother to know me? 

All I really need is a friend.

All I need...

fences

Tonight I write directly to this blank canvas because emotions are smothering me, it needs a wall where I can spill my hurt.

I can't seem to breathe right now. Pillowcases, wet. Feeling my heart double its beat. My toes hurt. My face, numb.

I am at my worst.

I live by promises. I live by rules. Simple pact that I think is valid. A fence if you will. Not to serve as bars, but as a security blanket to keep me sane.

So yes, I am at fault with my neuroses. I am imperfect. Broken. I like to think I am proud of it because in acknowledging that fact, you gain identity and direction.

But why is it not easy to comprehend that each teeth of a fence means a lot to my sanity? Worse, I am pushed away and made to feel guilty and insane for rules we both agreed on.

Over and over again.
Over and over
again.
Over
and
over.

Now I am at my worst.
And I can't seem to forgive myself for reaching that brink again where I will be another dysfunctional stereotype.

Over and over again, you make me lost my sanity over simple rules that would have save us...

or me.

But do you really care?

All you care about when your sorrys came out empty are those projectiles you throw at my direction, making sure it find a spot it can dig in.

Do you even have a point when all I ask was just keep your little promises?

I am at my worst.

I feel so tired. So empty.
I feel so ashamed of what I have become.