Saturday, March 29, 2014

Free Fall

"I am writing now with a heavy heart. And the only therapy I can think of is to put all of my emotions and thoughts into words. It’s the only thing I know how to do, now. I just let go of something that I’ve held on to for a lot of years.

I am only now realizing the importance of presence. It is difficult to be far away from the people you love and care for. It is a sickness that just eats at your chest and bores a hole into your being. In the first few months it can be liberating but as time goes on, you just try to convince yourself that it everything is fine. You lie to yourself every time you look at your reflection in the mirror. You try to keep in the emotional vomit that puts a knot in your throat and crashing against your teeth. Although you try your hardest to make them feel that you’re never gone, just far away; it almost always never works out. And it is more painful to think that you’ve been let go without you knowing. That they have cut the tether and that you are drifting away. You really do feel like you’ve drifted away, only, it hits you all at the same time.

As I write this, I feel like shattering into a million shards of glass. Every breath is an effort. Merely focusing my eyes becomes labor. My head is heavy with thoughts that eat at me. My chest is a gruesome hole. I wish it was just physical. I scraped my right elbow last night as I grovelled and pleaded. They were to no avail.
There are different types of love but I’m only going to define two of them. The first one being romantic love – the feeling of a first kiss, the exhilarating rush of meeting someone new and instantly hitting it off from the get-go. It’s the kind of love that is fuelled by passion. You are just spinning and you don’t care if you fall off the edges of the world. It’s the kind of love that makes you high.

And the other is the kind of love that does not make you flutter in excitement but it makes you do things you didn’t think you were capable of doing. It is the kind of love that holds on as long as it takes, endures pain, and trusts wholly. It is the kind of love that does not just think about butterflies in your stomach but wonders at night if you’re doing fine, if you’re sleeping tightly and that if you’re feeling better after a skull-cracking bout of migraine. It is the kind of love that fights for you, fights with you, and shares every drop of blood and tear you’ve shed. It is the kind of love that puts you in a pedestal not as an item but as a human being worth of all admiration and respect. It is the kind of love that lingers even if it’s extinguished again and again. It is the kind of love that dims down to let you shine. It is the kind of love that understands your inner storms and tries to calm them with a touch of their hands and a kiss on the forehead. It is the kind of love that weakens at some point but never truly dies. It is the kind of love that is not perfect but is better than your ideal love since it is real. It is the kind of love that will never look at you and judge you. It is the kind of love that never leaves even if you command it to. It is the kind of love that’s made for the long haul, it will endure even if you’re both gone. It is the kind of love that tells you the truth and teaches you how to see the lies that coat every sweet word and gesture. It is the kind of love that nurtures you. It is the kind of love that refuses to look away even if there’s almost nothing to see. It is the kind of love is with you all the time but doesn’t brag about its presence. It is the kind of love that sticks to you until the end or whenever it feels like it. It is the kind of love that holds your hand while you both imagine a future together. It is the kind of love that sees only a promise of tomorrow if you’re in it. It is the kind of love that loves you not because you are shiny and beautiful but because you are the only person they know how to love and care for. It is the kind of love that reserves only the best for you because you’re the only one they deem worthy of it. It is the kind of love that is reserved, timid, and quiet but goes deeper than what you first imagined. It is the kind of love that lives for you.

Which one would you prefer?

To the world, you want to be someone. But to someone, you are the world. To them, you are stardust - the reason for their existence. Will you return the favor and make their world spin? Will you grow to be their universe? Will you talk to the stars and tell them thank you for making your paths cross? Will you stay until the end – when the fight is over and all you can hear is static? Will you hold the hand that never meant to hurt you and only wished to give you everything? Will you be stardust?

Walking away is the most painful think I imagine myself doing. But what happens then if it’s the only choice? How can you take a step away from the source of your beliefs and hopes? I wonder what that first step will feel like. I imagine it to be a fall off a cliff. At one moment you’ll feel like it’s an infinite plunge and then suddenly it stops. You’ve just taken the first step, how does the idea of falling again and again sound to you as you think about the number of steps you need to take to truly walk away? Or how about, you turn around and just stay?"

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

We are a beautiful accident

If there ever comes a time that our memories of each other get erased in a freak accident or some sort of cruel science experiment, I’ll freely accept it. If that means meeting you again for the first time, getting lost in your big brown eyes for what seems like an eternity for the first time, getting deaf and blind from our first kiss and knowing you again inside and out for the first time.

I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

I would very much like the prospect of things falling into place once more even if it means having to go through hell and back again.

If we are to collide into each other again, I’d gladly do it even if it crushes me. There is no perfect love and right now as I’m still able to feel you, even just so faintly, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you.

I love you even when I hate you. I love you even when I hurt. I love you even when I cry. I love you even if I’m the meanest person in the world to you at some times. We are not perfect, accidents are not perfect. Accidents are nowhere near good.

But us, as this sort of cosmic display of fuck-ups and heartbreaks is good, as I believe and think it to be. You are lost as I am. Only that I have known what it’s like to lose you. Will you cry if you lose me, too? Probably not. But you know what? That’s okay. Since I can’t unlove you even if I tried. I can’t even get to make myself think of not having you in my world.

So if ever, just in case, you forget me in that freak accident or science experiment, remember the day when we had nothing but ourselves. And that we had no fear, we had not a single doubt, and that we loved each other to the core of our bones – the souls of our existence. For even if that accident kills me, I think I would have died in great happiness.

And I pledge to myself everyday until I forget you – or until my brain does not function properly anymore to recognize your face – I love you. Some accidents can do that, make the mind forget what the heart has been fighting all its life for.

Undoing our past may lighten my heart a thousand times more than it is now but it would be empty. And I wouldn’t want that. Not in this lifetime, maybe not even the next if there is a next lifetime for me. All I know is I love you. This run-in we had is something I can’t recreate with someone else.

But there is one thing that I hope will still happen when we forget each other completely – I still wish to dream of you. I know that dreams are real but somehow, I think that dreams about you will make me believe them even if I hadn’t seen you yet in my blank slate of a world. And who knows, we might be in another accident together.

Dreams are meant for those who sleep. I hope I still crash into you there. Although, you are real. And accidents leave a mark. Maybe I’ll wake up one day and not wonder how I got all these scars.

Lomolit: Flutter (Part 3)

What they had was a beautiful orchestration when looked at from the outside – much like a thunderstorm on a cloudy night with all its forked bolts hitting the ground, or the eruption of a volcano with its fiery display of pent-up force.

Photo by shoujoai
But a view from the inside tells so much more – it was a scalding and tumultuous affair. They reveled in their chaos because that’s what they are. They fought ferociously as much as they made up after every clash on the street, inside a room or a restaurant. Dean and Mika knew that what they had in their hands was far from normal but they knew how to make it work. Only they knew how.
Distance was a thing for them. For the longest time, they were so close to each other that they became too comfortable. Mika, with her wistful charm and wit attracted a lot of attention. She liked the attention she was getting. She forgot what Dean’s attention meant to her.
Dean was confident that what he had with Mika was more than just friendship. Although they didn’t really put a label on it, the both of them knew. It was a matter of time before one of them caved in. But time passed and no one did. It was an impasse. They had reached a standstill.
“What are you doing?” asked Dean while they were having sandwiches at a diner.
Her favorite was bacon, lettuce and tomato but her plate was getting cold. She played around with her food and the little tine marks on the tomato ring she dismantled from the then soggy piece of food were clearly visible.
“What am I doing?” replied Mika in confusion.
Photo by geltona
Mika was eyeing a guy from the corner lounge of the diner. Ever since they walked in, all eyes stuck to her and this particular set belonged to a rugged-looking guy. That pair of eyes was still glued to her as Dean looked intently at her.
She knew what Dean was talking about. She was frolicking in and around town with different friends and she did enjoy herself almost every night. Sometimes work or anything else more important became lesser priorities. Mika was always out having a good time; she was enjoying her youth and the beauty that was handed to her with pink ribbons and sterling packaging.
She knew she was attractive and that it was just a matter of time before the first few people noticed, got up from their seats and offered her drinks, dates and rides home. Just when you think you know someone, it hits you suddenly that you barely scratched the surface.
He was still looking at her. His face was starting to scrunch a bit. Mika could feel Dean looking through him and his eyes were starting to give him away. He was confident enough with what they had. And maybe, that was what was wrong with him. Mika went on dates – most of them dinners and were offered flowers on a regular basis that her small pad could almost pass for a small flower shop sans the signboard. Although she wanted Dean to take her out, it didn’t occur to her that he really wanted to since he’s just being his usual self – cold, passive but intense. He must have been sculpted from stone, she sometimes thought.
Mika let some of her dates give her a ride home. Sometimes, a peck on the cheeks or a kiss on the lips if she liked the dinner or she had fun or they held hands on the way to the movies; as long as it was fun. If Dean only knew, it would have destroyed him. Maybe he does? Who cares? Mika kept quiet.
Photo by endorphin
Dean stood up, took out a crumpled bundle of bills and tried to flatten them neatly on the table. He went out without even finishing his plate. The same pair of eyes that belonged to the guy with the steely looks never left Mika’s face. She knew that all along and she was getting interested.
Mika took a sip from her glass of water. Dean scorched the tip of the cigarette that was hanging from his trembling lips. The loud rumbling of his beat up car faded as Mika returned the favor of his gaze. She put her fork down on her plate with the uneaten sandwich dissected into parts.