Be still.

Keep quiet.

Endure.

This will all be over, soon.

I should..

I'm writing this, with just my boxers on, sweat trickling from my nape and forehead as I nurse a semi-bad case of hangover. I had a bad night last night. It's a good thing there are still people who care. I have to write this now before it escapes me. I have to let out would-bes that are devastating for me. This is my laundry list.

I always don't have words for the more important things and people in my life. Having said that, I think that I've failed as a writer in the most basic sense. And that, in turn shows that I've failed in being an appropriate partner. In short, I have failed.

But the little angel at my right shoulder keeps telling me that I should start now. I should start writing for people I love instead of just creating copy for the company I work for. Indeed, I should.

1. I should've said "I love you" everyday in a love letter.

Yes. I should have. You may not accept it but that's what I feel. I just want to stare at your face when I'm with you and be impolite like that. I can't help it. I just love you in every way.

2. I should've told you that you were beautiful.

No, it should be said like "You're beautiful, not just now, last week when you wore that black dress or yesterday when you were dolled up for an event. You look beautiful. You are beautiful and I can't help but stare. I don't believe in telling you that you lookED beautiful. I know that each time I see you, you'll be at your most beautiful. And I will always whisper that to you each time I can."

3. I adore you in every way.

Sweeping me off my feet is one thing, making me adore you time and time again is another. You're strong. You're faithful. You're everything that I am not and that leads me to number four...

4. You inspire me.

You inspire me to be good. You inspire me to be better. You inspire me to give more love as you've given me.

5. I will never get tired of you.

We fight. That's what we do. That's us. Some will say that it's not healthy and that we should try looking at different directions altogether. I say, fuck off. It sucks to be far away and that I'm not there to make you feel everything I have for you but I won't get tired. I'll work my hands to the nub if I have to. I'll never stop working. We are better than this. Please don't let people tell you otherwise.

I have lots more to say. I hope that you'd just put that phone down and listen. I miss you.

Privilege

Outright, the word sounds like it’s part of a bourgeois plan to make the lower classes feel inferior. The word itself is reserved. You spare the use of privilege. As a writer, it’s a game that you play when you’re creating ideas for your next piece. You just give priority to some works among others, even if it means sitting long hours on a chair right in front of your screen to squeeze the juices out of each brain cell you’ve got. Privilege is a strong word. You don’t give everyone your best.

Love is a privilege. You give love to people but I believe that not everyone deserves the best kind of love. There is love that you give out openly as a gesture. I hate the fact that people nowadays throw “I love you” the way that fast food chains are giving our discount coupons. You get what you deserve when it comes to love. You put in time, tears and sacrifice to make love happen. It’s a foul thing to give away love right off the bat. It’s an investment.

Sounds selfish, right? No, it’s not. You give people the privilege of loving them not just because you want to but because that’s what is due. You don’t go around asking for love from people who peddle cheap thrills just to feel a spark. Be in it for the long haul. I love you is a powerful word. Give it if you mean it. Don’t half-ass it. Love is a privilege. You keep it to yourself until someone worthy is ready to hold it for you and nurture it. It will be a long and tedious task but it will be worth it. You know it’s worth it. A higher being planned it for you.

Privilege is a gift. When you receive something from a special person in your life, you know that it’s special too. You get a warm feeling in your body and a tingling sensation from the back of your neck to your ears. It creeps up slowly and delectably satisfies your physical being. You don’t give random people the privilege to hold your hand, whisper sweet nothings in your ear or the side of your bed even if it’s cold and longing for a warm body to make it toasty and comfortable. You make people work for it. Cheap thrills are nothing but empty words and physical promises. As I said earlier, you don’t love people just because they’re there. It goes the other way around, don’t let people get the feeling that they love you just because you’re around. Be smarter than that. Don’t be a scorecard for stolen kisses, hidden agenda and physical urges. Don’t be another notch in someone’s belt. You’re special, it’s a privilege to love you and care for you.

You’re special. It’s a privilege to have you. Maybe, in some other time you’ll realize everything and go back being the lovely flower that shows itself only when the right time comes. As the moonlight beams on the dew on your petals, remember that you hide things that are precious. You don’t give the satisfaction to people who just want to be there when it happens. As fate would have it, you’re someone’s gift. Someone keeps you precious during a time when nothing matters to you but the feeling that you exist. Would you rather exist in the lives of a trivial many than be the most prized privilege of a chosen few? I’d choose the latter any minute.

It’s a privilege to have you. Your tender smiles and loving looks are ingrained in memory. Your beautiful glassy brown eyes don’t betray you. They don’t give out feelings when you don’t want them to show. Those soft supple hands are instruments of love and care. Each touch is like a tender reminder of love. Your words are precious and they leave a mark when you like to. Your love is precious and kind. You know better than this. You’re a privilege. Act like it, you deserve nothing less. Don’t pass it around like it’s a collection basket. You don’t want spare change. You don’t need spare love.

These tired, old bones need a rest. Drink, take me home.

Clinical D Post no. 1

" "I'm just dying a little bit on the inside each day. Though, I don't really mind taking someone with me to that grave." He said as he wiped a bulbous bead of sweat from his brow. He was frail but strong. I looked on as he let out a small whimper - he looked like an old dog who's nursing and licking his wounds in a corner. I wanted to help him kick that guy's teeth in. I wanted to watch the flecks of teeth fly in a grisly spray of red and white. He's not really sure how he'd do it but he sure knew he wanted to release that usurping feeling of passive rage. "