Flutter

A glimmer of light, a flutter of emotion- I seem to miss the days when I took for granted the feeling of excitement of hoping for something great. I missed the days of looking forward to the unknown. As I grew older, I grew more anxious about the future. It seems like I hope the rest of my life will be spent "today". I stopped hoping. I stopped dreaming. I became fearful instead of bold. I became cautious instead of outrageous. I used to be bold and courageous. Now, I felt I lost all the fun and exciting things about my life. I live each day alone. I live each day catering to what needs to be done. I have given up the privilege of doing what I want, a long time ago. Now, It's always about what's needed to be done. A common theme of grown up whines. But all the more that life makes me feel this is my reality. I hope a flutter of something I have in the past would suffice to let me hope again, look forward to anything again, dream again... live a little bit more.

This Blog is Personal

When I started this blog account, I did it because everyone in the office was doing it. I did it because of the opportunity to earn money from some paid blog posts. But as time progressed, my reason for maintaining this blog became personal. My posts became more and more personal, which explains the tag "personals". In this blog, I write the words for ME. what I feel, what I think, without fear of judgment, without fear of errors, I boldly publish it here, because this blog has become my friend when no one else can be. When I feel frustrated, I write my feelings down. Whenever I feel stupid, overwhelmed and angry, I write everything down. I thought, it's better to bother an electronic being than someone who may have his own share of problems and just dig him deeper because of my nonsense. This blog has been my thought's haven, my emotional therapy. Needless to say, this blog is a deep part of me. This is the raw ME. My words were meant to express, and I think that's a liberty I chose to embrace. They may mean bad or good to the one who reads, but its just thoughts, this blog is just me thinking, feeling and being honest and trying to stay out of trouble because of the words I feel are stupid, too tactless and petty to blurt out in person, I put them here instead of bothering the person, and everything in the world makes sense.

I am not in the habit of reading back my past entries. I am mostly a bit ashamed of the immaturity and selfishness in them. But I think that's the point of blogging, the opportunity to dig deep into yourself and into your selfish thoughts - celebrating self when everything works out or not. It's personal for me. but for you, my reader, whatever you think of this, it's how you relate to this. It's you-not ME.

You are not Alone

Many times, people suffer in silence, tucked away in a corner of solitude. They wallow into their own issues and problems, trying to find solutions that would prevent the worst to come. Many times, people think the worst could happen, entertaining pessimism, which cultivate depression, frustrations and disappointments and cloud their better judgment. They think they were the only ones suffering as they are.

Then suddenly, when reality kicks in, clarity will be upon their shoulders. When people suffer together, there forms an inexplicable bond that gathers them together in suffering, in pain and through adversities. Many times, you thought you were the only one suffering, but that was before you turned to your neighbors, to your brothers and to your sisters.

People suffer together. We all have our own problems. But to the billions of people living in this world, there are several dozens and hundreds that are dealing with the same problems you have. There are dozens and hundreds of people feeling the same pain, enduring the same trials and hating the ones who’ve wronged them.

The thing is, we are not alone. No matter how hard life becomes, we are never alone. People suffer together, become happy together as they live in the same world where we all exist. So hang in there, you are not alone. You’ve got dozens and hundreds of people suffering and fighting the same battles you have, hating the same kind of people you hate and changing the same mistakes that you also made.

Free to Love

Being free of the past is something that most people struggle achieving. It is never an easy thing to come to terms with. When all the hurt has run its course, what results is a feeling of freedom from everything that made you miserable for so long.

It’s been a year since the roller coaster ride of emotions and unwelcome thoughts flooded my being. The realization of truth in your life is something that will always catch you off guard. But though the truth may have caused you everything you have built and dreamed of having, it made you a better person despite of all the pain. It made you discover some parts of your life that you never thought you were capable of doing…or never thought of forgiving.

Love is a strong word that most people use for the most trivial things. Because of that, it becomes tarnished by all worldly meaning…with which it loses its essence. Once, I have seen love as a pure emotion, something that must never be called upon until finally realized. Now, even with all the pain it has brought me, I am glad that the word still remains pure in my heart.

Love, I will find it in my own time. With its different facets, I will survive the spontaneity of life. I would rather have it pure than just come in passing. I would rather not have it all, than just having it played with. My heart has grown resilient and I still welcome love in its forms. I am not afraid anymore. I am not lurking anymore. I am not moping anymore. I am free at last. My heart is open to see the world in a different light.

He who is Blithely Aware Must Not Know

People may believe what they wanted to believe. Sometimes, it becomes their way of living. The will to believe is what brings hope to life. When everything seem to have been ruined and thrashed, all they have is what they believe are the means to survive. I believe that I am a strong person. But life seems to take it as a joke sometimes. It always puts me to tests that seem to tell me, "so you think you are tough, huh?" and end up barely breathing, torn and worn out.

I am humbled by my mistakes, my careless acts and my lack of better judgment. I am impulsive, temperamental and stubborn. I may have offended people, but I am not saying sorry, because I feel no remorse from what I did. Had I felt remorse and wished that I did not do what I did, I wouldn't learn. I wouldn't know the people who even when I don't know them, really cared. Though I may say excuse to my acts, I still trust my sharp senses. What I am trying to say is that my 'toughness' gets the better of me.

I don't believe in getting hit and then you just remain quiet. I am not contributing in the simple process of exchange that way. If there's an action, there's always a reaction. Dampening the natural process would render it insignificant and futile. It loses its substance. Whoever is perfect may point fingers at me...but I but I am me. I celebrate my flaws rather than my strengths. Odd as it seems, but that is me trying or struggling to control the monster in me in hopes of gaining a little bit more maturity.

I have strange ways of coping with hurt, with pain and with almost every emotion because I feel them right to the core and bury them in my heart. That is why it's very hard to forget, perhaps my heart and soul is not gilded for that. Maybe it's for something else. Maybe it is intended to do other things. Or maybe, just maybe, it's still maturing.

I believe...I hope.

So goes the saying, don't make curses when you are angry and don't make promises when you are happy. This is so true...caught red handed...BUT WHAT I SAID STILL HOLDS TRUE.

I believe...I believe.

Mission Accomplished....Party Coming Up

Today is the last of my series of hell days…thanks to Midterm exams. As an English major student, I have discovered term exams to be a whole day or a week of pen and paper event. Yes people, it’s all about writing, writing and writing. But while I am pretty good at bringing sense to everything I write, I am often criticized for my penmanship. They say I write like a man. I can’t blame them. My output looks like a series of doctor’s prescription. But then, it’s the content that counts, which I hope is quite good. Still, my penmanship steals the whole show. But I don’t mind.

Anyways, before the day ends, a student who spent sleepless nights all week needs to be rewarded. This means real and hard party. Now is the best time to take rounds of venues for free booze and hopefully free food also. I realized it is never too late to be a freeloader of a bunch of careless college kids. Haha. Well what I am to do, opportunity for free party knocks only…seldom? Just adds to the fun of trying to be fun after all the shenanigans this week.

I am plain Sick

I really find it very difficult to be a responsible parent when I am dealing with something bigger than me, something that has done me wrong, something that I don't deserve. I find it hard to decide on whether or not to free all my rage because if I do, my being a responsible parent will be compromised. I find it difficult, I can't breathe. I got all my muscles tensed up, I could kill a crow. It's so hard to bear and live with the frustration and disapointment while saving an ounce of respect...for my son's father.

I am in rage. I am appalled. Although I expected things like "disgusting other woman" happens in the moment of weakness, I just can't help feel being human, I can't help feeling the emotions that comes with betrayal...it sickens me...it sickens me to my core. It has twisted me to bits I want to scream and shout out how you have killed a part of me...if only I can shout the words I wanted to say...if only I can lambaste you will all the disgusting words I know just to make you feel how I am sickened, while still setting a good example to my boy...my shame to world is how you got me fooled for somebody that is exactly not YOU.

I just hope all the pain is worth it. Every time I am fighting the tears to fall in front of my son, something inside me dies. Every time he smiles at me, I see your face...if only I can make him look like me, even just a little. Of what am I punished for? Why am I given this lifetime torture? What did I do to deserve something like this? Haven't I got enough? What else is there threaten the simple pleasures I enjoy in my life. Every time I am confronted with the fact that I cannot shield my son from a monster like you, I feel so frustrated I so wanted to twist your neck...I hope it's worth it.

Why me? God why me? Why is it always me? Why does it have to be me? I am so sick of this!!! I'm so goddamn sick!!!argh!!