empty day

Oh dear, I feel kind of empty today. For some reason, I'm sort of drained of any kind of emotion. I guess I'm in a suspended animation phase. A wait and see kind of game after having a conversation with my ex-husband. This conversation reinforces my lack of trust for a man who wanted revenge because I walked out on him years ago. He did not really say anything bad. In fact we were both very civil, even to the point of talking about old friends and acquaintances that we haven't seen. We even shared a couple of laughs about certain situations that we got ourselves into. But it's in these kinds of situations where my senses get heightened. I wished it were not so, but...

May

The month of May approaches. Towards the end of that month, it will be his birthday again. Normally, I'd always wonder what he would look like, but this year, I'm afraid to wonder. I have seen a recent photo of him somewhere and I kid you not, in the photo he looked like half the man he used to be. Granting he is much older now, but he did not grow old gracefully as I always thought he would. He looked like his years and it doesn't look like the years have been kind. I can always say that maybe I'm not as blinded as before when I see him now, but I'm never one to delude myself. He was not exactly the handsome type, but he does have some charm, and his smile always seem to light up the room. Or is it because I was in love? (is "was" the operative word, I wonder?) Maybe that's part of the reason why I don't want to wonder what he looks like anymore. Maybe I want to preserve the image that I have of him in my mind. Or is it that I'm starting not to care?

I will never be able to deny that I fell in love, that I suffered because of it, and that I've hurt other people because of what I felt. I know in my heart that I will never forget that face and that smile, and the memories. Some hurt run too deep for that, to deny it would leave me incomplete. Time heals all wounds they say (maybe), and all that is left are scars to remind us that once in the past we loved... and lost.

No, I don't need to see him to remind myself what used to be. I know. Just as I know years from now I will still remember it like yesterday, because it is part of what I have become.

realization

When I started this blog, I thought I can just pick up where I left off when it comes to my writing. I was wrong. More importantly, I failed to forsee that in starting this blog, I would have to go through memories, though not forgotten, were safely tucked away in my mind.

It took me a long time to get to where I am now. A long time and a lot of help from friends who won't let me be in a perpetual state of despair. And now that I have started again on life, something else is catching up on me. I have been so consumed with my pain, that I failed to acknowledge a gift being handed to me. Slowly, little by little, bits and pieces keep reminding me of what I gave up simply because I was too blind to see.

I lost the first time because I fought to keep it. Now I feel I've lost again because I failed to see what was in front of me.

missing a dear friend...

I went to the Festival of Books today at UCLA. I haven't gone in the last two years so I was quite excited about it. As I went around from booth to booth, I have this feeling that something isn't quite right. I actually finished my round in less than two hours, which is very unusual since I love browsing through books. I went back to the car to leave my purchases, thinking I should go around one more time in case I see something else I like. I had a quick lunch before I went back to browse some more. As I was walking around, I kept wondering what was bothering me and then it hit me. The very first booth I went to has a book by Neil Gaiman, it was the Sandman, signed. I wanted to buy it but didn't, not because of the price, but because I have no one to give it to. The first time I went to the Festival of Books, it took me a long time to go through all the booths because I was looking for books that I can send to a very dear friend of mine. This time I'm only doing it for myself. Then I felt it, a very deep loss that left me more confused than hurt. The pain came later and with it more confusion. Did I make the right decision of letting him go? Did I hurt him needlessly and only now realized that in doing so I have also hurt myself? I don't have an answer now as I never had any answers before. Maybe I am really just missing a very dear friend... I certainly do not want to go beyond that. I have lost my right a long time ago.

what matters most

It's not how long we held each other's hand
What matters is how well we loved each other
It's not how far we travelled on our way
Of what we found to say
It's not the spring you see, but all the shades of green

It's not how long I held you in my arms
What matters is how sweet the years together
It's not how many summertimes we had to give to fall
The early morning smiles we tearfully recall
What matters most is that we loved at all.

It's not how many summertimes we had to give to fall
The early morning smiles we tearfully recall
What matters most is that we loved at all.

What matters most is that we loved at all.

A song by Kenny Rankin, I found out that not too many people knew about this song. I would probably have forgotten about it too had it not been for the words that reminds me so painfully of someone. As some would undoubtedly say, it is better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all. Maybe... but then again maybe not. We are only able to say this simply because we don't have a choice anymore. I have loved and lost, but is it better? No matter how far I've traveled, no matter how many springtimes gave way to fall, and no matter how much tears I've shed, I still haven't found the "better" part of it. The song is probably more accurate in saying that "what matters most is that we loved at all." It's not better but to be able to say that "I have loved" is an experience that not everyone can claim.

what started it all... again

As I have said I stopped writing anything for a long time. So what started me down that road again? It was a story about sunset written by a friend of a very dear friend. He, for some reason did not finish his story and wanted people who visits his blog to write an ending for him. After reading his story, I felt that I should at least try... so I wrote stories for my friend who's always been there helping me get through my life and my pain at the cost of his own.

I wished I could have helped him with his pain, but like I've said, wishing was never my forte.

moments of weakness

Eight years, six months and counting... Whose counting?

It's been so long, but it still seems like yesterday. I can see his face, his smile that I love so much in the privacy of my mind. I can hear his laughter in the silence of my solitude. Why do my memories of him remain vivid in my mind when all else that happened has faded into nothing?

I might have moved on, and moved so far away, but I can still feel the pain, perhaps it will never really go away. Life goes on and so must we, but what happens when a part of you remains? Forever reliving that moment when love touched the heart. How can one let go of a memory without losing oneself altogether? I have lost and I am lost with only my memories to keep me company.

I've grown older, body, heart and soul. And now I'm weary, but still I move on until the time comes when I could no longer do so. Maybe then my memories will bring me comfort instead of pain. Maybe then love will finally find me again.

new horizons

to distant shores away i go
to live my life forget my woes
to find the dream that i once lost
to find the love who'll make me whole...

This was something i wrote not so long ago. Had to think fast because I'm posting it on a poetry site. Few months later I received a notice that my untitled and unfinished work will somehow find its way in a coffee book. A few more weeks after that, I got another letter saying it won the Editor's Choice Award. Gee! maybe I really should take this seriously...

silent voices

"Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent."

- Ludwig Wittgenstein

Most of the time it happens, not because you lack of something to say, but because you lack the means to express yourself clearly. Most people will choose to remain silent than to be misunderstood, but then even silence is often misunderstood.

my wishes and dreams

Yesterday was incredibly windy. The wind was blowing so hard am having a really tough time trying to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. Branches from the trees are falling like crazy, getting blown everywhere. I know I shouldn't have gone out of the building where I worked, but I desperately needed coffee and although we have some that you can brew, it was one of those days when I wanted the kind that you can buy. And so off I went on this ridiculous errand of mine, hugging my sweater thinking it might be warmer if I do this. Hah!

And then suddenly, I caught myself wishing... that the wind would really blow so hard that it will carry me away, far away... but of course, I stopped myself, wishing is definitely not my forte. And then out of the blue, I remembered a dream I once had. I think I must have smiled because all of a sudden all the people around are smiling at me. None of them knew though that it was a bittersweet smile. Brought about by a dream that I know in my heart will come. A dream that I fear so much that it makes me weak at the knees just to remember. How do I know with certainty that this dream will come true? I just do with a certainty that's frightening. Maybe that's why I started wishing for the wind to blow me away...

13 going on 30

Just saw this movie on cable today. Nothing grand, no fancy special effects, no elaborate twists and turns, just a straightforward fantasy story of a 13 year old kid wanting to grow up too fast only to find out that what she really wants most is already there beside her. Fast forward to end of story, she wished herself back to being 13 to correct the mistake she made and finally end up with the man she loves.

If only life were that simple. That a simple wish could actually make everything right. There was only one time in my life that I've actually wished for something, for myself. It didn't happen. After that I stopped wishing. I figured wishing is something you do when you know its not bound to be...that's why you wish for it. But this is me, I respect others if they indulge in this exercise. I guess one wish not granted was enough for me.

start of a voyage

Long ago, I decided to stop writing altogether. This was a very painful decision, but the most logical one at that time. It was a time of crisis, and as such, my writings reflected the tumult I felt within. To continue writing would have been too much, though some would say it could have been therapeutic to do so. I felt drained every time I wrote something, and felt even worse when I get to read the final product. I have missed it though, and now I am attempting to recapture that part of me I lost in the process of finding myself.