Thoughts: A Response

Your back was to me. I tried to call out. 

I did.

But you didn't turn my direction. You didn't even stop walking. I didn't know what else to do. I don't want to run after you. 

I silently prayed for you to stop.

"Hey!" a small voice called out.

It was sweet, warm, and soft. Like a feather making ripples on the water. Light. Soothing. 

You stopped.

Should I be relieved?

You turned.

Should I be happy?

You made your way toward her. Not me. Towards her.

She smiles. Opening her arms wide she beckons you forward, and you comply. Steps are more hurried, as if you couldn't wait to be enveloped in her warmth; to entangle your fingers in her strands, pulling her close... very close. The rest of the world fading into nothingness... including me.

I watch as the scene before me tears me apart. 

I feel something trickle down my cheek. I ignore it. I manage a smile.

I turn away, not looking back. Content with knowing that you are happy...

Even though it's not with me.

Thoughts: Farewell, stranger

Over it
Done with it
You are no more
Than a passing glance.
You don't deserve it
Not at all
What more is there
To ask?
I don't want to see you.
I don't want to feel you.
Your breath, your touch
On my fragile skin
Nor do I want to hear
Your beating heart
Your grunts and gasps
As you make your way
To me.
Good-bye.
Farewell.
Again, a stranger.
That was how 
It was supposed to be.
That was how
It should have been.
Distant.
Empty.
A passing glance.

Quotes

"Showing a little bit of kindness to people recognizes that everyone around you is just like yourself."
- Catherine Ryan Hyde (Reader's Digest, March 2009)

True.

Well, if you see yourself as someone who far superior than others, most likely you would not treat others the same way you would do to yourself. You would treat them like dirt beneath your feet, or don't even bother giving them some of your time seeing as yours more important than theirs. 

For me, small acts of kindness show that you acknowledge the person. "Hey, you're there. I can see that you're suffering, so here's a cupcake." There's sympathy. In some cases, empathy. "I feel your pain as if it were mine." In philosophical terms, that person is not an object but a subject. He/she is capable of feeling, just like you. And knowing that they are able to do so draws you to act for you can also see yourself in the situation you're in. "What if I was he? What would I want another person to do?"

---

Since this is my blog... I'll use it as my diary of sorts. Haha.

Me and a close friend of mine were talking last night about my personality. The conversation went there because of a guy whom I can't figure out. And I can't help but wonder what is it about me that seems to keep him sticking around. I mean, there are other people he can be with aside from me, why does he have to always be around me?

My friend told me that I have this 'super friendly' aura that draw people in. I have no limits when it comes to friendship. I am not selective. 'Friend' thinks that weirdo guy is drawn to that aura of mine. 

"Perhaps that's why he's different around you."

I think being too kind has its drawbacks. People expect you to be kind every time. And you can't help but comply. 

Quotes

“I think that perhaps we always fall in love the very first time we see the man of our dreams, even though, at the time, reason may be telling otherwise, and we may fight against that instinct, hoping against hope that we won't win, until there comes a point when we allow ourselves to be vanquished by our feelings...”

The man of your dreams here would mean the man whom you see as your ideal. Appearances can be deceiving. But I'm not here to put anyone down. Just a word of caution. 

This really applies to me. Haha. 

I met this guy in college. He's... unattainable. I guess that would be the best description I can give you. Knowing that he was, I go against the feeling. I tell myself that it cannot be, that I should just give up and find another guy to 'fawn' over. Haha. 

It was futile. 

It was pretty darn hilarious and idiotic! 

So I stopped going against it. I decided to go on with it, to the point that I wanted to tell him how I felt. This is just me. I just wanted him to know, nothing more.

I wrote a letter. I didn't go with the floral, scented stationary and the script handwriting. I kept it as uniquely me as possible: blunt honesty with a hint of sarcasm and humor.

Fate was against me that day I planned to give it to him. The letter ended up all ripped in the bin. 

I didn't get to tell him properly. 

The desire to not like him increased. I don't want to see him anymore.

But it can't be helped. He pops up too often. He talks to me. "Just go away!" I scream in my head. 

He doesn't budge.

The feelings came back. Unfortunately. Not to mention I found out that a close friend of mine also likes him. I found it weird, so I decided to move away. Stupid heart doesn't want me to (ew). 

For now, I don't know where this is going. I'll just leave it be. I still like him... even though he's such a jerk and not even good-looking. Darn personality, humor, and freaking nice eyes of his. BE GONE!

La Corda D' Oro

Ever since Athena introduced me to this new manga, I can't seem to get enough of it.

The manga is about a girl named Kahoko and she was forced by a fairy named Lili to participate in the school's concours, a contest where the finest musicians of the school compete. 

Before we go any further, I would first like to talk about the school. The school is divided into two: general and music. The general students are those who do not have music as part of their curriculum. Basically, they're just regular students. The music students , obviously, have music. They center their lives on music. 

Kahoko is a gen-ed student who doesn't have any background on any instrument. Lili, the fairy protecting the school, gives her a magic violin that reflects the player's feelings when played with. Regardless of lack of experience, if she puts all her heart into her playing, a sweet melody is produced.

This manga has inspired me to play the violin again. I'm getting rusty since its been so long since I've played. I have been searching for musical pieces: Chopin, Pachelbel, Beethoven, and Mozart. I like Pachelbel's Canon in D (if you are familiar with it you can tell why). And Beethoven's Fur Elise!

Playing these pieces will be tricky. I want to buy a new violin... If I can only get my hands on one, I'll play like there's no tomorrow!

Quotes

Source: http://www.paulocoelhoblog.com/images/e-cards/statuesoflife/images/statuesoflife01.jpg

Jewelry Box

Since you trust me with the things most precious to you: they'll be just as precious to me too.

Even more.

- Arielle Vidal

 

Quotes

"Accept what you are able to do and what you are not able to do."

I have been collecting quotes since I was in high school. I have oodles in my old laptop and in three of my planners. I don't know. There's just something about coming across a statement and having it make sense to you. There are so many things in this world that don't make sense and here you are, looking at several words strung together so perfectly that you just had to note them down onto anything you have at hand, fearing that you would forget or lose sight of it for accidentally pushing the exit button.

The quote above, I forgot where I got it. But I guess it was from a friend who also collects quotes as well. I took note of it because I am aware that there are times I can't seem to accept not being able to do most of the things other people can. I guess you can say it's envy, but I don't think I am capable of such.

I always wonder why there are people who are more capable in some matters than I am. How come they can do it but I can't? Do I lack a certain trait or characteristic?

When it comes to matters of love, is there something about me that you don't find appealing? Is it because I am just... me... that you choose to be with someone else?

What is it that I lack? 

Or do I really miss something?

Perhaps I don't.

Perhaps I compare myself too much with other people, that's why I always say there's an inconsistency. Maybe there isn't any to begin with.

Why do I even care that I'm not like them? Why compare me with them in the first place?

Well... there are actually times when I think I could have done more in a task. And I guess those are the only times I can say my performance was unacceptable. However, sulking over it won't do me any good. Being able to push oneself out of the ditch is what's important. 

So there. Haha. I guess this where I end for now. :) Toodles!

Thoughts: Sleep

The leaves rustle 
The water murmurs
Blades of grass swaying 
Gently in the wind 

Dogs chase
Birds swoop 
Crickets sing
Frogs croak

Feet ache
Beads of sweat on brow
The sun's rays
Beating against golden skin

Cool afternoon air 
Against abused flesh
Pebbles defenseless
Against the soles

Path was steep
Sight grew dim
A slip
Into an everlasting slumber

Thoughts: An Unheard Confession

To: Him
From: Me

Hello.

This is the final stretch. 

It has been pretty interesting, especially when you came along. 

I just wanted to thank you for making this an interesting and memorable year. It has really been an eventful ride. You're a fun person to be with, and I can't help but be drawn to you. Despite your cold countenance, there was some warmth in you that I found appealing, and which I often found misleading. 

Anyhow... I've meant to do it by letter ever since. But the timing was not right then so I tore the letter up. Since I am not the type of person who can bring herself to confront, I chose to write.

Cowardly, you might say. But these words jotted down in ink hold the same amount of sincerity and affection if I did otherwise. The weight is just as heavy, the risk just as slim.  I hope that you don't laugh or find it funny. I hope you take what is to be written here seriously. I do not ask for anything more than that. 

I like you.

I like you very much.

No matter how much of a jerk, lazy, stubborn or ridiculously proud you can be... I like you. I don't know why my heart clings on. I have never felt anything just as intense. How could I possibly like someone like you?

I guess it's because you possess something I find admirable. Something I find attractive. A physical feature, perhaps. A character of yours, maybe. Your voice, could be. Laugh? Smile? Possibly in a certain degree. 

I can't put my finger on what it is. But I know what I feel is true. I like you. And I don't know when I would come to stop having these feelings for you. 

But all I just wish for you is to find happiness. I have yet to find what makes me happy. We're both on the search for it. And we would know if we have found it. We have yet to. And I hope you find what it is soon.

You may not love me back the same way I do. And I see nothing wrong with it. I am not expecting anything at all. All I ask of you is to hear me.

Forgive me for my selfishness. It's only for now. After which, you can do away with the letter. I cannot keep lying to myself that I don't adore you. I couldn't hide it any longer.

I have to tell you.

I have to let you know.

I need to let it go.

Shorts: Nativity

So I've been filling up my blog recently with love notes. Haha. I think I should try something different. 

This is the first chapter of a piece of fiction (with facts intertwined) that I wrote for a friend. Haha. Enjoy. 

---

Clack clack clack clack.

Slosh.

The door to the master’s bedroom swung open. The room was dimly lit being that the only source of light was a tiny flame on the dresser. There was a four poster bed with white beddings. A circular velvet rug adorned the shiny oak wood floor. The doors of the wooden wardrobe creaked.

But all attention was directed towards the woman in the bed located at the right side of the room. She was sweating profusely. The mattress was wet, her nightgown soaked from the waist down. She was breathing deeply, her face was red and it contorted in pain.

The baby was coming.

The maid made a move to approach her but was stopped by a commanding baritone voice originating from the bathroom. “Start the car!” it said. The owner of the voice was a man in his late 30s. His complexion was fair in contrast to that of his wife’s which was a golden brown. His hair was greying at the sides, his countenance stern, but his eyes betray what he was currently feeling.

His wife was in pain and he needs to get her to the hospital!  

The maid nodded and rushed out of the room. He could hear his wife’s laboured breathing. He doused his face with cold water. He needed to calm his nerves. Now was not the time to panic!

His wife woke him up in the middle of the night, complaining about an ache in her belly. Thinking that it was because of the draft, he walked over to the window and sealed them shut. An hour later he woke up to someone grasping his hand. “She’s coming.” Was all she said, and alarm bells started ringing.

“Sir, the car is ready.”

He walked out of the room, grabbed the first clean shirt he could find, wore it, and strode over to his wife’s side. He didn’t worry about the clothes, they can come later. It was already two in the morning, so the trip will be quick.

“Lord, please.” He uttered as he took in his wife’s appearance. Her upper lip was trembling. Her mouth was agape, exhaling sharply. Her chest rose rapidly, and her brows knit tightly together. Without much effort, he lifted her up in his arms. She clung to him. He can feel her body shake against his.

“This is all your fault.” She whispered vehemently, cracking a smile. This was her second child, and after the first she told him never again. The pain was unbearable, even though the child was outrageously adorable. But her husband knew just what to say to make her give in. This time would be the last. She’ll make sure of it.

He smiled. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t resist me.” Leave it to her to crack a joke at this time. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and proceeded out the room.

“I’m already in pain and you still manage to bully me.”

He chuckled. At least some of the tension was lifted. “She’s pretty impatient isn’t she?” he asked her as they made their way down the stairs. Who placed these damned steps in the way?

“Like her father.” She was starting to calm down. Her breathing evened out.

“Stay awake.” He told her.

“No problem there.” She replied weakly, her head on his chest and her arms around his neck. She listened to the erratic beating of his heart. He was also nervous. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sir?”

He turned.

There in the maid’s arms was his daughter, Sarah. Five years of age. She was wearing her favourite yellow PJs with a floral print. Her mop of wavy chestnut brown hair resembled a bird’s nest on her head. She woke up from the ruckus and was now eyeing her mother in her father’s arms. “Daddy?”

“Mommy’s going to be all right.” His wife replied with a smile. His daughter looked up at him. He nodded. “I’ll be right back with your baby sister.”

The girl beamed. “She’s coming?” the smile immediately faded as she took in her mother’s appearance. “Why is mommy sweating so much? Does she hurt? Why is my sister hurting mommy?” she asked.

“Mommy is just feeling hot. Your sister is not hurting me.”

“But mommy looks hurt…” his wife shook her head. “Daddy, get mommy some ice cream so she won’t feel hot anymore. My sister might like it too.”

His wife smiled. “I bet she’ll like it… very much. Chocolate ice cream is your favourite, right?”

The girl nodded happily. “Yes!”

“I’ll get you some when I get back. But now, daddy has to get your mommy to the hospital. The doctor is going to help bring your baby sister out of mommy’s tummy.” If it weren’t for their present situation, she would have laughed. This was the first time she had ever heard her husband talk baby to their firstborn. He must really be worried. She grinned inwardly, stroking the back of his neck tenderly. “Don’t make fun of me. We need to get you to the hospital.” He whispered back to her.

“Oh.” Sarah replied, unknown of the brief exchange between husband and wife. “OK.”

She tried hard not to wince. The baby was coming… fast. “Now go back to sleep. Get your sister’s room ready for mommy, OK?”

Sarah nodded and watched as her father walked out of the house with her mommy. She turned her attention to the woman carrying her.

“Ate, will mommy be all right?”

The maid looked at the girl’s questioning light brown eyes. She sighed and did what she knew was best: she nodded.

***

The rest of the populace was still snug under the covers. Several delivery trucks and buses passed them by. The drivers and passengers were all bleary-eyed or fast asleep, some looking out of their windows with a blank stare. He was tempted to floor it, but he couldn’t risk being so reckless at this time of day.

“No rush.” His wife said. How can she be so collected at a time like this?

They arrived at the hospital with ease. Good thing the baby didn’t come during rush hour. He got out of the car and signalled two nurses to the car. They brought with them a wheel chair, but they were much too slow for him that he decided to carry his wife to the emergency room himself. “Is there an available room?” he asked. He towered over them, not one nurse answered. He sighed. “She’s going into labour. Is there a room available?” the nurses looked at each other, silently urging the other to answer for them. Thankfully one took initiative and replied, “There is, sir. But we must get her to the delivery room.”

***

“There’s no go with this one. We have to do caesarean.” They’ve been at it for an hour. The baby was too big.  “This would be her first, yes?” the doctor asked the man beside him.

“Her first C-section? Yes, it is.”

“With your permission, sir. We have to proceed with the C-section.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

Several minutes later, a loud wail resonated throughout the hall.

***

She opened her eyes. “Where am I?” Sunlight was dancing on the walls. This wasn’t their room. Her eyes got accustomed to the light; she got a whiff of chlorine.

“You’re up.”

She recognized that voice and directed her attention to where it came from. There, clad in the shirt he was wearing early this morning, was her husband. He was smiling grandly at her. She smiled back, only then to notice a small bundle in his arms. She stared at him. Then everything that happened several hours ago rushed back in. “I had a baby…” her voice was hushed. If it weren’t for him looking at her intently, he would have missed her utterance of disbelief.

“Yeah. You did.” He laughed lightly. The baby was fast asleep.

Still shocked, the only thing she could muster asking was, “How is she?”

Her husband let out a hoot. “She is apparently a HE.”

She blinked.

“You gave birth to a son. A handsome, cute, healthy son.” That said, he stood up from the watcher’s couch and walked up to her. “He has yet to feel his mother’s touch. You’ve been out for a while.”

By instinct, her arms rose up to receive the sleeping new born. He was wrapped in blue cloth, his skin fair just like his father, and his cheeks ablush. He was so small with a tuft of dark brown hair on his small head. He started to squirm. With a brief rub of its nose, he opened his eyes slowly. Light brown eyes, just like her husband’s, staring right at her.

“He’s adorable…”

“Of course he is. He’s my son.”

Her heart was fit to bursting. A son! His mouth quirked up a bit… then it let out a cry! “He’s hungry.” Her husband pointed out with a guffaw. He helped her untie the knot of the hospital gown behind her. She pulled down the cloth, exposing her nipple. Drops of milk appeared at the tip. With some gentle prodding, the baby took it in and sucked. She grinned.

“What do we name him?”

“Hm… a lot of people misspell my surname. Only a few can even pronounce it correctly. Perhaps we should give him an easy name.”

“Why?”

“He might be stupid.”

“Isn’t it a too early to come up with that conclusion?”

“How about ‘Jack'?”

She looked down at the baby in her arms, suckling peacefully at her breast. “Jack Vermeulen. I like the sound of that.”

Thoughts: Heart Unable

Why are you so different? 
There are no butterflies, 
no racing heartbeat, 
no cat hanging onto my uvula. 
I don't feel sick,
I don't make a mad scramble for words. 
I can tell you almost anything, 
I can talk to you about almost anything. 
How could you possibly not see it?
How can you not tell?
How could you?
All I ever see is you. 
All I ever wanted was you.
I lied.
I didn't mean it 
when I said I didn't like you.
I lied.
I didn't mean it when I said
you were not the one I adored.
I lied
to myself, 
knowing that liking you is wrong,
pointless,
and will bring me nothing
but pain.
How could you not tell?
How could you possibly not see it?
My heart cannot do anything else
but weep.

Doodles

Doodles

Drew this two years ago. It all started out as black and white circles... then it ended up like this. Haha

Let's say I was trying out the Goth/dark age feel. Didn't really work out for me. :P I loved playing with the colors though.

Thoughts: A Trickle

My tita told me about this poem writing contest and I was thinking about joining. I stopped writing poems when I was little (I don't know where my childhood creations are) and haven't gotten myself to do any more. With a stash of unfinished story drafts, ideas that run dry on pages, and plots that had an end but no beginning or the other way around... I now give the old poet in me a nudge.

Trickle

Just a glimpse.

Subtle.

Like a solitary

refreshing,

drop of morning dew

on the cold

lifeless earth.

I stir.

A beat.

Faint.

Stronger.

Bolder.

I stop.

A trickle.

That was all it took.

Fleeting.

Subtle.

Just a glimpse

from you

I have gone asunder.

Feel free to tell me what you think! Thanks! 

It's love poems for now since it's an emotion I can easily mold (inspired perhaps?).