GTG

As I write this,

I think of you

And her

I think of how

You will let your tears

Fall once again

For the nth time

For some stupid thing

I did

I think of how

You will curse me

With the words

That hurt no more

Because they’re true

And I know it myself

I think of you

And her

I think of her

Tears of happiness, not pain

Unlike those that you shed

And you will see

That I had thought of her

More than I did of you

I think of her

And how she’ll be happy

To know that I

Finally

Had my choice

And that it was her

I will think of you

And the past we’ve made

I will think of her

And the future we’re meant to be

Then, I will write again.

LOOK WHO's ON TV

For sure, you have seen those political advertisements on TV already. And maybe, they made you take a second glance on your calendars, wondering in May 2010 had come a year earlier than it should be. But no, there’s no need to worry. You aren’t hallucinating; you’re still in 2009. Just that our so-called ‘public servants’ have decided to start their campaigns a little bit ahead of the expected time.

Our dear politicians surely have some innovative and creative ways in making their intentions of running for a public office in the upcoming elections clear and highly publicized. With perfectly ironed clothes on their trademark colors, they face the cameras, and like what marketers do to their products, ‘sell’ themselves to their audiences. Then they embark on a litany of their humble beginnings to their roster of achievements and ending up with their competitive edge over their fellow contenders. They talk as if they are saints incapable of any fault, when in fact, they actually look like clowns full of heavy make-up and wearing masks which conceal their other side from the public eye. Just but mere pretentions.

But as we come to think of it, these ads definitely had some positive effects too. Through these commercials, we saw who smiles the best and would best make the perfect autograph. We saw who has the makings of a future actor – he who can make his face look worried and concerned as effortlessly as a professional would. And most importantly, we saw who budgets his money the most effective way, knowing that these 30-second commercials cost more or less a million pesos each.

So then, friends, let us not be fooled. May we not use these TV ads as basis on who do we write on our ballots. Let us not be touched when these commercials say ‘Mr. So and So loves you.’ because it actually means “Mr. So and So loves your vote.’ Let us not vote for this one just because he always wears t-shirts of our favorite color. Let us not vote for that one either just because his jingle is very pleasing to the ears. Because there a re more to what meets the eye. And we must use our minds and hearts to see them. And as I quote the Little Prince, ‘What is important is invisible to the eye.’

So the next time Mr. Manny Villar’s face pops out of your screens, why not grab the remote and switch channels to National Geographic. And then perhaps, your viewing hours will never be disrupted again.

a nightmare of dreams

i stayed awake
i never wanted to close my eyes
because i don't want this to end
i've had enough of those dreams

but your eyes were closing now
you wanted to get away with this
because you said you needed it to end
you've had enough of these nightmares

and we were torn and tattered
bitter and broken and battered

we had different melodies
our voices never blended
our colors never matched

what a love story
of just mere endings

I wish...

Christmas is in the air! It's just about three months away. I'm excited to open up those presents under the tree.. (If there will be any.) But that's not all that I'm anxious for. I have a lot more sensible wishes... Let my favorite Christmas song say it for me.

Merry Christmas friends.

Yellow is for CORY

I never really liked the color yellow. I sincerely believe that the world would be just the same, if not better, if the McDo arch, pedestrian lanes and egg yolks were of a different shade. (But of course, that would have been so weird.) I don’t know what it symbolizes or what it stands for. If it means beauty, light or jolliness, I really don’t know. All I know was that if there was a plebiscite on what color should be removed from the rainbow (if that ever was possible), I could have voted for yellow.

But that was before Cory Aquino died.

I absolutely don’t have anything to do with Tita Cory, yes. I am not a relative; or a relative of her relative even. I am not an estranged son or nephew or apo sa tuhod. I am not a fan, a devotee or an avid supporter. I wasn’t in EDSA 1. In fact, I never met her in person, merely on the dailies, on TV and on my history books. And in the time of her death, I was the person most likely to be just shrugging my shoulders and quipping, ‘Ganyan lang talaga ang buhay.’

But no, I was exactly the antonym. When I heard about her death, I instantly browsed through the net to verify the news. Like I couldn’t let myself believe it. And the instant I had checked on it, I whispered, ‘Rest in Peace, Tita Cory.’ And then I realized that I have everything to do with her. Because I’m a Filipino. And like the rest of us Pinoys all over the globe, I have lost a mother.

For one brief moment, it was as if yellow was the only color that can be perceived by our eyes. Well, at least for most Filipinos, who value their nationality and patriotism like it was a gem. At least for those who take history as a crucial component of what they are now. At least for those who still believe in peace, in faith and in brotherhood. And at least for those who see Tita Cory as she what she is: the Mother of Democracy.

Yellow, bright as it is, defied irony and stood out as the nation’s color for grief. For the first time, I wasn’t irked as I watched on TV a myriad of Filipinos in yellow as they lined up to pay their last respects to the President. It was a very heartwarming sight, made much more beauteous by the lovely shade of yellow. This was a different kind of grief; an expression of letting go, of telling goodbye. Yellow was the new black.

It was also the color that unified the country in this sad event. It is amazing to note that even at her death, Tita Cory, through the luminescence of the color yellow, inspired each and every Filipino heart to set aside their differences and animosities and join hands, once more, even just for one brief moment.

The color exceeded being just a color for me. It now holds a lot of meanings that define the things we value the most. Yellow became the color of boldness and courage. And like a light forever shining, Tita Cory’s flaming legacy of audacity amidst the cruel blows of the reality of life shall ablaze thru time and space. Yellow is for reconciliation. Yellow is for serenity of the heart and soul. Yellow is for true democracy, genuine leadership and great humility. Yellow is for God. Yellow is for being Filipino.

But amongst all the virtues the color yellow has come to represent, one stands out. It is one virtue the country is in dire need of at the present. It is one virtue that gives strength and will at its mere presence. It is one virtue that sustains the spirit and pushes us to face the obstacles life brings us.

Yellow is for hope. It is like a torch that would guide us through this dark road we are in now. It is like that light at the end of this endless tunnel of tribulations and uncertainties. It is like the sun waiting to dawn, the stars waiting to shine their glimmer and the fire waiting rekindling. Yellow is the hope that one day, another Corazon C. Aquino will be born amidst us and like a candle ever-flaming, guide as once again in our journey of becoming a true Filipino; from birth, to death and beyond. Just like her, the lady in yellow.

---

Thank you Mommy Cory. For all the countless sacrifices you’ve made for my generation. For being selfless, generous and very optimistic. For standing up against the barricades we couldn’t have managed to fight ourselves. You are the epitome of a true hero of today. No bolos needed. No secret society involved. No violence ever used. Hail to thee, Mother of Philippine Democracy.

May you rest peacefully in the embrace of the Heavenly Father. You shall always be missed…

Friends Unlmtd.

I was born not to be a friendly person. Not even close. I grew up to be an introvert. Thanks to those numerous hours I spent alone back during my childhood years. To me, friends meant the TV, my books about frogs becoming princes and ladies forgetting about their slippers and curfew hours, and the painted green walls of our house. That spelled out FUN for me. And I know, it spelled out ABNORMALITY for other kids of my age. Well, at least, I was sane enough not to have created my own imaginary friend.

But the irony is, I am now a part of a barkada with twenty people in; I can list fifteen people or so as close friends; and I have a Friendster account and accounts in some other social networks on the Net. That could be easily described as a violation to what an introvert is supposed to be, especially on how it is defined in the dictionary. Maybe I really am not. Maybe I only was.

I find it hard, however, to be that friendly to everybody. I always find myself retreating and distancing myself when the environment becomes too much social and cordial for me to handle. I am still the loner I’ve always been. Perhaps because I don’t feel like trusting every person I meet. Like I can’t bear to have them scrutinizing and judging me. Like people are cruel and impersonal and callous. That’s why I was rooted to fairy tale figures who I know were unreal but were so ideal.

When I ceased being introvert, I can’t remember. Perhaps it was when I realized that being aloof and reserved didn’t do any good to me. Maybe that was when I realized that proverbs like ‘No man is an island.’ made much sense that I give it credit for. Or maybe when I started having real, alive, and human friends, rather than non-living entities like my fairy tale books. Or most likely, when finally I learned that there was no really harm in trusting other people. What made me realize this, I honestly don’t know. It felt like it just came out naturally of me – the need to have friends.

Friends. I’ve always found it hard and tedious to describe them. Especially so, that they are just an inch away from being too indescribable and to define what they do to me would not suffice what they truly bring me; it’ll be just an understatement. But now, let me try.

It does feel great to have a friend, to have friends. They make you realize your faults and help you appreciate your triumphs as a person. True, for it was my friends that woke me up from that sluggish dimension I usually envelope myself in. Though sometimes your personalities are as contrasting as oil and water, that link you have acts as an emulsifier that straightens any difference you might have. Like in physics -- opposites attract. They bring you genuine laughter no sitcom could ever give you. They make the best guidance counselors, best solution-givers to most of your troubles. They are the only ones you wouldn’t loathe for telling you how hideous you’ve been, how stupid, how wrong or how foul you are. You hate them for doing that sometimes, but afterwards, love will reign as you know that they have just told you the truth. They understand you even when it does require much effort to do so. They stand by you and not only that actually. They fight for and with you, they cry with and for you, they laugh at, with, and for you, they make themselves stupid for and with you. They are the world’s greatest treasures. Like family. Like beaus.

I don’t believe that soul mates come in the form of prince charmings and love of your life's, they come in the form of partners-in-crime and BFFs.

---

This was the first time I ever tried talking, writing about friendship. This one goes out to my bestfriend Brail, Pia, the bestest and worst female friend I can have, (haha), my only JAE, my sis Yanie and in a special way, Kier, whose ideas gave way for this essay.

Call me... PICO

PICO – that’s how most people call me. Like it has been etched into my forehead in red, bold, capital letters. Never mind what my first name is or if I ever really had one. Never mind how my mom would be such in a fury when she hears you calling me that way. (She would probably go berserk and shout at you saying, “Hey, my son has a name too!”) But no, that wouldn’t stop you from calling me by my surname. Because, for you and for the many other people I’ve come to know, I will and I shall be Pico forever. (Well, I know I am Pico forever, no need to mention that.)

Oh yes. It’s a rather consoling fact that most people are addressed by their surname in college. Most instructors employ that style. But you’ll know that it has gone beyond normalcy already when your friend introduces you to another like this: “Ui. ‘Eto nga pala si Pico.” Ouch. Haven’t I got a name?

But don’t get me wrong. I don’t harbor any grudge at my surname. I don’t hate it, either. But back in kindergarten, I did. My ‘unusual’ surname made me a regular victim and object of pranks in my school. I was often teased and ridiculed and laughed at. Just because my surname sounded odd to them. Just because it sounded like piko, the game of hopscotch. Or like that stupid digging tool I always see my grandpa use in his gardening. All of those nasty remarks were bitterly accepted by me. But that got me complaining to Papa, why he couldn’t have given me a regular surname like Santos, or Ramos, or Garcia, maybe. I loathed, what to my understanding, was an ugly surname.

But I realized that I couldn’t linger being immature that long. People grow. And so, I did too. My perspective of my surname changed as I aged. I tried looking for what my surname meant. Perhaps, I thought, this would be the best way to start appreciating it, knowing that it’s not just all about hopscotch. I browsed through a Spanish dictionary since it sounded Hispanic to me. (Though it sounded more like Filipino, except for that letter C in it.) And it says that PICO means PEAK in Hispanic. PEAK, like mountain PEAK. The highest point of something! The apex! The zenith! The summit! (Oh yeah. Like it mattered that much. Pagbigyan.)

Then I realized that a surname doesn’t really define what you are or who you are. And I don’t really need to be a Santos or Ramos or Garcia to make me the normal person that I am. Having an odd surname like mine didn’t make me less human. Instead, it stood out as a symbol of my uniqueness over the others. (Well, I ain’t saying all the rest aren’t as unique as I am. )

Now I’m prouder than ever. No inhibitions of my surname. Because this is my father’s legacy and his father’s before him. I’ll carry out with confidence and dignity. I’ll take care of it like a treasure, a gem. So, now let me introduce myself to you. I am PICO. And I’m proud to be.

But anyway, my name’s Michael. Now you decide what sounds better.

The Last Dandelion

Dandelions were over the place, the wind blowing them gently through the landscape of greens. And he was there, your hands outstretched, like reaching for mine. I hesitated. I remember you leaving me alone on that cold and gloomy corridor. But then, your eyes twinkled like the stars we used to gaze at when we were much younger. When things were a lot less complicated than how they are now.

I began slowly, calculating my little steps, counting how many footsteps should I take. Fifty. Oh no… a hundred? Or two, maybe? But it seemed like eternity. Like the hands of the clock froze to death. And I feared this was just a faux. A hallucination. A fantasy. Then I looked straight to see if you were still there.

Of course, you weren’t anymore…

I should have cried, I know. But I can’t anymore. Not now, not now that I have seemed to emptied my tear glands of whatever that was inside of them. Maybe this was really the end. And so, I picked one dandelion, made a wish, and let it flew away.

My wish? You. And us. Again.

Minsan May Isang Cursor. Bow.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Ganyan mang-inis ang pinakakanakakainis na bagay sa mundo. Dinadaan ako sa punyetang pagbliblink lang. hindi naman s’ya nagpapacute. At kung ganun man, sorry siya dahil di ko nga siya type. Ang kakaiba pa diyan, wala s’yang mata. Ano s’ya? Well, ‘yung cursor sa Microsoft Word lang naman.

Sa pangkaraniwang araw e hindi naman niya ako nagagawang asarin. Pero sa mga pagkakataong tulad ngayon na pinipilit ko’ng pigain ang mga neurons ko para may masulat na maganda-ganda ay super nakakairita talaga ‘pag nakikita mo lang s’yang ganyan, nagbliblink. Walang hangganang pagbliblink. Na parang nang-iinsulto pa. Na parang nagsasabing, “Heto, tingnan mo ang nagagawa mo – blangko.” with matching halakahak on the side. Na parang ipinag-sisigawan sa’yo na dahil sa wala ka nang masulat ay wala kang kakwenta-kwenta kang manunulat. Ouch.

Alam ko namang ginawa s’ya upang magblink sa buong buhay n’ya. Alam ko ring kapag nakakapagsalita siya e kung ilang ulit na rin niya sigurong nasabi sa mukha ko na ‘trabaho lang, walang personalan’. Alam ko din s’yempre na hindi n’ya kasalanan kung minsan talaga e nawawalan ako ng isusulat na maganda-ganda. At alam kong ‘di makatarungan at napakaimmature na ibunton sa isang kawawang blinking cursor ang mga frustrations ko minsan sa pagsusulat.

Pero, kamtotinkopit, kung tutuusin may aral ding mapupulot sa pagtitig sa isang blinking cursor paminsan-minsan. Dahil sa kanya, nalalaman mo kung na’san ka nang parte sa screen ng computer. Kumbaga sa totoong buhay, pinapaala niya kung san ka na. Kung malapit ka na ba sa finish line. Kung naka-halfway through ka na. O kung nakagalaw ka na ba mula sa kinatatayuan mo kanina. Taga-paalala na sa buhay, kelangan ang patuloy na paggalaw. Oo, ang awkward pakinggan. Basta ang English n’yan e, you need to keep moving. Kaya nga parang eternally blinking si cursor. Dahil sa buhay, hindi advisable na titigil-tigil ka dahil sa mundo natin na parang ang lahat e may inaatupag at minamadali, mapag-iiwanan ka talaga ‘pag tumigil ka na. Tulad ni cursor na no surrender ata ang drama. Sa pagbukas mo ng MS Word ay lagi lang s’yang nagbliblink. Di nagpapatalo. Sumasabay sa bilis ng pagpindot mo ng mga keys. P’wera na lang kung kasabayan ng mga dinosaurs ang computer mo na kasing-bagal ng pagong sa pag-react.

Pero sa bawat pag-exit ng application, mawawala din si blinking cursor. Patunay na lahat talaga’y natatapos din. Tulad ng buhay. Ng pag-ibig. Ng pag-asa. ‘Yan ay kung emo ka at puno ng angst sa buhay.

At ha’yan, napadami ata ang nasabi ko. Maiinis pa din ako sa cursor, s’yempre. Nasa sistema ko na ‘yun. Pero gayunman, salamat sa cursor. Na naging isang inspirasyon. Wink. Wink. Wink.

Pitong Pangarap

Mapangarapin ako. Sadyang ambisyoso. Marami akong gustong maging at ‘yun ay dahil hindi ako naniniwalang may limitasyon ang pangangarap. Kailangan nating lahat tuklasin ang ating mga natatagong mga kagustuhan sa buhay dahil ang mga ito ang maglalatag sa ‘tin ng landas na ating dapat tahakin. Ang deep nu? Pero ang totoo n’yan, ‘di lang talaga ako mapakali na pumipirma lang ako sa isang katawagan. Meaning? Mahirap ako makuntento. Pero bakit ba? Bakit kailangang magpakahinay-hinay sa pag-aambisyon. Ika nga sa Ingles na proverb na nakita ko kung san, “Aim for the moon; if you fail, you’ll land among the stars.” Ito ang mga buwan na pinipilit kong abutin, at kung s’ang constellation ako babagsak, bahala na.

7. Gustung-gusto kong yumaman. Ever. Natural na ‘yun sa’ming hindi pinalad na magkaroon ng ekta-ektaryang mga hacienda at bukirin. Ang pangarap na ‘to ay magiging stepping stone kumbaga para matupad ko pa ang ibang mga pangarap ko. Pero, kelangan ding matupad ko muna ang mga iba kong pangarap para makamit ko ang pangarap na ‘to.

6. Pangarap kong maging isang pintor o arkitek. Natatandaan ko, n’ung Grade 1 ako, ‘eto ‘yung sinusulat ko sa What do you want to become when you grow up? na ‘di ko pa naman maintindihan n’ung mga panahong ‘yun. Kung bakit y’un, ‘di ko alam, considering na that time, ang alam ko lang iguhit e mga tsubibong (Ferris wheel ‘yan) hugis-patatas. Nag-improve naman na s’ya ngayon. Hindi na hugis patatas.

5. Pangarap kong maging isang archaelogist. Gusto kong hanapin ang kawayan na pinagmulan nina Malakas at Maganda at pag-aralan kung pa’nu sila nagkasya d’un. P’wede ring historian. Mahilig ako sa museums at mga baul-baul. Kawirduhan.

4. Pangarap kong makapagpublish ng libro ko. Hindi autobiography at baka magmukha s’yang isang joke book. Basta, libro na may magandang cover at mga illustrations. Iyon kasi ang pinakasukdulang pangarap ng isang writer (kuno) na gaya ko. D’un ko mapapatunayang, wow, writer nga talaga ako. Bilhin man siya o hindi, ok lang. Gusto kong mahagilap ko man lang ang pangalan ko sa mga book stores na lagi kong tinatambayan.

3. Gusto kong maging abogado. Pangarap ko ‘yan magmula Grade 3 ako n’ung ipalabas ang impeachment trial ni Erap sa TV. Naiinis pa ‘ko n’un kasi hindi ako nakakanood ng mga telenobela sa gabi. Pero, nainspire ako kay Miriam Defensor-Santiago (O Diyos, ba’t siya pa?!), ang galing niya mag-English. At nasabi ko na lang sa sarili ko, I wanna be like her. Naks. Parang pelikula. Next na nga.

2. BS Accountacy ang course ko, kaya obvious na gusto kong maging accountant s’yempre. Gusto lang, ’di ko pangarap talaga. Hindi ko nga alam kung anung ibig sabihin n’un dati e --- accountant. Masarap lang siya sa tainga, y’un lang.

1. Pero sa lahat ng y’un, eto ang PINAKApangarap ko – maging guro. Gusto kong magturo. Gusto kong maging bahagi ng paghulma sa susunod na mga kabataan. Corny man pakinggan pero ‘yun talaga ang gusto ko. Sabi nga sa kasabihan, A teacher affects eternity. Pero ‘wag masyado maniwala sa sinabi ko at hindi ko sigurado kung ganun talaga ‘yun.

Bahala na kung ano man maabot ko sa mga ‘yan. So help me God.

Kapitan Sino by Bob Ong??

May new book na daw ang aking twin, a este... fan, ay oops, idol pala. At ang title?? -- Kapitan Sino. Cute nu? So Bob Ongish ang dating. Haha. This May lang daw xa nilabas, pero ba't ngayon ko lang na-knows, I don't know. Hehe. I searched the blogosphere for updates, and I glanced upon this. Read on.

THE PINK LIFE

Details?

<.-.> Para sa kapakanan ng mga mambabasa mong naghintay sa bagong libro, pwedemo bang sabihin sa amin kung tungkol saan ang Paboritong Libro ni Hudas?

Kapitan Sino?

<.-.> Ah, oo, Kapitan Sino pala. Hehe. Ang ganda-ganda kasi ng PaboritongLibro ni Hudas. Yon ang paborito ko sa mga libro mo e. Hindi dahil sa nandoonako, pero marami talagang nagsasabi na maganda yung Paboritong–

Ahem, um, ang Kapitan Sino ay tungkol kay Rogelio Manglicmot na nakilala ngmga tao bilang isang superhero sa katauhan ni Kapitan Sino.

<.-.> Ang haba ng pangalan! Para sakin mas gusto ko pa rin yung mga isinulatmong tauhan na five characters lang ang pangalan, yung simple lang, yung parangpuro punctuation mark lang….

Ah, magugustuhan mo si Bok-bok, kasi may punctuation mark din ang pangalannya!

<.-.> Sino naman yun?

Kaibigan ni Rogelio. Marami kang makikilala sa mundo ni Kapitan Sino.

<.-.> Pati si Tesla?

Si Tessa. Pero tama ka, dahil kinuha ko ang pangalan nya kay Nikola Tesla.Isa sa pinakamagaling, kundi man ang pinakamagaling, na electrical engineer sakasaysayan, pero kaawa-awang naagawan ng maraming imbensyon.

<.-.> Hindi ba si Tessa ang nagpatagal ng ika-pitong libro?

Nagkakahiyaan kasi sila ni Rogelio. Nahirapan tuloy akong magsulat ngkwentuhan nila. Yung iba ngang usapan, hindi na nila ipinasulat sa akin.

<.-.> Kaya ba isang buong araw kang nakinig ng mga senti?

Hehehe. Higit pa. Paulit-ulit-ulit akong nakinig ng mga love song, kasamana yung kanta ni Carole King, nang ilang linggo habang isinusulat ang tagponila. Pilit din akong nanood ng romantic movies pandagdag inspirasyon, atnagpaturo sa romance novel writer na dating miyembro ng Bobong Pinoy YahooGroup.Ewan kung pasado na ang gawa ko.

<.-.> Totoo bang lumang superhero si Kapitan Sino?

Hindi. Sya ang pinakabagong superhero…noon.

<.-.> 80’s? Ibinalik mo ba ang oras sa Dekada Otsenta?

Oo, kaya mas akma ang kwento sa mga 27 years old pataas. Baka merong mgahindi gaanong maintindihang detalye ang mga mas batang mambabasa. Makakatulongkung meron silang mapagtatanungang matanda.

<.-.> Hmmm… mukhang interesante itong ika-walong libro.

Ika-pito. Pero tama ka ulit, dahil may mauuna pa dapat akong libro dito,kundi lang nakiusap si Mayor na paunahin ko na sila.

<.-.> May Mayor? Matatapatan ba nito ang dami ng celebrity sa Paboritong Libroni Hudas? Tinutukoy mo ba sila Donita Rose, Marvin Agustin, at Tootsie Guevarra nanasa ikatlong libro? Ikinalulungkot ko, pero mas hitik at nag-uumapaw sa mgacelebrity ang Kapitan Sino.

<.-.> Pero hindi mo maitatangging ako ang pinakasikat mong celebrity dahillumabas ako sa dalawang libro!

Tama. Lumabas ka sa itim at puting libro. Pero may iba pa kong tauhan nalumabas din ulit dito sa Kapitan Sino.

<.-.> Huh?! Hindi mo ko pinasasaya sa mga sagot mo, Bob Ong! At bakit akomagkaka-interes kay Kapitan Sino kung nung 80’s pa ang adventure nya?

Kung itatanong mo yan pagkatapos magbasa, hindi mo naintindihan ang libro.

<.-.> Saan ba ko kukuha ng kopya?

Unti-unti na pong nagkakaroon ngayon ang mga paborito nyong eatery o sari-sari store. Kung wala pa, baka naubusan lang kayo. Subukan nyo ulit saibang araw.

<.-.> Magkano ba?

75 pesos lang po…kung panahon ni Cory Aquino! Pero dahil 2009 na,P175.00 po ang isa.

<.-.> Matagal-tagal bago nasundan ang Macarthur.

Ito ang pinakamatagal na agwat ng pagsusulat ko. Pero natapos din anglibro, salamat sa inspirasyon mula sa mga mambabasang tagapagpalakas ng loob atumaasang laging masusundan pa ang huling librong nabasa nila. Dahil sa simplenghiling nila na laging masabihan kagad kung may bago na silang mababasa kayaginagamit na naman kita ngayon para sa official announcement.

<.-.> Sanay na ko. Alam ko kailangan mo ng celebrity endorser para sa KapitanSino. Idagdag mo na lang sa talent fee ko yung t-shirt ng officialuse.net.

Punta ka sa Komikon sa UP sa Sabado, May 16. http://visprintpub.blogspot.com/ Meron doong mga t-shirt ni Bob Ong. Mura langdahil hindi ka na magbabayad ng shipping fee. Pagkakataon mo na!

<.-.> Aba, talagang double-purpose ang patalastas ah! May Swine Flu ka pa salagay na yan.

Sipon lang.

<.-.> Sa susunod mong libro wag kang gagawa ng announcement pag may sipon ka,kasi lalong kumo-corny.

Sige, susubukan ko. Salamat.

===

Ayun. Sana makabili na ang isang kaibigan at nang makahiram na ko. Haha

NOTICE: Wag pansinin

At since napapadami na ang nagagawa
kong poetry, I have decided to
dedicate a blog for my ever-dearest
poems ---

mekzandmuch.blogspot.com
VERSES and RHYMES

LTD.

your name and how it's spelled
your aura and the strength it held
your soul and how innocent it can be
you mind and how it enthralled me
your magic and how it had me captured
your mystery, how weird and how absurd
your thoughts and how i crave to know more
your emotions, how i wanted to see all
your everything, how they make your whole
all the details and bits down to your core
your face and how perfect it seemed
its features and how they shine in the dim
your eyes and how they stared hard
your nose crafted faultlessly like art
your cheeks, your dimples, your chin
your lips and how they paint a grin
your ears and how you listened
your tongue and the words it had spoken
your hair and its feel, unforgettable
your scent that's so irresistable
your fingers and how gently they touch
your hands and how they reached out
your arms and how they offered me guard
your shoulders that provided me warmth
your skin and how it feels on mine
your reflexes that're so one-of-a-kind
your contours and how nicely they fit
your breath, the pressure and its heat
your heartbeat and how it sounded
your your voice and how it got me astounded
the blood inside your veins that ran crazily
the hormones that almost had me dizzy
your complexities, radioactive as radium
your tricks that put me into delirium
you and how i never had enough of such
you.. just you.. and how i like you much

Destination: HEAVEN

I opened my eyes.

Those few seconds of darkness and nothingness felt almost like a lifetime. And for a moment, I didn’t want to open my eyes for fear that when I do, everything will be over. But the moment held such trepidation in it and I wanted to make sure that this isn’t a dream. And so, gently ... I opened my eyes.

And I’m glad that I did. Because as the light passed through my pupils, I saw you there, just mere millimeters away from the tip of my nose. Right then and there, I was sure I am not dreaming. Your breath brushed through my cheeks and your gaze was catching mine. I felt locked within your stare, and I, with much effort, stared back into your lovely eyes. It was as if we understood what our glares were trying to say, and so we let our faces come closer to each other once more. And before I knew what was happening, I let my eyes be flooded with darkness again.

And then, I felt like fiery flames were enveloping me. I felt you firm hands grope through to my nape and my fingers found their way to your hair. I heard your gasps for breath and your pulse was beating faster, in synch with your pounding heart by your chest. My own heart thumped crazily too – it was like a thousand rhinos charging on their prey. And then, I was in inferno.

But not quite, because this felt so right, there was nary anything wrong with this. I felt warmth, but not heat. And it became my light in this darkness that I see. I felt sweat trickling down our foreheads, but we seem not to mind. We were engrossed in this moment of togetherness that we were oblivious to any ruckus. My ears were unmindful of any other sound but your breath and heartbeat. And my lips, interlocked with yours, knew that it truly belonged there. I felt your hands catch mine and you let your fingers run through my own.

And then again, I let my eyes open. I saw you and I knew, this is my heaven...

TROIKA

A heart is meant to love just but one.
But the mind could love more.
Because one will never be enough.
For two will always be better.

Trios sing better than duets.
And three will always be greater than two.

Three’s a crowd.
But more is merrier.

ULTIMATEly CRUSHed

Don’t worry; I am just as surprised as you are to see myself writing this to you. This wasn’t needed; not now or never at all either. But I just can’t keep the feelings to myself. It’s eating me up from inside, worse than any parasite could. Let me just speak it out. It’ll be over before we know it ourselves.

I have this thing called crush for you. We have it normally, especially for teenagers like me and like you were. But no, this isn’t gonna be just as normal as I thought it would be. The feelings you bring me – I never experienced such from all my crushes put together. This is so different and it felt so new to me. And I love it. I’ve told you this once before and I’ll repeat it just in case it hadn’t sunk into your senses. It sounds rather cheesy but then, it encompasses the thing I have for you. Well, yes – you really are my ultimate crush. You don’t have to mind the adjective I use. Let it be because it’s the only word the dictionary could provide to perfectly describe what and who and how you are to me. And I’m not expecting to be just the same with you. No, not even the penultimate – that’s not required and never necessary.

You’re 22 and I’m 16. I’m young but you have a queer word to substitute for it – immature. For you, it’s worse than just being young and that makes the you and me part of my fantasies utterly impossible. ‘Cause to you, I am but an immature puppy earnestly seeking for some cuddling and hugging. But you get it all wrong, that’s not what I need. I only wanted some friendship from you – a genuine, true and special one that I could treasure, that we both could. I admit, I was really excited of the thoughts of us together. For quite a time, it became my dream and making it come true almost became my mission. But before it goes deeper and before I totally lose all bodily control to keep me from prancing into you, I reluctantly dissolved those from my thoughts. It was damn impossible and that it wouldn’t do any good to either of us. And besides, you never really liked me.

That doesn’t matter to me. I have known from the very first that we were never meant to be more than acquaintances and schoolmates and I actually accepted that already. It’s just that it hurts how I seem like a dot to you when you haven’t gave me chances at all to make you realize that dots could be important too, that I, your dot, could be important too. You were my everyday sip of morning coffee. You kept me warm but you fueled my heart till it pleaded for more, only to be left with nothing from you. I hate how you kept your ears shut when my tongue itched too much to tell you of its stories. You never exerted any effort of knowing me at all when I was more than willing to divulge into your insides and understand your very person. I was a friend. Yet you never saw me like that.

I’m not being bitter at how you never reciprocated the kindness and care I showed you. I mean, why should I be angry? You never really liked me to enter into your life. But the damage’s done. I guess we just need to endure it a little longer. You don’t need to worry. You just have to be very optimistic, you know. Think of this – you’ll be graduating soon and that means never ever having to see me again. Isn’t that great?

But well, I’m sorry but I couldn’t suppress the feelings that fast. Because the chills and thrills are still there at the mere mention of your name. The spasms of frenzies are still there when I see you. Your smile still is the stimulus for fainting and that it had seem so natural for my body to act that way. Your face and the sight of it still bring me into hyperventilation. I still remember how tender your lips had been on my cheek, how smooth the curves of your scribble when you wrote my name in that sheet of paper (I still have it.), and how blinding the sparkles are when you smile at me. I still remember the whole of you and how it melts me faster than ice would. But in any case, I shall be here still. I will be around till you ask me to stay away.

We don’t need to say goodbye since we never had any hellos to start with. Good luck. See you around. I will still want to see you smile because I still would want to be your friend.

My Elegy To The Thing That Was Us

I’m thinking of you right now; how are you, what you’re doing, how do you look like. But as I let the thoughts of you flood up my mind, I feel the pain coming again – the twinge of anguish, the pangs of sorrow, the blows of agony. They were too powerful I felt like succumbing. But no, you don’t want me giving up. And so, I don’t and I promise, I won’t.

I could feel the countless memories of you and me overwhelming my thoughts as I write this. I let them take me. I wanted the flow to take me and to once again, reminisce the bittersweet journey we took. I remembered our beginnings, how all this started. And I saw myself smiling. I remembered how this went on, how it grew and how it nearly overpowered all my senses. I smiled even more. I recalled the minutes, hours we spent beside each other. Your face, your eyes, your lips, your cheeks, your hair – every feature, I put into mind. And then, I remembered how reason, rationality and critical thinking got into our hearts and heads and how, finally, it came to an end. An end so bitter, so ill-willed, so desolate. An end we both paved way for. An end that’s destined to be. Then, the tears came again.

This is stupid.

I know I shouldn’t be crying. But I couldn’t help it. I miss you, so much, so hard. Each time I see you, I see our past and how it itched to get back. Each time I glance at our photos, though I couldn’t recognize the smiles as mine anymore, I anticipate for more. And every time I hear your name, the memories just keep coming.

But yes, we’re friends still. This is the best thing left to do, you said. And maybe, this really is it. We couldn’t go on acting so selfish, hurting and breaking the hearts of the ones we truly love. We couldn’t be like overly-cuddled puppies desperate for love to come our way – we should act our age. We couldn’t be the we you dreamt us to be. We just couldn’t be. We're better off with the ones that love us, need us... more.

I actually have so many things to say. But the mere mentioning of them breaks my heart into molecules so impossible to put back together. And besides, you know everything already. I told all to you that night - that night when we decided to end this, that night we killed the feeling and vowed never to revive it again, and most especially, that night I last let my heart out to you. It's done, and yes, I'm down.

---

I hope you won’t go forgetting me because I’ll never ever do that to you. Be assured of that. But now, it's time for reality to kick in.

Thanks for everything...

It's done, and yes, I'm down.

DOughNuTs

when you flash that cheshire smile
i begin to wander away from time
'cause you set the shivers up my spine
and take the air out of my windpipe
i always want to be closer to you
have your smile and wipe away my blues
touch your dimples, see how deep they are
and marvel how your teeth shine like stars

i. LIKE. you. but i don't love you.

when you let your hand touch my cheeks
i begin to melt swifter than cheese
'cause you get my hormones running quick
and set the whole of me in fiery shrieks
i always want you to fire me up
have you next to me, give me enough
satiate my hunger and quench my thirst
be my partner in this drama unrehearsed

i. DESIRE. you. and i don't love you.

when you stare so hard into my eyes
i begin to daydream and fantasize
'cause you just let me be mesmerized
and from the pain, anaesthesized
i always want you to stare a little longer
and have my digits between your fingers
brush our elbows, stargaze together
and lay my head gently on your shoulder

i. CARE. for. you. yet i don't love you.

just like. only desire. merely care.
not love. never yet. never there.

2 + 1

nakapiit, nakakadena

ang alab pilit kumakawala

pinapaso, inuupos lalo

sinusunog na parang abo

may kirot, may hapdi

bawat kislot at dampi

mahirap, nakakapagod

mabigat ang bawat hatak at hagod

may binubulong, may dinadaing

makahulugan ang bawat tingin

inuubos, kinukunsomo

kabuuan ng diwa't pagkatao

pinupukaw, nag-uumapaw

uhaw ang s'yang nangingibabaw

binabalot, wari'y kinukulong

nawawalang saysay ang dunong

ito ang triangulong hinabi ng panahon

pagkatapos, pagka-apula ng apoy

balik sa dati, huhupa ang panaghoy

di sinasadya, lalong di nagkataon

ito ang triangulong hinabi ng panahon

CORNY FILES: Pag-ibig (daw)

Tamang-tama for the Love Month. Crushes, first love, flirting, ligawan, love theories, at kung ano pang kakornihan. Dinggin (o basahin, more appropriately) kung pa'no pumintig ang puso ni Pico.

Umibig na ‘ko. Kung ilang ulit na rin. Sa maling tao sa tamang panahon o sa tamang tao sa maling panahon o sa maling tao sa pareho ding maling panahon. Basta. Laging parang mismatched kaya parang lagi ring mali. Ipokrito ako kung sasabihin kong alam na alam ko na lahat ang mga twists and turns ng usapang pag-ibig dahil kahit madami na rin ako’ng karanasan d’un, e mahirap pa ring maiwasang madapa’t minsa’y malugmok sa tae ng kalabaw. Ganun daw talaga. Wala naman kasi sa atin ang perpekto. Maging tae ng kalabaw.

Medyo clear pa sa’kin kung pa’no nag-start ang mga adventures ko with discovering what love is. Grade 2, 7 years young ako n’ung una akong nagka-crush. Of course, natatandaan ko ‘yun kasi nga first. At dahil neophyte pa sa kakatwang naramdaman, excited naman daw ako’ng nag-kuwento sa Papa ko. At ang sabi niya, “Halika. Ligawan natin.” Nalimutan atang musmos pa ako’t di ko pa alam ibig sabihin ng ‘ligaw.’ Namatay naman agad ‘yung feeling. Very superficial kasi, tsaka another thing, immature at unrealistic. Kaya napundi agad ‘yung spark at nawala ‘yung magnetic force kuno. End of first crush. At simula n’un, alam ko na kung ano ang crush. At kung saang folder sa computer ko s’ya ica-categorize: sa Recycle Bin.

Dumaan ang ilang years at nagpatuloy naman daw ako sa paghaharvest ng mga crushes at paglilista sa kanila sa mga slum books na usung-uso n’ung grade school days. Grade 4, Valentine’s, binigyan ko ng plastic rose y’ung crush ko. Kinilig sa Papa n’ung nabalitaan n’ya. “Ba’t plastic?,” sumbat naman ni Mama. Binawi ko y’ung rose dahil sa pressure. Sad story. Grade 5, nagka-crush ako sa isang Grade 2. Y’un ang first exposure ko sa pedopilya. Nakakahiya. Grade 5 din, iniyakan ko y’ung crush ko dahil napabalitang may leukemia. Malay ko ba, kinabukasan, nakita ko s’ya. In perfect shape. Ah. Chismis talaga oo.

Pero, karamihan, imbento ko lang. Para nga may masulat sa slum book. Para may ipe-pair ka sa pangalan mo for FLAMES na isa pang dakilang kakornihan ng olden times. At para makasabay ka sa trend na dapat may crush ka. Sabi kasi ng teacher namin dati, abnormal ang taong walang crush. Natakot kaming maging abnormal kaya kanya-kanya kami sa paghahanap ng magiging crush. Parang ‘The Quest for the Potential Crush’. Ang sagwa.

First year, 11 years young ko na nadama (Duh!) y’ung first love na sinasabi sa mga pocket books na saksakan ng kakornihan. Tawagin man nila itong puppy love, calf love, kitten love, kid love o tadpole love, wala akong pakialam. Alam ko sa sarili ko na love y’un. At hindi naman tuta o kiti-kiti first love ko. Y’un na. Umpisa ng kakornihang tunay.

Nakakaadik ang first love. For the first time in my life, nakagawa ako ng diary chronicling every little bit of my everyday with her. Nag-ala William Shakespeare at nakagawa ng kung ilang poems at sonata. Nagpuyat at gumasto para maka-text s’ya gabi-gabi. Dinuldul ang dila sa asukal para magkaroon naman daw ako ng kahit ilang ounces ng kasweet-an sa katawan. Nakipag-eye-to-eye hanggang sa magkaduling-duling. Sumulyap-sulyap kahit may muta. Pinilit palapit ang sarili kahit obvious namang pinipilit din n’yang ilayo ang sarili sa akin. Nagpipilitan kami. Ganun.

Naging kami din, pero juniors na kami n’un. Madaming nang-yari din before naging kami at ayoko nang ikuwento lahat para ‘di mo iplagiarize ang sarili kong love story. Nagtagal kaming four months, approximately. Pero parang a year and a half din kung counted y’ung MU days namin. Y’un ang first love ko.

Two days after kami nag-break, nakahanap ako agad ng bago. And ‘eto na nga, true love. On the process pa love story namin na inabot na din ng 28 months. Madami kaming napagdaanang obstacles, talo na nga namin ung mga hurdlers sa Olympics e. Kinutya, inapi, inalipusta, kinatulong, sinampal, sinuntok, sinabunutan, inagawan ng human rights, pinatulog sa bodega, dinuldol ang face sa putik at kung ano pang kadramahang ginagawa sa mga bida sa telenobela tuwing hapon. Ganun katindi napagdaanan namin. Pero mas matindi kami. Kaya heto, kami pa din. Bakit? Dahil masaya ako. Period. At dahil mahal ko s’ya. Ellipsis.

Pero tulad din ng telenovela sa TV, may unexpected twists and istorya. Para may spice at adventure at para tumaas ang viewer patronage. Magkalayo kasi kami ni true n’un. E mainipin ako. Nag-hanap akong iba, nakita ko s’ya. Classmate ko n’ung kinder. Nagkamabutihan, naging kami, nag-break after some months, nagka-ayos, naging friends. Ayun, always like kindergarten pa din.

Walang calculations sa love. Walang mga formulas na isusubstitute na lang ang mga variables for it to work out. Para sa’kin, ‘di talaga s’ya komplikado. Nagiging ganun lang dahil sa mga circumstances. ‘Di bulag ang pag-ibig. Iba ang bulag sa nagbubulag-bulagan.

‘Di lang d’un nagtatapos mga pakikipag-sapalaran ko sa pag-ibig. Kasi once in a while, nagkaka-crush pa din ako. Malamang, kasi naniniwala pa rin ako kay teacher. At ayoko pa ding maging abnoy kahit obvious namang ganun talaga ako.

Here follow a list of them and some descriptions:
(1) Si LAKI-ULO. Mahanagin, ma-ere, daig ang mga gargantuan fans sa kayabangan. I regret being attracted with such useless creature. Days older than me.
(2) Si KID. Napaka-vulnerable, fragile. Matalino pero inosente. Days older than me.
(3) Si MASCOT. Nakakatawa, mukhang clown. A year older.
(4) Si PANGIT. Sarcasm ‘yan. ‘Di na n’ya ata ako kilala. Year older.
(5) Si DL. Seatmate ko’ng kahilig mag-kuwento. Mukhang madaming alam na chismis. Basta, older.
(6) Si KA-BUS. Nakasabayan ko on a trip back to Baguio. Magaling sumulyap. Looks older.
(7) Si BANTAY. Hindi s’ya aso a. Nakita ko s’ya sa isang seminar. May braces. 2 years older.
(8) Si DHARREN. Cute. Older.
(9) Si ENORMOUS. Mukhang higante. Years older.
(10) Si CUTE. Literal. Daig ang emoticon sa pag-ngiti. Decades older.

Umibig na nga ako. Pero, ‘di ko pa rin kayang imemorize kung pa’no talaga tumatakbo ang pag-ibig. Dahil pagdating sa usaping ganun, nagiging abnoramally dumb talaga ako. Walang silbi y’ung mga advices ng mga love gurus sa FM o mga quotations sa text. That’s not the real thing. ‘Di ko kayang paniwalain ang sarili ko’ng there exist fundamentals about sa love. There’s no such as Love 101 talaga. Walang mga standards na dapat sundin at kung meron, you have all the freedom to deviate from it.

Walang calculations sa love. Walang mga formulas na isusubstitute na lang ang mga variables for it to work out. Para sa’kin, ‘di talaga s’ya komplikado. Nagiging ganun lang dahil sa mga circumstances. ‘Di bulag ang pag-ibig. Iba ang bulag sa nagbubulag-bulagan. At ba’t natin isasali ang mga bulag sa katangahang nagagawa natin for love? Wag mo ko’ng tatanungin kung ano ba ang pag-ibig. Sasagutin kita ng matimtimang titig. Ikaw lang ang makakasagot n’yan. Love is subjective. Iba-iba ang pagtingin natin dito. At kahit pa sabihin ng isa na ‘ang lab sa’kin ay parang tae ng kalabaw,’ wala tayong magagwa d’un dahil ganun ang tingin n’ya, wala kang karapatang iquestion y’un.

Pero ang nakakabad-trip e kung ba’t ‘pag an’dyan na, nawawala na ang mga prinsipyo mo about pag-ibig. Nablu-blur na lahat ang nag-i-islow motion pa. Nawawalan ng saysay ang mga fundamentals na rineview mo. At literal ka nang bumagbagsak na parang nagtaa-time space warp ka into another dimension. Isa lang naman kasi ang totoo sa lahat sa’tin pag umiibig – nawawalan tayo ng katinuan at ang tae ng kalabaw ay nagiging perpekto sa ating mga mata. Yuck. How gross.

Por Uno

I ranked 11th in the Dean’s List. It could have been a major achievement and a reason for me to revel and enjoy. But, much to the contrary, it wasn’t really fun. It even caused me hours of despair and emotion-control. For me, this stood out just like another of those monuments of my stupidity and carelessness. So, as I stood in front of S421, with my neck stretched as if crying to heavens for mercy, I had to bargain with my lacrimal glands and told them to shut up their secretions. Not here and not now, I begged. I don’t need to cry. Only major losers do that. And I’m not gonna be one.

I know it’s not that low and that it’s even high. But men, as they say, are naturally-born impatient and always wanting of more than what they can actually have. And like the rest of my species, I felt the same. I wanted more. Because I know I deserved more. Those seconds of me standing infront of that thin sheet of paper seemed almost a lifetime. For once, all my aspirations crumbled down to a mesh of unfulfilled dreams. Of all my disappointments with myself, this was the most disheartening. I felt a million times more worthless. I started to believe I was born a loser.

While everybody seemed fascinated, I was otherwise. They started congratulating me, exclaiming their hurrahs and whatevers to me, and extending their hands to shake mine. They thought I was happy and that I felt so much proud of this, but I was more than willing to play with their thoughts. As they relayed their greetings of congratulations, I just half-smiled back and/or replied with an expressionless emoticon. Then viola! Curtain falls. End of show.

I deserved to be ridiculed and be called nasty names. I know I was a bit hyper-OA. I could just have been joyful of my feat rather than sulking like I had just tasted the sourest vinegar. I was a little ‘mafeeling’ too and insensitive even because I didn’t seem to consider that not all reaches it this high and that there are a lot of people there who would trade their lives just to have my position. I’ve been ungrateful too, wasting my time worrying too much about something not really destined for me. I should just have thanked God for giving me this blessing and that could have been the end of sojourning. But obviously, I didn’t do such and so here am I, feeling worse than ever. What a loser I had been for wanting more!

I have exceeded my personal best, and that makes me a winner.

But then, there’s a why to my reacting like this. When I say more, I mean a thin margin of about 0.032 points. When I say more, I mean a single step up. When I say more, I only wanted to belong to the top ten and avail of the scholarship for the topnotchers. When I say more, I only wanted to help my mama and papa reduce their anxieties about where to get the money for my tuition. I wanted to extend a hand to my parents whose shoulders might have now been badly displaced because of the hardship of sending their son to college. I only wanted more, simply because I had less. I didn’t care about the honor and prestige and the admiration of people. Those didn’t matter to me anymore. Those materialistic, superficial, nonsense idealisms were not in parallelism with my beliefs. However, it just crashes my heart, even harder than a hammer, to think that I missed the top ten with just a slight difference, just one miscalculated step.

Everything was my fault. I expected too much and forgot all about rationality and wise thinking along the way. I was too cool and too careless and too clumsy. I didn’t really listen well to my instructors and trusted myself too much, believing that I could do it even without them. I fed to insecurities when instead, I could have concentrated more on exorcising my personal demons. Too much self-confidence destroyed me. And of course, I wouldn’t let it destroy me again. The if only’s are too agonizing to think about anymore. But then, all is done. Consummatum est.

I have blamed myself hard enough. And now, it’s time to regain optimism, spirit and faith. Who cares if I’m not in the top ten? I’m still on the top 20! And at least, I was 11th and not 12th or 13th even. And boy, I beat almost 200+ students for the eleventh position. That’s something already! And the scholarship? Well, I could try a little bit harder this semester so that when it ends, I don’t have to do sourgraping anymore. And my parents understand it, too. They’re glad I made it this high. It still was a good start.

I have exceeded my personal best, and that makes me a winner.

And, there was nothing to really worry about. I was only hyper-acting again, I guess.
Hey, I’m DL#11. Now that’s a reason to celebrate.

My Ruthless Love

You hold my thoughts. I can only think about you at the moment. You’ve flushed out the rest of my consciousness. You blind me. You impair my sense of reason. You are so devastating. Even before we’ve met, I was already under your command. I was anticipating our first meeting. I wasn’t afraid and nor was I thrilled. I was just simply numb. I didn’t know what exactly to expect. But certainly, bliss and joy were never on the probable list. I have heard so much of you. So much that I felt we’ve been acquaintances for a long time now. Or maybe, adversaries...

I know how many hearts you’ve broken. How many hopes and dreams you’ve shattered. How many lives you’ve turned miserable. There’s just too many, you’ve made me believe heartbreakers do exist. And I definitely knew my heart; my hopes and dreams; and my life would be next. I am your new victim.

I’ll break free of these chains you’ve put around me and I’ll let you wear it around your neck.

You are cruel. Cold. Uncaring. Though I didn’t want you in me, I still let you. Because I must. I must love you. I must let you into my system. I must allow you. You are an indispensable need. And I hate that you are. I surrendered almost unconditionally to you. I let you into me, breaking into my fragileness and beyond. I just let you do it. I allowed you to hurt me, injure me, wound me. I know you weren’t satisfied when you saw me incapacitated. You were craving for much more suffering. You’ve shown me no mercy and I can see that you never intend to show me some. I was losing, and I almost wanted you to conquer the whole of me.

But, I wasn’t gonna give up easily. You bruise me, yes. You make me cry. You numb my heart. You cloud up my thoughts. But I am strong. I know you are stronger. Just look at how many people you have made weak. But then again, even Samson had his weakness. Delilah was his frailty; I shall be yours.

You seem unconquerable; a castle heavily fortified. But I don’t need a knight anymore to save me from you. I’m doing it myself. I’m going to save myself. I’ll break free of these chains you’ve put around me and I’ll let you wear it around your neck.

You are not the strongest. I’m breaking loose of your dominion. I’ll conquer you. I’ll win over you. I don’t want you to be the source of my depression for the rest of my life. You are simply not worth it. Yes, I need you. But it's just so unfair to let you kill me. And yes, I love you. So much that it hurts. And I’m not that dumb to just let you linger.

You won’t hurt me again; I won’t be giving you any more chances. And I promise: You won't get to destroy me. Because I'm not gonna flunk you, ACCTG 101. Never.