Escapist Tendencies

I am running, and running, but I still feel like I could never catch up to everyone else.




Will the world slow down and keep pace with me instead? Or maybe I'm just not running hard enough?

What About Tomorrow?

"The future" is such a scary concept, and yet everyday we get closer to it. Pretty soon, the future that we are so scared of would become the past. And then, we will find another future to face.

Throw this away.

I continually feel that I always need to say sorry.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

To love is...

These feelings are important. It doesn't matter who feels it.

Because it will always matter.

To Hope?

I'm trying to forget my feelings for you. In fact, I do believe that I'm over you.

But believing can be different from the truth.


No matter.



I already started hoping again, anyway.

To Sleep is to Heal

Sleep was always welcome. It is an old friend. One that I always found comfort in. For I can forget what troubles I had when I was awake, unless my dreams (nightmares, if you may) choose to remind me of them. 

But it had always helped, in a way.

Cool Warmth

It is the North, the land of altitudes and mysticism.
She was a legendary beauty, her skin as fair as the snow covering the mountains and plains of her homeland.
And she was impenetrable, a princess of ice. Her gaze, glacial and without warmth.
She had no ability to love. She had no want, no need for it.


It is the South, the country of trees and nostalgic atmospheres.
He was a brave warrior, his eyes bright as the blazing sun.
They were lit up with the hopes and dreams of his people. His heart, burning with the fervent passion for his homeland.
And he loves. So much. He had so much love to give, so he loves. Unendingly.


And so when the North and South met, it was a song of ice and fire.
He is dampened by the snow but instead of dying out, the destructiveness toned down to warmth.
She was engulfed by the flames and she had melted, but the ice was broken and what was once freezing was cool. Comfortingly so.


This is the story of how two opposites and how they attract.


This is the story of how love can defy the very roots of logic.


This is their story.

About the Two of Us...

I don't have to love you. It's not something I have to be forced to.

I just really do.

Sending Love Letters to Space

I'll continue writing letters to the person I love. I'm not sure who you are yet, but it's funny how I'm thinking of someone while I'm writing this down.

Maybe we'll meet at some point? It doesn't even have to be halfway? Sorry for being impartient and wanting to meet you sooner.

We're not in Fairytale Land

Wishful thinking...







What if...





Before I let that thought finish, I sigh and bury it under my pillow. 


Maybe some fairy would come and turn these feelings into some semblance of reality.

Mixed Messages

Incomplete paragraphs, sentences without periods or commas or apostrophes. It is but a word, a phrase, and you thought it was enough. You thought (more like hoped) that people cared enough to understand.

Life is already full of complications. Tell them what you feel.

Not Just There For Display

"Isn't it annoying, having to smile even if you don't feel like it?"


"Well, it does get depressing at times..."


"Why are you still doing it, then?"



"I want to make people smile when they don't feel like doing it."

A Shadow from the Past

You hurt more than paper cuts and car crashes yet I can't let you go.

You are that garbage bag of memories that I always throw out but sneak back eventually. Countless times.

You are that frayed teddy bear with its stuffing peaking out through odd places, yet always loved and hugged and sung to sleep.

You are the only blanket that can never make me feel warm.

You are the receiver of the letters I never send.

You have the second movie ticket, the couple ring, that perfect pair.

You are a dictionary to the emotions I never understood until I met you.

You are the reason why I can't drive again, because it's different without you there riding shotgun.

You are what made us.

You are.







You were.







Why did you have to go to a place where I can't follow?



I miss you. I always do.

Woes of Connection

A bundle of wires and steel and copper, connecting you to the world.

Your cold, impersonal monitor separating you from it.

Smile Song

The feelings your voice can give to me.

I wish I can make you hear the rhythm of my heart too.

lub dub, lub-dub

Can you hear your name?

The Worlds You Make

Every time you put pen to paper, you're not exactly sure what to write.

And then it makes contact, and things become alive.

People are given names, places are given landmarks, music is given lyrics, life is given meaning.

And you lift your pen, stretch, rest, take a break. Maybe you begin again, maybe you decide to write again later.



And in your wake you leave another world behind you. And it lives on from every moment since.

Circle of Love

Reading about love again and again and again. It becomes part of you, until you search for it yourself. For yourself.

And we realize we are a part of love already.

It is all a big circle. It encompasses everything.

Two Sides

There are always two sides to every story.

Your shadows looked like you were holding hands. You were probably in love.

You weren't.

Your outlines looked so close.

You weren't.

Your heads, bent close together, made it seem like you were whispering into each other's ears; of promises that were not made to be broken.

You weren't.

You looked like you cared for each other the way more than friends do.

He wasn't thinking like that.

You looked like you knew what was happening, but truth is he likes her as much as she likes him.

She wasn't thinking like that.

You two looked like a couple in love.

They were.

They are.

Your shadows meet, and it looked like they describe love.





There are two sides to every story.


(Read this from the previous line, bottoms up.)

Love-drunk

Have I been so drunk on the concept of love? Is it so potent that no one can help but be hung over, be head over heels in its wake? Will its intoxicating spirits forever entice me with promises of happy times in its presence?

Ah, to be drunk in love, to abandon logic and reason and just be free. To be so trashed, so wasted, yet these people addicted to it keep going back for more. 

And more. 

And more. 

Sometimes it can make you so sick that you throw up and swear you'll never try it, you'll never do it again, but the next day finds you with a different drink, in varying shades of red and pink. But there were grays, and yellows, blues, greens, clear, murky, all unique flavors, all love. And you are addicted.

Too bad I don't drink.

Paper Cranes

You are in a room full of paper cranes. Varying colors and sizes, all folded into the same glorious bird. They lay in colorful heaps on the floor

You count them. It takes up a lot of time, but there are 999 of them scattered throughout the room.

The door opens.

Someone walks in, holding the last paper crane.

"Make a wish."

You look at the person and smile.

"It came true now."

The person smiles back.

"I'm glad."

And the room comes alive. It is the paper cranes, lifting their paper wings. They rise into the air, hover above their heads, except for one.

The one the person is holding in front of you.

It is now handed to you, and the 999 paper cranes all edge a little bit closer.

And now it speaks.

"What wish shall we grant?"

"I want all my dreams to come true. To be happy by having a stable future--"

"Ah, but the future has never been stable. Anything can happen, O Little One. We are but guides; you are, ultimately, the one who would decide."

You look from the folds of paper in your hands, to that person.

And then, you knew what to say.

"Someday, I wish this would all be true. That I would never forget the feeling that whatever bad things might happen, I would not lose the feeling of knowing that everything would be fine in the end. That I'll have that someday and tomorrow to look forward to. 

Always."

The person in front of you smiled. You smiled back, and learn that everything can be really disappointing but it's going to be okay.

The paper crane in your hands glow, and with a soft light so does the 999 others. Then they all surrounded you, their sharp-edged wings giving you paper cuts, but it's okay.

You know life wasn't all about the pretty words and wishful thinking, and life would hurt sometimes.

And these paper cranes, they all bunched together to form one huge majestic bird, extending each of its wings to you. And that person. You each touch a wing with your hand, and you are engulfed.





And, as you know you would, you wake up.

That dream, it stays in your memory. A beacon of hope in your darkest moments, the light at the end of the tunnel.

Someday fades away, and today stands in its place.

Tomorrow was yet a story untold, yet you look forward to it with the brightest of smiles.

Next to you, the person stands. The smallest fingers of your hands are barely touching. 

But you feel the warmth.

Your 1,000th paper crane.

Shame on-- what?

We've all got our embarrassing moments.

Mine today was screaming at a coffee shop.

All I know was that I heard the truth, I just didn't know how to accept it. 

You were real after all.


.......

...........

"...Can I have feelings for you for real?"


It sounds stupid but that's how I felt.





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

Mine in the summer of my sixteenth year, I fell for a friend again. This time, I confessed. He said, please just forget about it. Three years later, I'm not yet sure if I kept my end of the promise.

Do I like you or do I not like you or do I like you?

How many flower petals get shredded before I know the answer? 





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

Stuffing erasers up your nose because they smell nice, rolling around on the school ground because you were rough-housing.

I did all the weird things little boys would do. 

Sometimes, I'd look back and laugh and wonder if all my memories were true.


It was fun but as you get older it would be the stories you'd tell.

And you can tell anyone who'd listen, "Yeah, I did that. So much for dignity."

You only live once.





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

While watching a play I squealed a little too loud when my favorite character confessed to the girl he liked. I buried my face in my friend's shoulder and was thankful how the theater was dark.

But why should we embarrassed about being happy with love anyway?





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

I volunteered for class and I had to show them what was inside my bag. The table ended up being filled with things I bring everyday. 

I never realized how many notebooks I had.

But each of them had a thought and word, a part of me I could share.

Never be embarrassed about who you are. 

What is essential is invisible to the eye. 





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

I cried in school June 2011. Just, put your head in your arms and suddenly tears come out type of crying.

Call me sensitive. Call me shallow.

You can never judge someone unless you know the reason behind their tears.

Is it a bad thing to feel sad for people you treasure; people who helped you smile in the darkest moments of your life?

You don't understand.





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

It was a magical night, and as we hugged I may have held on a moment too long, held you a bit tighter than necessary.

But it was a magical night, and we all have excuses.

Mine was: I was happy.

Holding on to that moment. Never letting go.





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

You sit in a circle with your friends, and catching up would always bring up a cringe-worthy story.

And as you laugh, and blush, and hide your face behind your hands, you remember.

And these people. They made it possible.

During those moments you might just wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole; it would be better than be in that shameful spotlight life throws at us sometimes.

But then you look back and look forward.

There is a new day tomorrow. A day to redeem yourself.

...........or maybe just make more moments.

Moments that would turn to memories.

One day you'll be grateful for them.





We've all got our embarrassing moments.

Revel in them.

Finger Circles

We thought daisy chains and crowns were too mainstream, so we made santan rings. We would sip the nectar from the flowers and string them together in various colors. We were the stars of our own fairy tales.

There was once a young little boy, the brave prince with his twig sword and big heart.

There was once a young little girl, the beautiful princess in a bed sheet gown and a nectar-smeared smile.

Sometimes when there were a lot of red santan flowers we made santan chains and tied it around our little fingers and make promises of how our friendship would last forever.

A childhood as sweet as santan nectar.


----------


I picked up a ring from the sidewalk today. It was cheap but it was pretty. I thought it would look nice on your finger, and there was no need for precious stones to make it more beautiful.


----------


I saw an engagement ring on display in the jewelry shop we passed by on our way to work. I didn't say anything, but my eyes must have sparkled enough for you to kid that I must be a magpie in my past life and my love for shiny things. But we both know I was looking beyond the ring, and seeing the person who would wear it in the future. And somehow, in the back of my mind, I wished it was me. And somehow, in the back of my mind, I wished it was you who would give it to me. Down on one knee, sweet violin music playing on the background, a fireworks show when I say yes.

I must really be a magpie in the past.


----------


The school bell rings and I tuck another love letter I wrote into my notebook, another letter I won't give to you after plans of confessing behind our school building after the school bell had stopped ringing--

wait, that was a different kind of ring.


----------


We were in kindergarten and we played with Fruit Loops because it reminded us of how it looked like the wedding rings in our mothers' left hands, of how nice it would look like on our fingers. Too bad, even back then our fingers can't fit into them.

We said we'd find rings that fit us both perfectly.


----------


I threw a ring into a river one day. It was full of broken promises, of promises of eternity that I thought I believed in. But circles, even though it had no beginning and no end, can be broken too.

Just like my heart.


----------


Your voice, your question, that slight pause and hesitation.

"Can we give us a chance?"

It was all echoing, ringing in my ears--

wait, that's a different kind of ring.


----------


We were sitting on a swing set in your favorite park where you said you had your first kiss, eating Roller Coaster chips and looking at the moon through the hole in each piece before eating bit by cheesy bit.

You turned to me, your face messy with cheese powder, and kissed me on the cheek but somewhere along the way you missed and we were kissing kissing. I mean without the tongue and all, but it was wonderful in the figurative sense and cheesy in the literal sense and I had all these thoughts running through my head and it felt perfect and cheesy in all sense of the word.

You pulled back. You were blushing. But we knew the other was kissing back.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry because I'm not sorry."

"...I'm sorry for not being sorry either."

"You taste like cheese."

"Wha--oh no, did I have chips in my teeth? Oh my god, this is so embarrassing."



Oh god you looked so beautiful.


----------


When you went down on one knee and opened that box with that ring we both saw on the display window of the jewelry store, I started crying. Not because of the ring and how sweet you were. But because I was just. So. Happy.



I would marry you even if you put a pop tab on my finger, you adorable idiot. Took you long enough.


----------


It was a simple band of gold, a small circlet of metal. We had matching ones on our left ring fingers. No inscriptions, no fancy jewels, no anything else.

It was--is--perfect the way it is.

We've found the rings that were--are--the perfect fit.