Waltz

(Photo from flickr)


As we dance under the moonlight, like eternal eddies of love twirling gracefully with the cool December wind, I look up to the bright moon, the stars too that glimmer afar.

With my hand entrusted to yours resting like a delicate bud, while your other hand fixed onto my hip, without hesitation nor strain. I feel you carry all my weight as we glide, my hurts and worries fall off behind.
I push down your shoulders, jumped a little to reach the cosmos.
My shoe broke its heel when I landed.

I fear we can dance no more. "If only he'll let me step on his feet and be one with his every stride. But that would be too much.", I thought.

We danced barefooted. On the arid pavement with dust in between our toes and with smiles more brilliant than the night.

The Last Night: A Memoir

The light post has never been this dim before. As if it is running out of light.

Mimicking the night, it barely shone, its glimmer before faded, with the lonely starless sky. With no more reason to shine, with no one left to shed light on to.


“I swear this will be the last”, this I say continuously in my head, convincing myself with such an obvious rigid lie. I’m losing pathetically, I know that yet I didn’t stop misleading myself. Hoping that I will brainwash myself into believing what I say. Why am I such a terrible liar? Why do I even bother to lie to myself that you are not affecting me anymore? Why do I make-believe that I am better off like this?


Melancholic melody started playing in my head as I stand alone on the dim-lighted barren street. Both ends of the road, beyond my extremities entail no sign of life or even a hint of other presences, just mine, mine alone. I wonder if this is what they call “solitude” or is this loneliness, which I feel. Tonight I can clearly hear myself without any disturbances from the obnoxiously noisy sound of the city. Yet with this deafening silence, I am now feeling apprehension. This is not good, not good at all. Nostalgia kicked in and flashbacks ran across my face like movies in fast forward, too fast now, becoming a blur. And all those infatuating days of the yesterdays senselessly consumed my being, I cannot retaliate. It’s as if I have tasted once again the sweetness of love and felt once again the eddies of ecstasy.


I remembered the nights I spent under this light post . With a wooden bench beneath it, now long gone, there I found something that now I have lost.
When the sun sets I ready myself, when the night falls, I ran to you with my dress fluttering with the wind and my shoes quickly chase pavements. As I arrive, I look at you, at those eyes so deep sending me unyielding messages of love. With the world against us, this secret place was a paradise, this street was our escape away from those disparaging eyes and treacherous tongues. Our love was real, I am certain that mine was, but it seemed to be a humorous tragedy to the world. It was not a love of affliction, it was just a love transpired at a wrong chance. “How can I trade such love for a world so judgingly wrong?” And so I spent every night with you under the starry night with the moon glowing upon us, those short moments felt like eternities chasing forever. We whisper to one another our dreams and wish them foolishly to the shooting stars. In your eyes I found my home, with you I want to spend my life with.
Love is complicated and foolish when we are young, deceiving in some point. Those comments of the world were foreshadowings.


The arid pavement, as it is supposed to be, had become my place of refuge as I sit on it with my back adjacent to the post light. Cool breezes now are turning cold, giving me chills and uneasiness with a pinch of discomfort. I may blame this vexing feeling to the night, but maybe to myself more, because warmth is waiting for me just short miles from here. The endless night sky had now become deeper and appearing to be darker in shade of indigo. No stars tonight in sight, the moon camouflages but had failed with its thin outline showing. Clouds roll by slowly, highlighted with silver linings. The night prolonged more and it felt like it will never end.


I stood up. Sense finally came and had fiercely awakened me from this abyss of irrational reverie. I looked up, wipe my face with my jacket sleeves and stared for the last time at the fading yellow light. I fasten with it those memories with you that my heart had memorized for years. Oblivion.


As I walked away from the light post, it went off, a new source of light peeks from the horizon. “May this be the last time I came by this street.”, I murmured.

Blame

I never believed in fairytales.

I’ve always had this perspective of real world and true love just doesn’t make the cut. I believe they can never transpire at the same time.

All those undying infatuations, consuming my every unpleasantly cold nights, and eventually, collapsing unto the cosmos of love. Then having this unfathomable desire to have more of this apprehensive breathtaking sensation of abstract ecstasy culminating into a rebellious satisfaction.

As I am, feverishly tumbling down onto you, defying my preset perspectives, surrendering like an imbecile and obliterating my indomitable reputation, with the thought only of falling fast, nothing else. The peripheral vision is just too vague to mind. Nothing but love is substantial.

I got myself a seemingly harmless and risk-free fairytale love story.

It’s all good, until reality unraveled.

Oh! What a blissful trance! Just another indulgent dream!

Then I am constantly apprehended by disturbances that originate from the unknown, seized by those excruciating evenings with overwhelming sorrowful emotions, as well as baffled by the inscrutable secrecy that love possesses that somehow manage to decipher the heart’s fragility and as if intentionally humoring it with hurtful circumstances.

Hate to admit that my intuitions were right, telling myself, “I told me so! I was right.”

Things just don’t happen as you conceptualize them to be, there are always complications and barricades that seem to be purposely present, yet illuminating you that this is not “it”.

But "it" is this one thing that I do not regret: the chance of love that seldom does the cosmos favors.

Transition

It is this point in our lives that we have to leave behind what used to be and look forward to what will be.

When change is all that ever happens and circumstances compels us to move forward with nothing but favourable facets, things that elicits excellence, and those that make us grow; abandoning those that do nothing but hold us back, distresses us from imaginings, and confine us on dragging memories.

This is when we have to discern the things that matters most; priorities, dreams, and people whom are worth every stress and sacrifices.

Know what must be first then run towards realistic and achievable dreams, and do them all at the right moment and for the right persons who cause no you burden, rather positive inspirations.

Make all decisions definite.

Regret nothing.

Travel light.

Bring only those worth carrying of.

Dump the things that hurt and forget all the unfortunate events of the past, remembering only the wisdom it taught and not how it all happened. Let all scenes be vague as you move forward.

Eventually people have to head off and when they have grown out too much of

world they’ve known.

Unfortunato

Usually, change is good, unless occurring at the wrong instance. Change is an unstoppable phenomenon that the world outrageously put into existence. As if intentionally happening on the most unlikely moments, surprising us with the dilemma it causes.
I call them “unfortunate events.”

Life is a series of unfortunate events and it happens in sequels.

Misfortunes happen. They are consequences of previous mischievous acts, or choices born of some personal basis. Despite the warnings of the onset of such misfortune, it could also be brought about by change, or could be any random reason for its existance. But there is a reason why misfortunes happen, as everything else does.

Sooner or later reasons will unfold, but only for those who patiently endured the suffering and strong enough to accept things.

No one said it will be easy to make it through, but it is darn possible. Two things: learn believe in yourself, especially in the big guy up there. At the same time, do everything possible, as much as you can to overcome this “unfortunato”, do it all. With certainty, in perfect timing, and for the right reasons.

If you’ve done and given it all and there’s nothing left more to do, you’ve given them all, it drained every will in you, you’re exhausted and wound-up, but still you are unfortunate, then surrender and accept defeat with no self-pity but with pride. You did not fail, you just didn’t win. It doesn’t mean that it is not meant for you, rather you deserve something so much better. Life will favor them to you, in time.

It is not written in the stars nor does destiny foretold where would we be or where we’re supposed to be, what will we have or what we don’t have, not even what we will lose. We chart our own paths, we make our own ways, we choose and nothing intervenes with our choices. Everything that happens is a mere reflection of our decisions, no one is to be blamed, not even fate. Misfortunes happen not because the universe told so, but because of your decisions in the past.

Eventually, unfortunate events end. There may be a sequel but even unfortunate events are good stories. They leave memories that only time can delete and messages only experiences can send, all for a good cause albeit in an unpleasant manner.

After all the deletion is done and lesson learned, a stronger spirit emerges, a better person comes forth, and an inspiration arises for those who knows the story. Looking back will be liberating: that you were once in that abyss and escape was just a matter of sleep.

I Miss You

Movies ridicule me with insane taglines like this, “I miss you so much that it would hurt”. Or those love stories with themes centred in leaving, separation, goodbyes, letting go and hurting. They’re like children wanting candy so badly, crying themselves to sleep with the “hurt” they “feel”, as if it’s the only thing they can do! Well I say, “Immature imbeciles”.

And what’s the deal with stupid love songs, don’t get me started on those, one blog isn’t enough. How they sing their feelings of longings, loneliness, wishes, regrets, memories, and love. They sounded odd for me and humoured me with their oddity.

“Lunatics”, I say.

I never believed in love and the idiocy it causes to people, to me.
I was a critic then of this “insanity” (as I see), until love whacked me on the face, whacked me hard.

Then, my perspective changed.

Those “ridiculous” things that I criticized before, (I hated them for being so soft!) I thought they were just exasperations, exaggerations.

Getting myself situated in the cosmos of love, I feel like those artistic expressions of love and misery (such as my blog) aren’t perfect parallel translations of how I really feel. All these seemed to be insufficient forms to define my bursting emotions inside.

I miss you, I’m going to miss you more, and I can’t do anything about it.

I sounded soft, and it feels good.

I’m not pathetic, naive, or a hypocrite, I’m just in love, so in love, that’s all. And I'm not stopping.

Humorous Life

Life humors us of what it does to us. How random it can be, how vague it is. Extreme opposites can be experienced in one dwelling, maximum difficulty, extreme happiness in one life scenario.

Everyday there is change and this occurs after you have just adjusted.
Example, after surpassing a great challenge, then brings you out-front of another one; more difficult and what makes it worse is that you're there, without an option, barely standing steadily, badly wounded, and unarmed.

Or this maybe, there are already blueprints of how your cornerstones should be made, but then, fate does not want that and detours you into another one that is very unfamiliar to you.

When the avenues and boulevards clear up, widen, and smooth en for you, the next thing you know, there are new diversions of road and find yourself standing on a crossroad, deciding.

Just when you became cozy and comfortable of being alone and independent, some love comes, makes you uncertain of your identity, makes you forget how you were before and makes you realize that you were wrong before when you said, "I am fine with solitude."

There are a thousand and one contingencies where life's sense of humor is proven, it happens everyday. Ironic as it is, we experience it, without retaliation.

We let life humor us, we may not enjoy it, but it happens, with or without a cause.