Fear

For the past few days I've come to fear writing down experiences and realizations in life, let alone my dying efforts in fighting for my beliefs. This is so because I'm no longer sure if I am able to send the right message to the readers (if any). My longing for understanding life in certain perspectives, may it be accepted or not, normally quoted as sick since in all fairness, is quite so a lot of times, has been a deterent to my growth so to speak. If I put my life in my palm and wrap it around with my fingers, I feel that there are invisible thorns that protrudes from the skin and pricks it everytime it attempts to expand and break into new boundaries.

When I speak about my pain, it is more often than not understood to be someone being my pain. When I speak about my happiness, it is thought to be that there is currently someone special in my life which makes me happy. When I mention or describe a particular feeling or experience, it is thought to be an attack on someones misconduct. So apparently, there isn't any room for voicing out or expressing your aggrevations anymore. Many people, for some bizarre reason, manages to include themselves into the picture and sometimes make odd interpretations of my experiences, even if I am just talking about myself. Failure as the writer I guess.

Next time I'll write about lollipops and cherries. But wouldn't that lead to other people thinking that there's a hidden sexual inuendo behind it. How sweets can release certain enzymes in our body that makes us as ecstatic as we are when in intercourse. Or how about how the lollipops and cherries signifies the sexual organs in the human anatomy. Ah well, guess there isn't any hope. Some people get it, some people don't.

The frequency of thinking between each living thing in our planet is far beyond our understanding. One minute you're laughing with your bar buddies, next thing you know you're already arguing about who should be the next president, Ali or Pagulayan.

Basically when I write, and this is the only time I'll mention this, I seek answers. I seek answers through a method wherein I analyze myself and my thinking. See how other people see me in their perspectives. So in the short run, I fear what they would say because I will have to deal with how they perceive, see, and at times judge me. But in the long run, I end up seeing the mistakes I do with my life, how I should react on the given scenarios. Each situation is different from another. Just like my best friend said in quoting one of his favorite 'philosophical' lines. "You can never cross the same river twice". The simplicity of the sentence is deceiving in that you would think it's just a cliche one liner but if you put it in mathematical terms, you can derive a hundred formulas from this small definition. When applied back to reality, you can extract millions of occasions in your life where you would look back and say "Hey, this happened to me before" but the truth is that it didn't and it never will.

Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of denial. Fear of loss of hope. We have fear because deep inside, we know that there is a voice that tells us each time we make a mistake, it can never be changed again. Sure we try to condition our minds into thinking that we can always make it right, but the truth about it is that we can never go back and correct the mistakes that we have made. The only thing left for us to do is to make sure we don't commit that same mistake again. You need to analyze yourself. Stop wasting time and chances that the tides have given us. You can be hard headed, stubborn and lazy about it but in the final analysis you'll understand that it is all that's left for us. Many people loose opportunities because of this mistake. Opportunities to be with the person they should be with, opportunities with their careers, dreams to be attained. They tell themselves we can always make it right. Yes you can but you can't turn back time. Make it right the next time and avoid making more mistakes.

Lastly, I write not only to make myself wake up from my own carelessness, but also subconsciously to the readers. So if you sometimes feel weird or bad about something I wrote, stop for awhile and think about it for a minute or two. Maybe some of my words turn out to be invisible thorns in your life as well. Learn to trim it off, not push it deeper into you. All things equal, unchanged, it is not meant to hurt anyone nor is it intended to make you feel bad. Just a basic wake-up call.

the deceitful prince,
Razrael

So Long And Goodnight to All Falling Stars

So is this how it's going to be? Walk at night? In the darkness smile alone and weep? Yeah. Sure. It's the better way to go. No one ever told another person that the standards of feeling great and happy necessarily entails that we have to be juvenile about it.

When I was younger, I have set my goals and primarily forced my beliefs on a lot of people causing them to move further away. So here it is. Sew me. I deserve it. There's nothing else that I can say. I've been scarred so many times before so what's once more. I'll take it like a man for as long as I can but at least give me the opportunity to hold my breath long enough to last the duration of your stay. Do you know how it feels to take what you offer me? Every bit of it kills me. But I'll take it and convey my surrender before each night ends. It hurts. Oh so much it does.

Paint you a protrait? Sure. Why not.

I wake up, think of you, accept reality and go on with my day (so many times before, so what's once more). I scream my heart out in agony in my thoughts, but still, I'll manage. I see my family, associates and friends all the time and wonder where I'd see your face. Alas, the hardest task of all, daytime meals and supper has never been harder to take. The minute the source of nourishment touches my tounge I feel the sensation of forcing myself to swallow, gag at it for awhile and digest because otherwise I'd lose strength, strength to endure the pain that is demanded of me. I need to sustain myself for my duties. Then at night, before I lead myself to my slumber, the horrifying part comes in. You.

After all that I have gone through my day, work and leisure, you haunt me. As I lay awake at night, I wait for answers, or any signs that you would exist. It sometimes makes me wonder if I'm the one who doesn't exist. Where are we then? Bizarre? Sure. But this is all because you made it that way for me.

Do you wish that I wish you away? To bid you so long and goodnight? I can hate you if you want me to. Yes, very much I can. It has always been a welcome thought. Years, yes years can turn someone into a very different person. I can say "to hell with you" but instead say "come and rest in my arms". I can say "why bother" but instead I'd say "I love her". I can say "you're such a selfish person" but instead I can say "don't worry, someday you'll be contented".

What about me then? Is there anything left? In all honesty, for you, no. Nothing is left for me anymore. All out for the burning fires of stellar gases in the heavens. I'll bleed again someday (so many times before, so what's once more). Hopefully one day, it won't be because of you anymore. Why? Because it's just too much for me to fathom already. My fragility has already taken its toll and no one really can help me with it. Take it. It's yours. It's for you to display as a trophy. You've earned it with all that you've gone through and done for me.

I'm sorry. So long and goodnight.

your day late friend,
razrael