It’s 1 am.
A lone night bird sings below. I’m on the viewdeck of our house here in Laguna. The viewdeck is perched high on a mountainside and I can see the whole of Makiling from where I’m sitting.
I’m isolated on this mountain. The nearest person would be some 20 meters away fast asleep. So even if I sung my lungs out, I wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. Well, there are the birds. It’s the lone night bird’s fault. It’s singing so beautifully somewhere in the forest. It was singing a haunting song. To my mind, it’s a call to be found. A mating call. And in my imagination, there’s no one there to hear it. It is the last of its kind and it is calling vainly. Of course, it’s not. It’s seeming loneliness may be because female birds do not often answer. Nor can they most of the time. In most species of birds, females don’t have a song. Only the males need it to attract females. If it’s not a song, then it’s bright colored plumage. Not very different from humans, don’t you think? If it’s not ability manifested by achievements, wealth, or acquisitions, it’s looks. Well, that bird was singing. And something about his singing caught at something in my chest. It tugged at it and loosened some dam I didn’t know was filling up unnoticed. Maybe it’s the fragility of its song. Or the seeming futility of it. It’s stopped now. Maybe it’s found a mate. Or several.
So now I’m singing. I’m trying to find the same fragility in that bird’s song. I’m imagining being perched on a branch. The leaves have fallen off from the intense rain beforehand. The breezes uninterrupted by the bare branches are chilly. I am calling. Somebody hear my song. Somebody come. Somebody find me. And only the breeze comes. Mute. Cold. Empty.
I liked the sound of that. But there’s no one else to hear it.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Of Survival And Defense Mechanisms
I am still alive.
Cancer remission has been confirmed. I have been treated with chemotherapy for nearly a year now.
My current treatment is an experimental infusion that lasts 15 days each month. Almost immediately, I experience a nearly imperceptible ebbing of my physical stamina and soon I prefer to walk rather than run, take an escalator instead of the stairs, sit down rather than stand. My life moves into slow motion. I gradually witness a change in my personality and the way I react to people and situations. What makes this experience so difficult and frightening is the loss of control that takes place--a transformation from a fully active and vital person into someone who can barely sit up and function effectively, which is overwhelming and disheartening.
Somewhere inside the deepest part of me, my truest self hides out under cover, and tells me that all of this is temporary and that I must just wait out these drug-induced episodes. This kind voice, along with my unwavering faith in God, enables me to conquer and think somehow I will be able to see my way into the clearing. And so I go on.
1. I try to live day to day. I focus my thoughts in the present tense and try to deal with matters close at hand.
2. I make myself stupid and I try not to think too much about the implications of what it means to have advanced cancer. Instead, I concentrate on concrete and practical things.
3. I try as best I can to compartmentalize the illness and not give it free reign over my existence. I perceive it as unwelcome and boring.
4. I live in a constant state of denial and keep my mind off the disease as much as possible.
5. I surround myself mostly with people and situations that bear no relationship to the illness.
6. I avoid reading or listening to too much about cancer or involving myself with people who are also fighting the disease. Although I am aware they can be beneficial and therapeutic, I avoid support groups in order to prevent myself from allowing any new fears and anxieties about the illness to enter my consciousness.
7. I internalize a belief system that everything I am going through is temporary and will come to an end: I say to myself that in spite of everything, everything will be all right.
8. I stand up to death with a courage I myself do not comprehend, and I do not permit myself to give in to a fear of dying.
9. I acknowledge that it is impossible for anyone to feel like a normal person after living with this illness for about a year, and accept the fact that it's okay to feel crazy and alienated some of the time--or even much of the time.
10. I remind myself that no one knows when their last day will be and that, so far, I have lived longer than many people predicted. I then think that maybe I'm doing something right after all and decide to continue to follow my prescription for coping.
The doomsday scenarios I conjure up during stressful waiting periods are usually far worse than reality. Thank God for Angry Birds and Stieg Larsson for making me sane.
Cancer remission has been confirmed. I have been treated with chemotherapy for nearly a year now.
My current treatment is an experimental infusion that lasts 15 days each month. Almost immediately, I experience a nearly imperceptible ebbing of my physical stamina and soon I prefer to walk rather than run, take an escalator instead of the stairs, sit down rather than stand. My life moves into slow motion. I gradually witness a change in my personality and the way I react to people and situations. What makes this experience so difficult and frightening is the loss of control that takes place--a transformation from a fully active and vital person into someone who can barely sit up and function effectively, which is overwhelming and disheartening.
Somewhere inside the deepest part of me, my truest self hides out under cover, and tells me that all of this is temporary and that I must just wait out these drug-induced episodes. This kind voice, along with my unwavering faith in God, enables me to conquer and think somehow I will be able to see my way into the clearing. And so I go on.
1. I try to live day to day. I focus my thoughts in the present tense and try to deal with matters close at hand.
2. I make myself stupid and I try not to think too much about the implications of what it means to have advanced cancer. Instead, I concentrate on concrete and practical things.
3. I try as best I can to compartmentalize the illness and not give it free reign over my existence. I perceive it as unwelcome and boring.
4. I live in a constant state of denial and keep my mind off the disease as much as possible.
5. I surround myself mostly with people and situations that bear no relationship to the illness.
6. I avoid reading or listening to too much about cancer or involving myself with people who are also fighting the disease. Although I am aware they can be beneficial and therapeutic, I avoid support groups in order to prevent myself from allowing any new fears and anxieties about the illness to enter my consciousness.
7. I internalize a belief system that everything I am going through is temporary and will come to an end: I say to myself that in spite of everything, everything will be all right.
8. I stand up to death with a courage I myself do not comprehend, and I do not permit myself to give in to a fear of dying.
9. I acknowledge that it is impossible for anyone to feel like a normal person after living with this illness for about a year, and accept the fact that it's okay to feel crazy and alienated some of the time--or even much of the time.
10. I remind myself that no one knows when their last day will be and that, so far, I have lived longer than many people predicted. I then think that maybe I'm doing something right after all and decide to continue to follow my prescription for coping.
The doomsday scenarios I conjure up during stressful waiting periods are usually far worse than reality. Thank God for Angry Birds and Stieg Larsson for making me sane.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Of Spines, Surgeries And The Big C
Well here it goes… I can finally talk about it in complete detail. Everything here is too chaotic to make up and should I be lying about anything in this note, God will smite me in a most excruciating manner.
In October, 2009 I started to have these back pains. Nothing important, or so I thought at the time. As the months progressed, they started to get worse. In about late May to early June, 2010, the back pains became so severe that I couldn’t even move without feeling that sharp, agonizing torture. To describe the feeling, did you see the movie X-Men: Origins? The part when sabretooth grabs the teleporting guys spine? Yeah that’s what it felt like every day.
I finally went to the doctor. You know what he said? He took an x-ray and said that I had gas. So I took some meds but the pain was still there. I went back and the doc then said that I was constipated. So I cleaned out my system. It didn’t work so I went back and this time the doc sent me to ER to get an MRI. The doc at the ER said that he didn’t think I needed to go through an MRI. He said that I had a torn abdominal muscle and gave me some Advil to relieve the pain until it heals.
I then went off on a lonely trip back to Iloilo last December since my mom passed away. I don't wanna talk about that since I think I posted something before about that particular heartache. Well anyways while I was out there the pain never went away. It actually seemed to get worse as each day passed. I couldn’t even sleep in a bed. I would just curl up on the chair or push the chair to the side of the bed and try to sleep that way. Pain killers were my bestfriends, so to speak.
And then I had fever. I thought I had dengue or something since the symptoms for it were manifesting. I went to the nearby clinic to check Unfortunately the doctor was out and I was referred to a hospital. One doctor asked questions, you know, the protocol to know my history. During this interview session, the pain that I usually feel before rushed in, as if the fever was not enough.. He said that something must really be wrong for the pain to still be there at that intensity. He then asked a doctor at the radiology department to help him out so I could undergo a CT Scan. When I went in for the scan, I couldn’t even lie down, let alone keep still with the IV tube for the contrast stuck in my hand. I stayed still as long as I possibly could. The scan wasn’t finished but I just couldn’t stay still anymore. I started to sit up, pulling the IV tube out, and bled on the table. From the scans that they were able to take, it turns out that I had a spinal tumor on the thoracic 10 vertebrae. The technical report sounded like this: Patient underwent a CT Scan and a destructive osseous lesion involving the thoracic 10 vertebrae and is suspicious for malignancy with an infectious process less likely.
After the scan I was immediately sent back to Manila for further testing. While I was there in the hospital a needle biopsy was done. At first the sample of the tumor that was taken was diagnosed as a hyperparathyroidism induced “brown tumor”, which turned out to be another misdiagnosis. It was recommended that I be sent off to another hospital for further evaluation and surgery with a neurosurgeon.
I was scheduled for an explorative operation of some sort (that's what they call it) to know what I'm sick of. During the surgery, as the surgeon cut into the tumor, I bled on the table. It was then that they discovered that the tumor had developed its own circulatory system and latched itself onto mine. As this happened I went into cardiac arrest and was clinically dead for 2 minutes. The surgeon had no choice but to seal the tumor and reconstruct my spine. I was in surgery for a total of about 18 hours. Only less than 30% of the tumor was removed.
I'll be having some surgeries this coming weeks and if I survived that, I'll be having a series of radiation therapy sessions, all the while going through intense physical and occupational therapy, to try to shrink the goddamn tumor.
Yes, I have the big C, ladies and gentlemen. I have cancer.
I was told by my neurosurgeon that I might never going to be able to walk again after completing the series of operations that I will be having. I spent a lot of time coming to the conclusion that I would never have the life I had, that things would never be the same again. I also found out that the correct diagnosis of the tumor was a “giant cell tumor”, technical term “osteoclastoma”. These tumors are common but only in elbows, knees, fingers, ankles, and toes, not in someone’s spine. I guess mine was unique.
I came back to my place, tumor and all, to try to find some sense of normalcy. When I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the one that I love thought I was some kind of a fairytale that didn't exist.. So I lost my career, my love, and probably my legs in the future. What more could I lose? How much time? Does it really matter? All I want to say is to shut up and stop complaining about how your life sucks, there are people out there who have it exponentially worse than you. As for me? I’m not complaining, I’m merely giving you a reason to stop complaining about your problems.
I’ve experienced every kind of suffering imaginable, whether physically, mentally, or emotionally. I know for a fact now on what to expect if I should ever be condemned to hell. The only thing I hope for when my time comes can be summed up as:
I was alive... I didn't merely exist...
In October, 2009 I started to have these back pains. Nothing important, or so I thought at the time. As the months progressed, they started to get worse. In about late May to early June, 2010, the back pains became so severe that I couldn’t even move without feeling that sharp, agonizing torture. To describe the feeling, did you see the movie X-Men: Origins? The part when sabretooth grabs the teleporting guys spine? Yeah that’s what it felt like every day.
I finally went to the doctor. You know what he said? He took an x-ray and said that I had gas. So I took some meds but the pain was still there. I went back and the doc then said that I was constipated. So I cleaned out my system. It didn’t work so I went back and this time the doc sent me to ER to get an MRI. The doc at the ER said that he didn’t think I needed to go through an MRI. He said that I had a torn abdominal muscle and gave me some Advil to relieve the pain until it heals.
I then went off on a lonely trip back to Iloilo last December since my mom passed away. I don't wanna talk about that since I think I posted something before about that particular heartache. Well anyways while I was out there the pain never went away. It actually seemed to get worse as each day passed. I couldn’t even sleep in a bed. I would just curl up on the chair or push the chair to the side of the bed and try to sleep that way. Pain killers were my bestfriends, so to speak.
And then I had fever. I thought I had dengue or something since the symptoms for it were manifesting. I went to the nearby clinic to check Unfortunately the doctor was out and I was referred to a hospital. One doctor asked questions, you know, the protocol to know my history. During this interview session, the pain that I usually feel before rushed in, as if the fever was not enough.. He said that something must really be wrong for the pain to still be there at that intensity. He then asked a doctor at the radiology department to help him out so I could undergo a CT Scan. When I went in for the scan, I couldn’t even lie down, let alone keep still with the IV tube for the contrast stuck in my hand. I stayed still as long as I possibly could. The scan wasn’t finished but I just couldn’t stay still anymore. I started to sit up, pulling the IV tube out, and bled on the table. From the scans that they were able to take, it turns out that I had a spinal tumor on the thoracic 10 vertebrae. The technical report sounded like this: Patient underwent a CT Scan and a destructive osseous lesion involving the thoracic 10 vertebrae and is suspicious for malignancy with an infectious process less likely.
After the scan I was immediately sent back to Manila for further testing. While I was there in the hospital a needle biopsy was done. At first the sample of the tumor that was taken was diagnosed as a hyperparathyroidism induced “brown tumor”, which turned out to be another misdiagnosis. It was recommended that I be sent off to another hospital for further evaluation and surgery with a neurosurgeon.
I was scheduled for an explorative operation of some sort (that's what they call it) to know what I'm sick of. During the surgery, as the surgeon cut into the tumor, I bled on the table. It was then that they discovered that the tumor had developed its own circulatory system and latched itself onto mine. As this happened I went into cardiac arrest and was clinically dead for 2 minutes. The surgeon had no choice but to seal the tumor and reconstruct my spine. I was in surgery for a total of about 18 hours. Only less than 30% of the tumor was removed.
I'll be having some surgeries this coming weeks and if I survived that, I'll be having a series of radiation therapy sessions, all the while going through intense physical and occupational therapy, to try to shrink the goddamn tumor.
Yes, I have the big C, ladies and gentlemen. I have cancer.
I was told by my neurosurgeon that I might never going to be able to walk again after completing the series of operations that I will be having. I spent a lot of time coming to the conclusion that I would never have the life I had, that things would never be the same again. I also found out that the correct diagnosis of the tumor was a “giant cell tumor”, technical term “osteoclastoma”. These tumors are common but only in elbows, knees, fingers, ankles, and toes, not in someone’s spine. I guess mine was unique.
I came back to my place, tumor and all, to try to find some sense of normalcy. When I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the one that I love thought I was some kind of a fairytale that didn't exist.. So I lost my career, my love, and probably my legs in the future. What more could I lose? How much time? Does it really matter? All I want to say is to shut up and stop complaining about how your life sucks, there are people out there who have it exponentially worse than you. As for me? I’m not complaining, I’m merely giving you a reason to stop complaining about your problems.
I’ve experienced every kind of suffering imaginable, whether physically, mentally, or emotionally. I know for a fact now on what to expect if I should ever be condemned to hell. The only thing I hope for when my time comes can be summed up as:
I was alive... I didn't merely exist...
***
I miss you.
I am scared, I was, and still not prepared for this.
We will talk.
You deserve to hear everything,
I just didn't know how.
But I gathered enough strength to let you know.
After all, I love you.
***
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Of Popoy And Basha
Naku naman, kung dalawin ako ng malas eh sunud-sunod.
My sister was watching One More Chance when I woke up sa couch.
I immediately cry seeing this scene:
Naalala mo nung ako yung nandyan? O, e diba’t ikaw pa ang nagsabi sakin na kaya baka tayo iniiwan ng mga taong mahal natin kasi baka merong bagong darating na mas okay. Na mas mamahalin tayo. Yung taong hindi tayo sasaktan at paaasahin. Yung nag-iisang taong magtatama ng mali sa buhay natin. Ng lahat ng mali sa buhay mo.
Ang drama lang.
Ako ya gihilanat ko subong kag gina asthma waay mahimo di sa balay. Powtah.
***
I should probably be jaded by my experience, but I'm not. I can sort of understand how it happened. I'm still hoping that someday I'll get it right and whoever he is, he'll get it right, too. Few wrong Prince Charmings first before Mr. Right di ba? To all my people who've made a choice to hold on to who they are, don't be afraid. It'll come y'all. Our small world may not be ready for us yet, but someday, that part of our lives will bloom, when it's ready to take the risks. *nahks* If it doesn't, there's always the rest of the world.
And, there's always other days and dates, for as long as Madonna lives on.
***
Puwede ba, wag mong palabasin na ako yung naghahabol sa'yo at kasalanan mo rin na hindi ka nagset ng boudaries?! Ang kapal lang ha. Ikaw na ang pinaka guwapong nilalang. I still have your messages kumag. Bakit hindi mo maamin na kating kati ka lang talaga. That you are just a coward and an ass...
I have an attitude and I know how to use it.
***
I have an attitude and I know how to use it.
***
Of Anger And Pain
This is for YOU.
***
There are definite stages that people go through when coping with difficult and challenging experiences in their lives.
I'm currently on the second one: ANGER.
I have passed Denial swiftly since my personality often refuse to deny general truths and pre-existing conditions.
The question is, how do I cope up with this stage? Believe me, this is going to hurt me too.
The pain you are about to feel will also be my pain, although not too long ago, mine had not been yours. I should have warned you before everything began; I should have told you about my flaw before I let you in my world. Maybe I would not need to do this. To hurt you will not be easy.
***
It has been written over and over, happy is the person who finds joy in sunshine through a window, bliss in smileys and random text messages, music in the laughter of playing children, pleasure in a borrowed book read over a lazy weekend.
And many believed.
Yet few realized the repercussions of living in the little things. Because just as they are the trinkets of happiness in our every day, they are, when neglected, constant reminders of what is unrequited.
The little things never were important to you, in the same way, I am inclined to think, I never was.
I am angry. I am hurt. And before all the hurting turns to hate, over which I am afraid I have no control, I must hurt you back. You are the reason. Somehow, you have yet to see that.
***
At a very young age, I discovered how pain changes people.
It is solitude in a vacant seat that shows us who and what really matter, indifference in empty conversations that reminds us of the people and things we have taken for granted.
Pain confronts us with the realities happiness cannot. Pain is liberating.
Do not be afraid. It is still I, the one who taught you are indeed a royal prince beyond your imperfections, that you don't have to feel like you have to be perfect, that you're the best version of a charming fairytale hero in your white clothes..
***
You,
who took me for granted,
who can't seem to understand that mourning over a mother's death was hard enough,
who can't honor a promise made that you can and will wait,
who made me believe that everything will be ok,
who trusted me with your name which, as you said, is too personal,
who really digs men over women but professes being straight to the bone (even if you scream homosexuality),
who entrusted me with your pictures that are not for public consumption,
who exchanged sexual fantasies over phone calls (and always have a stiffy everytime you talked to me),
who believed that you found your match in me since you're exclusively a top,
who met me with this blog since you have yours
who is supposed to heal and treat people, not hurt them,
who played with my emotions,
who is a coward,
who is a liar,
you,
yes you,
just you...
It is still I, I who will hurt when I see you hurt.
This is a cycle that must come to pass.
When it does, I do hope you forgive me, as I would forgive you.
______________________________________
Prolly I'll skip bargaining.
I'm not that desperate.
And besides, you found your "match" right?
***
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Of Broken Glass Slippers
Believe me when I say glass slippers aren’t for running. I didn’t and I kept running until the stupid things shattered beneath my feet. And, now, I’m walking barefoot. Just like a child selling flowers on the street. Glass is really cold when it’s cold and really hot when it’s hot. There’s no logical reason for living in a glass house, much less for wearing glass slippers. They really aren’t for running. They’re for fairy tales and for being carried across thresholds by charming Princes. They’re also for the really stupid who don’t realize that glass slippers are a health hazard. Guilty.
I’m nobody here. But, in the real world, I’m a boy trying his best to grow up without completely hurting himself. So, thank you, for welcoming me into your world and for listening awhile to the mindless nonsense that dribbled while using my glass slippers. But there's one thing you ought to know. I am bleeding right now. For my glass slippers were broken. We were running then instead of just walking. Now it hurts so bad.
We have our own glass slippers. We just have to figure out when to wear them.. and when it’s time to take them off.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Of Affirmations And A Much Needed Strength
I am ready to heal my heart.
I'm getting there...
One step at a time. That is how I will get where I am going.
____________________________
If I can endure for this minute whatever is happening to me.
No matter how heavy my heart is or how dark the moment might be...
If I can but keep on believing what I know in my heart to be true,
That darkness will fade with morning and that this will pass away too..
Then nothing can ever disturb me or fill me with uncertain fear,
For as sure as night brings dawning, my morning is bound to appear...
I'm getting there...
One step at a time. That is how I will get where I am going.
____________________________
If I can endure for this minute whatever is happening to me.
No matter how heavy my heart is or how dark the moment might be...
If I can but keep on believing what I know in my heart to be true,
That darkness will fade with morning and that this will pass away too..
Then nothing can ever disturb me or fill me with uncertain fear,
For as sure as night brings dawning, my morning is bound to appear...
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Of A Great Woman And A Loving Mom
When I was a young boy, there were three words that my mother said to me each morning, five days a week, nine months a year for 6 years....RISE AND SHINE, she would say. It meant we were to get up for another day of school.
If I had known then, what I know now, there would have been about five words I would have said to her each time. My mother didn't have the benefit of a good, solid education. But, she was the smartest person I've ever known. She didn't have a diploma or degree from any school are university. But, she had a PhD in life and yet another, in love.
Many had said of her that she did too much for us, her children. It was said that perhaps she loved us too much. But, I ask of you, just how can you do too much for your children and even more, how can you love them too much? What people seemed to forget was the circumstances surrounding our life at home when we were coming up. She had to be both mother and father to us. Yes, we had a father there, in body. It was mama who did for us, it was mama who watched out for us, it was mama who calmed our fears. It was mama who said that one day things would get better for us, that the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't an oncoming train. She was right.
What I remember most, was my mama sitting up all night in a hardback chair...quietly weeping, quietly praying for me throughout a miserable night after i had an operation. THIS...was my mother. I've often thought the highest praise you can give any woman is to say she is/was a good mother. This being the case, my mother was the very personification of a good mother.
She loved us unconditionally and her entire life was devoted to us, right to the very end. Sure, she had faults, just as we all do. But, she admitted hers, while so many others find themselves faultless. She's be the first to admit her faults...she was so very humble. For the first time in the 24 years of my life, I'll face Christmas without my beloved mother. It will be difficult, to be sure.
She taught us how to laugh, how to love, how to give comfort, how to live our lives morally and there at the end...mama showed us how to die. I comfort myself in the knowledge that she is with Jesus, and her sister who was so tragically killed nine years ago...something she never was able to recover from.
She no longer suffers from crippling arthritis, diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, eye disease or other problems that I can't remember right now. But, despite it all, my mother's faith in God remained unshaken, she believed on the Lord with all her might.
Finally, someday I too must pass from this world, just as we all must. Somehow, someway, I just know...I just know that I will hear that sweet, familiar voice say 'rise and shine' and I will turn to her and say...
Thanks mama, thanks for everything.
I love you Ma.
___________________________________
*I will be on a hiatus for the time being. Let me grieve for awhile... See you soon.
If I had known then, what I know now, there would have been about five words I would have said to her each time. My mother didn't have the benefit of a good, solid education. But, she was the smartest person I've ever known. She didn't have a diploma or degree from any school are university. But, she had a PhD in life and yet another, in love.
Many had said of her that she did too much for us, her children. It was said that perhaps she loved us too much. But, I ask of you, just how can you do too much for your children and even more, how can you love them too much? What people seemed to forget was the circumstances surrounding our life at home when we were coming up. She had to be both mother and father to us. Yes, we had a father there, in body. It was mama who did for us, it was mama who watched out for us, it was mama who calmed our fears. It was mama who said that one day things would get better for us, that the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't an oncoming train. She was right.
What I remember most, was my mama sitting up all night in a hardback chair...quietly weeping, quietly praying for me throughout a miserable night after i had an operation. THIS...was my mother. I've often thought the highest praise you can give any woman is to say she is/was a good mother. This being the case, my mother was the very personification of a good mother.
She loved us unconditionally and her entire life was devoted to us, right to the very end. Sure, she had faults, just as we all do. But, she admitted hers, while so many others find themselves faultless. She's be the first to admit her faults...she was so very humble. For the first time in the 24 years of my life, I'll face Christmas without my beloved mother. It will be difficult, to be sure.
She taught us how to laugh, how to love, how to give comfort, how to live our lives morally and there at the end...mama showed us how to die. I comfort myself in the knowledge that she is with Jesus, and her sister who was so tragically killed nine years ago...something she never was able to recover from.
She no longer suffers from crippling arthritis, diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, eye disease or other problems that I can't remember right now. But, despite it all, my mother's faith in God remained unshaken, she believed on the Lord with all her might.
Finally, someday I too must pass from this world, just as we all must. Somehow, someway, I just know...I just know that I will hear that sweet, familiar voice say 'rise and shine' and I will turn to her and say...
Thanks mama, thanks for everything.
I love you Ma.
___________________________________
*I will be on a hiatus for the time being. Let me grieve for awhile... See you soon.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Of Flaws And Imperfections
He doesn't have to feel like he has to be perfect
He doesn't always have to wear the perfect clothes or put on the perfect scent
Because in my eyes he would be the most beautiful man in the world
His so called "imperfections" are what entices me
When he says the wrong things or does something embarrassing
that is when I know he is real, he's not just another "one of those"
I accept him for everything he is, good or bad
His "flaws" do not make him look bad, they define who he is
They make him unique
Which I love
I love so much.
He doesn't always have to wear the perfect clothes or put on the perfect scent
Because in my eyes he would be the most beautiful man in the world
His so called "imperfections" are what entices me
When he says the wrong things or does something embarrassing
that is when I know he is real, he's not just another "one of those"
I accept him for everything he is, good or bad
His "flaws" do not make him look bad, they define who he is
They make him unique
Which I love
I love so much.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Of A Long Talk And Some First Impressions
You.
Yes, you.
You who make my knees jelly and hands sweaty.
You who unleash the herd of mammoths in my tummy.
You who blows my composure with a mere laugh.
You who inspires me to devise poetry in seconds.
You who ensnared me without a warning.
You.
Yes, you.
Just you.
Yes, you.
You who make my knees jelly and hands sweaty.
You who unleash the herd of mammoths in my tummy.
You who blows my composure with a mere laugh.
You who inspires me to devise poetry in seconds.
You who ensnared me without a warning.
You.
Yes, you.
Just you.
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