Johari Window – theirs and mine

1. You speak of pain and trauma like I was the only one who inflicted them on you. You were a slave to another Goddess for almost a decade of your life yet you found a flicker of understanding and an iota of forgiveness for her. That, despite her manipulation and deception.

I hope you can look back and recount how many times you threatened me with pain and loss to get what you want, how you almost rammed my car out of anger and how much emotional abuse you inflicted on me by your reckless words.

Despite all these, I never even felt the slightest anger or hatred for you. Sometimes, I wonder whether you are worth forgiving, if you can’t do the same for me.

2. You want me to like you. And you want me to do that when you are openly questioning my choice of partner? I chose him because of my history with him, my love and his vindication. He chose me because he felt it was worth the risk.

He earned it. We both suffered and shed blood tears for what we are now. Your perceptions of him are rightfully yours. Opinions are free. And this is an open market.

But if I chose an older man over you – that is my sole right. You can harp on your youth and his age…

I just hope that when you look at the mirror, you can see what escapes your blind eye --- that you are looking at a 28-year old chink with a receding hairline.

See you in 12 years and let’s see if you still have hair, if you still can raise the flag and if you’ve got that zing that is naturally his.

The Soul of the World

According to Carl Gustav Jung, we all drank from the same spring of life.

“It’s called the “soul of the world.” However much we try to be independent individuals, a part of our memory is the same. We all seek the ideal of beauty, dance, divinity and music.”

What makes people different is the path they choose to seek the beautiful and the divine --- or whether they seek it at all.

Some people just dream the dream from a distance. They know they want it, but complacency and languor put them in a state of inertia.

What’s frightening is to be in that state for the rest of your life – as you see your dreams fade away.

Hey Lady, stop living the life of others and start yours. Love and dreams are never delivered to your doorstep. Neither will you reach them spending your days in bed.

Four Corners of Introspection

Written:
18 March 2008
1:17am

It took me some time before I finally got myself to write this down. This entry has been floating in my head for a couple of months already - just bouncing back and forth in the chambers of my consciousness.

I didn't realize that all I needed was an evening rid of Internet connection and social obligations which yanked me out of my usual trite and trivial routine. Thank God for the solitude.

Normally, this is a year-ender for me - my attempt to take a few steps back and evaluate what my life was like for the past 365 or so days. Yes, I am a Plato believer. "The unexamined life is not worth living."

This time, it took me the entire first quarter to digest what I have been through - unintentional or otherwise.

A roller coaster ride - ridden seven times non-stop - is the way to describe how 2007 was like for me. The highs were the ultimate highs, an apex that I have never reached before.

I have never worked the hardest ever, in the history of my career, and successfully reaped its benefits.

I attended THE conference of my usability engineering career. After 6 years of just fantasizing about it.

I met the founding father of my profession - in flesh and blood - shook his hand, asked him to sign my book and allowed myself to be a goo-goo eyed geek fan girl in his presence. For physicists, it's akin to meeting Albert Einstein. Chanting now: I'm not worthy. I worship the ground Jakob Nielsen stands on.

I continued my passion for further studies, I learned another language. I went back to school to finish my Masters Degree.

I traveled to places where I wanted to be. Hail to the late Anita Roddick. "Travel is like university without walls."

I fought for and won true love. I believed in its existence. Felt and tasted how real it is.

I reconciled and forgave my Father.

My younger sister came home.

I welcomed 30 with the biggest and happiest birthday party I ever had, surrounded by tried and tested friends.

I have accomplished almost everything in my to-do list.

Feng Shui-wise, I was supposed to be unlucky, but I actually fared better.

Yet Fate will not allow me to have it all - for a reason.

On the other hand, the lows were also the most heartbreaking... tormenting even. They were the most abrupt and humbling nosedive. If it were possible to die several times over and live again to suffer the pain of more deaths, then I did exactly just that. There came pain and darkness that I have never gone through before.

I hurt and lost a dear friend. In the pursuit of true love. I will always remember her as one of my crutches during darkest moments and one of my cheerleaders in my finest hour.

I never realized that true love entailed so much hard work, sacrifice and selflessness. I won the war - initially. I lost it over and over - for not wanting to give up who I am, for trying to be true to myself. The heartbreak took its toll on me. I never thought I can feel this exhausted.

I lost my Grandmother - after almost a year of courageously battling stroke, diabetes and breast cancer. 80% of who I am now is because of her. That is what I said in my eulogy. Her passing away is one of my greatest fears, my Achilles heel. Her memories never fail to bring tears. Even as I write this. Because a great part of my core is her. She is who I am.

2007, in my history, is written in blood.

It is monumental.

It is the year I finally saw clarity.

And realized my personal legend.

My destiny.

I don't have a good ending for this, because I don't know how things are going to be. Nothing is cast in stone, as Fate and the Universe both will it to be.

I sailed through the first quarter without a lot of expectations --- but I continue to hope.

Quo vadis, 2008?

I have no fucking clue.

But I got a very good feeling...

Of besties and moving away

Ian is leaving tonight for Pune, India. He’s staying there for 3 months because of a job assignment.

Ryan is leaving for Hawaii in June. 5 months Accenture stint.

Marc is fixing his papers to live and study in Europe with Thet.

Jonathan’s papers for Australia has been given a go. 11 months more and he’s leaving. For good.

Two years ago, when Jonathan announced to the guys that his Canadian papers are finally in and he’s got 4-5 months before he leaves for good, I got severely depressed. He was actually surprised by my reaction. That – coming from me – was really a pleasant surprise.

I’m no Ice Queen.

These guy besties have been around for decades. I’ve known some of them since third grade. Ian was and continues to be the pillar of strength during darkest hours.

Jonathan is the brother I never had – who will carry my drunken ass during alcoholic-mode Saturday nights. Or patiently wait until 6am for me to finally sober up from the mix of wine, beer, vodka and tequila we just had.

Ryan will convoy my car until we reach my apartment – just to make sure I get home safely – despite my insistence that I’ve already simmered down.

Marc --- will always be the source of wisdom. When he speaks, everybody listens.

Parties without them will be BLAH.

No Ian, no party place.

There are some people that you can’t just imagine leaving. Or you can’t imagine your life without them.

Although I don’t regularly see them, they’re the people in my speed dial.

I got eleven months to come to terms with one of us going away for good.

This is such a depressing Sunday morning entry.

Ugh.

Cabin Fever

The problem with staying in is the opportunity for introspection.

The problem with introspection --- is becoming soft.

Once again.

I’m not ready to be.

Not just yet.

Restless

…is an understatement.

I can’t even write properly.

My thoughts are everywhere. They’re scattered on the cold pavement. Or etched on blank, white walls.

I’m in perpetual motion. Yet inertia is consistently at my doorstep.

Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m thinking… or feeling anymore.

But you know what?

I actually like this place.

The emotional unavailability allows me the much needed cushion.

Is this the aftermath of more than a year’s worth of unintended anguish and pain?

Probably.

My gratitude goes out to the wonderful friends who understand the hibernation, the silence, the tears without reason. Thank you for the hand-holding, for your warm embrace, for your comforting words and silent company.

You – thank you for your patience. For drying my tears, for washing my feet. For trying to be there in that space when I wasn’t. For forgiveness. For looking back.

Who knows? It can be true. There might be hope for the flowers.

Death to Sincerity

Impatience got the better of me yesterday, as I found myself in not one – but three – conversations that gave me the runaround.

These are personal conversations that ranged from seeking clarity on what the nature and definitions of friendships and relationships are to the very mundane question of where a certain friend is going.

At the end of the day, I just felt too exhausted to bother figuring things out or even asking for further discourse.

Hands-off.

I just had it. No guessing games anymore.

I’m done.

Driving home, I entertained a lot of thought bubbles in my head, again falling guilty of waxing philosophical about the trite and the trivial. Perhaps that was just it --- I shouldn’t even bother figuring out.

Until I came to my final personal resolution – it matters to me even though the rest doesn’t seem to think so. Or at the very least, they try to convince themselves that it doesn’t matter. That it’s of no importance to scratch the surface because there is nothing beneath.

Why can’t just people say what they mean?

Must we always put a façade and a game face on?

Why are we so afraid to tell someone how we feel?

Why can’t we just lay all the cards? No false fronts.

We keep on playing charades. What for? To make people wonder?

Why can’t you tell me to stay?

Why can’t you say straight-face that you don’t know who I am to you – yet I might be a friend or that missing piece of the puzzle?

Why can’t you tell me where you’re going?

Why won’t you try?

I also know the answers…

That’s why it’s frustrating. Infuriating.

I just wish we take some moment in our lives to get out of our inner circle and take some risks.

I’m afraid I’m losing chances of meeting and being with wonderful people who will make a dent --- because I’m too afraid.

And they’re too scared of me.

Reality Bites

Tinatawag na ako ng realismo.

Ilang araw na lang.

Ikaw kasi.

Sana hinintay mo na lang.

Faith. Losing It and Gaining It Back… Eventually

“It is important to accept one’s passions, and not to lose one’s enthusiasm for conquests. They are part of life, and bring joy to all who participate in them. The warrior of light never loses sight of what endures, nor of bonds forged over time. He knows how to distinguish between the transient and the enduring. There comes a moment, however, when his passions suddenly disappear.

Despite all his knowledge, he allows himself to be overwhelmed by despair: from one moment to the next, his faith is not what it was, things do not happen as he dreamed they would, tragedies occur in unfair and unexpected way, and he begins to believe that his prayers are not being heeded. He continues to pray and to attend religious services, but he cannot deceive himself; his heart does not respond as it once did, and the words seem meaningless.

At such moment, there is only one possible path to follow: keep practising. Say your prayers out of duty or fear, or for some other reason, but keep praying. Keep on, even if all seems in vain.”

The Warrior and Faith
Like the Flowing River
Paulo Coelho

This is me – who I am – at the moment. It’s perfectly written.

Friends know me as passion personified. I am comfortable chasing after the stars without having to bother about what others think. It’s my happiness, not theirs. My own personal legend.

Right now, I just live in the moment. No past, no future --- not mindful of consequences, not wanting to remember the hurt inflicted.

I lost my faith. I never imagined myself to be without something and someone I thought I cannot live without and will die without. Yet here I am.

A few scratches, bumps and bruises yet still alive.

That’s what scares me – the realization that I can live without it.

Am I losing my faith?

It’s a pity – that to find myself again, I need to lose someone.

How this will end - the answers evade me.

Allow me this respite – this comfortable silence, this rare chance of just being here – living the moment as what it is – only a moment.

Until then I will keep on praying - no matter how merely ceremonial it just is.

Until faith... and hope... both return.

Interlude: Tribute to the Firsts

In my early 20s, I promised myself to never succumb to jadedness and cynicism when I reach 30. I promised myself that I will marvel at the world in the same way that the younger version of me did.

Disappointments, heartbreak – over and over again - broken promises and the lack of integrity in what people say, however, still led me to the dreaded path of distrust and skepticism.

Gone is my naiveté.

Although most of the time, I don’t miss it, I wonder how it feels like to be able to just trust people again and take whatever they say at face value.

Yes, I want to be surprised again. I want to be a little girl who becomes wide-eyed at the sight of something so mundane and simple. I want to like someone just because they are likeable, nice and fun, without having to think if they will rip me off tomorrow or steal my soul.

I want to be “in the moment” with someone without having to think if I earn more than he does and that this will slit his ego or if he is filthy rich to buy me the world yet take me for granted.

I realized that I have heard so many lies and said so many distortions of truth myself that I either don’t believe anymore or take everything with a grain of salt.

Strolling down memory lane and wading through the cobwebs of my past, I remember how I joyfully embraced both ecstasy and anxiety of experiencing a lot of firsts.

Thus, a tribute to all the firsts in our lives…

The first time we hear a song and it moves us;

The first time we did something without our parents’ help;

The first time we set foot in a foreign land;

The first time we hear a lover’s heartbeat pound so hard because we are near them;

The first time our knees get weak and we tremble, ache, pine over someone;

The first time we are melted by his or her gaze;

The first kiss that we never wanted to end;

The first time we taste, touch, feel a new lover’s lips;

The first time we make love;

The first time we lose ourselves…

To all the firsts that we have that we can never go back to again…

May we always be grateful.

May we never forget.

No matter how jaded and cynical we become.

- A tribute to my young friends.

To P. May you be comfortable in your own skin, with who you are, no matter the pressure to socially conform. Although you may sometimes feel that you are proving yourself to everybody, the only thing that matters at night is the proof to yourself. And that you can face you in the mirror the next morning.

To E. Keep earnestness in the palm of your hands. You are beautiful. You know that you are. But I wish you can see through the façade – yours, mine and others’ – and appreciate the beauty of a soul. Say I love you only when you mean it. And find it at the most perfect of moments.

Prelude to the Four Corners

"The Persian poet Rumi once said that life is like being sent by a king to another country in order to carry out a particular task. The person sent may do a hundred other things in that other country, but if he or she fails to fulfil the particular task he or she was charged with, it is as if nothing had been done.

To the woman who looked at the road ahead of her, and knew hers would be a different journey.

To the woman who did not attempt to make light of those difficulties, but on the contrary, spoke out against them and made them clearly visible.

To the woman who made the lonely feel less alone, who fed those who hungered and thirsted for justice, who made the oppressor feel as bad as those he oppressed.

To the woman who always keeps her door open, her hands working, her feet moving,

To the woman who personifies the verses of that other Persian poet, Hafez, when he says:

Not even seven thousand years of joy can justify seven days of repression.

To the woman who is here tonight, may she be each and every one of us, may her example spread, may she still have many difficult days ahead, so that she can complete her work, so that, for the generations to come, the meaning of 'injustice' will be found only in dictionary definitions and never in the lives of human beings.

And may she travel slowly, because her pace is the pace of change, and change, real change, always takes a very long time."

For the Woman Who is All Women - written by Paulo Coelho as introduction to
Nobel Peace Prize Winner Shirin Ebadi

Not nearly close to her, yet I share the passion and that burning desire. The child's voice in me whispers, "Someday I am going to be you."

Silence brings forth both oppression and redemption.

As I let silence take charge to tyrannize me, vindication came as I slowly heard the inner voices again.

I lost my soul to the devil but gained it back. The Angels and the Universe definitely had a hand in it.

Thus, I welcomed silence in my life - for once - after a long period of its absence.

When it gave me that comforting moment and brilliant epiphanies... it was time to go back to the world of words and voices.

And so I am back here.

December 17 ---

And I am only halfway through my design project.

My team is already drowning from the deluge of design templates we have to work on.

It might take me until December 2008 to finish wrapping my Christmas presents.

I have not packed my travel stuff.

I have not done anything for my graduate thesis. And I mean ANYTHING. Not even thoroughly read my course instructions. I was on the verge of dropping my thesis subject already when Miss Lota from the admin office discouraged me. "Lahat ng students nag-i-extend for thesis. Mag-residency ka na lang next semester."

When you seem hopeless, that is music to your ears. Hallelujah!

Pinahinga mo ko nang maluwag, Miss Lota.

I have not gone to the laundromat to dry clean my "wedding dress" for Marc and Thet's wedding.

'Didn't help that I had a broken water pipe in the apartment and grounded lighting in my bathroom which I needed fixed this morning.

I'm grateful for all the things I need to do, mind you.

Unwrapped gifts mean I have a lot of friends to give them to.

Broken pipes and grounded light bulbs mean I have a warm, cozy apartment that I go home to every night.

Potentially-dropped subject means I am going to school --- one of my real passions. And that I am finally --- finally doing my thesis.

But I need more time.

Lord, thank you for all the blessings.

Pero palimos ng kaunting oras.

Make Up and Break Up... That's All We Do

This was actually playing on the radio when I was driving one time with Rico on the streets of Makati.

After a very quick pause, we both laughed so hard.

Because that's exactly what we did.

He flew all the way from Hong Kong to Manila to break up with me a few weeks ago. Only to make it up again.

This week is a repeat performance.

No, we didn't break up.

But there was a lof of making up to do.

On his end - not mine.

Okay, fine - pagbigyan.

He is trying, in fairness.

Sige nga... pamper the Princess.

I dare you. =)

But thanks for trying.

Bitch feel-good

The Bitch is still on feel-good mode.

No-work Friday, chilly afternoon, Sex and the City reruns, Ronco del Gnemiz chardonnay.

My solitude. My writing.

Puuurrrrr-fect!

It’s a rare moment for me to be unperturbed and undisturbed.

Welcome, girl uninterrupted.

While the world out there remains a veritable playground of chaos, I welcome the comfortable recluse of my vanilla-smelling apartment, my chocolate brown couch and the sight of Carrie and Big.

How can I possibly go on a ranting rampage?

Sorry to disappoint, Arlene…

But it’s a wonderful day on the bitchfront.

On my mental playlist: Walking on Sunshine

Hong Kong Loot

Hello, lover. I finally have you.

This is the exact Scuderia Ferrari women's jacket that I wanted and posted here in my blog.

And I now got it.

Courtesy of Boyfriend.

We found it at The Peak shopping mall. Although I almost couldn't close my humongous suitcase anymore because I literally hoarded shoes and fall clothes, this is one of the (if not THE) highlights of my shopping escapade.

Thanks a gazillion, Boyfriend!

Random Strawberry Thoughts

An attempt to be coherent on a blood-shut puyat Monday.

My fault – slept at almost 4 in the morning watching Formula One finals. Kimi Raikkonen won. And was the fastest lap at that. So it was all worth it.

Random blah-blah over Cathy B’s strawberry wine:

1. MiniMadMod ‘60s birthday party. TOTAL BLAST. Besties were there. Inner circle in full attendance. 3 birthday cakes. Everyone made the effort to feel the ‘60s vibe by dressing up and donning higher than the ceiling hairdos. What more can I ask for?

2. Cosmic universe. He gave me the cosmic universe. Wore a ‘60s wig and an oversized shades in my birthday party. Sincerely entertained my friends. Indulged me with my favorite foie’ gras. The man of my life.

3. Aji Ichiban Kasugai gummy bears. I’m on my 9^th as of this writing. Let me not count the calories. Uber yummy.

4. Redecorating the apartment – my current obsession. Can’t wait to fill one of my bedroom wall up with memory boards.

5. More October birthdays. Ka-birthday Andoy. My Yaya. Ryan. Cathy. Charmaine. Candy. Beautiful Libras.

6. Glorietta 2 blast. Bombing or gas leak? Conspiracy theories. SUCKS. The airport was filled with fleeing foreigners the entire weekend.

7. Hong Kong. I. CANNOT. WAIT.

8. Role revision. Novelty. Fantasy lesbian girlfriend. A time extension to the unmarried life. These, according to your friends. But who am I, according to you?

9. Grandmother. I miss your strength. Your conviction. Your sense of direction.

10. Formula One. Dreaming of the Singapore night race. And the Fullerton Hotel. And the Sunday brunch. And seeing Kimi in action. And wearing that Scuderia Ferrari red jacket.

Thirtyness

I officially left the 20-something period.

Today is the day.

Thank you, friends, for making this life uber fab.

Plugging:

Thank you, Mom, for the love.

To my Grandmother, this is my first birthday that you are not here. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you.

Gemma, Ariel and Ate Mirs - for being the first to greet me when the clock struck 12.

To Rico - for giving me the cosmic universe. For making sure I had a birthday cake and a candle to blow.

Cheers, people!

Sunday morning: Lofty Ponderings on Friendship and Loyalty

Last weekend was a blur of psychedelic pink and purple haze, as I plunged myself into a frenzy of errands and rendezvous with the inner circle.

I call it the moment of compensation, as I have been an absentee friend to some of the important allies and faithful comrades.

After my first Mandarin class at the Shangri-La on Saturday morning, Me-ann and Yoj joined me as I revisited memories of college past as I drove to UP Diliman.

Seeing those old, tall acacia trees enveloping the Diliman sky around the Sunken Garden makes me feel… at home.

In the evening, I had to rush back home for a quick shower and dolling up to make it to the 7:30 dinner with Doji at Mezzaluna, Serendra.

[A side note: despite the slew of good restaurants in the area, the difficulty in parking that plays like a grown-up Nickelodeon version of a physical challenge inside my head discourages me to keep on going there for dinners.]

I have not seen Doji for months – as schedule and mood permitted otherwise. He was surprised that I brought him Italian Chardonnay when there wasn’t any occasion. Little did he know that it was my unspoken apology for not texting back or being too lazy to answer the phone when he calls. I know. Guilty as charged.

We shared pan-fried foie gras, gorged into shrimp and salmon for main course and downed a bottle of Looming Room Cabernet Sauvignon. We concluded this indulgence with Sonja’s Peppermint Patty cupcakes. [Thought bubble: may sasarap pa ba?]

I got home at past midnight. Tired as I was, I didn’t have the luxury to sleep off the entire Sunday, as it was already devoted to driving off to Tagaytay with Celia for Sunday brunch.

I was in a wine and foie gras streak, so I ordered foie gras salad and lamb shank. Celia and I shared yet another bottle of Cab Sauv.

A bit giddy with the wine, we scoured for bamboo window blinds and hydrangeas for Celia’s new apartment. We got back to Manila at half past seven.

Fast-forwarding to Thursday, I capped off the week by inviting friends over to the apartment to share some strawberry vodka and Superdry. Che, She and Jonathan came. The girls scoured through my cabinet for clothes and accessories as Jonathan devoured the entire pack of my sugar-free chocolate fudge cookies.

As they bade me goodbye, planted small besos on my cheeks and as I closed the door behind them, I couldn’t help but feel melancholic and moved at the same time.

I was stirred.

I recalled my conversation with Celia. We had the same take on friendship. Friends are family. They are your refuge in moments of sorrow and your pillar of strength when fate deluges you with everything difficult. It’s a commitment and an obligation to protect the friendship, to keep and nurture it. These are the people you want to keep until you are old and wrinkly.

A very important epiphany that hit me, and I dare follow it up courageously with an emo statement:

I may not be wealthy in everything, but this lifetime blessed me with true, loyal friends.

Some friendships date as far back as kindergarten and first grade. Others already withstood a decade of fights, break-ups and personal crises.

I have a list of people who I can call in the middle of the night when I’m desperately seeking for a soothing voice on the other side of the line. Conversely, I feel flattered that friends run to me at five in the morning to ask for rescue. Or just sob their hearts out until they are as hoarse as voices crying from the grave and their eyes are as puffy and as pink as mandarin slices.

Perhaps, this is a small tribute to the loyalty that my friends gave me. Loyalty, love and friendship that humble me and keep me grounded.

Celia and Gemma – you remain the first two people on the list, the two people who will feel as I do. Dance, cry, laugh and fight as hard as I did and as I will.

Ian – my lost brother and 911. I miss you. Despite the circumstances that prevent us from sharing more, you don’t have to say anything to make me understand. I just hope you know you don’t need to.

Nabeth and Me-ann – you literally shared my tears when I thought I lost love again for the nth time. Until this day, I am moved when I remember how you cried for me, how you held my hand and embraced me as your friend. Your empathy is eternally seared in my memory.

Che, Owy, Janneth, She, Marc, Jonathan, Ryan – you are the fondest memories of my youth, my childhood. You are the shards of glass in the mirror that made me who I am and who I still want to be.

Jovan, Yoj, Yasmine, Ariel. For life’s wisdom and insights. Both practical and ephemeral. For the trust and confidence, did I ever express my gratitude?

Romy and Doji - your faith in me made me work harder and survive the fierce world out there. You believed in my dreams. Thank you for the lifetime mentoring.

Arlene – hang in there. There is wisdom in pain and maturity in forgiveness. For yourself and her.

“For friendship builds an eternal web of life and love. A friend is a brother, a sister not of blood but of fate and loyalty cast and sworn into, perhaps during brief moments or a period of a lifetime.”

Poison: Illusions of Grandeur

You dress in a white gown to hide your murky, lecherous soul. You feign innocence with your wide-eyed expression. You stare blankly at someone seemingly to imbue incorruptibility to conceal your dark, evil thoughts.

Pristine. Immaculate. Meek. Gentle. Kind.

You can fool them. But not me.

Donyita, que pasa?

You are shrouded with envy.

I see through you.

Beneath the white robe, you are eviscerated by slithering worms gorging through your pit.

You are nothing but a putrid, insignificant soul who wants to banish other unassuming spirits to be just like you.

I can see you.

Jealous. Frivolous. Friendless.

You don’t deceive me.

Mail Undeliverable: A Year of the Unspoken

I wrote this for him a few months back - I can't remember if it was last year. I'm not sure if I sent it... or if he remembers I did.

-------------------------------------------------

A plethora of emotions all at the same time.

Passion. Love. Happiness. Ecstasy.

Hatred. Remorse. Anguish. Pain.

All for one and only one person.

And perhaps, this dichotomy is what actually draws us together.

Both conflict and similarities make up this strong connection, this uncanny bond that you and I have. That you and I share.

I am drawn to you yet I am appalled by the attraction.

I want to let go, but the more I try to, the more I am coveted.

What brings writhing pain is the reality that the present doesn’t allow us to be together.

You think of me as juvenile, but I am beyond the years I have lived.

Wide-eyed and hopeful, yet also cynical and cautious.

It is uncertain if I believe in forever and ever. Or fairy tale endings.

I always thought that living happily ever after is an evasive and obscure conclusion that happens only in books of children ages 3 until 7.

I don’t know if someone like you does, too.

But if in case you do, may I ask you?

What are you doing for the rest of your life? Do you believe in sharing it with someone?

If and when the rest of your life begins,

Will you find me?