Mula nung pinanganak tayo, once a year lang ba tayo nabubuhay tapos the rest of year tegi then same time next year magreresurrect tayo? Hindi di ba? So bakit once a year lang tayo nagcecelebrate ng Mother’s Day? Dapat everyday Mother’s Day diba? Wala tayo kung wala sila. :) Happy Mudrakel’s Day everyday to my Mummay! I love you very much! 💋
This is me, piece by piece, mistake by mistake. If I never said a word, it didn’t have to have been true. The past, after all, is a different country, somewhere far away where I no longer am. So many things, but not here, not now.
Yet here they are, the ways I’ve gone wrong; not once, twice for good measure. And I finally learned to say no, and it finally hurt exactly as much as I expected, and I know, as I have always known, that this pain means so little, is worth so little.
I feel callous, cruel, unreasonable sometimes. Isn’t there space for these excuses, for this human weakness? Maybe it isn’t everyone who has to soldier on, rather than admitting that there are things she cannot do. Then again, all I see is what is necessary being deferred by what is easy. Some things are lessons, and recoiling simply pushes them farther back unlearned. The very same way my recoiling from the admission that there is something I cannot do brought me here, where I have had to admit that I did make these mistakes.
I know my reasons. I know that we have all been that lost. And I know that where I am now, it’s not in that country, and my world has reconciled itself. But the truth, as it comes out, smears the constructs I want to embrace just a little bit. It brings out this chill, this push. These were my sacrifices, offered freely or demanded, no one will ever really know. This was my self-loathing, self-destruction. And maybe that’s the place that this push, this chill, these demands on the self come from. Or maybe the destruction came from those demands. I just know that I don’t need to go so far. That I’ve come a long way from that other country. And that piece by piece, mistake by mistake, bringing the truth out helps the healing.
They don’t make me a monster. Unlovable. Unforgivable. They simply make up the pieces.
Dark spaces, and I am seeking answers in every nook and crevice. The tears appear like clockwork, and memories echo through my head, down my chest, in my gut. Eating has become a chore. I am cold, cold, cold.
Today, I realized my ability to reason with myself. My indifference to most things provides objective grounds for reasoning, but my emotions at times entangle themselves in my arguments. At times, the reasons why I’m right are the same as the reasons why I’m wrong. At the end of it all, I’d wish I never thought about such things.
I’m tired again. I’ve bent too far again. I need the world to melt for a moment, again, please. I want to dissolve. This ball of nerves, of oughts and musts… it won’t untangle. I keep thinking in contrasts. In what matters and what does not. Warmth matters. Support matters. The way I can crumble over little things, because the big things are in their places. I want to apologize over and over and start again. Except I know that each new beginning will bring me to this same place—tired of myself, unable to do anything with myself.
I value what I value. I read my books and I want to talk about them. I clean my stove and I chase away my dust bunnies. I want to surround myself with understanding. But what I really need is for the bigger things to be understood. The things that I have in my life now. Love. Warmth. Honesty. Hope. Hope. Hope.
I wish there were a way to talk about what I love without feeling like I’m worth hating for it.
I see everything, and I see nothing at all, because everything is nothing at all.
Every not thing is every every thing.
I see everything through a pirate’s misplaced or sometimes even stolen telescope, but it is not a regular pirate’s telescope when I look through it, which is all of the time.
It’s all very curious, let me tell you.
It’s almost an upside down pirates telescope, but not all the way because that would be too obvious.
It is its own sort of direction. One which always changes in the same way that is different.
I like it better there except for, inexplicably, sometimes it becomes hard to touch the world behind the glass and I do get so very flustered. Not because I am trapped, because I am not trapped. I am just there.
I am just there, in a separate way.
I will guard your heart like a pitbull
I pray for you everyday because I like attaching a big halo to you
I like that God gives us the power to do that
To bless each other
I want to bless you everyday, countless times
Tell God to touch you in all of the ways I cannot