Grief.

We all cope with grief differently. Some lug the whole carcass around, huge and unpenetrated. Others poke into it bit by bit through memory, recalling, telling; others sublimate into art or another activity, or find consolation in spiritual union, believing the person's soul will to heaven, or be reincarnated; others may approach it with a sort of philosophical spin, voicing out the koan, 'Who dies?' Some of us fall deeply, madly in love with our grief. Some retreat from life. Some fill up with increased purpose and energy. We all heal differently. The crucial healing - it may never be total, it often occurs bit by bit - can happen through environment: loving, stable, soothing, robust.

After all the chaos called life...

... everything seems okay.

School years in recollection

“It’s been a long day, but the city waits.”

I hate it when the cursor keeps blinking at me. Blink. Blink. Blink. I decided to type out a recollection of the years I had in college an hour ago, but here I am, still staring at a blank entry - the cursor keeps on mocking me.

“It’ll come to you, come to you, if you don’t hesitate.”

The years I had in college has been amazing for me. It had great moments and ugly ones, but all things considered, I’m pretty happy with how the year turned out. Bad things and good things are scattered all over the year like the stars in the velvety sky… or like the books in my room.

“And in a lot of ways, I am to blame.”

I met a lot of great people. I got a few close friends. I lost some friends. I made new enemies. I had flings here and there. I found what I thought was the one then lost it soon after. I saw myself once more.

“Because I run to you, run to you all the way, and you know…”

I feel so blessed to have my best friends as my thesis mates. They have never disappointed me in anyway, and the gods may have been smiling upon us as we keep clearing hurdles and obstacles that normally spelled doom for us. I would never replace any of the ups and downs we had. As the saying goes - what doesn't kill you probably was weak anyways.

“I’m feeling tongue-tied, and I don’t know why.”

Partying and drinking are two things I love doing and those are things I also do in moderation. I am proud to say I have never been wasted in my college life. I have never vomited or passed out due to alcohol. I have met wonderful people through the parties I have gone to, and I intend to keep doing it.

“I can’t come to you, come to you this time.”

I love my family. They are always there for me, thick and thin or whatever the hell I go through. I especially love my sister. I think we have bonded so much this year, I wish our bond grows more and more through the years. I miss my oldest sister who is in UK, but I’m pretty sure she’s happy with where she is right now and she really deserves the happiness she enjoys. Mom and dad are still the same, loving parents they are. Even though they embarrass me a lot sometimes, I love them to bits.

” And what I had in mind, is something on the lines.”

My love life through out my college years is pretty life changing, to say the least. I have learned so much from the people I have dated. I’m beyond thankful for some of the people I met through dating, some of them have been the most amazing advice givers. They helped me keep my sanity on some matters and I really appreciate it.

“Running back to you, back to you in my time, and you know…”

I’m looking forward to the next chapter of my life. I’m going to continue taking care of myself, meeting new people, learning and enjoying every moment of my life and living my life for myself. This year has been a roller coaster ride. Ups and downs, hell, even loops and corkscrews, but you know what? I would definitely ride it again.

“I’m feeling so high.”

Hiatus.

I'm not going to drag this out with a lengthy, novel-like post explaining this and that.

This blog is gonna be on hiatus for a bit, or until I can sort things out.

It was around 3pm when...

... I entered the coffee shop, slightly exhausted from walking around in the scorching heat of the city. After a few seconds of enjoying the cool, air-conditioned air inside, I scanned the coffee shop to see if the person I'm meeting up was there. No signs of the person yet - wait, is that good or bad? Shoving the thoughts away, I decided to find a nice place to sit. Fortunately, the comfy looking chairs were available. I put my backpack down on the other chair and decided to order a cup of coffee.

As usual, I ordered a Colombian medium roast. The subtle nutty tones; the fragrant, enticing aroma; the faint sweetness that swirls in your mouth - I think that's why I keep getting this over and over. I paid for the coffee and waited a few seconds to receive my little "cup of heaven". As soon as I got it, I went back to the chairs, placed my cup down on the table and tried to sit comfortably.

As soon as I was going to take my first sip, he entered the coffee shop. He was wearing a plain beige shirt, a pleasant pair of jeans, his trademark pair of glasses, and a bright, bright smile. He never did change. I got up and grabbed my bag from the other chair, put it on the floor beside my seat, extended my hand out and smiled back at him. I was aiming for a handshake but he hugged me instead. I guess that works too.

I sat back down while he ordered his cup of coffee which I guess would be a Macchiato - he always loved that. I don't know why, but I was staring at him the whole time he was ordering his coffee. Maybe it's because it was a long time since we last saw each other. Maybe it's because he didn't change. Maybe it's because I didn't change. He caught me looking and beamed me an intoxicating smile. I looked away for a moment, pretending I wasn't staring at him. By this time, I knew my face was red. I easily blush. Don't ask me why, I just do. Is it a weakness? Maybe.

Sure enough, he came back holding a cup of Macchiato. Still grinning, he asked me why I was blushing. I told him it was probably the heat outside, which was half true anyway. What followed was hours of catching up, that to be honest, felt like minutes. Everything just dulled my sense of time. His eyes are still those perfect pools of blue that bores into my soul whenever I talk to him. His lips still curve into that delightfully playful smirk that never fails to make you swoon. He still has that gentle touch that gives comfort and security.

As much as I wanted the day to last forever, it was time to say our goodbyes. I started packing my stuff: a slightly read book, a notebook and a planner. He laughed at me, saying I'm still a bookworm. Again, I blushed, then laughed back at him and stuck my tongue out. Before I could put my book in the bag, he grabbed my hand and asked me if he could just ask one more thing. I nodded and waited for his question.

"Can we try this again?"

This is why I hate talking with exes.

Melancholic.

That's one word to describe this song I'm currently in love with. It's hauntingly melancholic. The intimate, lush and feathery vocals; the 4 chord piano/harpsichord loop; the minimalist attack of the drums and bass - all of these combine into one amazingly beautiful track that I will never get tired of listening to. Anyway, here it is and its lyrics if ever you want to sing along.

Massive Attack - Paradise Circus

It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm
we can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable
oh where the devil makes us sin
but we like it when we're spinning in his grip.

Love is like a sin my love

For the one that feels it the most
Look at her with her eyes like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you, again

It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm
we can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable
oh well the devil makes us sin
but we like it when we're spinning in his grip.

Love is like a sin my love

For the one that feels it the most
Look at her with a smile like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you, again

See... this is why I don't like having free time.

On busy weeks and definite chaos

This past week has been a whirlwind of errands, chores and events - some of which I would have rather not attended. It kept me from going online and keeping up with all the "latest events and news" which happened to my circle of friends.

To be honest, it was somehow liberating. Keeping up with what's happening with everyone slowly entangles you in an intricate web of chaos and drama, however, not doing so will put a social recluse label on you. Anyway, I'll just post a song that cheers me up whenever I feel down. Enjoy.

Love letter for the lost.

I tell myself the things that I really need to hear at a time like this. You're gone because it's the best for both of us. You weren't happy, and now you've gone to find someone that can make you happy. Which is good, because that's what I want; you need to be happy and it makes me happy knowing you are happy. I tell myself we weren't right for each other and there's one right person out there for me, and it wasn't you, so that's why we didn't last. I tell myself that I won't look back on our relationship with regret, because I believe in the saying that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

But I'm just lying to myself.

No one will ever love you the same way I did. Being apart isn't good for either of us. You used to be happy, and I believe we could go back to the time we were happy, if we could just work through it. I believe with all my heart we were right for each other. And I will always live with that regret of allowing you to walk out of my life instead of chasing after you. I wish I could say that I never did love you because it would be easier; then I wouldn't have to deal with this crushing heartache. I wish I could truly believe that saying either way; I don't believe it was better to have loved and lost, but the time I spent loving you was the greatest time of my life.

I don't know if telling myself these lies are helping or not. Forcing myself to believe it doesn't work, because with every statement I tell myself, the pain worsens to know it's not true. And yet, I continue to go in this continuous cycle, happy to stay in it because the only thing I can think of is that you loved me enough to pull me out of it. This is the only lie I told myself that I have chosen to believe. I think that's why it hurts the most.

Although I tell myself many lies to try to get over you, here's the truth: I will always love you and that's all I'm really certain of anymore.

It won't be long until you break.

This song strikes closely to my heart, mainly because of the lovely and thoughtful lyrics.

You know who you are.

Party 101

And there we sat inside the dark garage room with Christmas decorations and lights. I sat there, quiet, unamused, frightened. I didn’t know anyone, I debated whether I should have gone or not, but I did.

I sat in the corner in front of the electric heater, the heat keeping my warm and comfortable amongst the strange and cold people. I got up from my chair and walked towards the food, the enticing Nilla wafers with nutella chocolate and bananas. I grabbed one, then two, then three, not caring what the group thought of me.

“It’s not like I’ll see them again.” I told myself and walked back to the chair that awaited me. I grabbed my book in order to escape this catastrophic mess. “You’re reading…?” she asked in surprise as I flipped the next page in The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I looked up and laughed at her, “Why of course. Why not? There’s nothing else to do.”
I nodded my head and continued to read, finding myself very happy with the current situation. “But it’s so loud, and you’re right in front of the music…” I turned another page, “I don’t mind, as long as I’m able to read.” I took a final look at the people around me, the group that crowded the table and the three girls that sat next to me. The outside world soon faded as I immersed myself in the text.

“Give me that!” another girl yelled as she grabbed the book from my hand. I guess there was no escaping socializing from these complete strangers. Her light brown eyes glared at me; I knew what she tried to articulate. “Fine.” I sighed, “I really debated to come here or not.” She gave an apathetic look, “I felt the same way, I don’t know anyone here besides you and Archie.” I got up and grabbed more food. Then they came in, two girls with large brown paper bags full of alcohol bottles. “Just give me one shot.” I said and downed the cold alcohol. It burned and reminded me why I hated to drink. “I just want to leave.” I whispered silently to myself and took out my phone.

Post it note.

I was cleaning my room when I glanced upon this small, rectangular box behind the bookshelf. Wondering what it was, I pushed my bookshelf to the side to check what the box was. As soon as I saw its old, circus-inspired engravings, I immediately knew what this “box” is.

“Hey.”

Memories started to flood as I touched and felt the deep, aged engravings and the small engraved lock that kept the contents inside the box safe. Good. Bad. Fun. Sad. Like a roller coaster ride, I started to coast through a volley of emotions that swept over me like a wildfire. I put the box down on the table and slowly sat myself at the couch. For a few minutes, I sat there - just staring at the box, wondering if I should open it or not.

“Open me, I know you want to.”

I edged closer to the table and studied the dusty box - there’s a word written on the top of it. “Destiny”, it clearly said in an outlandish, yet majestic font. I traced my fingertips over the word, pausing a little after every letter and gathering dust in the process. Has it really been that long? I wiped the box clean, removing all of the dirt that clung to it. A key. I needed a key to open the small lock that held the box shut.

“What would be the harm?”

I scoured my brain for the whereabouts of the key needed to open the box that laid in front of me. Then, it came to me. I grabbed the box and checked underneath. A small, ornate key was there, taped securely underneath the box. I slowly removed the tape and grabbed hold of the key. The key that acts like a gateway that prevents the river of memories from rampaging through my mind is now in my hands. Should I open the box or not?

“C’mon. Do it.”

I lodged the key inside the small lock and gave it a little turn. The lock popped out and made a small “clink” sound that somehow gave me a tug of comfort. I put the lock at the table, beside that old novel I somehow never get to finish. I put the box on my lap and slowly opened it. A soft, but definite wave of fragrance wafted from the box as I lifted its lid and as if by instincts, I smiled at the fragrance, wallowing in the fruity scent that seduced my sense of smell.

“Pick me up and remember.”

I looked at the contents of the box, and for a while, I felt like the contents of the box were looking at me too. A thousand pairs of eyes, pleading, hoping that I would remember what they signified. After a few minutes of gazing upon it’s contents, something caught my attention. I picked it up and held it close to my face. A yellow post it note, shaped like a heart, old and crumpled. A smile formed on my face as I started to read the words written on it. It really has been a long time.