Lemonades

april 2005, supposed to be one of the happiest times of my life, coming back home and all, but unfortunately, life is throwing lemons at me. not that i'm totally surprised, to be honest its just the earlier fears substantiating. the unfolding of the supressed intuition. yes it hurts. of course it does, but at the same time liberating. many pieces clicked to their proper places, from the Life is Like a Boat thing to the poignant thoughts that came unbidden as i lay half-awake in the Bantayan Island hotel room, with the early morning sun streaming in thru the window. (i became fully awake later and couldn't go back to sleep. and since nobody else was already up, i went down to the beach by myself and took pictures of the sunrise and the boats along the shore).

sometimes, when it hurts so bad, the best way to feel better is to be kind, to be good in spite of everything. taking it easy on yourself and always looking at the good side of things, including the person who hurt you. im not making a martyr out of myself, its just that i think turning to hate and grudge is a complete waste of time and energy. its like twisting the knife stabbed at you while it is still stuck at your ribcage.

however, the gloom doesn't always bring all-out despair. for when it is dark enough, you could see the stars. and now i see my friends shining at their best. the skinny girl who forced me to watch movies and eat sweets, the self-confessed English-vocabulary-challenged girl who sent me methapors (thats her words, not mine.hehehe!), the ate who sat and laughed with me at the Coffee Beanery, and the ever-glaring spirited wretch who sent me back my text messages for her 5 years ago when she broke up with somebody, thinking that one day i'll be the one who'll need them. (actually i didn't "understand" everything i sent her, but that was the best i could manage at that time. hehe. couldn't believe she kept everything in a notepad, complete with the date and time i sent each sms). its amazing that in painful times, you come to appreciate the good things in life more. your love for the people that matters to you keeps you going, through all the dejection and feelings of unworthiness.

my hands now are full in trying to make lemonades. to the peole who are with me sharing the lemonades, laughing at life, thank you and i love you. when it's your turn, i'll bring some tequila and salt. >:D<

Mama's old letter

i don't understand what i'm feeling and i don't understand why i'm feeling this way. i tried so hard to sort it out, but it's like trying to loosen a lump of entangled threads, you can't just pull one thread free from the others, and you don't know which end is which.

i feel like i'm about to burst. like a dam that's about to overflow, but not quite. the water inside are stirring in a chaotic current, intending to break out but the walls are holding fast. all it needs is one crack, just a little leak, and then surely later everyhing will gush out.

i want to cry and get it over with, but the tears just wouldn't come out. my brows are tired of the effort as i coax my tears to well in my eyes, thinking about everything that hurts. from frustration, to fear, to desperately wanting to know something and not having a way to know. but its like having a constipation, you muster all your strength in coaching the sh*t to come out, only for it to go back inside if you take even just one breath. i want to cry, i want to break the dam, i don't want to keep it all in.

i used to cry just like everybody else, but as i get older, my tears are becoming rare. maybe i overdid the im-a-big-girl-and-independent-i-don't-cry resolve. it feels awful. i long to feel the warm flow of tears in my face, knowing that in a way it'll soothe my listless heart, as a balm would do to an aching wound.

i have been like this for a couple of days. sympathetic friends recommended reading 'The Notebook', a novel by Nicholas Sparks. the story might not be in any way related to my 'issues', but they guaranteed it will start the tears coming. i made a mental note to get me a copy of the book.

i pushed the emotional cargo to the corner of the mind and continued packing. amid the cluttered paper stuffs, i found the letter my mom sent me two years ago, when i just started my assignment in japan. it was a short letter in her handwriting. the words were not grand that you could make them lyrics of a song, or put some snippets of it to an inspirational card. but when i read it, without the help of any conscious effort, a big fat tear fell from from my eye. then followed by another, and another. and just like that, a crack was formed in the walls of the dam, then came out a leak, a trickle. soon enough the crack got bigger and bigger and the dam broke altogether making a flood of sobs and stream of tears. pent up emotions bubbled to the surface as i cried my heart out. when i was a kid, crying was not just an expression of being hurt. but also a privilege and a therapy to release whatever's gnawing inside. my mother said that then, when i cried, i didn't do it in the corner hiding my face. i was holding my chin up challenging whatever or whoever made me cry. i was timid alright, but she said i had a different kind of strength.

i handle pain quite nicely alright, but it's still the same pain. strength doesn't make the pain any less hurtful.

i'm now wiping my face. the outpour didn't last long. but that was enough and it feels so much better after. now that i've unloaded some weight, i can try being brave again.

however sad and messed up the world seems to be at times, life still goes on.