Tag Archives: sentimentality

Thank God for Blogs

“How are you doing now?”
You text, just like any other moment
On any other day.
I don’t reply ’cause
I don’t know what to say.
You bombard me with
Stories of things that amused you:
Cara Delevingne for Topman/Topshop
Your brother’s antics
Where you ate lunch at
(That Burger King shop we frequent?)

I don’t know how to do this,
I don’t know how you do.
Like everything’s just normal–
Well, that’s just bull.
On the back of my mind
I can’t erase your face
Looking lost, like you just had
A sad epiphany
And I have no idea what triggered it.

I stare at the screen
Of my computer
Codes not making sense
Unable to follow simple instructions
To make some program work.
Most everything else seems trivial now.
I can’t focus
But I can’t rant
Specially not on social sites; you might see.
I don’t want you to worry.
Heck, I don’t want to be worried
But I can’t help it.

It’s noon already
On a Sunday
And I have two papers and
An exam on Tuesday
So as I sit here
Tears streaming down my face
Texting you like everything’s okay
I’m truly thinking:
“Thank God for blogs.”



Torn and helpless

Only had one non-coffee drink the whole day
And yet the caffeine has run out of my veins.
And instead of figuring out some program
I spent the brain power on you.
It was not what I wanted, it was not what I chose
But you won’t get out of my head even as I shoved.
You told me I ground you
Then you warn me that you might sink
Into depression in the next few days
And I couldn’t help but feel.. helpless.
Not knowing what goes on in your brain
Specially at times like this kills me
But I can’t force you to tell me things.
I don’t want to.

I want you to feel free to tell me things:
From crazy trips to happy memories,
From corny jokes to ambitious dreams.
Drown me in your emotions
Happiness, anger, sadness, frustration–
Anything but this isolation is preferred.
I may not have the time to see you everyday
Nor may I be always attentive to my phone
But I will always have time for this.
Time for your feelings, your apprehensions,
your fears–time. For. You.
I already gave you the ticket,
You only need to claim the price.

But I know that it’s true,
What a friend used to say:
“You’re confrontational.”
And I am.
But I’ll understand
(Oh, I’ll try my hardest)
If you choose to keep things from me
Because I know that not everyone
Deals with things as I do.
Specially not you.
I can only hope
That someday, you will feel
That it’s alright to let go
Of thoughts and emotions
Specially to me.


Will It Always Be Like This?

Things have been really good the last few days. I’ve truly enjoyed spending a whole day with you, basking in anonymity and never worrying, except probably for the little bit at the end about making it back in time because the MRT was packed. And even then, crammed like sardines with lots of strangers, I felt strangely content. Have you heard of the phrase that says something like, “you know you’re truly close with someone if you can be comfortable with them even in silence”? I felt it that day. The lack of need for words, a little touch of the hand or a nudge to reassure one’s self that the other person is still there, asking a question with a look. That day wasn’t very productive but I truly liked the mood and the atmosphere between the two of us.

(This is not to say that I found our conversations and strolls with random stories meaningless and rowdy. It was just a sort of revelation that we can bond even without those.)

But our closeness is a double-edged sword, which is why you were able to tell me the other day that you realized that you were still in the process of moving on. That was okay, and I welcome the way we are open with one another. I also hoped and felt that maybe after the very-unproductive-yet-very-enjoyable day, maybe you’d have moved on a bit more. I do not want to erase your memories of her, because that is escapism. Moving on involves acceptance and still being able to remember past experiences with fondness. But when I saw a picture she posted that you liked, I couldn’t help but think back to how you’re still moving on, how much of a ‘beard’ I actually am, a distraction. And then I berated myself for having no trust in you. And now, I couldn’t help but wonder..
Will it always be like this? The constant battle in my mind whenever you do something remotely related to her. And I’m torn because one one hand, it may also mean that you now feel more comfortable with the idea of having something to do with her again, a sign of acceptance. She’s such a very dear person to me and I know that she’s also such an amazing person who’s hard to let go of. And now I’m not making much sense.. Maybe my dreams will make sense of my thoughts for me.

Itching for sleep,

When the Subconscious Speaks

It’s been a long time since I dreamt of something. Anything. Much less something as long or as vivid as the one I dreamt today.

I was at a high school reunion. Weirdly, it seemed as though the only ones involved in it are my batch and the batch before ours. We arrived separately; I was there much earlier. I distinctly remember seeing almost no one from my batch that I was close to, only those who have mocked me in the past and/or people close to her. I saw you when you arrived. We started crossing the field from different directions, but were apparently headed towards the same place. I was getting ready to greet you, to act nonchalantly, for what could be worse than giving a clue as to the true nature of our..association to this group of people?

And as the tendency with dreams, I was able to follow you without my dream self being there with you. (This may very well be a jumbled sequence of events.) Before we actually talked in the dream, I saw you socialize with your batch mates and you were still as easygoing and seemingly as popular with them as you made yourself out to be, through your stories. It reminded me how weird I thought it was that you hung out oftentimes with the popular people in your batch, yet I’ve never heard of or noticed you before she told me about you. By the way, she wasn’t there. Not of my close friends were. It’s like my subconscious is mimicking my real life situation, how my closest high school friends don’t study in the same campus as I do,.. Or maybe it’s just sparing me the feeling of criticized by the very same people whose opinions I highly value.

When we finally got to talk, we were standing in, I think, a corridor, leaning on the walls across from each other. I was able to sense the tension in the air, the caution we so carefully observed in the way we acted and conversed, trying hard to look as if we were talking easily but without sounding very familiar with each other. Our efforts seemed futile when a couple of my batch mates went by (luckily*sarcastic* those who got along so well with her but seemed to despise, or at least really dislike, me) and they were looking at us suspiciously, even as I said ‘hi’ with a cheery smile. Already, I saw the judgment in their eyes. But then I looked at you and you didn’t look like you noticed anything wrong. Until we resumed our conversation and you sounded resigned and..

I don’t remember the exact words or topics we talked about, but I distinctly remember one thing you told me, even though it’s not verbatim. You told me,
“Can’t you see? She won.”

My dream self felt a big twinge at that, but consistent with my current self, I didn’t show it. Fast forward to a scene where we’re sitting far apart and I toss you your ID. It may have been too hard but I tell you that I didn’t want my throw to fall short.

Fall short. That’s all I will ever do, all you will let me do, isn’t it? Even if you don’t mean it. I find it fitting that you told me yesterday: “Some time this morning I had a thought: “I can’t believe I’m still going through the process of moving on“”. I’m glad that we’re close enough for you to tell me these things. However, that plus what your dream self told my dream self.. It really drove home what I’ve realized so long ago but failed to accept as fact:

It’s hard to compete with a memory. Much more if that memory is of a person with whom you had no closure with, who will forever be a ‘what if’ in your mind. I know she’s fantastic and an amazing person; sometimes I can’t even fathom how we became close, as uninteresting as I am. But, as many people can attest, holding on to the memory of someone oftentimes makes you hold onto the idea of being with that someone as you remember them. Never mind that they may have changed drastically over the years. And all of these things combined, with her still remaining fabulous (and maybe growing even more fabulous with each second), you may as well have been right.

She won.
Thank you for the wake up call, my subconscious. I know you’re just looking out for me.

Hugging a pillow to my chest,