Mobility.

Love, peace, happiness, and all those euphoric words we relate to an ideal life may seem plausibly tangible. It may or may not, depending on how we strive for them. There are people who think, excessively at times, about how they want to reach a certain goal and attain such dreams in live. When will they ever start working, though? Meanwhile, there are people who work, without thinking what they want in life. They just do what they feel, or what they are told, and they go somewhere, eventually. A few lucky and gifted people, on the other hand, know what they want, do not work as hard as everyone else, and yet they get what they want.

Certain degrees of luck, or should we say, life, allows each and every one of us unique chances of arriving at our destination. For those who know, and work hard enough, they alone see what they have gone through, and recognize the value of hard, painstaking labor. If we want something, we move.

We do not just think. We move. We move. We move.

Now what the hell am I still doing here.

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H->I

Trespassing this unknown field gives the beat a little rhythm. Getting an unprecedented call in the middle of the night gave me a nightmare. It’s all worthwhile, it’s all unfair. Everything works this way and that. We all know that society deems it a disgrace, but we choose to tread that path to corruption. Let’s wait for karma. Let’s wait for another year to pass. By that time, it will all be over. We will all be busy filling one another’s voids. But let’s hope there’s still that invisible thread tied to our pinkies knotting in the other dimension we don’t even know.

Dear YOU,

If only Satan gives out free wildcards to random people…

You know what? There’s this big ball of pride, idealism, perfectionism, tradition, and self-righteous vanity that has your name on it. Maybe you dropped it, or you’re just making the world see who you really are, but it’s not working the way you want it to, dear. I don’t think you want people to rush off to the other side of the street when they see you, do you? You must be suffering some serious identity crisis. No, you’re not Hitler.

This may seem a coward’s path of confronting you – through the back door. But telling this to your face would mean going against my own principles in life. I don’t talk back to elders, but I do question their way of thinking. By the way, is this how your brain once worked? Tell me, were you really this stiff when you were my age?

Don’t older people have to be more understanding because of their self-proclaimed wisdom and knowledge gained from their years and years of experiences? Then why are you very inconsiderate, self-righteous and hypocritical? You have mocked my parents’ ways of disciplining their children, but you don’t even have one. How can you possibly insult them in front of me? What’s funny is how you make yourself look so saintly but your heart is as black as everyone else’s.

Please don’t say one thing and do the other. Stick to your word. It’s called INTEGRITY. And please let me sleep at night without hearing your incessant rants at the back of my head. I can’t believe you had the guts to argue even if you know the grave consequences it might bring.

You are not nor will you ever match with my MOM.

not cool.

Kyoot ka. Teka, ano ulit pangalan mo?

Ask me what you asked me two or three months ago and I’ll definitely give you a different answer. Too bad things don’t operate that way.

It’s supposed to rain today, but the rain dance wasn’t enough to make the little clouds get angry. Oh polar bears, I hope you’re happy.

Darcy.

Can you have more friends here than back there??? They gave me answers not even related to the question, or maybe they were too real for me to understand. “You can’t possibly compare more or less 16 years worth of friendship in the Philippines than a year in America.” “That’s possible because you’re in school right now, and you meet different people every day, every semester.”  “WHY are you comparing? Do you like the noisy life? You gotta sacrifice one way or another.” (WHAT?) “Well, do you want the chaotic life back in the Philippines? Then go back there. It also depends on your neighbors.” (HAHA. WHAT?) “Define friendship. You can have friends to shop with, friends to go dance at the disco with, friends you can share your secrets and problems, friends you call when you’re in trouble, friends you know because you do. Tell me what kind of friend you want, THEN we can compare. But don’t worry, Trish, you’ll find good friends. You may have a lot but there are only a few that will be stuck with you for the rest of your life.”

That last response made me shiver. The subtle things we take for granted, eh? Why am I even thinking about this if I’m SUPPOSED to know the answer by heart. Heart, are you still there? People say you’re non existent. Let’s prove you’re alive, if they let give us a chance.

Then I answered back, “I know. I lost one. The only one I’m ever looking for.” “See, Trish, ganyan talaga.”

I don’t know if life’s always like that, but please tell me I’m not as deranged as people think I am. It’s never too late to go back, right? Not till I’m being served as lunch for the little coffin critters, I believe there’s still a tiny drop of glow in the dark paint. GANYAN TALAGA won’t get me anywhere, it won’t let me bend time and space and defy the laws of quantum physics either. GANYAN TALAGA won’t give me a time machine, nor will it give me power to influence people’s emotions. I just hope this little piece of writing will let you raise your head up and not be mad at me for being so cold in the past. It was for you, not me. And I swear I was not a zombie before. You can try piercing my finger or something to see if I’m still bloody alive.

I miss you.

Force.

I miss this. It’s like an old semester that’s hard to go back to, now matter how hard we try.

I miss you. You’re like a scrambled egg that’s been left out all afternoon – you’re too cold and bitter.

I miss her. She’s like a broken record, playing in my head over and over and over again. Don’t worry, she’s like my conscience.

I miss him. He’s like a scar – ever present and reminding.

I miss them. They’re like inside jokes that make life worthwhile.

–Oh btw, I cried while watching, for the first time, the sixth sense.