Archives
3 Years
"I've passed you by a thousand times, but not once have we stopped to say hello. No exchange of friendly banter, no smiles of a sweet acknowledgement. Just a walk, then a look, then you're gone. It's sad knowing that I've seen you and still see you but without a care, just walk-on. I hope things change. A friend is all I'm asking for."
This was the letter that started so much. This was the difference between him and every other guy who wanted my number. It came as a letter, then as infatuation. And if love were a choice, then it definately reached that point where I had to choose to care in spite of how he was. Time changed, but this letter stayed the same. It was always my favorite, the most eye-catching, the most flattering, despite so many others.
Why on earth... was it ever written?
A friend was all he asked for. A friend was all he lost.
Embracing a Memory
When we ended things between us, he merely shook my hand, and left.
"hugging is healthy. it helps the immune system, cures depression, reduces stress, and induces sleep. it`s invigorating, rejuevenating and has no unpleasant side effects. it`s nothing less than a miracle drug. hugging is all natural. it`s organic, naturally sweet, has no artificial ingredients, environmentally friendly and is 100% wholesome. hugging is the ideal gift. great for any occasion, fun to give and recieve, shows you care, comes with it`s own wrapping paper and, of course, is fully returnable..."
I've always been obssessed with hugs. It has always been a way of showing other people how much I loved them as a human being, and, most importantly, as a friend. It was innocent and it was comfort. I don't know why he made it seem so wrong. Correction, I know why, but I never thought wrong when I did. Oh well. Sorry, I know I shouldn't be writing about him... this was just a sudden memory.
I remember the last time we hugged. Of all the given dates, it had to be on the most obvious -- January 1, 2007. He was wearing a soft, pink shirt, he looked really good -- cleaner than earlier that day. And I looked at him with a smile and he sweetly smiled back. His cologne was a gentle, powdery smell, and whenever I stood beside him, I was able to catch his scent amidst all the New Year's firework smoke. It wasn't the baby cologne he usually used... it was bolder than that, and less sweet, but smelled wonderful like I recognized the scent from somewhere before. His expression was excitement and want to jump up and down like a little schoolboy because of the upcoming New Year. He made me giggle a lot because of that. I looked up at the night sky to see the glamorous fireworks blast into a hundred sparks.. then him at the corner of my eye with feelings not expecting to catch his eye but with joy of being there with him on New Years.
His touch was gentle and caring. His body was warm and his arms were wrapped around me. His scent was sharper but softer than it was when I stood beside him. My cheek lay on his warm chest, I counted every heartbeat, felt his strong breath on my hair, and smiled. And I hoped what I hoped for everytime it happened, "I wish it was like this forever.. Spare me to dream again when he leaves." (less poetic than that, of course). I wanted to hug him longer, I wanted to hug him tighter, I wanted to say words to him while we hugged, and I wanted him to always be there... Just there... I probably still do.. Probably.
Now I notice that if it weren't for that dream, I would still be talking to him, and he would still want to talk to me. But, then again, if it weren't for that dream, I'd rather not talk to him at all..
I hugged him that midnight thinking that that moment was always worth remembering.
Nostalgia
Maria Montessori Foundation. A ghetto-like school found deep in the labyrinth of Ayala Alabang Village. You pass through a large main road first, then through several vains. Its a secluded school -- very disciplined, very difficult, very independent. It bore students with gifts and talents, and blossoms graduates who are leadership material, creative, and independent. For me, it could have, but it never did work out.
In this old school, confidence became like a competitive game. Its like the old saying "survival of the fittest." Those who were the most confident survived the hard curriculum. Those who were underconfident, well, they stay that way.
I transferred because I had the right mind to think that I was very much underconfident.. that, maybe, I could change how I really was into someone I've always wanted to be. Its a pathetic reason to transfer schools. But humanly speaking, I was weak, and I didn't know who I was. It worked nonetheless.
I don't even know why I'm posting this. I visited Maria Monte yesterday. Everything changed, and it came to me that I'd rather be there with those kind of people. That was only for just a moment... I still have to thank my present school for brewing out the confidence in me.
Hay.. Mental block.
So Much Drama for a Two-Month Absence
Change always brings me to nostalgia. It happened when I was clearing my office at school, admitting retirement from what joyous schoolyear passed. I left, as we all did, with the knowledge that this summer retirement would affect a division upon me and the people I've known.
Although I'll be attending summer school in desperation to graduate next year, there will be some who I'll be missing. Someone will one day take my office that I tried so hard to keep neat and tidy at all times. Someday, my daily traditions at school would change either on the start of summer school, or on the start of the new school year.
I have friends who speak somberly to me. Friends who text me and say how much they'll miss me this summer, and "thank-you's" for a wonderful year. One of my friends said he'd miss me in a quite odd way because he stated my whole name instead of the playful nickname he'd usually call me. I don't know why, but as formal as it was, the message flattered me. I'm going to miss him a lot, too.
Even as I'm looking forward to this summer of summer school and a little bit of fun, I can't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly this productive year of school has done for me, and how the people have helped me bring my confidence through a process of rejuvenating.
So this must be how it feels to be a ghost, haunting what used to be one's home.
Why Free?
Freedom is using independence for a cause. It is the wisdom, the tool that makes limitations limitless. Unfortunately, I am still the rebel that thinks freedom is getting your way with things every now and then; the rebel that still scratches her bug bites till they bleed even as her parents apprehend her to do it. Yes, stupidity comes to me quite often.
For those who have read my comments, I use the alias Free -- A peaceful, elegant word that, sometimes, doesn't fit my characteristics. Why Free? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the history isn't that grand. I use the name Free when I order coffee from Starbucks, so when they call out my name for me to know that I could claim my drink, they'd say, "White chocolate mocha for... uhm... Free!" It's a joke, really.
But my friends and I have analyzed it and made a better definition from it. I call myself Free because I am free. I'm free from the spiritual death that awaited me. I'm free because I'm saved by grace and love. I'm free because of my Saviour, my God, my Bridegroom, Jesus Christ. ALthough I may be persecuted for this belief, these persecutions are but limitations in my way. As I said, freedom is the wisdom that makes limitations limitless. I am Free.
Beach Days
The sweeling seas, the white, washed waves. The bright blue, cloudless sky, and the changing tides. The cyan over the beautiful coral reef, the sunset sliced by the orange horizon. The rocks, the shells, the sun's love reflected on the moon. My heart's journey and season. The memories shared, and the changes discovered.
Its been too long since that night that started everything. I saw stars with you, even those that fell. We had so many things shared; so many things left to forget. Things have changed, and I don't have you anymore. I've returned to the life without you. I'm home.
Technical difficulties
Just to make things clear, I'm not the techie person. I don't know squat about the difference between electronics and indoor plumbing. Unfortunately, my blog is having some technical difficulties, and I'm embarassed because of the fact that everyone can see it, and I can't do anything about it. But I have no choice, now, do I? Let me experiment.
Me and my clicking-happy hands.
1 hour later...
Eurika! My blog is oh-so Crème de la Crème once again. It was tough, but all that clicking has payed off. I learned something new today! And, no, I am not French.
The weblog's authors are responsible for the contents of this blog. Your free weblog from 20six.co.uk