unposted...

My love,

For the past few days, we both managed to handle ourselves, despite of our major differences like water and fire.. and make the most out of every single time we meet either in cyberspace or in person. Those times, there’s always this feeling of contentment, as if nothing could go wrong, and the eagerness to look forward for the next time, yes, I was always so optimistic, that I didn’t even deemly forethought this “dream” (as you may have regarded it to be) will come to its untimely end. one thing that amazed me most is I always recognize you in all the beauty that surrounds me, and without you, I just don’t know if I’ll ever get to see things in the same grandeur..

I’m posting my message here ‘coz I want you and the rest of the istoryans to know how deeply you have touched my heart. In a short period of time, you have come to me with two sides. You had taken the time to want to know you, inside and out. Honestly and truly, you made it easy for me to open myself up again, and allowing me to meet you and to know you better than before.

I hope you’re right about this, I love you and for that I respect your every decision, even if the one you just came up at is killing me right now..

Berty

sleepless night...

Crack of dawn, I find myself wide awake, drinking orange juice while letting my mind wander again. I went earlier for a walk around neighboring street. Asphalt was warm with me walking barefooted, but the wind was whipping around corners. I saw tree branches on the sidings and leaves scattered around the road. I haven't gone for a midnight walk in a very long time. it was beautiful.. calm and dark.

Sitting awkwardly, I remembered the last time I went to bed at late and curled into her and fell into a deep sleep. I have a vague memory of her saying goodbye. It’s a hazy, sleepy memory of sound and feel, not sight and smell.. I could still smell her fancy perfume as she said goodbye. A second without hearing her voice was more than enough to feel her absence.

Right now, I’m left with the lingering scent of her perfume on the pillow..

The Art of Letting Go...

picking up the pieces again.. moving on.. and eventually letting go. life would surely be a lot simpler if only i get to master the art, as what i considered it..

Letting Go

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
You know that
We needed
Some time and space to breathe in.

I still recall the words you said to me
It's what you did not say that sets me free

Now how can I
Find peace of mind
When you keep coming back again.
It's not okay
For you to play
This game of seesaw with my head.

Now it hurts too much
And it hits too hard
And I won't play this part.

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
You know that
We needed
Some time and space to breathe in

So now I say the things I want to say
Sometimes it's better letting go this way

I'll always know
Down in my soul
We really had so far to go
I've given all I have to give,
And now it's time for me to live

And I won't look back
And I won't regret
Though it hurts like hell
Someday i will forget

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
You know that
We needed
Some time and space to breathe in

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
To say that, you've been thinking
Cause I know it's just the drink in you.

It's funny how we seem to end up here
I never thought i'd see this all disappear

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
You know that
We needed
Some time and space to breathe in

This is letting go
This is letting go
This is letting go
This is letting go
This is...

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
You know that
We needed
Some time and space to breathe in

Don't call me
Don't write
Don't show up in the middle of the night
Don't say that, you've been thinking
Cause I know it's just the drink in you..

somewhere in the middle..

Last week, I was surmounted with bouts of deep disappointment and anxiety. I could feel my heart pounding intensely inside my chest and even though I tried to ignore it and divert my attention to something rather good, nothing could stop it. All attempts purports to be futile, except talking about anything with my best friend on the phone, just so long as I was talking or listening, it kind of distracted me from my internal malfunctioning.

Spontaneously, i hopped into my car, said goodbye to my dad, brothers and sisters (dogs) and told them to be good and watch over the house, loaded pack foods and all into my car, waved goodbye, tears began to fall when i got to think of how hard I have been treating this person whose keeping me sane for the last two years. Afraid that neighbors and even my dad could see me cry, i sped off. As I was driving all the way north bound, somehow, all my abysmal feelings left. As if the only thing I were dreading was goodbye. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to stay home, but I don't want to be away too. Perhaps my happiness spot is on the freeway. I know what I’m supposed to be doing when I’m driving. I’m suppose to get from point a to point b. but even at that moment, I have no idea at all of where I was heading, there's none of the confusion of where am I going with my life? It’s just driving. Everything makes sense..

mulling things over..

i used to regard myself as one hopeless romantic, yet i never got to sit back and dig deeper on what really is my understanding of the word romantic.


romantic, defined by lexicon webster dictionary as “of, characterized by, or suggestive of an idealized, sentimental, or fantastic view of reality; remote from experience"but what does romantic from experience mean? perhaps a fairly idealized view of the world. i admit that. i can be naive at times, sure. but i actually like that. some good folks believe that romance is apart from the day to day....apart from the experience. err.. i don't think i totally agree. i believe there can be a daily romance that pervades. i think romance is like that. for me, it comes as a learned trait from reading all the poets who rejoiced the minutiae. eventually one just starts to see romantic things over and over...things that are there, but too small at times to get through the white noise of daily stress.