memoir

I don’t know what to call it. There’s this force that drives me easily to consider new highs. And I talk more intimately and sincerely. I imagine myself standing. The crossroads. To be devoted to something is sweeter than the agony of defeat. I still… I still move violently against my personal will. I call it my daily struggles

Who’s gonna take me to the perimeter of the abyss? Falling.. Falling…Falling in.

A lot of changes have been occurring in my life lately which means more living and less blogging. I still write, once in a while on my other journal which nobody else knows. It’s an alternative during times when I shouldn’t be extremely open. I hold back my illegal fantasies and private acts. This is still my home. No matter how frank and honest I may be frequently, the reward I get has a bang that feels right.

Three years ago, my madness for one person started. Each day, I grew weak but my feelings for the person went high. I decided to go far, stand up through my desire and understand my thoughts. I became aware. Some questions I’ve asked for so many years were answered. That was the first time I got a tongue ring and an argument with my mother. It served as a symbol for a great possibility that knocked at my doors. I desperately defended logic, not minding how I should focus on things because I was afraid to forget about the best way to create depth. We parted ways with that person unaware how my heart was damaged inch by inch. Things between us were too short but without those things; a part of me wouldn’t be strong enough to face the gates of elusiveness. I saw myself aim for something bigger, risk walking on a scorching iron, look excited as the force of destruction would singe my wholeness. All I wanted was to be remembered---by the person. And was not serious in my meditation, one day, I heard it personally, and then I left.

And right now, I still look into the flames not that terrified by the energy and power in the fire. For the second time around, summer 2006 brought into new existence my second tongue ring. The breath in my lungs reduced the slightest ache the time I had it pierced. I felt very empty. Physical pain was inferior to all things that crumbled my world. What does this piercing remind me of? I should keep it as a secret. Something similar to anguish. But on the brighter side, the belligerent act of emptiness it would always remind me of taught me several things.

I learned about God. God mesmerized our family, lured us in to give an idea how a potent strength could be received as we endure the crisis. It grabbed my attention. There were times that I wanted to cry when I shouldn’t put my fears on view. My involvement on such difficulties consumed my spirit, and I started to believe, I’ll never be the same.

Why am I saying all these? I’ve realized that two things come together: the too short or too long. They both happen. They both come and go. And the fleeting moment they bring can modify every page of our lives.