Silhouette of tombs, Murcia Cemetery
Negros Occidental, Philippines
10/20/08

----------------------------------------------------------

When I die, I want my friends and family to see the thin single line dashed between my birth date and the day I died. In that little line, there lies the story of my life; how I cried, laughed, fell in love, got hurt, was betrayed, won a friend, shattered a bond of trust, renewed a broken friendship...where I truly lived.

The dash in our tombstones are worth celebrating. They are worth living our lives to the fullest. Don't hold out the best in hopes of saving it for "special occasions"  for your life is the special occasion. Live it.

I still have the letters of yesterdays that are now seemingly remnants of a fragrant dream. They now start to stain, the edges dull and permanently creased. They look rather beautiful, actually. Every now and then, I love to trace my fingers along the thick folds of the envelope that holds the secret of a thousand dream that's died.

On some crazy rainy days, I love to spill them all in a wild array of tear soaked confetti and lavish in the secret rapture that I alone, for a time, held the  throne of your heart. And the selfish bliss that is peddled by the knowledge that you cried and bled for me, too. We were beautiful and we had gilded dreams together.

But as all forces must come into balance, our amity blinded us to the folly of love, ever thinking that it is fair. You are still a stubborn pig and I hate you for loving me less. I don't blame myself for ever thinking that what you can give me is never good enough because even during the times where you loved me the most, you never did give me the love I know I deserved.

Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to dance alone in a song that's meant for lovers? A song that's been birthed and will die a myth.

I have finally found myself in the course of chasing after the wind of the impossible you. I am glad you happened and much more so, I am glad that we're past this. I am glad that there's still and us.

Someday, I will tell my story. My story with you in it. But as well as with him. I am truly blessed. I would only be so proud to say I had two great loves in my life.

But only, you are not my destiny.

There are celebrations that amazingly could not be defined by words. You are one of them, my Love. And together, we too, are one of them. I am constantly rendered speechless. Nothing too grand, an ebb and flow of candidness. A life of ordinary, a tale of two lovers, the entwined sighs of halves, broken yet, harmoniously laced together.

You are like my happy pill and I am constantly addicted to you.

I have noticed long ago that I tend to write better when I am sad or lonely. That when happy, I lose my sense in words. And before, I have mourned for my happiness because I hated to be robbed off of words but now, I don't care at all.

You must be the one great love of my life because for you, I'll gladly stop writing and be swallowed in the cocoon of our blissful little world.

I wasn't lying when I said I've never loved someone as much as I love you. I am a romantic person and a silly one at that, most of the times. When I loved in the past, I did love greatly. But be not overwhelmed by the shadows they cast for they are just that. They are now shadows because of you. Where once they engulfed me in the dark belly of their pain, you shone and came through, obliterating their judgment and fear.

And I love you.

I see you everyday in the corner of my eyes. I inhale the scent of you in the randomness of places and people. And when I do, I choke and I remember how lonely I am without you. I miss you.

When will I see you again?

if you walk away
then I'll walk away too
i wont remain
if you should ever decide
to part
I will not settle
I will not doubt
walk away and then you'll see

forget
and i shall remember nothing
throw away
and I will not deter
Ignore
and I shall burn
ever ounce of fiber
every string of anything
nothing remains
all is absolute

do not
for a moment
think that you own me
for although thoughts of you
are etched in my mind
your name branded on my skin
i can just as easily shake you off

I will scrape my body if i have to
i will have my wings clipped
i will grow them back
and surely
i can grow myself new skin

so don't you dare
think you can ignore me
that i am at your disposal
for you are a typical fool
and a blissful ignorant
at that

you don't threaten me
for I have already
died a dreamer's death
and for whatever that still binds us now
it can be easily broken

          and remorse?

                    it died along with me
                       when i first bled
                              for you


djf
09/22/08
08:56pm

*picture NOT mine.

How do you comfort someone who is going through pain you can only dare to imagine? How do you answer questions you yourself have asked for a lifetime? How do you make someone understand a logic braced by faith when logic alone doesn't make sense? How can you shelter a heart that's selflessly dying to save others from pain?

There are times when the mind and the heart goes hand in hand. But when circumstances dives to extreme and the heart drops to the abyss of grief, the mind tries to make sense of what is mad and in attempt to hold reason together, it snaps and you'd be amazed at how fast a human's defense mechanism takes over. Overnight, a new man emerges and you gasp in blatant disbelief on how both extreme personalities could possibly co-exist in one body.

I know he's still in there. Deep down, probably tired and weary, resting along with the questions that deafens and are left unanswered. I believe that with enough patience, prayers and constant love, I will get to see the blessed day he'll come back again.

When words of comfort and promises of understanding and love fall to deaf ears, what do you do? When nothing is good enough and things doesn't make sense, how will you live? When madness reigns, turning friends to enemies, sending paranoia to hunt you down, how do you go back to who you once were?

How do you forget a memory too big a milestone, it killed everything that's good? How do you start being a person after the soul's died? How do you suppose to know love after love's fled away.

What's left is a hallow and tired shell of a tragic yesterday. The broken and dry image of what once was is a bitter reflection of how dreams are when they die. Blind and senseless eyes stare back in mocking desperation. Perhaps, a remembrance of a distant longing of a distant life.

I forgot which movie it was that I watched this week but I member well what one character said.

"If it hurts, then it isn't Love."

Of all the many senseless things I've heard in my life, that was the most revolting. Love hurts. Love hurts. People bleed because of Love. People choose to die because of Love. Love, amongst all its other attributes, most certainly hurts. It can't be love if it doesn't hurt.

I simply refuse to believe that the world is overflowing with masochistic people who enjoys the bitter sting of pain just for the kicks out of it.

I know of a girl. She's very lovely and smart. She writes beautiful prose and breathes grace as she dances the world in tiptoes. I imagine her toes are as broken as the pieces that lay on the floor. With her heart as flat, like old soda, pointless, unflattering, and unrelentingly hopeful. I drank her brokenness because although we're both complete strangers, I have found kinship in her pain. But she's stopped writing, for over a year now. I would like to think that she's finally happy. That she no longer needed to bleed to write. That she no longer needed pain to sigh.

If you have read, seen and felt this emotion that binds us all lovers together, then you would know that pain is the shadow of love. To ask for love without pain would be asking to embrace a soulless devotion. A mediocre bliss and a passionless romance.

Pain doesn't defile love for the volume of pain mirrors the magnitude of love. Love cannot be defined without pain. For how can you measure happiness without a string of tears?

Even the Son of God bled and died for Love.

i am confused
emotions clouding reasons

people
they all try to change me
telling me of the things
i should
and
should not be

when i act with reason
my best isn't good enough
when i move with emotion
i'm often told
i've made the wrong decision

i've painted myself a picture
of another
i've caged myself
in
 a standard of me.
strengthened by mistaken acceptance i sought after
i long to see the day that i'll be free

in a double standard society
where everything's read between the lines
it's hard to stand erect
defend your position
when everybody's out to get you
dragging you
out to all direction.

on late
 quiet nights
when the world is spinning dead
my emotion's numb
my body tired,
with hollow aches pounding on my head
i strain to reach deep sleep
but slumber would just not come
feels like i'm fighting a winless battle
and my senses all loose and undone

i'm falling into a bottomless pit
darkness blinding me
i'm dying to see the new dawn
dying to have a real life of my own

08/14/08
03:11pm
~djf

There's been an alarming discovery of some sort made and announced earlier. The risky hint that might give way to the shedding of light to my true identity of being a secret ninja has been posted here. *goes shifty eyed*

What can I do? I've been told I kick arse. Don't believe me? I have this seal to prove my arse kicking worthiness. Bwahahaha.

With great respect and appreciation to Ate Kaith. Silliman wouldn't be a wonderful part of my life if it weren't for her. To be acknowledge to be in the same wavelength as her is truly stupendous. She's one of the true blue beautiful souls I know and admire and ZOMG *gasps* we kick ass!!

So as my duty to pass on the torch of Arse kickingness and spread the word, I present to you (there's also a possibility that they could be undercover ninjas, too) these 5 arse kickers!

JOHN - because he is a brother in Christ and he really does kick arse!

RAIN - because she's real and she bleeds for those she loves. She can most definitely kick arse!

FRANK - because he's the love of my life and we all know that love kicks arse.

NIKKI - because friends like her are the reason why it's fun to poke llamas. Haha. No, really. She's one of the best! She kicks arse! Literally!

Ate Aileen - because she does. Words are hardly enough.


(I am copy pasting this from Ate kaith's site hahah)

So my chosen, here’s what you’re supposed to do:
* Choose 5 bloggers that you feel are “Kick Ass Bloggers”
* Let ‘em know in your post or via email, twitter or blog comments that they’ve received an award
* Share the love and link back to both the person who awarded you and back to www.mammadawg.com
* Hop on back to the Kick Ass Blogger Club HQ to sign Mr. Linky then pass it on!

This Ninja's got some monkey business left to do so ...yeah. *po0f*

With the moon so low
threatening to drop
I see the ebony cloud drape a mantle
over the freckles of light
and I feel the dewy caress of the wind
on my face that's glaced with tears.
I reach out only to sift frigid air
with fingers grarled from hands
clenched tightly into fists of frustrations and pains.
My arms tremble along with each silent sob I take,
my lungs scathed by ashes from yesterday's afterburn.
Darkness is a comfort.
Light has deserted me, perhaps afraid
stung with the shards of my broken cries.
I've no more tears to shed;
perhaps hope is a vanity now.

02/14/05
08:14am
~djf

your romance with heroes
from child-woven laces of dreams
has brought you again crashing
hope-strewn wings clipped
erasing silver-lined memories of tomorrow
turning dreamer into a fool
loving too much
loving too wrong

everytime you lose a losing hero
you retire to your nook of confusion
there you nurse the wounds people don't see
warming your heart with whatever love that's left
struggling to see beyond from today

you love too much too wrong
wrong being love too strong
but then
how can love be wrong?

11/07/05
08:36am
~djf