Wow, it has been 3 wonderful weeks since I first landed back to the city where I was born. I love every sensation of it, the humid smell of the earth, the welcoming regard from others, the nostalgic touch of the sun, and most importantly the refill of my vacuum heart. Sounds deep, hein? hahaha... well it's been going great so far, there's only one major dispute between (yes, you guessed it) my mother and I. And when I say major, I mean it. I don't think we've ever disputed that way before, you know, the type where one shouts and suddenly the other reacts by, well- shouting too. And then all of the sudden the effect of tears began to appear in the shouting until you can hardly make out what it's saying ^ ^; Yeah, that kind of dispute.
I can't believe I waited this long to rebel. I can't believe I've only just discovered that I have that side of me. And I've always thought I could keep my temper cool. Well, I'm neither proud or sulky about it, but to look at it from the bright side, at least I've finally decided de faire un, je vais dire, "coupure" de sentiment. C'est un veritable enfer. If there's any proudness, then it's the fact that I can do that.
Happy bastille day pour La France.
Happy birthday, Cen.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
News
I've hidden away many times as part of my dependency towards people. If one's to verdict that I don't trust people, I would object because although I make certain negative pre-assumptions about them, there are those I follow purely out of the divine "trust". I roam around my continuous circle of inquietude and hide myself behind she who I seek to be. Enclosed tightly, I am, but due to the hallucination crafted by time; I’ve learned to define enclosure as a mere antonym of a "universe too bold to challenge" they call freedom.
I dressed myself and saw my reflection on the empty computer screen. Even without colors I could see I was pale. I first saw me starring at myself before gazing emptily. Even the coated shimmer of lip gloss reflected back the minimum amount of light that managed to sweep through the rich midnight curtains.
I straightened my arched back and convinced myself that my face deserved a smile that night. So one I put. The angle, I thought, was severely acute and lifted my cheek bones in a strange manner. I ran my hands through the well-fitted black dress and turned myself towards the mirror. This is it. This is where it'll start and end, just before any form of pain resides.
I let my feet slid to last year's Prada before I clutched its matching bag. As I carefully step downstairs, trying to get use to the 7 cm heels again, I quickly checked if every little thing was neatly drawn into place at a nearby wall-mirror. I didn't bother to perfect my smiling curve because every time I do, I always end up with the one that shows up in the many unsolicited photos anyway. One so pure that makes me reluctant to ever go out again. These photos make me look opened to a point where I feel defenseless. But when I look at the people bordering me, they're always the same. Occasionally I meet one or two new people and decide to get on well with them over drinks, take a couple of group pictures, and back to acting strangers again the next day.
I excused myself for being late as I arrived at the bottom of the series of stairs. A couple I’ve learnt to know quite well invited me to sit next to them whilst their arms were romantically around each other. Have you heard, she whispered. I startled in confusion, thinking whether it is one matter that I have, or one that I should, but haven't.
Which, I whispered back, trying to harmonize my hush with the classic lounge tunes. She blushed slightly and, for what seemed like 2 eternal seconds, looked down and started to fidget her partner’s bold hand. A wedding in the month of June. I congratulated them, much less than how I normally would to such a news, but nevertheless I managed to stay polite. Perhaps because I hadn't figure out which type of matter it is. Should I have known that? Do they think I'm jealous? Or, am I?
I soon lifted my regret when I realized their eyes were locked on each other the second time that night, hesitant to let the other out of sight, wishing never to have to let go. Their love feels real, they say, and it can only be real. My thoughts flew back to the photos, now with the two of them in the centre and I'm nowhere to be seen, even though I'm physically there. I knew enough not to interrupt. After all, they were only there to share the news, or more to find out how the news have spread.
I dressed myself and saw my reflection on the empty computer screen. Even without colors I could see I was pale. I first saw me starring at myself before gazing emptily. Even the coated shimmer of lip gloss reflected back the minimum amount of light that managed to sweep through the rich midnight curtains.
I straightened my arched back and convinced myself that my face deserved a smile that night. So one I put. The angle, I thought, was severely acute and lifted my cheek bones in a strange manner. I ran my hands through the well-fitted black dress and turned myself towards the mirror. This is it. This is where it'll start and end, just before any form of pain resides.
I let my feet slid to last year's Prada before I clutched its matching bag. As I carefully step downstairs, trying to get use to the 7 cm heels again, I quickly checked if every little thing was neatly drawn into place at a nearby wall-mirror. I didn't bother to perfect my smiling curve because every time I do, I always end up with the one that shows up in the many unsolicited photos anyway. One so pure that makes me reluctant to ever go out again. These photos make me look opened to a point where I feel defenseless. But when I look at the people bordering me, they're always the same. Occasionally I meet one or two new people and decide to get on well with them over drinks, take a couple of group pictures, and back to acting strangers again the next day.
I excused myself for being late as I arrived at the bottom of the series of stairs. A couple I’ve learnt to know quite well invited me to sit next to them whilst their arms were romantically around each other. Have you heard, she whispered. I startled in confusion, thinking whether it is one matter that I have, or one that I should, but haven't.
Which, I whispered back, trying to harmonize my hush with the classic lounge tunes. She blushed slightly and, for what seemed like 2 eternal seconds, looked down and started to fidget her partner’s bold hand. A wedding in the month of June. I congratulated them, much less than how I normally would to such a news, but nevertheless I managed to stay polite. Perhaps because I hadn't figure out which type of matter it is. Should I have known that? Do they think I'm jealous? Or, am I?
I soon lifted my regret when I realized their eyes were locked on each other the second time that night, hesitant to let the other out of sight, wishing never to have to let go. Their love feels real, they say, and it can only be real. My thoughts flew back to the photos, now with the two of them in the centre and I'm nowhere to be seen, even though I'm physically there. I knew enough not to interrupt. After all, they were only there to share the news, or more to find out how the news have spread.
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