Saturday, October 12, 2013

Blurt log

Bound by death and a hard place.

You know those times when a word, or phrase, gets stuck in your mind? Like, stuck to the point of auto-self-repetition? That's the phrase that's been coming to me. Over, and over, again. In my silence. In randomness. I don't know why.


Dear diary,

This portion is about the person. You know, that person. I feel like I'm holding my breath underwater so as long as it so happens that we don't talk. Sometimes it goes for days, sometimes for months. I wish I'd shut about it all. But I can't – because I don't want to. I don't know what's right. And "cheers to not knowing what's right, anymore."

She's a nice person. The definition of that.

And a great teacher.

I wish I'd stop hurting her by talking over and over. Am I being selfish? I guess so. How can I have clarity and be so confused at the same time?

Reminder: I have to watch that episode. The fifth.


I used to be on Facebook. As overactive as a child on a sugar-rush who has just discovered the joys of drumming on household objects. On my wall, there are pictures – memories reminiscent of the recent past that seems long gone. Pictures with people and the places I went to with them. All smiles. And one with her. How I adored her. My friend told me what I've observed as well – she's gone a little low following the breakup that the news haven't failed to cover. But she's a strong person. Just like her. 

Someone told me, lashing out in anger, that I pay more attention to the people whom I don't matter to. Maybe she doesn't remember me. But I know the others in the pictures do. They called me today.

Shouldn't detachment have a different feeling than this?


I'm really not a negative person. I can turn lots of things into song. It makes me happy to see that made you smile, whatever it was. I wish some things had taken a different turn.

How long am I going to keep wishing that had happened? I need to change everything. Top to bottom. Lose everything and start again.


I met some of my friends today. They offered good advice. They told me to not be sad about whatever it is I find myself stuck in, and proceed further. As I write this, I am reminded of Winston Churchill's words: "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Thing is, as I told them, too much of my time is being stolen. Some of it in me being fed up about the lack of time I manage to siphon out. It has to do with work. It has to do with transportation. It has to do with things. I turn out at wit's end. I need time to fix things. I just..

Bah. Excuses. All. 


Sometimes I wonder what good quality humor my potential girlfriend is missing out on. Seriously, woman, these are impromptu moments you need to be a part of. Granted, you exist, you just don't exist yet – or as Michael Bublé would put it – "I just haven't met you yet."

Or maybe I have.

It's just been a long time since I've heard a song properly. 


This post is beginning to get too long. My self-inflicted purgatory is beginning to show inconsistencies. I don't know why I'm posting this. I think it originated from me wanting to tell you things, but backing out because I don't want to be a bother. 

Yet, here I am – random spurts of information. 


Bound by death and a hard place.

It's just too strange, and sad a thing to come up with. 

Strange. That reminds me. I'm not a strange man, and I don't like to do strange things. Well, maybe I do. But if you meant it with a negative connotation, that's just not me. 


Bound by death and a hard place.

Wednesday, October 09, 2013


I have come to realize that "goodbyes" aren't all that scary and bad as they've been made out to be by popular culture and mass media.

Really, take a look back and see – every time anyone has ever wished anyone a decently scary goodbye, it has come attached with a feeling of eventual reattachment. Every time you have said or heard that phrase, a little part of you has always known, or at least wanted for certain, that the moment just couldn't be the end. In fact, in most of the times you've managed to utter that phrase out loud, it is highly probable that you did it partly because you knew that the goodbye wouldn't stretch to forever. 

No one really says goodbye with the intent of having it all crumble down in one fell swoop. Why would anyone choose that, unless, of course, it's "good riddance," instead?

What you should really be scared of and worried about is normal, everyday conversation.

Those – the ones that don't come with a goodbye as a period – are the ones that can actually end things. Those – where you can't even see, or hear, the phrase  – are the ones that usually do. There's no telling where it might be hidden in plain sight. It comes without any warning or information about its permanence.

There's just no redemption.

Thieves don't always come dressed in black drapes, and murderers often dress the same way. Broken hearts cannot be plastered, and sad days don't come with background music. This is the real world, and here, goodbyes don't come written on invitation cards.

Wednesday, October 02, 2013


"How long are you going to keep on being late?"

"As long as it keeps starting a conversation."

"Happy birthday, again."