liberating? not really.

sad? a little bit

you treated me as a buddy
I considered you my world
you said I made you laugh
I whispered you are my life

you offered me your hand
and pulled me close to you
I felt the thump of your heart
but they’re not beating for me

one perfect february morning
you took my breath away
you said you’re marrying a lady
and that girl was not me

I walked away from you then
afraid to die from too much pain
you called me back with a smile
I smiled back and waved goodbye

maybe you are not for me
I now accepted that painful truth
so please don’t come back into my life
I already said my final farewell

I know I will not love another
one true love is enough for me
I don’t want to love another
I’ll just wallow from this unending hell

This is just my own way
Of staying wide awake
While listening to you
Drone on and on and on

But I don’t need any fancy speech
What I want are mere words from you
Saying that yes you truly love me
And telling me that you are mine too

Do you ever wonder why?
Even among friends you still feel lonely
You try so hard yet you still feel ugly
You smile but deep inside you’re fading away
I do
                                        
I sense that my life is slowly slipping into hell 
My friend can I for one minute to you appeal?
Give me someone who can my spirit heal
If you can see how desperate am I to make my heart well
It is because I am

As early as 2nd grade I was already sketching stick figures wearing gowns and party dresses in my paper and notebooks. I admit that I cannot draw a decent human figure even if my life depended on it but dang…I can draw dresses. I remember one time; I badly wanted to become a painter like Fernando Amorsolo. He was the only painter I knew then because of my Social Studies subject. I decided to try my hand at portrait sketching using my big black pencil. For want of a ready subject, I draw my own portrait by looking at one of my photos.

The result of that pathetic attempt was to me very disappointing to say the least. Instead of my face, the result was a face alright but that of a monkey and in no way resembled my mug.  Because of this disaster, I choose to continue sketching dresses and gowns. By the time I was in grade 4 I draw such pretty dresses (if I do say so myself) that even my teacher Mrs. R commented once to me that I should  take up Fine Arts (there was no such thing as Fashion School during that time) when I go to college.

Because of her encouraging words I doubled my effort to hone my “talent”. I draw on every surface I can find. I draw on the door of my mother’s closet using her lipstick….red is a fantastic color against a light brown backdrop by the way. I draw on my desk, I draw on all my papers and notebooks and I draw on the back of all our calendars.

As time passed by I gradually lost interest in drawing especially when I started to get interested in reading books that lead to my new hobby of writing. In high school I wrote plays that we used during school programs. I even attempted to write a tagalog novel one time. But I stopped after chapter four because I ran out of tagalog words….tagalog novels were in during my high school days.

During this time, instead of taking Fine Arts I promised myself to study journalism in college. I want to live an exciting life delivering news all over the world and writing Nobel Prize worthy stories. But God has another plan for me. Instead of enrolling in Journalism I was enrolled in Computer Technology. But my heart was not in it. I consider this part of my life as my “lost in space” era for want of a better word or phrase in this case.

But to make a long story short, I got my wish in the end. I finished the degree of Mass Communication. I know it’s not Journalism but beggars can’t be choosers and it was the closest thing to Journalism that I can find.  And anyway USJR – the only university that I know of that time did not offer Journalism courses so there.

It was during this time that I showed interest in another more common form of art- singing and dancing. I saw Regine Velazquez singing.  I wanted to be like her. I discarded the dream in 2 seconds flat. Why? First of all when I open my big mouth to sing, strange noises came out instead. Eerie, out of tune and downright scary, yes I cannot carry a melody worth a *&%$. So I decided to try dancing instead. Disco music moved my body but I found out that it moved my body the wrong way. Yes, as fate would have it I also have two left feet.

So what does that left me with? Nothing! Now I just settle myself to be one of the billions of uninteresting people in the world. But mind you I still have this little hope that one day I can write a story good enough for a Palanca Award or better yet Nobel Prize in Literature. But then again, who am I kidding??