a little

When I was little
I think about love just a little
I look at boys just a little
And nothing more than that

When I grew a little
I think about boys more not little
I look forward to falling in love more not little
I knew there’s more to that

I’m not yet grown up, just a little
I don’t think about boys but one, more than a little
And I think I know love more than when I was little
And I wish there’s more to that

contemplation

It’s amazing how music can drift you off to someplace where you can be alone with your thoughts amidst the blaring crowd that surrounds you.The loud music that fills your brain can actually create clarity within your crowded and corrupted mind. Quiet songs tend to bring your brain’s voice louder and more clear for your own ears to comprehend.

 

It’s strange how a silent person, sitting on a bus could be having a deadly battle inside his head about colliding ideas, all racing to win a debate. During the silent pauses of each changing melody, one is brought back to where he truly was. And on every song that ended, he noted a story that has ended.

 

It is an endless search for reason, for blame, for responsibility, for a resolution. It leaves a restless heart when none of these are found. But it is neither a guarantee of peace even if all of these things are unmasked and defined. Then what are all these for after all?

 

It is then decided – nothing is certain except for beginnings and endings. And it is an endless circle of collaborated events and things that keeps us moving, the world revolving and more changes. For all these then, there is no use to say goodbye – for everything is and will be temporary.

When goodbyes become good

We often associate goodbyes and leaving with bitterness and pain. But today I realized you don’t always decide to end things, leave people, a place or anything for the sole reason of hurt nor melancholy. It seems absurd I know, to end things while feeling wonderful in it. Yet we do, sometimes.

Happiness it seemed lately, such a rare commodity and its price remain undefined. In our deepest intent to keep things at a certain state of joy, we opt to hold on to it and leave it at that. The idea of losing it by staying, the threat of being robbed of happiness forces us to preserve it by letting go.

I was looking at recent photos and it felt like it was taken ages ago, I understood why I had to. I finally agreed to myself that happiness resides in our hearts and not on people who causes it. It became clear that distance can be breached, that friendship does not rely on proximity and that love knows no boundaries.

When staying won’t add up to your joy, when enduring wouldn’t mean better days, when keeping up with things threatens a fall – then goodbyes become good.

too late

I waited for what seemed like an eternity for an absolution that almost felt like a bleak chance. I put up for all the mediocrity of every passing day, continued to live despite the melancholic series of events they called life. I let adversities go on till I became numb to its thorns. I contented myself with little laughter from trivial scenarios and considered it immensely humorous. I was convinced that soon I would drown in that void for the rest of time.

My deliverance came when I almost lost hope. It all happened a second before I finally let go of my last straw of optimism. It came to me when I least expected it and when I needed it the most. My gratitude is immeasurable. My joy has such depth that I lost my breath shouting out to express my deepest thanks.

Just as when my world begins to revolve and catch up on its pace, they happened. My savior from blackness became a despicable threat just like a dream that turned into the darkest nightmare. How could things turn up as such? Who would have thought? What now? Too many questions with unacceptable answers. Too many appalling certainties I cannot avoid. What awaits me? Where will it take me? What can I do?

memory of the past

After today, it was like deja vu. I realized I was on the same carousel that kept turning around. The faces weren’t exactly the same but they were familiar characters in a tragic fairy tale where I was the poor protagonist. I know that sounds redundant. But that is exactly where I am.

By tomorrow, I shall walk on the same aisle going to a different hell. I will drag my feet to that hole just like what I do each day. The things that comfort me then do not shield me anymore. My dwarfs are gone. My armor is wounded. It is hard to admit defeat. Defeat because I know all my moves will revert back to losing my king. I have few moves left now.

I would just like you to know – that the feeling is mutual.