Like a crash course on reversal, this is my story. A year has changed me in so many ways, and the years ahead of me (whatever may be left) become figures to ponder. I wonder what has kept me going, but a better wonder is to seek how I have begun this trailblazing journey that seeks infinity. Slowly, I get left behind and come in once again, on a rapid blizzard, a perverse blind game to becoming names on paper. This is a summer reflection on the person that I had become, and the person that I will be. Divulging everything out in little blog posts that no one reads but me in the dead of server malfunctions and better-forgotten nights. And god, indeed — have I changed, have I become so many new people and learned that the world is kind of my plaything. And god, what a living ghost will I rise from as I transcend so ethereal that you won’t know how real everything I will become dares to be. So to …
Approaching the inevitable dull of the summer, I find that I am losing reason and meaning in everything. You can tell by how I have resorted to writing once more. This is the cascade of sorrow, of drunken days toasting forgotten sobriety, cloud nine high at the glimpse of yourself in the mirror, morning sunlight fights against the dusty carpet with the shadows, husks, and living dolls strolling around your home. This is the rekindling of my god complex; an earnest screech of life tracks against the drone of forestscapes, an avalanche of the world that surrounds me — a girl in the dead of the night playing games with her fatigue and mental instability looking back and recounting the months that had passed. In other terms: this is the most that I had ever done. I live a haze, a beautiful, distorted, warped reach towards so many things that I label off as driven and passionate — learning how to speak (figuring out that I actually quite like it), still figuring out how to …
When the parents of my batch first gleefully announced a mandatory career talk, I marched my way onto the fourth and final classroom of the day. Another Saturday stripped away from us with the promise of a better future. After hearing repeats of things that I have heard over and over again (yes – med school is incredibly difficult but rewarding, no, I am not really going to tell you how I got there but instead let me flash you pictures of my astounding achievements) perhaps the very last class would prove itself different.
You can tell that a restaurant has done a lot of things right when you constantly crave the meal you had days after its passing. I’ve always been the type of person to skip out on desserts but after a post-school (and a shortened day at that) pre-no class day escapade at a Japanese restaurant, there was an urgent need to follow it up with more snacks. My Tuesday concluded with a meal at Sushi Ninja, running through the drizzling rain to Alabang Town Center, roaming around for a bit and settling to eat at Milkbox afterwards for dessert and aftermeal conversations.
(Not quite — but I’m getting there.) 6/12/2016 — The building is cold. My shoes are a bit too big for me, suddenly the seat doesn’t let my feet touch the ground. I play anyway, for the first time. All my worries dissipate. The night is cool and breezy; you watch me, you are there for me. I have learned.
The scorching sun, perturbed tidal waves beat like marching drums across the horizon. Leaf-lace, bottle bits, open wounds — newfound discoveries. This is the summer song, a cadet’s call for a voyage towards ubiquity. Yet the soldier is always so fragile — and home was never quite red brick and polished acacia floors; but the barefoot tread into the entrenches of a million little blades culling themselves in the midnight breeze. I feel like our rooftop was always meant to be the broad expanse of a million glowing torches, floating and beaming in little stardust trails. We find them so enticing we mouth little sounds and depress chapbooks with intonations until we find them tranquil enough to deem them as the ‘galaxies’; and in this way the solstice was born. An army spread about a million little shrivels of greenery stare at the droplets tracing their skin – they fall in love with the way their spine tingles at the ray’s fluid kisses; how the breeze comes every now and then and how the sky never …
I went out to Punta Fuego — located in Nasugbu, Batangas for a summer weekend; the sights were pretty breathtaking and let’s say that even just the shortest of local trips really invigorate oneself to the beauty of the world around you. Needless to say, my lust and desire to travel and wander (to perhaps even farther places, sometimes you really miss the stale airplane meals since the feeling of the sky descending beside you is something that really enlightens you; counting city lights like the stars, and all the like) has really surged. As a collection of keepsakes from a minuscule 2-day trip, here are some photos and a short guide-by of the trip; though of course — incomparable to taking in a vivid landscape before your own eyes.
A quick update. In all honesty; I haven’t done as much this summer as I would have liked. I got into a lot of new things, and most especially started diving in (for the very first time) and indulging myself on an instrument that I have always wanted to play. Additionally, the threat of university and the future and all that has been creeping up on me; as in totality — it truly decides where I am headed. With the time of a little less than three weeks before an intensive junior year starts; I figured that I should start doing (and actually completing) some projects that I’ve started in the past and doing some things that are actually beneficial and of use – things that could mean a lot to where I am going, my goals, and the like.
1.) I think, those were the days when I should have been a little more reckless. In a way that I assumed more control than I usually did — in a way that I stopped letting them get a hold of me, everything I say, everything I do. I think it’s time to let go, to let loose and show them who I really am — but that isn’t the case. Beyond this husk of a person they deem in a forever-lasting nadir, the prickling of skin and the drops of blood as if they were shed tears. In the kindest, most terse way as possible — I concede to them; maybe I am magnanimous to some, to others I am just the word weak instilled into the waking world over and over.
Once, I used to be in love with the concept of dreaming. Of being in an illusion, something that you could bend at your own whim; for others, something that you had to constantly be subjected to. Perhaps a bystander in the midst of all the action, or the main protagonist in the course of the crumbling, rushing figments of one’s mind. In a false reality, anything could happen; and sometimes — the magnificent part of it all is that we all had our chance in playing God, be it by making something impossible happen or making someone appear, through the intense vividness of such things we are led to believing that we have molded our own masterpieces, our own story and world. Who wouldn’t want to live in an escape forever; in a place wherein anything could happen?