"Associative Looseness"

The things I had hoped for, wished for and prayed for.
Came to me in a dream, only in my dreams did I feel it’s’ presence.
The satisfaction one would get when finding a lost coin,
Or perhaps when finding the right direction,
When stuck in a forked road towards oblivion.

I wake up and my tears have dried already.
It seems I spent the better half of my night dreaming,
And the other half weeping.
For what I have that never had.
For what I lost but never really owned.

And it’s elusive…everything is just elusive…
Failure is not an option, a choice, or a preference by chance.
It happens… and it happens a lot… to me.

Love, success, acceptance and happiness,
By-products of an imagination available to those who dare,
To invest, to sow, to take a risk on people and life;
And still be brave enough to pick the leftovers of the night;
Once more taking the path down the lanes of misery.

But it’s elusive… everything is just elusive.
Failures take its toll and passivity wins its place;
In the front line of reality losers do lose
And victors trample the rubble that is your spirit.

June 12, 2008 11:30PM

Singing show tunes and alongside Jason Mraz without really knowing what was the lyrics and just going along with the melody and anything that rhymes gives me a natural high. Takes me away from what’s bothering me, which at this point, I don’t really know. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I am again, taking my favorite steroid vitamins and earlier tonight had devised my own version of a long island iced-tea. I am a bit high, literally, drunk high if that’s what you call it.
I can’t believe I am actually writing right now. Mind you my spelling and grammar still kicks in. still can’t see any red lines or green ones at that.
I have thought about killing myself again today. Don’t take me wrong! I am not suicidal. I never was… and hope never will be. It’s just that, these kinds of thoughts amuses me and gives me a temporary escape route. Giggling at how I am going to do it without pain of course! Who would want to die in pain? Not me.
So, I figured sleeping pills… or maybe steroid overdose? Or perhaps drown myself in 20 capsules of Demerol or Valium or Stillnox; wherein I need to get a prescription to be able to purchase that stuff.
As you can see, I live alone so the success rate of my plan would be 100 percent. Since no one would check up on me in the morning or if I went out of my room or not…or if I even wake up. My body would only be discovered after a week or so, already stiff and in the process of decomposition.
Not a nice sight.
It would be the easiest way out. It would be the end of everything. It would grant me freedom, freedom from everything.
I feel that I have already captured the essence of what the world has to offer and comfortably accepted my fate that I will never get to experience those things I see on the television or go to places and hop on a train and go from one country to another.
Again, don’t take me wrong. I have a wonderful family and a wonderful lover. I am blessed enormously with them, that I feel I don’t deserve them. Maybe it has something to do with my being ***. I feel that no matter what I do, they will never accept me. And no matter what I do I will never be able to accept myself if the people around me are not happy with me.
i am giving up… on me.
I have thought of going away, to a place where nobody would know me. A place where I can work menial jobs and earn my keep and not be totally dependent on my family, or to someone… my meager earnings from writing can not sufficiently cover my stay in the city. And what am I doing in the city? NOTHING.
No job. No penny. And with a disfigured face.
But the thing is, where am I to go? Where am I going to stay? How can I leave when I don’t even have enough to cover for whatever?
One thing left to do… total isolation and seclusion. I have thought of going home to the province. Perhaps if I try to kill myself there someone would find me soon enough. But if you want to kill yourself, you don’t want to be found when you’re not yet dead. Right?
I sit here writing while listening to some songs. I feel contented. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything. I am happy with my misery. My masked depression, where more often than not, I cry at no reason at all.

I have love.

But I am choosing to leave it behind for a peaceful non-existence in this world. Selfish… yes, but I guess it’s about time.

My eyes are hot right now and suddenly my nostrils seemed filled-up. As I write these things, perhaps this feeling of hopelessness and loneliness would go away. As it always does. I pray to have the strength to take on another fruitless day. Another senseless existence; another day waiting… just waiting…

I am 26 years old and I have nothing to prove to myself. Sure, I came from a prestigious university, got an 84 percent in the national examinations and graduated first honors in grade school… so what? It does not mean anything now. All of that were just fruitless and senseless accomplishments that would not in any way help me in my endeavors in the real world.

Writing Crisis

It’s been three weeks since my last writing project. A project that usually only takes 3 nights to complete, took me a heavy two weeks to finish. Those two weeks did not necessarily mean that I have been working the whole time. I spent the good half of my working time (that is 1 am to 6am) staring at my laptop and playing beautiful eyes with the fluorescent light.

I didn’t know what was going on with me. I have the energy to write but it seems that inspiration has deserted me. My fingers missed the feeling of stroking the keyboard but as soon as it touches the surface of the laptop, I freeze. Literally, and figuratively-I freeze. As I was suspended in a catatonic position my mind also went blank.

That was the first time I was at a loss for words. My mind was speechless and I am not able to write anything intelligible – not even a simple blog entry. Nada. Zilch. Nunca.

The surprising thing was, I was not scared. I was actually relaxed, even as the days turn into hours before my deadline. Perhaps my mind was wandering somewhere else that I had to go find it and force it to work, just this last time… and I did. Five hours before my deadline I spent an agonizing night finishing up a 25-page thesis proposal. Not my best, I know… but better than nothing, right?

AND…for the first time in a long time. This appears to be my first entry this year, after three months. I am writing again. I am back in the creative realm. Not just in the academic-commercial side of writing. Maybe that’s what's missing in my life. The creative flow - It had abandoned me long ago when I decided I am going to make money from my writings; which I did. So, it left me hung and dry. Until I summed up my courage to rouse it back in.

There was once a young girl who wanted to become a doctor. Because she thought that it would make her parents proud of her, and that she could earn lots and lots of money, by being a doctor. The prestige that comes with the white uniform, and the respect that they get from all the townspeople -- she thought she could have it too, once she becomes one.
Then she grew up, added four or five years to her age. Got a little understanding of the world; how it works and what’s really important -- at that time. So she wanted to become a lawyer. How their signatures can cost a whooping five thousand pesos, and how they can get people off from things that they did, or were accused of doing. They save lives, families, and they are very wise.

Then she had some experience with public talking and competition in grade school. She was awed by the information thrown at her, and her teachers expectations that she wanted to become a journalist. Full of ideas, general information and…

She grew up, then she wanted to become an actress, a supermodel, a PMA Officer, then she met someone then she wanted to become a doctor again, then a journalist again, then she got a course in the Arts. Which made her heart very happy because that’s what she really wanted to do, but since it’s not a land of gold, she forego that dream and thought that she could take up law. But then was not given a chance or she didn’t really try her hardest. Then she needed money, her family said--- go take up nursing and we’ll support you. Go abroad and support us afterwards. Give it all back. Everything that we spent on you, every cent.

The thing is, this girl’s lost. She doesn’t know what she wants and she’s lost herself in the process of finding out. How could she not know what she wants when the people around her knows what she wants better than her?

And she’s crying… hopelessness emitted from the stale odor of this old apartment she’s been imprisoned in for how many months now. She wanted to go out but something of divine intervention is preventing her to do so. She’s already lost but the worst thing is she’s lost with a plague stuck on her face.

I am depressed. It takes a lot for me to smile today. This depression has been looming over me for the past years but I chose to ignore it. And I am still ignoring it. Except that I felt it’s sting creep within me and I felt an anguish distinguishable of a worthless cockroach.

What purpose does the cockroach have for existing anyways?

Various thoughts occupied my mind while driving today. I drove like an old lady, thinking – what if i crash the car, I know my parents would kill me – but will they still kill me if I’m already dead? I have to make sure I’ll die if I do that. I’m ready actually. The reasons that I told myself over and over again as the reason for my existence – is still there – but: I don’t feel I matter anymore. The reasons will still be there even if I’m gone.

My body is weary and I look at people and I feel disgusted. I want to resign in my solitude and dance to the music of abandonment. I feel like I have so much love to give and the people I want to give it to doesn’t want it – though they claim to love me more than I love myself. That’s why they are determined to make life decisions for me. They are overtaking my life and I see no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow…heck, I don’t see a rainbow anymore after the rain. I see hues of black and heavy clouds crown my skies. Vast green moss crowds my blue ocean. And hungry cows devour the freshness of my meadows.

I refuse to falter, but I am.

Maybe it’s better up there, where the sun rises endlessly and I can touch the stars and dance with bodyless children with wings on their neck.

Assuming I would end up there. If not I’d be eating barbecue for the rest of eternity. Maybe I could just stay in that space in between – the limbo. Nicole Kidman pronounces it in a very distinct british accent that makes it very exciting and sophisticated and presumably a nice place – maybe I’ll just go there… but maybe I am already there…

If I still exist… after the moon overshines the sun. Then maybe i’m still alive.

But then I am going to drive again. Hopefully I won’t be lucky next time.