National Consciousness Month for Punctuality and Civility pala ngayong buwan... at hindi ako nakaabot sa pagpaparehistro...Tae...sobra sayang... So much for punctuality and civility...kayo na bahala kung sino favorite niyong trapo...wala na sa hinlalaki ko ang kinabukasan ng pinas...


bale masakit ang ngipin ko...ayoko nang magpaenrol...

nakakatamad kapag masakit ang ngipin...

lalo na kung tamad ka talaga...

masarap matulog kung tamad ka...

lalo na kapag masakit ang ngipin mo...

may naalala lang ako...

masakit ang ngipin ko...

masakit...

masaklap...

i'm not worthy...

ang galing mo kasi eh...

at hindi masakit ang ngipin mo...

yung akin bulok...

bulok...

di na nakakatuwa eh...

lalo na kpag masakit ang ngipin mo...

may naaalala kang masaklap...

at ayaw mo nang magpaenrol...

ang sakit sa mata...

at sa ngipin...

puta wala ka na nang nagawang maganda masakit pa ngipin mo...

puta talaga...

nakakapanghinayang tuloy...


masakit na eh...

nasa gilid lang naman ako...oo na sira sira na ako...

bulok...butas butas, at kahit anong tago ko eh halatang halata pa rin ang kapintasan ko...

mahirap pala yung pilitin mo yung bagay bagay...dahil balang araw mahihirapan ka na rin at masasaktan...

lahat nang pagtitiis at pagsunod sa lahat nang ibinigay niya at pinakain...

kinaya ko...at pinaghirapan...tiniis...

kahit lahat nung di mo kayang nguyain...at di ko kayang gawin...

pinaghirapan ko...kahit na nabubulok na ako at unti-unting nasisira at nasasaktan...

di ko na kayang takpan ang aking kahinaan...

halos anim na taon na rin naman ksing ganito eh...

nasira na rin sa bawat daan nang oras...

at sa bawat pagpipilit at pagpapanggap na malakas ako...

pero hindi eh...mahina eh...may butas...may pasak lang...

balang araw lalabas at lalabas rin ang aking kahinaan...

di na ko tulad ng dati...

mahina na ako...at baka magulat ka kapag nakita mo kung ano na ang nangyari sa akin...

salamat sa pag-aalala at pangangalaga...

sa bawat pag-toothbrush mo...kahit minsan nakakaligtaan mo...

ngayon siguro balewala na ang lahat...

pipilitin ko pa rin...pero hindi ako manhid...at ikaw rin...

masasaktan at masasktan ako...

pero hindi ako mawawala...

sana...

pasensya na di ko kayang nguyain yung medyo matigas na yema...

dumikit sa akin eh...

ang tamis...ang sakit...

ayan tuloy nasaktan ka rin...buti may mefenamic acid ka...

balewala ang toothpaste eh...(at wala nang colgate sa mga groceries)...

panandaliang lunas... dagliang pagkawala nang sakit...

at kaunting oras lng...darating at darating uli ang sakit...

para kang bagang na sira sira...

na may pasta yung sobrang laking butas...

ung di kinaya yung matamis na sobrang hirap nguyain na yema...

bulok...

parang ako...

at mas masakit ito kasi mamaya lang babalik na uli ung sakit ng ngipin ko...

hahaha...di pa pala ako manhid sa mga ganitong bagay...

at di ko na rin muna hahanapin yung yema na nagpasakit ng ngipin ko...

at sa bawat kirot sa loob ng bibig ko...babalik at babalik pa rin ang alaala mo...

tanginang yema yan...

iiwasan na kita...




nakakatamad...

This is how it started… light drizzles beckoning another downpour beckoning another rainfall that seems to keep falling in eternity...damn...nothing beats a rainy night listening to iron and wine songs and a haunting thought of a possible repeat of a deluge looming with every subsequent trickle of raindrops in the roofs...every surge of rainfall brings me a day closer to that horrific inundation just a month ago...it so eerily similar its daunting and really horrifying...and the trickles of rain quickly intensifies, producing its own strange and intimidating onomatopoeia to my auditory nerves and into my scrambled flood-deluded mind...


history shouldn't repeat itself in just a month, or if it does, its recurrence, as the idea of eternal return suggests should not ensue after only 30 days. Or does it not apply to typhoons? Climate Change perhaps suggests otherwise, and the rain slowly gathers itself yet again, tumult and unrest also slowly becomes lucid in my mind, with intent of submerging the whole Philippines under the raging waters and perhaps under our own mistakes,( and farcical disaster movies with superfluous CGI effects as an excuse for a lame storyline does not even count )

 

 It's just isn't fair anymore, granted natural disasters are never really fair, even when it also submerges in mud and water luxurious homes and fancy cars, because I could never see parity even when both our feet are covered in thick piles of dried brown filth, which may or may not be shit,. or perhaps it is really fair, greenhouse gas emissions and chlorofluorocarbon do have their consequent effects, and we suffer the brunt of it in expense of the whole world, which is really unfair, all things considered.

 

The raindrops are slowly fizzling, and the mass paranoia educed by the earlier debacles, led us to believe that this is a false sense of hope, and even if your dubious weather forecasters are always erratic (which also is a source of false hope) it could still not dampen the prevalent fears that now torment us (and the rain started to gather itself yet again, proving that the mass paranoia is legit, and fizzles yet again). And I still can't sleep, this is how it began during the last Saturday of September, and the rain lashes out strongly atop our house, and this time with ferocity, worrying my clouded mind, and putting my hopes of awakening in a peaceful sunny morning dangling outside the confinements of our house, in the eye of the typhoon, scrambling for its sorry life.

 

This is how real life wax poetic upon us, this is how every metaphors we conjured up are used this time upon us. The tempest and the storm of our lonely existence are now their moment of solitude and sadness. Their grief now an inconsolable flood that washed us away, and left us waist-deep in filth and knee deep in our fear. This is how they spend their lonely nights listening to lonely tunes, trying to keep moving in life, trying to wash away the painful memories and the feelings that stupidly lingers when it shouldn't. this is their emotional breakdown, their sincerest pleas and dearest hopes, their metaphorical storms seeking the metaphorical daylight upon us, hoping to give  a metaphorical rainbow in our fucked-up life of ironies and sarcasms.  

(and the rain outside slightly weakens...and please let me sleep...)

man sometimes reason out in the most unreasonable way that he seem to want you to not understand him. he speaks not his true intentions that you would seem to not understand, when in essence he just want to tell you something that you didn't need to bother to not know, or would seem to imply that he needed to tell you something that is not in his words but merely hidden in the words he tries not to say for you to not understand and go away, when in reality, he doesn't want you to, because he need to tell you something that he could not say and you would not understand, but he will eventually try not to reason out just so you would not realize that what he is not trying to say is merely words that you should never not hear from the words that he is not trying to not speak. this isn't to say that i am insincere because actually i am, i just don't know what not to not speak to you, or what i should, i'm terrible with words, so please hear what i am not trying to say, for i can not speak everything that i intended to not speak to you, because even in the shroud of doubts and hesitation you will see how insincere i am not.

do you not see what i am no longer not saying to you? do you no longer not understand what i am not already speaking to you? i am no longer not trying to be unreasonable, so please do not hear what i am not speaking but do not try to not listen to what i am not ready to not try to open up, i am fizzling, under the beam of light, i no longer cannot be silent or dumb, i could no longer unable to not contain my sudden moments of grief, whenever i could not know what i can not be able to not see, whenever i am clueless to what i am not able to see, i feel i really am not existing or at least do not feel like i am really unable to not exist without not knowing what i should not be able to really not feel, perhaps i could really not know nothing about you, especially today, not that i try not to think nothing about how you have been these past few years, because oddly enough, i do think about it, and yes i do think i do not know nothing about how your life have not turn into. my life that i have not envisioned is surely not unfolding about how it should not have been all along, and i love the way i stopped making sense here, such self-depreciation often mitigates the effect of the actual self-depreciation itself, no longer making sense like the reasonable man that i am really not.

life is really full of surprises i guess, and doubts and feelings that no longer try not to express to you and words that no longer mean what it should never not always could have not meant, and ears that could no longer not hear, when it could no longer unable to not listen to the words i intently not try to never not speak to you always. i reason out unreasonably falling apart awkwardly in my own, still trying to speak what my mind could no longer not try to say out to you.

"i want that experience where your whole life flashes right in front of you, in a lucid and frantic way"

So much for an experience that could make your whole life flash in front of you...damn...in alucid and frantic  way no less... i expected it to be in my solitary desolation...and this yearning for a real life experience leaves me inundated and soaked waist-deep in a raging deluge of river water, piss, shit, mud, sweat, spit, tears and everything else that was unprepared to the fluvial rampage that wreak havoc and  severely stricken my beloved clean pink city in the untimely moments of that Saturday afternoon... whoever gave that typhoon such ridiculous name should be blamed for the torrential surge of tepid murky waters....i would have gone berserk too if i was baptized with a horrendous excuse for a name... and i am glad we're safe now...although that warm feeling of relief quickly disintegrates whenever i hear the tragic fate of others who were submerged in otherworldly levels of torrents...it actually feels worse when you know you're suppose to actually feel better even if you were half-dipped in a pool of brown water, with threats of diseases creeping into your soaking wet body, after hurling another refrigerator out of harm's way...then a washing machine... your pet dog... your god damn personal computer dismantled and saved into a higher ground... your television...meanwhile death tolls multiply and your favorite mall, a day after, is now reduced to a grim ruins of shards of broken glasses, wet appliances and goods stolen by scavengers in hope of salvaging something valuable...even if it was just a metal scrap of an air conditioner, fingers-crossed for another kilogram of wet corroded metal...

we are safe now...my favorite ps2 isn't...with memories of my recent NBA 2k9 game, a 158-56 thrashing of Sac Kings, giving me a slight pang of regret... but that ps2 was an actual human body for the other casualties of the calamity, that final score a memory of others that educe regrets for his her family members, worse it might hav been the only child of a couple somewhere, still reeking the stench smell of tragedy that beckoned their measly life... putting everything else in its proper perspective, we are still grateful, and you are too...good to know you only bicker for disrupted signals and black outs and the ennui that ensues whenever you are left in front of a low lit fire of a wax candle...they bicker for something bigger...and no it isn't fb...
that night really was the darkest...while others were trying hard to wake up from their bad dreams, i was busy trying to sleep from my own nightmare happening while i'm wide awake...this must have been the feeling of others...this isn't the experience that i wanted...no life flashed in my eyes...just fear...just fucking nothing...but waist deep waters, and the sad fate of others...

our spirits maybe dampened, bodies soaked and drenched with sweat tears and flood waters, memories washed away and photographs damaged(i failed to save the only photograph of you in my possession, that really feels bad,although the bigger truth feels worse, fluvial thoughts aside) house ravaged, but we will eventually emerge from this mess a better individual...hopefully...what doesn't entirely ruin/inundate your life (or in our part your beloved home) only makes you stronger...and please spare us from another typhoon,too...never give them a bad name again, at least extract something else from your creative juices, whoever you are whose job is to name potential disasters entering our area of responsibility...the philippines need more altruistic and selflessly devoted people and less cynics and selfish pieces of waste dump...







***at sa isang araw, i will be back doing things i am  basically at worst...when did education became a breeding nest for future zombified somnambulistic employees?i am the future useless trash of humanity...the abject failure of every company group that sells itself as "success" and "future millionaires" which i will never ever trust regardless of whether they can really spawn successful millionaires(read: my classmate)...the non-productive statistic, the potential slacker of the capitalistic new era of corporate dressers...i want my life, and that's why i can't have it... this is not the proper way to live a prosperous life and this isn't the proper way to ruin a life, too...and if you ever have to choose between the two, at least do it right...nakakaasar na eh, wala ka nang nagawang mabuti, san ba dapat ako lumugar? hindi ganito ang tamang pagwasak sa mundo, at hindi rin ito ang tamang landas pra mabuhay...anak ng puta maling mali ako ah...hindi ko na-miss ang internet at facebook last week...at natuwa ako...at least nlaman ko na kaya ko pa pala mabuhay nang wala ang internet...di ko na rin naman na-eenjoy eh... somnambulistic and zombified indeed...we do something sometimes when we don't do something else...dyan at nagsimula ang noontime shows...phenomena ata ung ganun ngaun eh...or maybe not...










I read somewhere... how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong... but to feel strong...







"There are a lot of things we don't want to know about the people we love."
-fight club (kakatapos ko lng basahin...balak kong panoorin)

i was never your blue smoke
the charming swarm i thought i was
a thousand wipes to a corroded steel
a million wipes of sweat and tears
a thousand times went for naught
a million times of shame

throw away the magic lamp
its sparkling gold could
never illumine the prosaic
persistence of its blue-hued fumes
i could only be your enchanting smog
your permeating cerulean foul gas
a streak of blue blurring your eyes
the faintest cloud that still hoped he was
the magical genie for the three wishes of your life


if you ever, in a million years, looking beyond
the verdant trees, swaying with the rustling winds
lay sight in a distant,a magic mist of blue,
in its plight of consciousness takes flight
in search of a rusted aural lamp your hands threw
for a real magic dust cloud glowing white

and he is your real afterglow
the whitest beam that gives light
to your deepest bluest sorrows
in the orifice of your teeth and lips
forms words and smiles in which he shines through
your glowing cheeks that failed three wishes
could only hope  to ever paint into you

in his mouth forms a grandiose  parade of words
words i could ever only hope to fumble and lose
and in my most colorful display of disbelief
a help signal perched above hilltops, canopies and leaves
somewhere over green, indigo, orange,red,
where blue birds fly,in a place you hear once in a lullaby
in a distant place that i once dare dreamt
for your eyes that now shines bright lights
for a new knight that takes your sight and breathes you new life

i am your blue pollution, who once tried to give you
the spectrum of a beautiful rainbow in your front view
blue pollution now a shroud swarming outside your glass window
in search of the lamp, you once loved treasured and threw
still hoping to be the blue smoke that once believed he was true
and forever live to be the failed sideshow that you always knew

i was your putrid inept blue smoke
and he was the light you secretly hoped
from the thousand gentle wipes to a corroded steel
from the million wipes of sweat and tears
from a useless golden lamp you rub
one day, a million years ago





















 

(sa takbo ng buhay...nila)


so i keep deflecting, keep thriving, keeping myself deluded to my own sacred thoughts, keep pushing myself to compound the very same mistake that i should admonish, nothing else is registering in my clouded mind, i am not seeking anything else, i am really dumb-founded, i've become so used to this bullshit that no ever bullshit could tarnish the shittiness that i had become. i've become so maddeningly in love with my own failures, that i grown to feel so god-damn numb and unperturbed to the unproductive being that i have turned into.

i begin to feel that i am now unaccustomed to feel real life experiences, not for the lack of trying, as this had what i have been supposedly doing for almost my whole existency to assuage the subtle feeling that had long gone encroached, and fettered my confused dispirited soul. everything else is so subtle that nothing else seems to matter. you become too unsure even about the most miniscule part of your life, the lines that divides your entire state of mind is now being blurred by such strange subtle force of melancholia. suddenly everything else is so daunting that i wished that i am  referring someone else's life in lieu of mine, this is the worst feeling of alienation, severe loneliness that even in presence of others, and even in the most glaring essence of their most grateful comfort,even under the warmth of her arms(which i wish for my own) you still feel that deep inside your sensitive carapace, you still feel awfully lonely, in fact so lonely that the feeling of happiness seems to be beside the whole point of being lonely. iit's so subtle that i feel trapped in the middle of the deep caverns of my own personal abyss. no light could meet my eyes no silver lining to inspire in these dark clouds, no self-help or motivational materials to help and motivate this battered soul of mine.
you hear "emo" but they all are just missing the whole point, and i'm missing my point too, and its not really new anyway, i missed the point too before i even try to keep deflecting and thriving in these non-sense circumstance, and here i am thinking that it's just merely following the heart, and i still think it is, even when your feet's trudges keep on mistiming as your heart skips a beat.

i can never become successful ok, its been written in the wall a long time now (check my facebook too, if you want to double-check which i doubt you will...as my readers is nearing it's inevitable extinction)and sometimes i kind of wished i measured success through the bright colors of a sportscar or the beautiful facade of a new house that i designed myself or lying in a mountain of greener pastures while traveling the whole world, at least i should have known what being successful was, not just merely relying on a fictive idea that somehow should always not involve fancy cars and mansions, and it still feels absurd whenever i touch this kind of ideas.  life is absurd, albert camus can attest to that, which somehow feels that everything is just gray areas nothing is definite, even the most definite is not definite enough to be definite because somehow you can;t explain it's definiteness. this is what i am feeling now, i feel nothing is definite even this one. and i am still missing the point i guess, or maybe i am just creating my own bullshit. this feeling of almost nothingness led me to somehow want to feel a near death experience or some reminder of how unfulfilled life is regretful, i want that experience where your whole life flashes right in front of you, in a lucid and frantic way where its repetitiveness and ineptitude starts to wear your spirit out, where reality, in its most painful reminder, reminds you of what you've been missing all your frigging life , just to know i am still typing this and that something is really worth it, even in my emptiest feeling of absurdity.

damn writing these kind of shits is really awkward, damn, i can't really type anymore, this is all that i could do, fuck it, and my dreams of trying to be even just a quarter of charlie kaufman is still lingering in my mind, now choking and haunting me. reeling about the life i had lost because of some lost cause ambition, even though i still won't forgive my self if i ever become a computer science major, i rather have my disintegrated soul intact while i dance with my failed ambitions, rather than to be ingeniune i rather feel geniunely pretentious. i swear upon every words sang by david byrne that i will keep on deflecting, thriving, and keep on being deluded even if the song "once in a lifetime" starts penetrating my pair of fake earpieces, no i will keep on doing every horrible thing even if i become less and less relevant in this society that i feel i am unwelcome. and hopefully someday even when i'm only a hermit crawling in your lovely shoes i will finally not miss the whole point, the same way that hopefully you will, too.

Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don't have to be attractive. But that's not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. But I'll still be ugly though. Nothing's gonna change that. *







damn my incoherence, blame my stream of conciousness. and the talking heads too.
*adaptation

Pull down the shades, lets kill the morning Lets kill the morning, let it die
Will your eyes flash out a warning But they'll be another morning after afternoon and tonight Fuck long hours sick with singing Sick with singing the same songs In the bars, they'll soon be drinking Lets cash my check and drink along

Old times, hello, hey, I've missed you Old life, hey now, let me in Because you win on every issue Now, can I kiss you? Don't you care how long it's been? It has been so many years, I lived my yearning But in every bed, it led me through They only bloom on what was burning And it grew, the fire grew And now with nothing to consume
It's turned on me in my glass room Where I'll burn, you think I'm finished
Think I'm not winning Well, go on, assume

So, take me, I'm yours, morning starship Sparkling stars line your lights as they lift off the loneliest street corner this clown has yet leaned against
I'll let all these fine faces fold into me
The warmth from the space lights illumines the sea as the laughingest mouths wetly open, but we set them sighing
We'll take them flying And we'll take this man left almost passed out Cause we're pretty sure he needs a hand He says he can't stand And when we pick him up He asks us where this ship will land But he knows we know it isn't coming down He knows we know we'll fly so far Til finally stars hold him in all around
Til he forgets the ground
Til he forgets the crawling way Real people sometimes are

shit...sobrang sobrang naiinggit ako... shit tlaga...shit...

naiinggit ako sa kanila...haha...

sige...sana mas lalo pa kayong maging masaya...

deserving naman kayo eh...

habang ako... ako pa yung at mercy kahit na ako ang nasasakal...

pero tngina naiinggit ako...sobrang inggit na nakakagigil at ang sarap suntukin ng pader...

wrong place at wrong time lagi eh...

napakapretentious kasi...

haha...mas ok pa sana kung lovelife ito eh...

at least alam ko di na niya ito binabasa...

naiinggit ako dahil sobrang busy mo na...

may priorities ka na...

parang ung mga artista na career ang priority...

ganito dati mga nakalagay dito eh...

ang korny sobra...

at least may nagbabasa dati...

ngaun naiintindihan ko na...wala tlaga akong mapapala kay franz kafka...

this is depressing...

akala ko tlga dti mababago ang buhay ko nung payong incident na yun...

malalakas ang patak ng ambon...may payong ako...siya wala...

mababasa siya...nakisilong siya sa maliit na payong ko...

tae ambabaw pero akala ko tlga mbabago ang buhay ko nun...

kgaya nung mga characters na nabasa dun sa manga/anime na nabasa/napanood ko...

kgaya nung mga non-sense ym chats dti... (ako ung non-sense part nung ym)...

akala ko may magandang mangyayari...

pero naiinggit tlaga ako...

bakit ba hindi ako pwede dun?

tngina tlaga...

isa pang rinig ko ng pakshetnasobrangnakakabuwisetatnakakairitaatnakakaimbyernaatsobrangnakakasakitngulokoatnakakapanindigbalahiboatnakakasabawngutakatnakakagigil na sorting algorithm na yan!!!!!!! (at khit ano pang related dyan) ihahagis ko na talaga itong electric fan na nasa tabi ko sa tiled na sahig ng banyo namin.!!!!..tpos isasalampak ko ung avr sa inidoro...tngina!!!! ma-flush ka na sana...khit walang flush inidoro namin...grrr...

buwiset tlga...

short story...

it's like a massive head rush, as i nervously  and deliberately try to slow down my free falling descent into the the green-themed (or was it nature-themed with all its white and dark green and green colors?) linoleum-covered floor, nervously and deliberately stopping my 9.8 meters per second squared journey into the earth's stomping ground, 178 cm above the surface, in front of the computer screen, clutching my head, grabbing my hair, posturing slowly on all fours, fingers running in between the strands of my black hair (or white), finding my brain, seeking my mind, looking for answers, searching my head in full confusion, dazed and  throbbing in pain, metaphorically exploding, no it really feels like exploding with the way the situations turn out, like a bomb ticking, i feel like counting my remaining sane moments backwards, with my hands grabbing the back of my head, with pain piercing, and slicing the three parts of my brain,  with my feet slowly losing its foothold, swaying and losing my balance uncomfortably, my limbering body lifelessly crashing into the hard, cold linoleum covered floor.

in between the thoughts of a body lifelessly sprawled in the floor, mind enveloped in pure darkness, pain devouring an unconscious mind, (or perhaps it might be gone too, as an absent consciousness could not sense the piercing pain of the body, or the heart ) random images floating inside the mind readily accepting whatever its fate is, away from the presence of a numbing twinge almost four minutes ago, and a pair of eyes transfixed in the computer screen, littered with images which earlier revealed the darker secrets of his uneventful youth, his exuberance producing a sly grin as he look feverishly in the computer screen, his mind reading the black fonts that form words in between the scattered images, mouse held in place by his right hand, and the left hand randomly thrown somewhere within the computer table, his left hand he once used for writing, the source of his frustrations, the hand he used to put the pen into the paper, the one he used to throw that very same pen somewhere in the corner of his filthy room, his hand with the fingers that used to grip the body of his black pen, that grip that used to feel so right before, the feeling he used to possess when he fills the spaces between the blue lines of a paper a year ago, the paper with phrases he constructed with a smile seemingly lost in thought but illumines a joyful moment nonetheless, perusing a sports article, and minutes later her profile, i successfully impede my fall by holding in the wall, trying to sit myself in the white chair, which i left behind after i stood up for unknown reasons(or it might be because of the pain in my head), my mind continues to unravel as i try to relax myself to no avail, this is it, i'm losing my mind, a crazy proposition i derived from the continuous twinge inside my head, the end results of all my failed attempts and disappointments about something which i still can't comprehend, the culmination of all my regrets this is it, the story of my life revolves around my inability to control my body weight, to prevent it from touching the ground, forgive me, i might be too late, i still haven't told you, i 'm losing my consciousness slowly, in front of you, no in front of your profile picture, the proper ending for a wasted life, for the three years spent trapped inside the four corners of the computer screen meandering lifelessly somewhere outside the boundaries of my capabilities, i'm dwindling slowly outside your point of view, disappearing completely, this is it, i will be sleeping soundly seconds before my head soundly thuds as it collides with the green design of the linoleum cover of the floor, the silence uncovers the sound of my struggle with the strange hums of the computer processor incapable of intruding my auditory nerves, i'm still awake, though the stinging sensation still bores a hole in my head, like a bullet producing air in my skull, i'm halfway, the suspense is killing me, let me see the light one last time, cherish the white light before my vision blackens into uncertainty, let me savor everything before my body, heck my whole being,  turns into a carcass thrown into a ditch in the corner of a pitch black darkness unaware of the existence of light, this free falling adventure is taking too long, the subtlety is confusing me more, my hunger strikes as the manic headrush slowly dissipates, ennui slowly regaining control of the tense atmosphere, slowly the darkness subsides, the mind winds up and take back every confessions almost three seconds late, both his hands placed frimly against the hard floor, against the certainties, against fear.

he fall down harmlessly, and his massive headrush soon departed, and he instantly forgotten everything else that happened in between his rise and fall, encroached by ennui under the white light, enclosed by the cloud inspired walls, and above the green floor. i turned off the computer, and the light, and my mind, and hurriedly sleep, a dream patiently waiting for three minutes finally felt my presence in its widely spread arms.

...i stumbled upon this year-old paper...about poverty...ewan, malamang hindi ito binasa nung prof ko na kamukha ni hedo turkoglu ...

The TV screen flickered Philippine life in its bare essence, a scene stripped naked by harsh realities in the truest form of everyday living, and a nation far different from a nation in an economic growth, as the government proudly quips in every question concerning poverty in our nation. Somewhere, far away from the slums, in some air-conditioned room, I witnessed the miserable life of an innocent little girl oblivious to the hardship of her family, oblivious to the world, in her world revolving along with her family’s desperation, clinging on sins to let their world, her innocent world, maintain its sad revolution.

 

            It’s sad enough to witness such miserable state of living, but much more disappointing is the fact that million others are also suffering through poverty, and perhaps like the family in the documentary, are also resorting into unlawful acts, unmindful of its consequences, just to live for a day, in their life where opportunities are disintegrating faster than their hopes of finding a better place, a sanctuary that could save them from such misfortune. The mother was pressured, and problems piled up, and soon after, her life was a tragedy waiting to unfold. Without something to seek help, she then was enraptured in a critical decision-making, with future in despair; she sold herself to the lust of others, for the prize of another day in their life of her family. With poverty still rampant in their miserable home, in despair and under the ambiance of false hope, others followed suit. It was a family in shambles, with big dreams, kept afloat by their nocturne activities that illustrate how they succumb to their sinful situations, and to their moral dilemma compensated with the beautiful smile innocently glimmered by an infant upon them.

 

 
            Subjective judgment tends to let me believe that indeed they were the victims of social inequity, of the obviously depicted poverty, and all they did is just an act of desperation, desperate to show love in any means necessary, to the point of selling their soul, dipping their wholeness to the sins they know they are committing. It was the nature of their life, impervious from the outside world, where striving to live is to forget yourself, your dignity, the right or wrong. In the act of desperation, our lenses are auto focused to seek only the good, for the sake of others, of you, to survive the world, which in the mind of cynics, is synonymous to hell.  

 

            Government also has a big responsibility with regards to poverty. The avarice of some corrupt officials, clad in the whitest barong, in the most respectable display of eloquence in front of the whole adoring masses, and their deceptions. It’s really disappointing to think that really some highly respectable official that are drowned with power and are fueled by greed, with their insides rotting with guilt, undaunted with the stiff price of their sinful attitude. In every million of cash that fatten up their wallets or increasing their car collections, a million lives are suffering somewhere, unsheltered and starving.

 

Quite possibly, I guess the most erratic proposition is to blame God for our suffering, to blame Him for every ebb and flow we need to endure, for every obstacle that hinders our longevity. If you do blame Him though, I guess you are missing the whole point of life, looking closer, you would realize that it was basically our mistakes, our misjudgments misattributed to Him, for the purpose of relieving ourselves of the brunt of our irresponsibility. Yes we are prone to mistakes, we are imperfect, but to purposely commit ourselves to sins, to the greed spawning beneath, without thinking of others' lives, is beyond the merit of our imperfection. It’s succumbing to evil, negligence, and pure injustice. As I read somewhere, evil is an absence, not a presence, it’s the absence of love.

 

 And then there was the teenager, the young lad in threshold of maturity, being dissuaded by a home in an organized chaos, a home in dystopia. In search of peace, seeking refuge, he found himself deaf to the heed of his conscience, escaping his importuned life through vices. But still, somewhere within his soul, a life is waiting for a chance of a better life; a metaphor to his family and to the million of poor people nationwide deprived of opportunities and stalled by poverty.

 

 The last part also depicted a vivid metaphor of today’s life, a scene of a family in church, a child baptized, and perhaps each of them repenting every sin, and most importantly forgetting the hardship that they’re enduring, even for just a single day of a tedious week, a Sunday, in a church no less. God is still there for us, and He will indeed save us, sometime, even from the depths of sins.










"Our paths and our futures are hidden in mists that are stretching out over impossible distances, totally obscured."