Detaching Myself from the Pain...

Some people hurt us for no reason.

Sometimes I merely want to reckon,

That they are not aware of the pains

They brought in my life's unlocking chains.


Somebody broke my wavering hope

To grip on to another good rope.

A rope to lift me up from love's thorns

and its lashing promises of scorn.


These two stanzas suck. I haven't written good rhymes since that last poem I wrote about my unexpected encounter with an X. Hmm... That was 5 months ago... Anyway, I have no plans of continuing this poem because I don't feel like reminiscing the enormous pain I've felt. Instead, I'm writing in this blog to detach myself from the emotion. Now breathe... There you go.. Let it out... Say it out loud... %#@*&@#%$%#@&%$#@!!! Hahaha just kidding!

I got hurt again while in the process of reviving the once blooming and sparkling area of my least priority in life, my lovelife. Yes, it is my least priority believe it or not. I once mentioned in my Autobiographical Essay that I felt like I'm prone to pain. Pain, generally speaking as of physically and emotionally. One of my best friends asked me in puzzlement,
" 'Ayan ka na naman, hindi ka ba nagsasawa?"
I gave out a short chuckle and replied, "Obvious ba, hinde? Tsaka hindi naman talaga ako agad masasaktan dito. Hindi ako ganun ka-involve sa kanya. Ligaw lang naman." The day these words came out from my lips was one of the most unbelievable and remarkable days of my life.

Unfortunately, January 12, 2006 had to come, one SMS from him brought me the familiar sense of dejavu. My circulatory organ that regulates the blood through my veins was beginning to feel heavy again as if a hundred cc of blood had just pour forth it. He left as quick as he had come. Explained his reason to let go as briefly as he had pleaded me for the chance to hold on. Before all of this happened, he was a friend. Now, I have no idea how we would treat each other the next time we meet in Adamson.

Heartache has always been welcome in my life as a writer. I must say it is taking my generosity for granted. I'm not complaining. I know I need these. I write better when I'm hurt. I become more determined and focused when someone makes me cry. Not that I cry easily (in movies, yes) but in real life I make it certain that I cry less in front of people and cry more inside my room or in my writings. It's strange but I just can't seem to thoroughly open myself vocally. I admit I'm not a very vocal person. But I'm not the kind of person who always keep things to myself. Well if not everything, most of the things I have in mind are written in various types of papers, journals and of course the internet. I'm just waiting for somebody who will not just read it but will understand it as well.

Most important of all, I know God is reading my thoughts even before I write it so I don't get much too emotional about things. I know all along that He will wash away the pain that the wounds had brought.