Meet my 3 yrs old nephew Lohan. He's so cuteeeee I wanna pinch his cheeks! >0< He's so super kulit and takaw haha! He stole my Nips, too! -.- Early this morning this kiddo came up to our house and went straight to my room I was sleeping peacefully that time but then he showed up and started chanting that line 'Sino yang kasama mo?" And I swear I suddenly had a goosebumps that time! Just freaking imagine that nagddaydream pa yata ako tapos biglang may magchachant ng ganun napabangon tuloy ako bigla! Amp na bata. Hahahaha! So kawaii!
Over the months, I’ve feigned company and comfort and nobody can tell the difference. It reminds me, every now and then, that the mask I’ve put on everyday has become an invisible layer of my skin, making it a permanent thorn on each and every long-stemmed rose I have limply called my everyday; roses which beauty and magic I’ve feebly hid behind, thinking that when I choose to live a life different than what it truly is, it becomes my reality. Accustomed to being called the happy one and even mistaken as someone wounded but only with ones that have healed, I was happy but much more, I was lonely. In books, I fell for fictional characters. In movies, I fell with sappy love stories. I didn’t have to be alone. That’s why I leave even before I’m left because once in a while, I think I deserve to be happy. And on selfish terms, someone else to feel the longing then the pain. I learned my lesson. I’m particular on who I open my doors to because I’m afraid that if my fortress reaches over-capacity, I would have to throw someone out and they would feel the same thing I have felt on repeat; loneliness, tremor, solitude, ones that I swore I would never want to feel again but also the very reason why I open my windows for all the people I’ve thrown out and didn’t let in; to let them know that beyond my impulsive reactions are my hands that I can stick out the window. And if not that, a reminder that they were too good for me. Because I don’t try. I give up too easily and I let go too frequently. I am a warehouse of feelings dark and uncertainty. I am weak. And even in a a houseful, I’m lonely. But in this refineness, I have found the silence. The silence in which I found the noise in, one that screams actual sense. In this refineness, now I call my choice of confinement, the mask of a skin I call can be peeled off without seeming effort. No more lies. No more fake smiles. And I swear, I’ve never been a caged bird all my life but for once, I felt free.
To be beyond the shadow of doubt is to be with certainty I can never have. I doubt, that’s the thing. I always doubt. When I don’t see the reason why or why it didn’t, I doubt. When I call all the Gods and Goddesses, worship all the saints and angels and still not get the little pieces of a hint and a sign I begged for and prayed over, I doubt. When everybody’s hurling pieces of bread at me but I get hit by rocks instead, I doubt. I doubt everything and everyone in this world. I doubt when all there is, is doubt. So tell me. Why did that have to happen? Why do I feel like this? And why, of all times and of all occasions and other reasons, why now? I doubt because what am I against all the hollows and penumbras in this world? Oh right, a human. I’ve completely forgotten that. Whilst there are no limits, I can only take so much. I’m a human after all. So leave me in my solitude.
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