The Militant

Always you are like a wound that is soft and tender,
Always I press your exposed flesh and the blood springs,
Thick and heavy,
Your cries always muffled,
Your eyes tearful,
But are they shed?
Ever?

Semicolon

I declared that day as the worst day of my high school life. Well, next to when my mother found out I had a failing grade in Math in my sophomore year.

 Actually, I was a senior then and it was the first day of classes. I hated that day for many reasons, but mainly because I didn't like the class I was thrown into. I reckoned that most of my girl classmates were campus bitches who always had boys tailing behind them. And at that time, the only time I had boys behind me was when I lined up in the cafeteria. So you could just imagine where the rancour was coming from.

I barely knew anybody in the room. Days before, I was already counting the days that I needed to excruciatingly endure before graduation. 220 school days, I remember, because I even marked it on my bedroom wall with a red crayon, no shit, that's how much I hated being in that section.

My section was Zinc and my father even thought that I belong in the dumbest section just because letter Z is the last letter in the alphabet. It took a while to convince him that sections are not ranked alphabetically, not in our school.

So on my first day, I just sat quietly on my chair, trying to ignore the buzzing of my classmates who obviously knew each other already. I was trying to imagine being in another classroom where my friends were, when all of a sudden, you came in.

You were walking rather slowly, as if, like me, you didn't want your footsteps to lead you there. And I swear, at that moment, everything went into slow motion. I don't know if it's just because you're walking in turtle pace. But what I'm sure about was the small voice inside my head that said,"E pano kung sya pala makatuluyan ko?" Right after you passed by. It felt so silly at that time that I shoved the thought in my mental recycle bin before I could even argue with myself. It was downright ridiculous. I didn't even find you good-looking. You were not my type. Then.

I kept on thinking about this scene when we finally got together a few years after. I was thinking that perhaps, there was, in fact, such a thing as fate, destiny, whatever the hell you want to call it. And it was a sign from God.

Now, you have to understand that after I broke up with you, I, again, resorted to the belief that destiny was just as real as Santa Claus could get. I started to think that life is governed merely by the choices we make and that God will love me just the same no matter what my choices may be. While I still believe this to be true, all these things that transpired in the last few months made me realize that, indeed, God loves me so much that while He respects my will, He also included His will in my list of options because He knows what could truly make me happy. He is after all, all-knowing.

With this, I arrived at the thought that perhaps, destiny is just God's way of showing you the best option.

Just as He led me back to you. He knows you're the best option. And I couldn't agree more.

I remember when you were about to leave for the first time, my prayer to God was for Him to place Himself in a circle with us so that the three of us are holding each other's hands. In this way, if I let go of your hand (which I did, by the way), God is still holding my other hand, and can put us back together in His perfect time (which He did, by the way).

And even as we both thought it was impossible, here we are, back in that circle after a few stumbles. I guess God truly never forgets promises that we make with Him, even when we sometimes do.

I am glad that when God put you on the list of options, I chose you. :)

Yellow Light

I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. I am not the easiest person to be married with for the rest of your life. You've experienced how irrational I can get whenever I get jealous or disappointed. Even I would like to give myself a good beating for being so damn unreasonable.

I wish I could give you some manual on 'what to do when your annoying wife throws a bitch fit'. You would need that, believe me. But most importantly, you would need to learn to steel yourself up and stand your ground so that you can put in me in the right place, even if it means hurting my feelings. I'd surely fight back, anyway. And our married life will be chaotic and tumultuous and far from ideal, but it will also be exciting, passionate and extraordinary.

Whenever you think you've reached your breaking point and you've become so fed up with my bullcrap, just remember that you and i are meant to be. No matter how far and fast you try to run away, God will pull your tail back, pretty much like what He did to me. So don't even think about giving up on me, just as what you've done all these years, because no matter what happens, i would always find my way back to you. You are my home, and nobody forgets where they live.

I wouldn't even say sorry for being territorial or bossy or demanding or crazy, because I will always be. I will try to control it, but I will not change myself. Because all that I am, the wonderful and shitty stuff, is part and parcel of the woman that you chose to love.

One more thing, you may sometimes or most of the time doubt it, but I love you.

He sent you. And He sent me to you. That's your guarantee.

Now, would you still want to marry me? 

Plato, You Just Defined my Whole Lovelife

One day, Plato asked his teacher, “What is love? How can I find it?”

The teacher answered, “There’s a large wheat field in front. Walk there without turning back, and take just one leaf. If you can find one leaf that you think is extraordinary, it means you have found love.”

So Plato walked…and not long after that, he came back empty-handed.

The teacher asked him, “Why, you don’t bring any leaf?”

Plato said, “I can only bring just one leaf and when I walked through the wheat field I can’t turn my back. Actually I have found one extraordinary leaf, but I don’t know whether there’s any other leaf more extraordinary, so I didn’t take that leaf. When I walked further, I realized that the leaves I found are not as extraordinary compared to the leaf I’ve found earlier in my walk. In the end, I didn’t take any single leaf.”

Then the teacher told him, “So…that is love.”

Puncture

Like a ray of sunlight, you punched through a crack in my tightly-closed window.
I have learned to like the darkness, and I have lost my desire for warmth.
I wanted you and I did not. I wasn't really sure.
All I know is that, upon your touch,
Like a sunflower,
I looked up.


In my feeble attempt to capture what you incite within me, I wrote these.

Late Night Nausea

Last night, my sister told me about a private video of a famous and supposedly wholesome comedian. I was initially doubtful that someone like him will do such a horrid act but the video said it all. He was having sex with a dancer. And he's married.

I am no stranger to documented sexual acts; i have seen some, that much I can admit. But I have never felt this apalled. I honestly wanted to throw up afterwards. The act was just so repulsive. I didn't even see them kiss passionately. It was totally devoid of affection. The way they have magnified how casual people seem to take the act of lovemaking nowadays was just very disappointing. I've now lost every strand of respect I had for that man.

I'm not playing saint here. I'm actually more on the bitch's side of the fence. It's just so infuriating how some men would regard sex as merely a carnal instinct that needs to be appeased by shagging just any woman. That's the greatest bullshit ever. The second greatest bullshit is that women stupidly mistake this for appreciation of their beautiful physique and so they consciously let these men defile them.

In his book Eleven Minutes, Coelho struggles to understand the clamor for sex when, technically, the whole feeling of pleasure transpires for only eleven minutes. It has never lasted for a lifetime. So why do we let our whole lives be ruled by something that is very transitory?

I have never been conservative in my beliefs nor do I readily conform to the conventions of society, but I still would like to believe that there is more to the sexual act than simply the need to satisfy an urge. What we sometimes fail to realize is that sex is the ultimate expression of romantic love. And because to love is to see the face of God, it is also a way of communing with The Maker.

More than an act, it is the fusion of the souls. That perhaps may be the reason why when the act is done in the context of love, it hurls you to a different plane, as if you're being propelled to another dimension, to somewhere otherworldly. I hope that when people make love, they won't use their bodies because it is cunning and is sometimes blinded by desire. I hope that they would make love instead with their souls, because nothing ever beats that experience of total surrender when you completely trust, love and respect the person you are making love with.

Hey Pherick ;)

I asked you to give me a ring.

There were men after you who gave me rings similar to yours which I had lost somewhere or unintentionally tossed in the trash. I say similar because these were rings that were given to me out of your need to box me into your little self-woven worlds. To me, it was like putting a collar around a dog's neck for people to know that somebody already owns it. I am not surprised at all that these rings have tarnished over time or have been lost forever just like the relationships that produced them.

I don't remember asking for any of them to be put around my finger. It has always been you and the rest of you who decided on these things. Not me. Well, not until today.

Today, I asked for a ring, not because I would like to be identified as someone's possession but because I would like to remember all the time that you didn't just happen. You were chosen.  You were my decision. And every decision one makes entails commitment. I would like to be reminded that you didn't impose yourself on me; you are back in my life because I wanted you to be.

If you would ask me if I really would like that ring, my answer would always be 'yes'. I don't want anything extravagant. Any simple ring would be enough.

Last night, I was thinking if I acted on impulse. Was it the wine? Or the daiquiri? I guess not. I was praying all the time. Part of me would like to respond to your I-love-yous but the other was just so scared i'd only hurt you again. I know myself well. If I want something, I would demolish anything that stands in my way. The last thing I want is to break you again after you have done your hardest to put yourself back. I am not sure if I deserve your love. I would like to love you, but I do not know any safe means to do it, as if safety and security exist in love.

I have always known that you were the person God sent. For a time, I forgot that. But thank you for always coming back to remind me. Thank you for consistently turning yourself into the right person for me. I will not make any promise, but last night, the scene that I have always imagined in my head, the glass-stained windows, city lights and the person I love--they happened. And something tells me that I would like to do that forever.