Building Bridges
Muan 09/12
This is a reprint of September entry on my old blog..
“Fate is like building bridges for someone you love” a movie I’m watching in seclusion clearly said to me. I blame it to the rain that began pouring late this afternoon and kept me confided inside my room. It was no ordinary Sunday except that the idea of watching DVD alone came to mind. I could hear the rain drops trickling as if they compete with the makeshift home theater setup I made. I just grabbed a two-decker cassette player and plug a RCA cable to Muan so I would have a bolder sound enough to achieve the same effect the movie brought when we watched it in our office’s TV room few months ago.
While filming, wavering thoughts run in my mind but with reluctance to rekindle the days that have been through. I could say they were the hardest times of my life when no one would listen and that not even the radical mind I thought I possessed would entertain and brought to cease. I was wondering if somewhere, I missed something.
I’m holding my tears like never before. But this time, I promised not a single drop would kiss my cheeks.
It seemed the standpoint never ceased as if they were just yesterday. And I long for the day when I can fully reminisce without the glitches of pain that pinches the fool out of me. Sometimes I would still feel the sting that no amount of beer fuzz could halt the rumblings; they were the silent thunders I kept. They were the rains that pour hard and that there were times I would want to drown forever in their recollections.
Perhaps the only thing I am so sure about is that I feel more comfortable with myself now- and that I feared momentarily. At this point, I would say its peculiar. The heftiness of life’s dealings, are that equally hard to magnify and that I always end up staggered, adding compound intuitions about self-sustenance, of finding worth and purpose.
I was once a believer, evident with the meticulous indecisiveness committed in the past and even up to now.
Maybe people would still say I still do, and that life goes on after the catastrophe. But nonetheless, I feel like I have nothing left and that they all went through with the tears I wept. What would I expect when almost everything was a failure from the beginning? Have I not learned to stop thinking that my signs will go to their planetary alignments one day?
I just wished my omens were right because it seemed this deaden existence just fit me well. Oh well.
I'll cross the bridge when I get there.
This is a reprint of September entry on my old blog..
“Fate is like building bridges for someone you love” a movie I’m watching in seclusion clearly said to me. I blame it to the rain that began pouring late this afternoon and kept me confided inside my room. It was no ordinary Sunday except that the idea of watching DVD alone came to mind. I could hear the rain drops trickling as if they compete with the makeshift home theater setup I made. I just grabbed a two-decker cassette player and plug a RCA cable to Muan so I would have a bolder sound enough to achieve the same effect the movie brought when we watched it in our office’s TV room few months ago.
While filming, wavering thoughts run in my mind but with reluctance to rekindle the days that have been through. I could say they were the hardest times of my life when no one would listen and that not even the radical mind I thought I possessed would entertain and brought to cease. I was wondering if somewhere, I missed something.
I’m holding my tears like never before. But this time, I promised not a single drop would kiss my cheeks.
It seemed the standpoint never ceased as if they were just yesterday. And I long for the day when I can fully reminisce without the glitches of pain that pinches the fool out of me. Sometimes I would still feel the sting that no amount of beer fuzz could halt the rumblings; they were the silent thunders I kept. They were the rains that pour hard and that there were times I would want to drown forever in their recollections.
Perhaps the only thing I am so sure about is that I feel more comfortable with myself now- and that I feared momentarily. At this point, I would say its peculiar. The heftiness of life’s dealings, are that equally hard to magnify and that I always end up staggered, adding compound intuitions about self-sustenance, of finding worth and purpose.
I was once a believer, evident with the meticulous indecisiveness committed in the past and even up to now.
Maybe people would still say I still do, and that life goes on after the catastrophe. But nonetheless, I feel like I have nothing left and that they all went through with the tears I wept. What would I expect when almost everything was a failure from the beginning? Have I not learned to stop thinking that my signs will go to their planetary alignments one day?
I just wished my omens were right because it seemed this deaden existence just fit me well. Oh well.
I'll cross the bridge when I get there.
jotted by maun at 1:52:00 PM
3 Comments:
first of - you write so beautifully. =)
if you don't mind my asking, what kind of catastrophe was this?
Thanks Nette for the kind words.
I used the word "catastrophe" as resulted by splur-of-the-moment inertia to describe my failures - letting go of the one I love.
i knew "catastrophe" has something to do with lost love. that's how i described mine what was once mine too. lol...
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