Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Untold Story of Someone Unknown

The need to create another logical blog entry is tingling my intuition. And after a million pages of wasted editing, I decided to post a re-blog. I actually wrote this piece originally as an article for our school organ, however, I decided to not pass this one. I guess my sentimental side once again went way overboard since this was the first of the "narratives" that i did.

She was the reason I look forward to go to school everyday. I couldn’t really say that I like or adore her or something, but there’s this ‘thing’ in her that I couldn’t help but admire each time I see her. Infatuation, admiration or whatever it was, all I knew was that I’m happy seeing her.

I don’t know her that well (except for her name), although we’re studying under the same roof, we’re sitting beside each other, and we usually talk,-you know, school stuff. There was this sort of barrier between us. I don’t dislike her and she doesn’t dislike me. I guess that is what’s keeping us apart but we do talk-sometimes.

Yes we talked.

It was a normal Monday morning when our teacher instructed us to group ourselves into three for a miniature boat-building activity. The room shook as my classmates rushed and hold on to each other. Unfortunately and coincidentally, she and I were the last two left (we’re 35 in our class). Because there are only eleven sets of materials-another coincidence- our teacher decided to give us a special job, to monitor our classmates while they construct their boats. Our teacher found it justifiable because she said it would be unfair for both of us-another excuse for miscalculating the number of students she has.

“Make sure they don’t copy each other’s boat designs,” our teacher firmly said. “I’m warning you, if there are duplicates-..” then gave us a devilish glare. Our teacher can be peculiar sometimes but the statement did make me quiver.

I glimpsed at her at that moment and I felt happy. Well, I shouldn’t be, right? Teachers stressing students was never a happy moment in my book. Could it be that I’m with her?

Of course not! I told myself that I was happy because I’m exempted form doing the activity. You see, “Why are you smiling?” she asked me.

“Nothing,” I answered abruptly. I was taken aback.

“I’m just happy because I’m exempted from doing the activity,” I told her a few moments later.

“Though-” she couldn’t finish. She was obviously afraid of our teacher. Most of my classmates think our teacher is a tyrant. I do too-sometimes. But I’m usually not afraid of her.

Then there was silence.-the oh-so familiar silence.

I held her hand. She’s so fragile.

‘It’s going to be okay,” I assured her. For the first time in my life I felt an invisible connection towards someone. Her simple gestures: the way she brushes her bangs away from her face; the way her mouth moves when she talk; the way her eyes seem to beckon you every time you look at her. It feels like, everything she does is ethereal.

I stared at her for so long that I didn’t even realize that we weren’t paying attention to what our classmates were doing. It’s a good thing they were still halfway.

I looked at her again. Our eyes locked. She smiled.

From that moment, I realized that she’s someone special. She’s not the ordinary girl anymore. It’s like, she’s someone new.

She looks different.
It feels different. It feels even better. ♥

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Phraseology

1. the brush strokes of dawn tickle my spine
like an empty canvas painted
i am colored

2. hear me! oh glorious sun
bend your rays in my dark corners

3. i glanced at the white sheet in front of me
my brush, lackluster with days of monotony
flakes of paint scatter on the table

4. i blinked
nothingness
i sighed
cornucopia.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Love Letter

So Tita Jing2x asked me to write a love letter. It was a requirement for their Computer Subject and me, being the allegedly good nephew agreed to make one. I wasn't really in the mood to write anything about love considering the fact that I'm trying to forget someone, however, the goodness in me pervaded. So here it goes:

_____,

I don't know why I'm writing you this. I'm not a very good writer but I guess I wanted to request a few things from you.

First of all, please stop smiling because when you do, my heart skips beats and I might die of a heart attack.

Secondly, never EVER open your eyes. I get lost by just looking at them and oftentimes I melt when you meet my gaze.

Third, stop winking. Those winks send jolts of electricity and it was never my ambition to be an electrician.

Fourth, stop saying "I love you". These words reverberate in my head and I get insomniac because of these.

And lastly, don't change. Never change. You don't know how much love I've invested in you and I don't think I could ever love again after you.

I love you. I really do. And that is all

_______

I know. It's corny and all. I don't even think it deserves a spot in my blog. Regrets. Regrets. Regrets.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Uninspired

I woke up in my box and gazed at the sun directly above me. It used to be rosy, like carnation blossoms along the street. But now, it was the darkest of magenta. It's halo, a bloody red, and the once pastel shades of pink and yellow skies are tinged with gray and black watercolors.

I curled up and ogled at the panorama before me. Everything was bleak. The Fountain of Inspiration has dried up and the once rolling greenery of words were replaced by blank pages of oblivion.

I reached out my hand. I wanted to escape my box. Somehow, the safety that it used to grant me made me uncomfortable. It wasn't my sanctuary anymore-I knew that. I knew that somehow, when my wings become better I'd have to fly away from here. I looked at my wings, they're still small and frail and I wondered why I wanted to take off. I stepped out of my box to look at the other side of the hills where the Story fairies lived. They say that one can only stay there if their wings were big and sturdy enough.

I tiptoed, hoping I won't wake anybody. Almost there, I thought.

Then my chains pulled me. The darkness, billowing like wolves about to capture their prey, was coming. I tried to run but the octopus coiled it's tentacles on my feet. I stumbled at my first attempt. It is pulling me. More forcefully now, that even if I buried my fingers in the sand, it would be useless.

It's coming. Closer and closer. I tried to untangle the strands but before I could, I was enveloped in random darkness. I remember seeing a string of light and then nothing. The wolves have taken me.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Time Check / Bucketlist

Time check: 12:00:30am, January 1, 2011

I know it's rather weird but I celebrated the new year with a blog entry. Perhaps to make it a habit. Perhaps to be a better wordsmith. But nonetheless, I wanted to begin the year doing what i want to do most-writing.

Of course I'll do the traditional jump-12-times-to-be-taller and pull-your-nose-12-times-to-make-it-higher routines. I'll even crack a firework or two (haha. as if!).

Anyways, happy new year guys! Have a fruitful twelve months. ^^,

. . . . .

A bucketlist is a list of things you'd want to do, in my case, random things I'd like to do before 2011 ends. The purpose actually is to add color and spice to an utterly monotonous existence.
  1. Kiss a stranger.
  2. Travel somewhere alone.
  3. Watch a movie you don't like and never complain a bit.
  4. sleep in a house you've never been before.
  5. Sing karaoke.
  6. Get laid. :P
  7. Write a play/book/song/short story.
  8. Fall in love. :)
  9. Memorize a poem in a different language.
  10. Do a dare.
  11. Go on a date. [ahemm]
  12. Learn to play a musical instrument.
  13. Own a dog.
  14. Plant a tree.
  15. Win an award.
  16. Learn and play a sport.
  17. Eat somewhere expensive.
  18. Get the number of a really cute guy.