This afternoon was a movie. I am walking towards the nearest Union Bank and everything was gray. Stark gray. Overhead, dark unknown birds hovered across the sky. It was post-apocalyptic. That scene where the world has ended but humanity hasn't even figured it out yet. A jogger continues his pilgrimage towards good health not knowing that he might need every ounce of his energy once zombies start spilling into the world. An eerie sunlight manifests this current Earth that I am in. And I continue to walk towards the bank. Although money is not really a necessity when everything collapses.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
Nobody wants me Ed. That's the truth. Even you, the only person who probably understood me the most pushed me away. But I'm not gonna talk about the past Ed. Or about how I daydream and yearn for you sometimes. I just want you to hear me out. About my situation right now. And understand me. Like the old days.
Like the good old days.
You see, I am so wrapped up in my world Ed. And I like that you anchor me to reality and not let me drown in my sorrows and meanderings. You're a good listener Ed. And I liked that about you the most.
Where am I going with this story Ed?
Help me remember what I'm supposed to say.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Today I wanted to write about sunflowers and how stars align to make patterns in the sky. But I am not in the mood for any of these things. Instead, I'll write about the gaping hole inside my chest or the pain I feel whenever you look at him - and not at me - with the dearest affection. I'll write about the day he left and how it made me a little happy inside. And how I told you that I'd miss him even though I know I wouldn't. I'll write about the late night conversations we had - of how happy I felt that you're opening yourself to me. I'll write about how mismatched we are and how I still insist in pursuing this love affair, or the glitter I vomit whenever I brush my hands on your skin whenever I give you a massage. But maybe I'll write about how ferocious unrequited love could be, or how beautiful and bittersweet the past month has been, or how I long for things to go on infinitely.
He is a friend, of course. And I want to write about how happy I am now that he's back and that finally the gang's complete again. But my heart just won't let me right now. I want to write about how sad I was that our plans of moving out of this shabby apartment were thrown aside just because he's back. Or of how replaceable I feel now that I'm shoved in the background now that the star, your star, is back.
I am sad and happy at the same time and I do not know whether I want to write about that or whether I am in the mood for any of that. All I know is that I will smile later. And pretend everything's okay until all the lights are out. And I will hug myself in bed, curl into a ball, and pretend that I am a sunflower gazing at the stars. And I see you, my star, making patterns in the dark sky.