031508

Yes, yes. I haven't updated in awhile, but it isn't for the lack of trying - I'm first going to put up my entry originally for Saturday, but given the presence of quite a lot of constraints... Well, here we are.

**

On an objective and detached point of view, choices are good. More so, the action and intention of making a choice is good. We can’t have it all. It’s always going to be, somehow and at one point, one or the other. You can’t bare both your mind and heart to two people at the same time – it’s always going to be fragmented when you attempt to do so, and the point of completely giving yourself up as a promise, more than a mere present, is no longer apparent in this complicated turn of events.

This lack of security will inevitably lead to losing yourself easily. The loss of one’s self is perhaps one of the most difficult kinds, for if you can’t find yourself, then probably no one can, no matter how hard they may try. What, then, will happen to you? You have to build a replacement for that lost part or self in you, virtually transforming yourself into someone barely recognizable, if not completely alien to the people who knew you once upon a time.

Okay, I’m rambling and I’m sorry. I’m getting to my point, though. I was supposed to write an entry for you, but I obviously decided against it and have instead opted for just one thing that will hopefully explain most, if not all, of the things I can’t exactly word properly in the means of communication you seem to prefer.

In terms of ‘nothing is impossible’, this can happen, never minding this factor and that. But right now, I just want to let it go and make the most out of my time. Having fun, not quite worrying about these sorts of matters, being there for each and every one of my friends, you included – these are things I so desperately want to do. And I want you to let yourself go, too. You’ve got too many good things ahead of you to be staying with me – we both do.

I’m shutting up now. That should be enough for the meantime.

**

I finished one paper – the reflection paper for English. Without further ado, here it is, to be submitted on Monday – unless of course Mrs. Falgui deems it inappropriate and asks me to make another one. Just look for the lyrics of the song if you want to see its relevance to what I wrote.

Viva Forever

My initial intention was to reflect on the anthem of my freshman year. But so much has happened in the last year that I have decided to narrow it down to just that one person, one event, one indispensable alteration to my life of the past year, so as for me to not write a novel instead of a brief reflection paper.

His trademark laugh would probably resound across the high heavens he’s in now upon realizing that I was writing about him with the help of a Spice Girls song. Like the titles ‘soul mate’ and ‘better half’, however, there simply isn’t a better song to sing about what he truly was to and for me and, perhaps, what I could have been or even was to him, at some point. He and I had more than just lunches together – we had time, meaning and understanding with each other.

Despite the surface differences, we were essentially similar – both passionate, though he infinitely more profoundly so than I, ambitious and quirky daydreamers, idiosyncratic thinkers and feelers, saviors to each other, though he more than I ever was or even ever hope to be, at least at this point of my life. Some said that we made a pretty good match on account that we were both sharp thinkers, but little did these people know that I would sometimes end up thinking how hopelessly inept and dull I was when I was with him. He could give any lucky soul so much spirit and still have more than enough left in him, and no soul could possibly and properly reciprocate with just as much, and sometimes, I just couldn’t help but feel the pressure of it.

But the best thing about that fact was that he didn’t mind. He and I liked me learning from him, and I take pride, even up until now, in the fact that I managed to add to the lessons he had to learn before he died. More than hopefully boosting his modest morale in the knowledge that he was a good teacher, though, I don’t think he minded that I attempted to keep up with him so I could, in one way or another, always be his.

And in turn, that he would somehow always be mine.

I cannot be so selfish enough to claim that he was ever exclusively mine, of course, because I wasn’t. What I have of his, however, is more than just enough and much more than I could ever ask for – he was and remains to be too good, too wonderful, to be possessed and owned. My mind holds his anecdotes, crazy jokes and theories, and his interesting life’s stories, his sparkling eyes behind thick glasses and the equally bright laugh, the crooked teeth that produced the most beautiful and gentle smile of which, among many others, I have countless memories of. There was his sharp and powerful fragrance I inhaled every time he would draw me in for a parting embrace and the occasional pecks on the cheek, wherein the roughness of his slightly unshaven face would linger for some minutes after we separated.

Since his death, I have found that the tighter I held on to these recollections, truly did they all the more slip away – like sand procured tightly in my fist, they have been trickling painfully, and the effort to simultaneously pick each grain up and holding on to what little I have left has been colossal. After some months of mindless torture and grief, I have come to realize and accept that it’s a proper grip I need to have on myself, to separate the past from my present and a possible future, to hold true to the memories, the unspoken promises and the lessons learned, but at the same time, not live for these things of that part of my past he belonged in. He left for his own search of the world, and his departure, I now know, is not the kind of world that ought to be sought, as I have been desperately trying to do so until the light of reason was recently knocked into my head. This world is still mine, and this world still has its claim on me, and so I finally know and accept that fact that I ought to live within its limitless bounds of life, being and existence. This, my new and more reasonable self is aware of, is what must be done.

Even – especially – without him around anymore.

I believe I truly am back where I belong now – I’m back living my life properly, really, and truly. I’m back with the hopes to help others live their lives just as well as I hope to live from now on. Mindless matters are behind me. Feelings of desperation, hopelessness and desolation no longer have their grips on me, for I have clutched each of them just as tightly and felt them trickling agonizingly slowly through my scarred hands and soul. Safely I say that my torture is over, but remembering will never end. He, to me, never truly died. All he had to do was to simply go ahead to where we would all go anyway. The fact of the matter is that he left so much with me – so much of these being his secrets with me, his secrets entwined with mine.These secrets will be safe with me. He’ll be safe with me. And some place out there I know he’s waiting for what’s rightly his. Perhaps, even for me.