bottled monologues - series 10

you,

do you remember 11 years ago when we first met? we were so young then that we saw the world ever so simply. everything seemed like lego blocks at our disposal. you know well why we connected. while everyone else preoccupied themselves with sweating it out on afternoons after class, we held our heads up. we haughtily said that we were too mature for children's games.

why i had this affinity with you---much like how tartar attaches itself to a tooth---is not an enigma to you. we were nerdy grammar nazis who were sticking out like sore thumbs. in that juvenile and warped world, we lived ok. true, we were very much ok.

life happened. when we both were faced with a forked road, we skidded off separately. i don't see an intersection coming soon.

why am i writing this? i guess it's just a time in my life when i'm scavenging for missing pieces. and yes, when i think of lost loves, it's difficult to forget you.

you're happy. it brought a smile to me and a tear in my heart knowing that you're still that geek who's prissy with sentence constructions and the proper usage of nouns. amidst the 100 things that keep us apart, i still see that one thing that urged me to write an entire blog entry about you.

i know these mementoes belong to me. just as much as i know that you rightfully belong to someone else.

me



seashells and the parallel horizon

stars hanging from celestial strings, that's what they are.

for others, some dreams are so easy to grab hold of. there are times when i go as far as assert to the world that it owes me. it has always been a violent struggle.

though at times i look away, it's hard not to be caught by, become bedazzled with what my eyes see. i have my bouts of superficiality and i sometimes indulge in them.

i can only watch from afar. my fingers have been charred before and i, consumed in a swoop of flames. my heart is not burning yet it is singed.

broken seashells have no place under the wide grin of the sun. darkness comes whenever i reach for what i cannot have.

when shooting stars mark the horizon, i raise may hands over my head, my palms generously stretched open. life may become kinder.