talking in silence

A lot has been said and done

Hearts broken, egos stepped upon

Stricken by pain, words came

And knives went falling like rain

Minds battle with reasons and doubt

Filled with anger inside and out

Alas! a bullet kills sanity and truth

Now, I understand well and good

Yet wisdom came too late

I say, as you are now with hate

And anger, pain, and all

I see, I know, I'll take this fall

For you are blind enough

To see, I must be tough 

To believe that this too shall pass

And love is here to last

Darkness flee your soul

Let God take control

Believe in love, and see

Believe in You and Me 

a note to hatred

September 09, 2013:

I woke up to the sound of gunshots and explosions. A supposedly special day for me, turned to be the first day of terror. My city was under attack. MNLFs were found spreading havoc in five barangays; one of which was situated near our bank’s main branch. I called our manager and she, by the order of the higher heads, called off work. I was somehow happy to spend a day for rest with my mindset on “this is just another show…it will pass.” I continued on watching the local news and even went for movie trips (of course we all stayed at home). They had high-powered ammunition and weapons; more advanced than what the police/military had. It was chaos. Hostages were taken and fighters were killed in action.

September 10, 2013

Fire broke out in one of the affected area; it was said that the rebels burned houses to once again strike terror. People were told that the situation is under control yet the number of rebels increased. How did they manage to enter the “contained” zone? Where do they get backups? More hostages are held captive. What used to be a four-digit number for evacuees turned five. Hostages were used as human shield and once again, Secretary Mar Roxas said that these are not hostages because they were not hand-cuffed and they could go freely whenever they want to. And so, because of that, I want him to go up there and tell those rebels to hold him as hostage for the purpose of goodwill. F@#$ you DILG Secretary. PNOY told media that Zamboanga is not in a state of emergency. Why? Because his men insist that everything is under control (yes… their control). Again, I am dismayed. What can we see that they can’t? We are getting sleepless nights because armed men are causing mayhem in our city. People are panic buying. Stores and Banks are closed. Where is business as usual?

September 11, 2013

Surprisingly, the mayor asked for business to open and continue operations because everything is under control. Our head offices had their own discretion whether or not we should open. Sadly, we had to. I would gladly report back to work but not on a situation like this. We were only an hour open when the mayor called off operations again. WTF!?  How could she risk our lives just like that? Shortly, a few hours just after we had the chance to go home, the barangay where our bank was located, was under attack. Geez, what could have happened if we were still there? What’s wrong with you leaders? Back home, we had to pack-up and get ready in case the rebels will pass by our vicinity. The fear is sinking in. News were aired that women hostages were raped. And yet our local government were busy brainstorming as to how these rebels can “leave the city peacefully” meaning, they shall go unharmed… unpunished. Again, F@#$ you all.

A thief is beaten to death just for stealing food, material, or whatever from a single person. A rapist is automatically put to prison. A killer, when caught suffer the rightful punishment. But terrorists get to be negotiated… a 10-billion scammer gets special treatment… and so on… where is justice? How can we build up hope in these worthless leaders? 

I want my peace back.

The Art of Concealment

Everything is a work of art. From living to non-living things, one could always see beauty. Relationships are also considered as a form of art. It has a purpose why one was built, the effort on trying to create it, well-chosen materials for its composition, a determination to finish what was started, and the art of concealing the imperfections it acquired.

I wish to talk about my sculpture.

I wanted to make a diamond out of mud. This is impossible but I want to make a diamond out of mud.

My purpose is to be the happiest lady in the world. Yes, I am one of those few people who believe in happy endings. I want a "happily ever after" kind of life. Ever since my parents separated, I was trapped in a thought that "I don't deserve to be happy". What brought about the change was the time wherein I was left alone to deal with a situation which filled me with extreme anger. As I suffer alone, I was close to being insane; then it got me--why should I lose my sanity over stuffs that don't matter to them? It was then that I decided to focus on my happiness.

The steps I took were never easy but I have my Personal God. I tried my best to not give up the fight and looked forward to seeing my victory in the end. There were all sorts of distractions: friends, foes, even my own will was a distraction. I played with mud and made a sculpture of all the things I wanted until it formed a beautiful man. 

The materials never mattered to me, I have all that I need within my grasp. Engraved on it were my goals, ambitions and dreams. It was embellished by the wants of my mind, garnished by the heart of my soul, made by my own two hands--there I am almost done with my masterpiece.

I wanted this done so badly that I made haste to finish it on time. There were cracks as the mud hardened and the defects were quite visible. From here, I was disheartened. I tried to remember the time it took me to make a beauty out of it only to find out that it might not be a perfect diamond after all. The heat did some concealing yet the imperfections were still there. My sculpture is a waste--I thought.

I'm still thinking about whether or not that statue will turn to a diamond. Right now, my eyes are set on the flaws; not knowing a better way to hide them. Seeing these, I hated my creation. Why can't it be the way I wanted it? I prayed that the statue itself would do me a favor and turn itself into a diamond. Then again, that would define "impossible".

Should I go on with it? Can I make this? That I do not know...just yet.

This is art.

WORTH.THY

My emotions put words to my blogs. It's been some months now since I broke my silence from within. I still write about him.


It was only the other night when I cried myself to sleep--the reason was no other but sin
.
I was and still am jealous.

"She's just a friend"  he says.

It was just by accident or fate when I came across their pictures. They were together that night sharing smiles and a so-called "never"... He went home drunk then and I was trembling in anger. I went over his messages and surely hers were there. She was telling him things that are of no help. I am sure she's in a relationship but why would she feed his mind with the thought of him not finding the right one--yet.

I cried. I texted her and expressed my honest opinion about her existence. I don't hate her... I just hate what she is doing.

Came morning, my eyes were swollen. I could not help but hate what had happened. I was really literally hoping that time would stop because I just can't go on. I attended the morning mass with his mom; and my tears fell as I tell her what happened that night. She said that I should not pay attention and that all he said were not true--he's just drunk.

A lot of things played in my mind. The words he spoke...those words... they burn.

He asked that I leave him because he is never worthy of my love...my goodness. "I'm an a**hole"--this he said over and over again.

Worth. How do we measure worth? Worth...is it not what we give to those we love?

If someone loves you, you are then worthy of that love...so take good care of it.

Why can he not see that I give him love because he deserves it?

As much as possible, I would want to give him all that he desires; if that's how he measures love then so be it. I would like him to feel the most wonderful thing in the world while I live... while I still live.

"Why do you love me this much?", he would ask.

~"Because with you, by loving you, I feel love. and loved."  my heart whispers.

When in Rome

When in Rome, do as Romans do.

More often than not, we find ourselves “adjusting” to a culture we seem to not understand--it could be at work, school, seminars, gatherings and the like. The most obvious reason as to why we try to adapt is to build a good relationship. We try to please people and promote peace and harmony—we adjust ourselves to each other’s likings. However, it seems like the “adjustments” we do lead to “pretention”.

Are you really adapting or are you pretending? Hmmm, let’s do some serious thinking.

In life, we face challenges that test our ability to handle critics.