Category Archives: Stream of Consciousness

“Like”

With coffee on my left and the computer mouse on my right, I browsed through my social media feed as part of my morning routine.

Happy faces and beautiful pictures greeted me “Good Morning!”as I checked Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. I am used to seeing updates like these every day. But today was a little different –

Someone just got engaged!
A family is having a reunion!
Her baby is so adorable!
He got a promotion!
My friend is now ‘in a relationship’!
Their wedding looks magical!
Aww she is out of the country again!
That lunch looks delish!
Oooh nice car!
It looks like they’re living their life to the fullest!
Hashtag #blessed #kilig #lovetheweekend #forever

Instead of feeling envious or jealous like I normally do, I had a huge smile on my face and felt happy. It was good to see that my friends are living the good life. I was so thrilled to see them succeed, thrive, and be blessed. I felt even grateful that they are sharing these moments with me.

For once I stopped looking at my life and comparing it to theirs. I just celebrated with their triumphs and even their simple joys. Today, I looked at their life in social media and wished them more blessings! More promotions! More travels! More adventure! An overflow of all the good things that they are praying for!

What I felt today was  surprising as much as it was liberating. It made me realize that being genuinely happy for other people’s success brings freedom from trying to match your life according to what you see on your social media feed – just because these are the things that you should be doing or you should be having at this age, at this time. I realized that I don’t have to give in to living a life based on those assumptions because, in all honesty, we are all in different seasons in our lives.

So today I started my day with gratitude for my friends, contentment for what I have, and a shining hope for a wonderful future!

happy!

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You before Me

Question: If you knew what I knew, would you stop acting the way you do?

The strap of your backpack hugs your low shoulder with your school uniform hanging loose from your body. I never see you carry yourself proud when you pass the hallway.

Here comes the ‘it’ girls making fun of you. Their eyes check every inch of you with their menacing stares. Ignore them. One of these days you’ll see those babes carelessly laughing in the sidewalk, contented with what little they have. By then, they’ll have nothing but your pity.

The doom chair on the corner of the room is calling you  and off towards it you go. Few minutes are spent looking at all the pretty girls and the boys that flirt around them. Unconsciously, your fingers run through the loose hair strands covering your face. Forgive me but you’re so cute when you’re trying to fight over your insecurities!

Let me tell you something: six, seven years from now, you’re going to turn into a fine lady nothing short of captivating charm  and beauty. Someday you’re going to know and feel your worth. Believe me when I say these silly boys who ignore you would look like pigs when they throw themselves at your feet – crawling, begging for your attention. When that happens, remember to roll your eyes at them and smile.

Then you force yourself to get in to some cliques; I can see you doing silly things just to fit in. I tell you that those ‘ friends’ were up to no good but you won’t listen. I try my best to warn you about that boy who will eventually break your teenage heart but you are so hard-headed.

Stop crying.

If I confess that in the years to come the world will give you great friends that are willing to die for you, would you believe me? You’ll have them and they’re going to accept your uniqueness. They’ll laugh at your silly love problems and cry at your corny jokes. They’ll call you weird (you’ll punch them) but love that about you. If I say I’ve met them already, would you believe me? You have to!

You can’t see me but I’m here. I’m close enough to notice the tears that roll down your cheeks yet far enough to watch your wobbly stride as you walk home alone.

I really want to hold your hand and tell you that everything will make sense soon. I want to comfort you by the fact that this is  just a stage of your life. This is just a drill for the big day when you finally soar. Everything that’s happening right now will just be a fun and learning story you’ll look back to.

Personally, I thank you for messing up and for being insecure and for not being perfect. Otherwise I wouldn’t be what you made me to be. So hey, little darling of my past, cheer up!

Cruel World

The world is cruel.
The world is unfair.
The world is unforgiving.

That customer representative doesn’t care if you’re irritable today.
Your lazy landlord doesn’t notice how much you’re sick of him.
Your boss doesn’t give a damn if you’re having a bad day.
The cab driver couldn’t care less if you’re running late for an important meeting.

Don’t expect everyone to like you. Not everybody understands you, nor will they always make an effort to acknowledge you.
Don’t expect that someone is going to wipe your tears all the time. Don’t wait for someone to fight and stand for you.
Don’t search for somebody to cushion you from all the pain.

Be strong and wait for no one to defend you. Fight your own battle.
Choose who to trust. Don’t be too complacent.

Because the world is cruel.
The world is unfair.
The world is unforgiving.

People are selfish. Their only interest is to use you for their benefit. They don’t fret about you unless they need you.

Harsh? Exaggeration?

Reality.

Just Because

Just because your love story ended tragically doesn’t mean you have to dismiss the idea of a happily ever after. Just because things didn’t go out your way doesn’t suggest you suddenly judge yourself a failure. Don’t let go of your dreams just because random voices say you won‘t amount to anything. Stop playing the victim game just because you wanted sympathy. Winning the battle is impossible for someone defeated and broken inside. When you asked for the sun but life brings you rain, don’t lock yourself indoors; rejoice with the flowers; play in the puddle; dance with the wind.

Why read poems?

Poems bore me like a grey sky on a gloomy Monday morning. There is lack (or absence) of excitement in poems. Lack or absence of everything actually – characters, adventures, climax, plot, conflict. Everything.

Poems are as hard to write as they are to understand. I hate how those perfectly arranged words take you and leave you wanting for more. You write them for days, read them in minutes and get you thinking, even disturbed, for weeks.

I don’t like poems, or poets for that matter. Poets are insane. The metre, the phrasing, the rhythm, the verses put together are just too much of a hard work. And nobody even pays attention! Still, they keep doing the same thing.

With his finished product of well-selected words, the poet intellectually lures you to his world like playing a trick without you even noticing it. And I don’t like that cleverness.

I’d rather enjoy a comic book with all the illustration to not mislead its reader. On a perfect sunny day in the park, I’d rather pick up a plainspoken composition that does not require too much engaging. I’d rather not cultivate my imagination or my critical thinking. I’d rather not appreciate the beauty, power and mystery that is in every carefully thought of form of poetry.

So why read poems? If you’re going to ask me, I suggest you don’t.

The Wanderer

Like a wanderer I walk as if I don’t know where I am headed to. And I am sad. Yes I am sad. For I don’t belong anywhere. I have no place to go for comfort and solace or somewhere to sleep for a quite night.   I don’t have any one to call and share a meal with.  Sometimes I do feel like I’m lost in a familiar place.

I am alone and lonely. I am  in search for something, or someone, or of people.

All I want is a place where folks smile at me sincerely. All I ask is a friend to care for me genuinely. All I need is a mate who exclusively loves me like no other. All I want is a companion who can physically be there for me when I need a hug, a laugh, a good story or a drink.

Am I the only one in the entire face of the Earth who doesn’t have someone to call “best friend”? Pathetic isn’t it? I don’t know the feeling of  knowing you have at least someone to run to when everything feels like a mess.

You know, someone you can call any time without worrying of disturbing or bothering them because you are sure that you’re not. And even if you are, it doesn’t matter. That person, who gives you advice, slaps you when you’ve done something stupid, dances with you, watches TV with you, tags you along and never forgets you.

You know, someone who never stops caring, no matter what happens and no matter how many years had passed. And that place where it feels like home, making you want to stay forever.

But I haven’t found that person. I haven’t found that place. And I am sad. Yes I am sad, for like any wanderer nobody wants me. People look at me, they greet me, give me a drink and then leave me. There’s nothing to do but go on with my journey. I don’t stay in one place very long. But deep in my heart I wish to stop walking, stop searching and just, rest ; find a home and wander no more.

Ah, that would be bliss.

Hate List

I hate it when you care so much you know you’d do anything for someone.
It hurts when you know for sure they wouldn’t do the same for you.
I hate it when I try to please you.
I hate whenever I try so hard to make you laugh.
I hate that I’m happy when you’re happy.
I hate how you make me smile.
I hate it when I get jealous of the people who hold you dear,
because for once, they held my world.
I hate it when I refer to you as my world.
I hate it when I correct myself.
I hate it when I try to control these feelings but fail.
I hate it when I even try.
I hate it when I over think.
I hate how everyone says I should use my brain,
when my brain listens to my heart.
I hate the feeling when you’re around.
No matter how I tried to forget and move on,
you always have a way to pull me back. I hate that.
But you know what I hate the most? You.
I hate that you don’t want me, when all I ever wanted was you.
I hate that you don’t know any of the things I hate.
You don’t even care.