How tired I am of this unbearable distance between us.
How I long for the toll of the recess bell.
Have you forgotten me, grown mindless of me?
Tell me I am not writing into an abyss,
Or that is of what will become of my heart.
-Indigo Love of Reading Fund
Reading inspires kids. 
I watched the light crawl up towards the shadows in my room, lending a sinister countenance to the trees outside the windows. The air was filtered with dust and grime exhausted by the cars that went right past the house. The humid atmosphere was filled with the hustle and bustle of people rushing home after a tiring day.
Despite the noise, I can only feel an acute sense of loneliness.
I could not fathom such longing for things to be different from the way they are. The dream to reach for what I always wanted escapes me time and again. I try to deny that I merely want and do not feel the aching need. But I am more deceptive with myself than with others. I immerse myself in chiaroscuros because I have never known any other way to relieve the silence haunting my soul.
He remains to be the reason for my dementia.
I see the expressionless eyes everyday in my mind. I dared to tread the footsteps that those eyes left behind. It’s a fruitless endeavor for our souls will never meet halfway. Though we reached a different kind of nirvana, a physical exorcism of what should not be, our shadows are too far apart to ever follow the same path, to ever share the same space and to ever share the same joys and pains. And knowing this, I die a little each and every day.
But still I stayed and waited for the crowd to fall silent, for them to stop the chaos wreaking havoc between us, for him to see through the glass wall separating us. I waited for the impossible. For the soul I sought will never find mine. He will never know that I lived under the shelter of shadows just like him, hiding the truth from the rest of the world. Those seemingly vacant eyes will never find out how much I understood his belief that colors are non-existent, just a void of gray shades. He will never realize that I saw colors only through him, every hue mocking me with its clarity and hitting me with a sharp emptiness because I have lost something that never found me.
He will never know that I made him the world.
—> The Colors of Shadow from peyups.com
// I am not the author of this article but it’s as if that the hand that wrote this was mine. Or maybe, a close friend from the past wrote and patterned it to the saddest part of my life’s story. Reading this brought back the pain I hid in the deepest part of my heart. I tried hard to forget that night when we said are goodbyes but little things like this brings everything back…as if they only happened last night.
Apassionato is the past participle of a Latin word that means “to impassion”. It is found in the music sheets, where the composer wants to interpret a passage with passion. It should have been tattooed on our palms as we were handed to the stork for delivery. Then we would have been saved from vacillating between deadening dullness and paralyzing panic, from the trouble of learning on our own that life without passion is like salad without dressing – safe, healthy, not fattening, and unspeakably drab.
Passion comes from the Latin word for “suffering”, hence the Passion of the Christ. It implies suffering for a deemed noble: Christ believed in His divine mission and carried it trough to an extremely uncomfortable death. We see that passion transcends the physical and, contrary to common perception, is neither totally mindless nor totally blind. We determine our reason how we want to live and recognize the companion pieces of our choice – the possible grief, the potential rewards, our trade-offs. When desire smothers diffidence, when we opt for paths less travelled, corners less explored, then we live life with passion.
Analyzing passion is like defining love. We teeter dangerously on the brink of mawkishness. Groping with imagery, I find myself thinking of love as a cup of warm chocolate and passion as hot, strong, almost thick coffee. Chocolate soothes, comforts, and is sweet. Coffee unleashes energy, has full-bodied flavour, a touch of bitterness unpleasant to others, but delicious to the drinker.
Love is softness: passion is smoulder. Love might be contentment but passion is adventure. It must be free, untethered. It must explore, drive beyond boundaries, break moulds. Passion discovers, unearths, examines, magnifies, revels in details. Love rolls up details into a coherent whole. Love is passion hyperactive. Where love is melancholic, passion is pain.
Love and passion is inseparable. Extreme desire for another person’s body without awe of that person’s soul is lust. But when the desire for another body proceeds from a need to connect with that body’s cherished uniqueness, its soul, then the desire becomes passion. Lust quickly disappears. Passion is insatiable.
I asked a friend to recall a lustful encounter. She quickly described the mechanics of that episode – how they met, where they went, how they meshed, how quickly the storm passed. I then inquired about a man with whom I knew she had had a passionate connection. “He turned my blood to smoke,” she said, staring into a distance, and though it had been many years, I knew she remembered in her gut what it had felt to be with him.
Passion is visceral. It stands outside traditional thinking. It ignores conventions like distance, time, social acceptance. It dares into uncharted waters. It used to be primarily associated with romantic love. Today, thanks to authors like Tom Peters and Nancy Austin (A Passion for Excellence), passion’s boundaries have been extended to embrace work, entrepreneurial endeavours, corporate success.
And why not? Work should be a passion. I abandon myself to my career as I would to a lover. I take professional and personal risks. When I win, I soar. Other times I hit the pavement with a resounding thud. In between I do battle with indifference. I have been, for the most part, successful; not because I am the best but because I do my best and that for me is passionate, fulfilling life.
If passion is so good then why do many fear it? Because by its etymology (from the Latin word passus, past participle of pati meaning to suffer) it brings pain. To be capable of passion one must be open, vulnerable and brave enough to stare pain in the eye. It is safer, easier to be closed, unfeeling, unhurt.
Also, passion picked up an unsavoury reputation along the centuries. A murder committed by a person who found his/her beloved in the arms of another was labelled “a crime of passion”; encouraging many to shun “passion” when they should have avoided “crime”. If instead the killing had been called “a crime of murderous temper”, then perhaps more people could have surrendered to passion.
I believe that life lived with passion shimmers, shines, rises above ordinary. Allow me to seduce you into a passionate existence. To think, to laugh, to sing, maybe even to sigh – appassionato.
-anonymous
Eto na naman ako. Nagmumukmok sa isang sulok. Umiiyak. Ang daming mga nagpapaiyak sa kin ngayon.
Una na ang panahon, masyadong malungkot ang panahon ngayon. Sana umaraw na uli kasi nakakadala ng emosyon ang gloomy weather. Nasa saddle point na naman ang biorhythm ko.
Isa pang dahilan ay yung mga taong nami-miss ko. Ang hirap ng nararamdaman ko ngayon. Nami-miss ko yung panahong masaya pa ako, mga araw na nasa paligid ko pa ang mga taong nakakapagpasaya sa kin, ang mga taong ka-wavelength ko.
Pangatlo, nagtatampo pa rin ako sa parents ko. Ayoko nang i-elaborate pa. Na-disappoint lang talaga ako. Sana marealize nila yung mistakes nila. Lahat ng tao ay nagkakamali.
Ang hirap mabuhay ng masaya kasi darating at darating ang point na ite-test ang faith mo. Sana lahat ng source ng happiness ko ay hindi circumstantial para hindi ganoon ako kadaling maapektuhan ng mga pagsubok. Sana kaya kong maging masaya talaga despite the storms na nararanasan ko ngayon.
Ilang linggo na kong ganito, umiiyak na lang bigla. Di sa hindi ko mapigilan, hinahayaan ko lang dahil pagkatapos kong iiyak ang lahat ng ito, alam ko bubuti rin ang pakiramdam ko.
Kaya lang naman may madidilim na ulap sa langit, kaya may lungkot, kaya may disappointments ay para mag-strive tayo para mahanap natin ang source ng totoong happiness. Although I am feeling down right now, it doesn’t mean na malulungkot na ako forever. I am still looking to the future and hoping that things will work out well. “Everything will be alright in the end. If it’s not alright it’s not the end.”
Ayokong hanapin mo ako dahil sa hindi mo ako makita, (malabo) dahil sa hindi mo ako maramdaman.(malabo pa rin)
Nitong nagdaang mga araw, nagbabago ako ng anyo. Isa akong yelo, na nakakulong sa bakal na puno ng kalawang. Hindi tumatakbo ang oras. Paano ako makakawala nang hindi natutunaw? Nang hindi nadudumhan?
Kung dumating ang oras na maghahanap ka, puntahan mo ang nagliliparang alikabok. Isa ako sa kanila. At kung sakaling mapuwing ka, isipin mong ako ang pumupuwing sa ‘yo para di ka masaktan. Gusto kong maramdaman mo ang aking presensya nang hindi ako nakikita.
Kung madaan ka sa mga halaman, ‘wag kang kukuha ni isang dahon man lang, baka ako ang iyong mapitas, malulungkot ako.
Pag ninais kong muling magbagong anyo, (ayoko pa) ‘wag kang umasang makita ako, mag-iiba ako ng pormat disenyo.
Kung mapadaan ka sa umaagos na tubig, damhin mo iyon ng iyong mga palad. Wag mong punasan, isipin mo ako, hayaan mong matuyo at saka ako maglalaho.
Isipin mo lang akong tumatawa, tulad ng lagi kong ginagawa. Isipin mo lang akong tinotopak, at tawagin mo akong baliw, hindi pa rin ako masasaktan, tulad ng dati.
Hindi mo man ako makita, hindi ako lalayo. Magbago man ako ng anyo, ako pa rin ako. ‘Wag mo na akong hanapin dahil hindi ako nagtatago, pero hindi ako magpapakita. Hayaan mong lumipas ang panahon…hanggang sa naisin kong ilapit ang langit sa aking puso…doon lang ako magiging malaya.
; Galing sa isang magaling na manunulat ng peyups.com
Last night, habang nagluluto ako ng ulam, may kung anong bagay ang naramdaman ko sa paa ko. naku. isa palang ahas na sa estimate ko, 1-yd ung haba.
Naparanoid na naman si Nanay, baka raw tinuklaw ako, pero wala namang sugat o mark ng snake bite.
Ayan, kinabukasan, pagdating ko sa boarding house galing sa Bataan, tumawag yung nanay ko. May nakausap daw syan gisang tao kanina. At ang sabi sa kanya, pag tinuklaw daw ng ahas 24 hours lang daw ang itatagal. Alam ko nga minutes lang e. Pero yung sa Little Prince inabot nga ng 24hours.
Ito ang 24th hour. Wala naman akong nararamdamang sintomas ng isang taong tinuklaw ng ahas. Hindi naman ako nauuhaw, hindi naman naging numb kahit minsan ang anumang parte ng katawan ko.
Pero paano kung mamatay na nga ako ngayon?
Ano ang mga huling bagay na gagawin ko sa nalalabi kong mga minuto sa mundo? Gagawa pa rin ba ako ng machine problem? Iaannounce ko ba sa Plurk na, guys, I’m dying. Nice plurking with you. Pupuntahan ko ba si Ate Reggie at sasabihin sa kanyang dalhin nya ko sa San Lazaro Hospital?
May energy pa kaya akong gawin yung mga bagay na yun?
Pero, isa lang ang naiisip ko talaga kanina. Gusto ko lang magpaalam sa lahat ng mga mahal ko sa buhay. Di ko alam kung paano ko gagawin yung ng sabay-sabay. Siguro magba-blog ako. Sasabihin ko sa kanila na I’m sorry kung hindi ko natupad ang promise ko na laging magiging andito para sa kanila sa oras na kailangan nila ako. Magso-sorry sa mga magulang ko dahil hindi ko sila natulungan sa buhay. Magso-sorry ako kay Apol dahil hindi ko siya pinuntahan sa Tri Noma kanina. Kay Mich dahil hindi na kame makakapag-bar hopping pag nasa 50’s na kami.
Sorry sa kanya, dahil hindi ko na matutupad ang promise namin sa isa’t isa. Oo. May balak akong tuparin yon kahit madalas mong makalimutan na.. basta.
Sabi sa Little Prince, yung stars daw important sa lahat, pero iba-iba nga lang ang use sa bawat tao. Ako, mahalaga ba ako? Ano ang significance ko sa mga tao sa paligid ko? Ano ang silbi ko sa mundo?
Ordinaryong student lang ako. Hindi man lang nga ako naging CS kahit isang sem sa 4 years ko sa UP. Hindi naman ako tibak. Nagagamit ko lang yung napag-aralan ko in practice pag nagpapaturo sa Math yung kapatid ko,e.
Mamatay akong walang iniwang mark sa mundo. Madali akong makakalimutan ng mga tao.
Ang lungkot naman.
Kaya sana, hindi nga ako mamatay dahil ang dami ko pang plans sa buhay. Magiging professor pa ako, not in UP, gusto ko magturo sa province namin. Ang dami ng matatalino sa UP, hindi ako kailangan dito. Mas maganda sa mga malalayong lugar para hindi centralized sa UP ang knowledge.
Gusto ko ring maging career woman. Unang engineer ng mga Naca. Pero ayokong mag-abroad, maho-homesick ako. Dito lang ako sa Pinas.
Gusto kong maging mom. Gusto ko ring maging mabuting asawa. 
Pero challenge yun, kasi di ako kasing patient ng nanay ko.
Di pa ako isang ganap na Christian. Isang bagay na top priority dapat ng lahat.
Marami pang bagay ang gusto kong gawin, sabi nga ni Angel, “I want to be complete.”
Kaya hindi muna ako mamamatay ngayon. Wala namang mark ng snake bite, e. Paranoid lang si Nanay. Hahah
Huwaw… I wish…
kelan ko kaya masasabi yun?
or masasabi ko kaya yun in the future?
Oh great… eto na naman ako…worrying about the future… :c
Absence My love, But wait for me, ================================================================
I have scarcely left you
when you go in me, crystalline,
or trembling,
or uneasy, wounded by me
or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes
close upon the gift of life
that without cease I give you.
we have found each other
thirsty and we have
drunk up all the water and the blood,
we found each other
hungry
and we bit each other
as fire bites,
leaving wounds in us.
keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
a rose.
If You Forget Me
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
================================================================
Sonnet 20
(The Saddest Lines - Saddest Poem)
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example: "The night is shattered,
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
That I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this one, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, and sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not not have loved her great, still eyes?
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered, and she is not with me.
This is all.
In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same the same trees.
We, we who were, are the no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that is certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her ear.
Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that is certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms,
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer,
and these the last verses that I write for her.
===============================================================
//While saving this blog (na dapat puno ng pagmamaktol dahil di ako nakanood ng concert), a friend told me that the reunion concert of he band, Eraserheads was cut right after the first set for Eli was rushed to the hospital. Heart-attack? I don’t know… There is no news yet. I hope he gets fine. Grabeh, this news is worse than not seeing them play. As I am writing this, I’m picturing the scenario in the concert. Eli, singing for the fans, making them happy while he is grieving because of his mother’s death… Maybe this is the reason kung bakit ang daming issues para hindi mag-push through ang concert. I do really hope Ely’s condition is not that bad… lalo pa ngayon na may chance nang mabuo uli ang band. Haay…Iba kasi, e…Eheads is not just a band. They are a part of UP. When you say Eheads, kasunod na rin agad nun yung UP, yung Kalay, ang buhay ng mga karaniwang estudyante, yung kabuuan ng UP experience.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example: "The night is shattered,
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky while Ely sings.
On nights like this one, I listened to their songs.
I play their songs again and again under the endless sky.
And Ely falls to the stage like dew to the pasture…
Though this be the last song that the band will play,
I hope this is not the last that Ely will sing…
