One last thought

To: You

I guess sometimes the thing that you want the most is the one thing you cannot have. Know that I have never been kidding when I said that I would (and in some ways I have) sacrifice anything, everything for you, because you and me, us and we, and our always, mean that much to me. Desire, I guess, wears us out, leaves us broken. Desire, I guess, can wreck a life. But you know, as tough as wanting something can be, I think the people who suffer the most are those who don't know what they want or worse don't do what is necessary to get what they want. In the best possible way, you have absolutely wrecked me, because you see, I fell in love with you, always with a feeling deep down that there was very little chance of my ever being with you for that "always". Definition of insanity? I guess. But holding true the adage that love and win is the best thing; to love and lose, the next best thing - because at least I loved you with a love unsurpassed and never to be duplicated, completely and without limits, with a depth that not even poets have been able to capture or even describe.

I wish you happiness. I wish you joy. I wish you grace. I hope that your life leaves you filled with overflowing with all that you had hoped, surpassing your every expectation. There is a wonderful benediction that goes something like: "My wish for you: comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunset to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, a heart warmed by family and friends, faith so that you can believe, confidence when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, and finally love to complete your life." I do wish all those things for you. 

I will miss telling you what you mean to me, which is nothing less than what you mean to the world. I will miss finding new and wonderful ways to express my every feelings and thoughts which were numerous, deep and consuming. I will miss telling you how incredible, intelligent, dorky, kind hearted and inspiring you are. You will always find a way to my heart, and no matter what, I will always love you...whether these are three simple words or a statement to you. But while I will hope for the day when you come to me and say "I am yours, for always.", I will choose to move on and to not let my fear of accepting reciprocated feelings stop me from choosing to constantly love others. I don't believe in happy endings, but rather in happy beginnings.

S.  

Confession Part III

                                                                                       *credits Alice

I could tell you what he looked like--his height and physique and the way the contours of his body felt close to mine in the dark; the shape and exact color of his eyes and how they looked when he was happy, sad, pissed, or passionate.; the lines of his forearms, biceps, shoulders, and elbows; the curve of his lips and the feel of his mouth against mine; and what his back, his hips, and legs felt like beneath my fingertips. I could tell you what he smelled like and what he tasted like. I could pick his voice out in a crowd at Times Square on New Year's Eve. Even all this time after the end, I could close my eyes and remember every details of him, as clearly as if he were right in front of me.

But what would be the point in describing all that? All it could do--all it could possibly do--is diminish the whole into a rearrangement of features you would never see the way I saw them. He's sound like your neighbor, or your brother, or that guy you work with, or some other person you couldn't possibly imagine inspiring an unending ache in someone's heart.

Everyone has a first love, one person they never completely got over, right? Picture yours.

Because when you come down to it, it isn't really anything about the way they look that distinguishes them in your memory--hair color, physical shape, style--it can all change with time. It's the way you remember feeling when you looked at them.

When I looked at him, I felt real, unconditional love. And I felt completely loved in all sense of the word. He was the only person I ever met whose soul I could clearly see in his eyes. And I had more faith in him than I've had in any other human being.

After it ended, on the rare occasions when I saw him, I could feel the shape, the moving embodiment, of the hole in my heart. Not that my life was about that. I moved on, of course. Dated, occasional flings, worked, studied, ate, drank, laughed, and cried. Things happen, life goes on, and you have to keep moving and think about what's in front of you or you'll go insane.

So I pushed the part of me that belonged to him way beneath the surface. Just like he did with me.

No one would ever have imagine this part of me existed at all, that a piece of my heart deep down was broken beyond repair, or that that guy--the guy who could have been anyone (or no one) to you or the rest of the world--was the cause of it all.

Yet despite all of that he was the only guy I was ever truly in love with and I believe with absolute certainty that these feelings will never be duplicated. 

The Fight for Love

I was on the phone with a friend the other day trying to determine the intent behind a text message that simply read, “cool.” A few days prior she had had a few glasses of wine and, against her better judgment, told someone she was seeing via text message that she really likes him. “Cool” was his response, and it was driving her insane.

She couldn’t for the life of her decipher whether “cool” had a positive or negative connotation. For a good half-hour we debated: Is it loving or nonchalant? To the point or a little too passive? I pointed out that the real problem was that “cool” wasn’t punctuated; there was no period or exclamation mark or ellipsis, just the naked word sitting there on her phone taunting her with its ambiguity.

It’s hard to watch your friends in times like that, mainly because we’ve all been there before—head over feet, self-compromisingly “in love” with someone who just isn’t giving you enough. Still, you keep pushing forward.What’s most tragic about this situation is that my friend is, in most cases, a composed, level-headed fountain of wisdom and insight. And yet, for some reason, this one word was the snag that unravelled the whole sweater.

Somewhere, some time ago, someone told us that we need to fight for our relationships. That genius,  much like my friend’s “cool” maybe-boyfriend, needed to be a bit more specific about what that implies, because it’s under that ideology that I think a lot of us end up making our biggest mistakes— we lose sight of what we’re actually fighting for.

I often liken my love life to the pathetic fallacy found in a Bronte novel: a long and winding road tented by storm clouds and rain. Kidding. But give me a few more years and we’ll revisit that analogy. I can say that it hasn’t been easy, though. And that’s primarily because I often confuse “fighting for it” with fighting for a person. Therein lies the misconception: To fight for a relationship should involve both parties actively trying to make it work. So often, however, the fight is one-sided, with someone struggling to hold on to a person instead of a relationship. And once you’ve started down that path, it’s hard to find the perspective to evaluate your actions with a clear head and an open mind.

It also doesn’t help that I have a friend who is the exception to the rule, the one person who fought for someone and won. The problem is that stories like hers happen to one in a million, so while I’m undeniably inspired by it, I also can’t help but resent them for statistically screwing over the rest of us.

The reality is, for the most part, if you’re fighting that hard and not seeing any real, tangible results, you’re fighting a losing battle. And not to sound all self-help book-y about it, but we’re better than that.That’s why, when we find ourselves hunched over a cellphone trying to solve that all too familiar text puzzle, we should really be spending that time trying to decide whether that text is even worth the analysis in the first place. From my experience, it’s not. Rarely is.

That’s not to say that we shouldn’t try; some people need winning over. Still there’s a fine line between indulging in the thrill of the chase and putting ourselves second for someone else. The line is chickenwire thin, but at least if we’re aware of it we may step more cautiously. It’s at that point that we’re able to glance down at our buzzing cellphones, read some ambiguously nondescript text message and have the clarity and self-assuredness to casually respond, “cool.”

What You Learn After Your First Heartbreak

2AM -- There are some who are dreaming of a beautiful world better than reality and there are some who are partying their life away like it's the end of the world. For me, this is the time where I do my best thinking and when I feel extremely nostalgic. In the past I have often asked questions that led to no answers. But as the saying goes: "Things happen for a reason." Those so-called things became life lessons that I now hold dear.  

After your first heartbreak you learn not to assume things. You learn not to assume that the day you spent together in bed and took photos of each other against that white wall was important to both of you. In reality, only one of you will ever care about that day. Only one of you will flinch when you see the white wall again. The other person will forget it ever happened. You’ll have to remind them, months or even years later when you meet for coffee, about the pictures and you’ll feel so stupid for holding it so dear. Why do you have to be the one who remembers that day? You assumed that your memories would be the same. You didn't know that one gets to forget and the other has to remember.

You learn that the person who once protected you from all harm could one day become the harm. They could become the thing they spent so much time shielding you from. That’s how it always seems to work though, doesn't it? We give people power over our lives, we let them dictate the rhythms, and then we act surprised when there’s scratches.

You learn about the cruelty of time, the cruelty of fickleness. You learn that it’s possible for the person who knew you the best to eventually know nothing at all. You counted on them always knowing. You took solace in someone keeping score. But reliance is the first thing to go in a break up. You lose the right to call someone. You lose the right to ask how they’re doing. Imagine that. One day you had a VIP pass to their life and the next, you’re shut out completely. They’ll tell their grandma more things than they’d tell you.

You learn how bad heartbreak can hurt. All of a sudden you’ll be relating to sad love songs and feeling like such a chump. You listened to them before but never quite understood why they had so much resonance with people. Then you realized that it’s strictly for people who’ve dealt with the loss of love. To get the full effect of an Adele song, someone has to take an emotional dump on your face. Otherwise you’ll just be like “Gee, this lady sure sounds sad!

You’ll learn terrifying things about yourself. Most notably, the fact that heartbreak will turn you insane and obsessive. It makes you irrational and cripplingly nostalgic.  (Your friends will even get fed up with you for a bit because you’re so cray cray.)  There’s no real way to fix a broken heart other than time and sleeping with the next person you could potentially love. It takes someone’s else dick to get over the last one. 

Most importantly, you’ll learn that it will all be okay in the end. Just like time killed your relationship, it will also be the thing that repairs you. Eventually enough time will pass that you’ll have nothing left to mourn. You’ll develop Swiss cheese holes in your memory about the relationship. All you’ll recall are occasional flashes of happiness and feel grateful for it. You understand that this is just how life works. You fall in and out of love with people until you land somewhere that makes sense. You’ve learned a new secret about life and people. You get it now.

It’s bitter to know. It’s better to know.

(photo credit: Marlène G)

10 Seconds Update

I would usually elaborate more when it comes to writing a post on this blog as we all know, but being in the mist of finals week (sleepless, crazy hours of nonstop studying) I'll just write these few words to say that I'm still alive and I'm breathing. I know I'm long overdue for an update even though there's is not much to say about my plain'ole life. But with the beautiful season coming its way to the city, you'll definitely be hearing more about me and seeing more updates in the next coming weeks. Taking a short study break to write this is making me realize how much I miss being on here. I'll be back pronto, promise! :)

Updates:

- I'm currently playing the patience games with school... Dunno how long (or how much) it will take for it to break me down. But as of now I'm simply tolerating it. Baby steps they say...

- Lots of changes in the job aspect this past month. All in all, I'm A LOT happier now. 

- Men... -big fat sigh-  

- In case you were living under a rock this entire time, but JT aka the-man-of-my-life-since-i-was-a-prepubescent-teen made a comeback this year. He's simply flawless...

Throwback Thursday

Strangely enough, I've never really paid attention to the lyrics up until now. As silly as it sounds, it triggered a part of me that I thought I had forever buried...   

Muses

I've never believed that one person can stick to one style since trends changes throughout the season which is why I have never really settle myself on a style in particular when it comes to fashion. Because of my eclectic taste I always find myself wanting to get out of my comfort zone, try different things and dare myself to think outside of the box ( feather shorts, anyone?). Of course there's also another side of me that enjoys wearing flannel pjs all day and I couldn't care less of what is in and what is out. At the end of it all, it depends on my mood. Some days I feel like being an Audrina; rocking a leather jackets, wearing motorcycle boots and head out to the nearest bar for a beer. When I'm being Chloé, I'm more conservative, a hopeless romantic and a dreamer. Emma is all about my socializing side and my life in the city; being the "it" girl that everyone wants to be friends with. My inner Olivia depicts my serious side and how I picture myself in the near future: career oriented, professional and involved in the high fashion industry. She is ready to take over Vogue magazine (hehe)  

Rick Owen leather jacket, Helmut Lang asymmetrical tshirt, Victoria Beckham leather legging, Alexander Wang studded Diego bucket bag, John Galliano "Parlez-moi d'Amour" Eau de Parfum, Hermès Collier de Chien leather cuff, Surface to Air wedge leather boots.

Ralph Lauren navy cashmere sweater, Sandro pleaded silk maxi skirt, Mulberry thin leather belt, Cutler & Gross cat eye glasses, Michael Kors midsize runway gold watch, Yves Saint Lauren Rouge Pur Couture in Le Orange, Chloé Marcie bag, Stella McCartney Brocade ballet flats. 

Haute Hippie faux fur vest, Aubin&Wills stipped cotton tshirt, 7 For All Mankind jeans, Milly clutch, Deborah Lippman polish in Supermodel, Philippe Audibert studded cuff, Marc by Marc Jacobs shoes, Eugenia Kim suede fedora.   

Maison Martin Margiela silk tux blazer, Alexander McQueen wool jersey dress, Smythson Runway leather notebook, Linda Farrow Luxe D-frame sunglasses, Emilio Pucci beaded silk clutch, Chanel No.5 Parfum, Valentino suede and studded metal pumps. 

Five Things: Small Luxury

The week started unexpectedly on a high note. I've never been keen to last minute plans, but I would have to say I didn't regret saying yes when an old friend of mine invited me to go out Sunday night. If it wasn't the fact that I knew him so well, I would have probably stayed in my pjs and went to bed early that day. Not only did I have a great time mingling and meeting different people I finally gave myself a well deserved 12 hour "beauty sleep" after spending an entire week waking up at 5am everyday for classes and appointments. I would have to say that drinking champagne the night prior has its benefits... :)    

Since I might not be celebrating my birthday this year, my friend decided to spoil me with a bottle of Louis Roederer 2004 Crystal Champagne. Early birthday gift he says.

Homemade comfort food at its best - Gratinée à l'oignon aka French Onion Soup (Yes, I burnt it a bit under the broiler. It was delicious nonetheless.)

M.A.C Cosmetics x Marilyn Monroe launch party invitation. Can't wait! 

My staple lifestyle and entertainment guide by an inspiring (and one of my favorite) blogger, Emily Schuman.

Newest hangout place every Thursday afternoon: Cacao 70

Lost & Found

"You broke me, and taught me to truly hate myself."

Soothing melody, powerful voice, haunting lyrics. Lianne La Havas is the new Adele... mark my words.

Embrace

For many writers the worst part of the writing experience is the very beginning, when they're sitting at the kitchen table staring at a blank sheet of paper or in front of that unblinking and perfectly empty computer monitor. "I have nothing to say," is the only thing that comes to mind. I would have to say that overcoming my writer's block for the past couple of months has been a harder process than I expected. For one I was lacking in the inspiration department. For the first time in years I truly felt uninspired. Nothing out there motivated me to write up a post whether it be about the things that I love or the things that I hate. There comes a time when I simply didn't feel like doing anything anymore. I just didn't see the purpose of it all, the purpose for everything that was going on. The concept of sharing my thoughts openly didn't seem too right anymore. Believe it or not, I have developed a fear of opening myself up again. That is until I met Mrs.C.

Known to be the "Anna Wintour" of all clients in the department store where I work, one can easily fall onto her black list if she had a bad experience with you. And when I say black list, I kid you not that she can make you lose your job at the end of the day if things don't go her way. I've always heard the staff talking about her and I was given proper instructions on how to behave if I were to encounter her. The first time that I met her, I felt a slight pang of confusion. This so-called Cruella De Vil was not only extremely nice to me, but her exact words before she left the store were: "Je sens que nous allons développer une bonne relation. (I feel like we will have a good relationship)".

I have realized in a very roundabout way, that kindness and compassion, in their purest forms, are harder to find these days. It's a disconcerting notion considering, I'd say, we are more in need of it now than ever before. Because if there's one thing I've learned about kindness or acts of kindness, it's that they are far more transformative than we may think. I remember being in a particularly fragile state one gloomy day. I was struggling with some matters of the heart (what else is new, right?) and I was at war with the new POS system being installed at work thinking to myself, 'This day can’t get any worse.' The next thing you know, the computer decided to crash on me.  

Before I could throw the computer on the floor and fling myself into a full-blown public temper tantrum, I heard a voice: “It's ok Sisi. Just breathe. Embrace it. Just breathe.” I looked up to discover Mrs. C walking into the store. She was picking up her alterations and she clearly saw the distress and confused look on my face when I saw her. When I asked her what she meant by 'embrace' she simply told me that it was ok to feel shitty and to feel like God granted my life with bad luck, but if I took two second to pause and take up things the way they are, the rest will follow accordingly and in some odd way, everything will feel right again.

It was a stranger comforting me in a moment when I needed comfort the most. A moment where I was at my lowest, and someone who had nothing gave me the only thing she could: compassion and kindness. It was all I was looking for. It was a moment that helped change my outlook on life and how I was conducting my own. It’s easy to forget about the importance of embrace because it's so basic. With the holiday season upon us really soon, it's so easy to get lost in ourselves and our needs and wants, but imagine how much better we'd all feel, how much more profoundly we'd appreciate all we have, if we just took that extra time to look out for one another.  Think about it: How much better off would we all be if, in a moment when we needed it the most, a stranger were to tap us on the shoulder and whisper: “Just breathe. Embrace it. Just breathe.”

January to August had mostly been recuperating months for me. I felt like I had to detach myself from a lot of things (and people) in order to reevaluate the goals that I have in my life. Truth to be told, I'm still far from finding the comfortable zone where I can genuinely feel happy about my life right now, but I'm slowly taking baby steps embracing everything that is about to come my way.

And indeed, up to this day Mrs. C has been my most loyal client ever and our relationship have developed considerably. So much that I can probably write her entire biography and she would do so for mine. Because of her, for me she gave a whole new meaning to the word embrace. 

Emma

“The trick of it, she told herself, is to be courageous and bold and make a difference. Not change the world exactly, just the bit around you. [ .. ] Change lives through art maybe. Write beautifully. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if at all possible. Eat sensibly. Stuff like that. It wasn’t much in the way of a guiding philosophy, and not one you could share, least of all with this man, but it was what she believed... 

Of course there’s still no boyfriend, but she doesn’t mind. Occasionally, very occasionally, say at four o’clock in the afternoon on a wet sunday, she feels panic-stricken and almost breathless with loneliness. Once or twice she has been known to pick up the phone to check that it isn’t broken. Sometimes she thinks how nice it would be to be woken by a call in the night: ‘Get in the taxi now’ or ‘I need to see you, we need to talk.’ but at the best of times she feels like a character in a Muriel Spark novel – independent, bookish, sharp-minded, secretly romantic." - One Day

What Moving On Is Like

"Moving on is not like a birthday, you can’t count down the hours ‘til it arrives and you can’t mark it on a calendar and you can’t call up your friends to help you celebrate. You can’t plan for it and you can’t conclude it by blowing out a candle. When moving on happens there will be no announcements, no notifications, no congratulations. There will be no parade; only you will know. Moving on is like aging that way, if aging happened backward. If the passing of days made you new and young, if your condition only had room to improve. Instead of a throbbing pain in your right knee forcefully, increasingly making its presence known, first with a whisper and then with a mumble and then with a shout, ‘til you can’t move, ‘til you can’t walk; moving on is gradual like that except when it’s over, you can walk just fine. You can run, even.

Moving on is like this: one day you forget the taste. The next, you forget the smell. Then the touch. Then the laugh. Then the smile. Then the jokes. Then the eyes, the hair, the hands, the feet. You forget the socks. You forget the fingers, the toes, the sex. You forget the pulses, the beats, the rhythms and how you sometimes felt like they all belonged to you. You forget the words; finally, you forget the voice that spoke them. Moving on is like one day, you’re walking or reading or drinking the sun and one of those footprints, one of those artifacts will creep into your consciousness, “already seen,” the French call this, déjà vu, and you won’t know where it belongs or how it got there. All it takes is a familiar laugh, a recognizable word and you are transported to who knows where. You are a confused paleontologist now, scrambling to make sense of things left behind, trying to reunite the right dinosaur with the right bones. The scar from his burst appendix goes here, the part of his leg that doesn’t grow hair belongs there, I think this is his morning breath but maybe it belongs to someone who came before him; some other ghost, some other relic. His taste is an aftertaste now, his crow’s feet a souvenir with no place to call home. That’s what moving on is like.

Moving on is not like beginning a new chapter, it’s like beginning a new book — with each turned page, the last story you read fades into the background. A fairy tale that becomes just another book on a shelf; folded corners and underlined words the only reminder of how you used to touch and hold and love it. Moving on is when you begin to forget the intricacies of a character you knew intimately, you forget what he did for a living and the way he prepared grilled cheese and the nickname he had for his first girlfriend. You forget how he lost his virginity, you forget his middle name.

Moving on is waking up without a sour feeling in your stomach, looking at a familiar menu and ordering something different, taking the direct route to a destination and not the one that crosses a path you once set in stone. Moving on is when you think about him and don’t punish yourself for it, when he begins to evoke more of a scientific response than an emotional one, like “This is a 6’0” blonde-haired person who exists,” and not “This is a person I wish I’d never met; this is a person who has made me less of one.” Moving on is not to destroy or to combust or to set ablaze, it is simply to move, to advance through space and time, to leave behind the familiar dull of heartbreak for the new, the unknown, the strange. Moving on is a bird flying south for the winter who decides maybe the warmth isn’t so bad, who decides maybe he’ll stay there for awhile; moving on is like freedom, is what moving on is like." - Stephanie Georgopulos, thoughtcatalog.com

In an odd unspeakable way, I found myself letting this article triggered everything I have bottled up inside. There is truly nothing more nostalgic than reminiscing about the past and replaying the beautiful memories in my head like an old VHS I have not touched in years. When it happens I resort myself to be able to feel a small sting of happiness instead of turning it into a lethal weapon. I don't know what is in store for me in the future. But what I do know is that I still have a very long way to go.

Thank you twinnie for showing me this. You really got me this time.

Till It Happens To You

It used to feel like heaven, used to feel like may.

I used to hear those violins playing heart strings like a symphony.

Now they've gone away. Nobody wants to face the truth.

But you wont believe what love can do till it happens to you...

Jason Wu x TARGET

After hints via Twitter and a few teaser images, the full Jason Wu for Target lookbook is finally out!!! I honestly think this is one of Target's best designer collaboration I've seen to date. I love love love LOVE Jason Wu. He previously told the New York Times, "My goal was not to duplicate anything from my main collection... Instead I designed completely new clothes and accessories that reflect my taste and have a voice of their own."

And he definitely accomplished his goal. In keeping with his signature aesthetic, there's lots of pleating, bows, modest necklines, and nipped-at-the waist shapes. Fabric-wise, there's a nice mix of solids, stripes, florals and lace. The clothes are not the lacy and glamorous looks of the runway but rather flirty, playful looks that the average woman could wear to work, brunch or a cocktail party (or that the fashion-savvy high school student could wear to class - especially those cute penny loafers with socks...I mean COME'ON!). The color palette skews nautical with plenty of navy and red, but there's a great splash of mustard (seen in Wu's F/W 2011 runway collection) and of course a healthy dose of black. And then there are the accessories and the bags, which are also fun and simple to sport. And if the designs themselves weren't appealing enough (which I highly doubt), the prices will definitely grab you. Pieces range from $19.99 to $59.99 for clothes and $19.99 to $49.99 for accessories.

Target should have do me a favor and waited until Canada open their first stores here. But sadly I'll have to see if I can eBay a few pieces once they hit stores across the US February 5th 2012. For those who can, GO PITCH A TENT IN FRONT OF TARGET NOW! You won't regret it :)

Mending Fences

"You're doing it again," my friend T whispered to me one night, not long ago. "Doing what?" I asked her, feigning innocence. We were at a cocktail with a group of people I have not seen since high school, one of whom had done me wrong years earlier. And to avoid talking or even making eye contact with this person, I have situated myself as far away from her as I possibly could. "Fredo-ing," T hissed. "Look, do you remember the sequel to The Godfather? Michael Corleone decides he won't have anything to do with his brother Fredo because Fredo has betrayed him. And that's exactly the same thing you do when someone hurts your feelings. You Fredo them."

T must have given the most ridiculous example in describing my behavior that night, but what could I say? She was right. When Michael Corleone snarled, "I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart...you broke my heart." I understood his pain. For many years, like the Godfather himself, I tendered beefs with all sorts of people (believe it or not). Let bygones be bygones, the saying goes. But letting go of a grievance you've held for months - or even years - is anything but easy. I always find myself having a hard time dealing with those who have let me down. Not only did I care, but I have entrusted them my heart. There are some days when I asked myself whether I was giving too much to the wrong people? I always find myself getting constantly disappointed. Severing a long-standing friendship, no matter the cause, always filled me with sadness. But somehow I couldn't bring myself to forgive readily. Instead I Fredo'd, pretending the person had never been important to me, pretending not to hurt and be "ok".

But lately I realized the more I shun people, the more distant I become from those around me and the more I have changed. Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts - you arrogance, you spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone upsets you and instead of moving on, you zing them? I know I shouldn't let an incident define the person that I am, but when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitable follows and the feeling sucks just as much as holding a grudge against someone.

When I heard the person seek out for me after the first round of hors d'oeuvre, I swallowed my pride and walked up to her to say hi. Despite my pledge to leave behind old animosities, I admit that my initial impulse was to politely accept and continue to Fredo her for the rest of our lives. But my second impulse was to take a very deep breath, grab my glass of wine and really listen to what she had to say. To my surprise the first thing she said to me was that she was sorry for everything that have happened. While she quietly spoke, I analyzed her tone and the way she expressed herself. Her words somehow seemed sincere and endearing. And then it dawned on me; there was a reason why I considered her my friend back in high school. I was faced with the universal truth that all human beings make mistakes. She was a great person who made a stupid mistake and I can't blame her for that.

The brief conversation turned out to be a very pleasant one. If it wasn't for my realization that I can be a happier person if I learn to face my fears and to forgive, I would have probably created a monster out of myself and unintentionally hurt those who did nothing to me. As of now I know I still have very long way to go to until I completely, whole heartily forgive those who have hurt me. Time will be able to do that...I am sure of it.

As Soon As Possible

Du Jour En Jour

For the last 2 months, whenever someone would come up to me and ask me how am I doing I would simply answer: "Du jour en jour."

If I were to say that I'm doing great, I would be flatly lying to them and to myself. If I were to say that I'm doing terrible I would be showing sign of weakness. Therefore I have decided to settle myself in finding the perfect medium when it came to expressing too little or too much of my feelings. They say some things are better left unsaid... in my case 'unposted'. Contrary to what you believe or see, I did not stop writing. In fact, i wrote every single day whether its a two line phrase or 10 pages worth of material. I got myself accustomed to write every morning and night about what were my thoughts at the moment. Some were dreary while others were self reflective and therapeutic. At the end, i felt like there's progression. The reason why I didn't feel like publishing my posts was because everything i wanted to say wasn't a mystery. I just felt like i had nothing new to offer. Even i at some point thought everything was redundant and over used. You really did not want to suffer as readers to read those posts. Another reason why I didn't feel like sharing my thoughts to the world was because I did not want an answer nor was i looking for one. I just wanted to send the vent out into the void. I know that I could have simply talked about it instead on confining my thoughts but you see I learned that every time people come up to you and say they've been through it all and they give you 'advice' - I discover that a lot of them only help out because it's their 'duty' as caring people to do so but none of them actually take into consideration your feelings. I can probably count on 5 fingers (and barely even) the number of people whom i truly believe to be truthful to me and that genuinely care.

Anyhow, I'm back from this hiatus and hopefully as time progress and as i continue to write in this little 4 year old (already!) blog of mine, I hope to reconnect with the person I used to be and that i'm able to accept the good and the bad that life has to offer.

Moment

I Thought I Knew

I thought I knew how it felt. I thought I had memorized the feeling of not being happy, of wanting more, of being ajar. I thought I had settled for this second skin; the acceptance that sometimes it just isn’t a choice. It is a luxury to be able to feel what you wish to feel, and more often than not, life cannot afford such ease.

The problem with being a dreamer, a writer, a poet, is not that they feel more than everyone else. It is that they cannot escape from it. All the pain, ache and explosions,- others can dismiss as merely a feeling that cannot be contained. But for us, there are endless words to describe the way we feel, to actualize the feeling, to give it existence, to gravitate them. The irresistible impulse to label everything, to get to the bottom of every unexplainable feeling is crippling. To live as a writer is non-apologetic. Everywhere that you try to escape to, is aesthetically numb. Even when you do not see what reminds you of it, words are running madness inside your head.

This is about existing within a world where love is not on my side. This is about struggling every day to stay afloat. This is about my greatest love story. I thought I knew how it felt. I had made a pact with myself that I have no other choice. But that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to live with. Heartstrings are broken whenever I think to myself, we may be so right for each other, but there will never be a way to find out. So many things remind me of you that not a day goes by that I am able to be completely content. The problem with being a dreamer, is that I feel too much for my own good. When I think about us, I feel dismantled, familiar, damaged and every imaginable adjective in between. There is no other person as capable as you to destruct, love and forgive me. You may never understand it, but it is just a truth that I must live with.

The idea of being happy is extraordinary. Sometimes I dream of not feeling. Of just existing. Of not being physically able to hurt inside. I did not choose to be a person that feels too much, or someone that is compelled to write word after word after word. Every time I think I could be content, something thrusts me back into a higher feeling that I cannot control. I thought I knew how it felt, how everything is, how people are, but I cannot will my heart to think the same ever again.

Want & Resent