I hate the rain.
I hate the clouds.
I hate myself for believing that the drops of rain are actually their tears. That for whatever stupid reason, the clouds are crying.
How dare they?!
How can they cry on us when most of us have to fight off tears? When we’re trying to hold it in for someone else’s sake, or maybe for our own?
The clouds are crying and I’ve no choice but to walk amongst their tears.
The clouds are selfish. And I’m f*cking pathetic.
You won’t ever forget that moment your “friend” almost revealed one of your deepest insecurities. You won’t forget how you swore never to tell that person anything that can be used to belittle you in any form. You won’t forget the regret—the disappointment in your heart that you’re trying to hide from everyone else. You just won’t. At the very least, you’d learn not to care. You might forgive, but you’d have that one experience to go back to. You know what almost happened. And you sure as hell won’t let that person have a second shot at it.
I created a neat little area on cyberspace. Therein lies everything: wishes, dreams, annoying secrets. There, I have everything. Except hope. And a fuckingly awesome book. Not really everything now, is it?
I was once a kid.
I used to ride my bicycle around three street blocks. Always just three. I’d go for four or five if I wanted to feel adventurous. Or if I were being chased by a dog.
I used to ring people’s doorbells then run away. I got caught once, though. Some stupid teens who thought they were “too mature” to pull pranks on people pointed at me when a neighbor came out the door. So stupid of me not to check whether there were teens hiding behind bushes, doing “mature” stuff a.k.a. smoking.
I used to come home from school feeling all giddy ’cause me and my friends promised to play marbles. I never really played against anyone. It was always the boys who competed. The girls were there to cheer for whoever they like.
Then, I grew up.
I’m supposed to know stuff now. I’m supposed to understand, to forgive, to think before I act, to look at the bigger picture, to know how to make a difference, to be a difference.
Sometimes, though, you just don’t want to. I don’t want to. At least for a certain period of time, I wanna look at the world with my unpolluted, clutter-free brain and just smile.
Maybe we knew everything about life when we were kids. Maybe we once held the knowledge of the world in the silence of our young brains and hearts.
Then, we just had to grow up.
You know it’s there. You can see it, but could you really? How could one see the existence of nothing? The absence of an alphanumeric character?
I never really questioned spaces ’til I was told to delete a space ’cause apparently there were two.
Two spaces. Two absences. Two “nothings.”
I obeyed. I saw nothing, I deleted nothing.
The world is absurd.
- why almost everyone tap the Enter key like it’s the reason for whatever crap they’re dealing with
- why I tend to look at other people’s coffee mugs and try to analyze their personalities based on the amount of powdered coffee they put in
- why women continue to try putting makeup on during a bumpy car ride
- why some people think it’s okay to sneeze without a hanky over their mouths especially when inside an air-conditioned public vehicle
- why we love celebrity gossips
- why I’m related to a conceivably possible habitual liar
- why Kristen Stewart was never replaced as Bella Swan
- why I was introduced to rice
- why people try so hard
- why I allowed my alter ego to press that Publish button
Then. Once upon a time, I was a flag. It was my elementary teacher who pushed me to be one. You are to represent our Motherland, she said. My grandma was beyond happy to make me a dress. Three stars and a sun, puffed sleeves, red, blue. I don’t remember how I felt that day, but that jurassic photo hidden somewhere inside my room shows no sign of glee.
Now. They were careful to use that C word just one time. Then they hid it behind pretty nouns and adjectives. Come in costume, that’s what it should say, come in the most creative and most unique costume.