I begin this post with a poem:

The Changed Woman
Louise Bogan

The light flower leaves its little core
Begun upon the waiting bough.
Again she bears what she once bore
And what she knew she re-learns now.

The cracked glass fuses at a touch,
The wound heals over, and is set
In the whole flesh, and is not much
Quite to remember or forget.

Rocket and tree, and dome and bubble
Again behind her freshened eyes
Are treacherous. She need not trouble.
Her lids will know them when she dies.

And while she lives, the unwise, heady
Dream, ever denied and driven,
Will one day find her bosom ready,—
That never thought to be forgiven.

Lately, I’ve been feeling grumpy and antsy with an insatiable lust for travel. In fact, I’m not even remotely picky at this point. I don’t have to travel abroad; I could go (and stay) in Cebu (because Ruby is there) or Boracay (because it’s a beach full of strangers) and be (temporarily) content. I just have this sinking feeling of discontent these days that won’t go away. That no matter how good life is right now, I can’t bring myself to forget the past and the feelings, the torment that come with it.

In fact, I had a very ugly argument with C over lunch, ruining my promised treat (as thanks for helping me with a video for work). I was complaining about a bunch of things. That I still can’t find that certain niche when it comes to a specific type of wavelength in friends that used to have but since a year ago I’ve lost. I don’t always refer to the group of people who’ve hurt me by the name of the org, but I can’t lie and stay those feelings haven’t stuck and tainted most of the memories. Unfortunately this includes most of everyone who were part of my batch, C included. One of the things I told him I was trying to come to terms with was the fact that I can never, ever be free of them because the person I’m with is very much friends with the people I absolutely loath. And when oftentimes I can feign indifference, my resentment over this fact never quite disappeared. 

C once told me that he wanted to disappear for five months, go somewhere without telling anybody, and spend those months doing anything he’d like — alone. This was when everything was still very platonic between us. Back then, I understood why he would want to do it; I think at one point everyone needs time for themselves to sort life out. Except, it wasn’t until after everything that happened to me last year that I felt that exact desire to somewhere, spontaneously, for a few months to reflect and maybe keep myself from going borderline suicidal. Unfortunately, that requires money and a constant flow of income also means a stable job that isn’t always open to month-long traveling (oh that would be The Dream Job. I think I would actually quit being a designer for a while if I could get some kind of job that requires traveling often).

I can’t wait for 2012 to be over, as eager as I tried to sound about the new year, because it brings me nearer to my 2-year deadline. Nearer to that requirement wherein I can start applying for graduate studies abroad. Abroad because it means I’ll be seas away from everyone I hate. New things never fail to fascinate me and staying at a different country would undoubtedly keep some sort of high going.

On other days, when I don’t want to leave, I want time to go forward as fast as it can so that life can end sooner. I believe in God enough to have faith in the concept of heaven and that when I finally, finally die, I will be one with Him and at that point I will forget everything about this life and be at peace.