[逢うは別れの始め]To meet is the beginning of parting. The first time I read this, it felt like the perfect title of a story. It clues me in — prepares me for a bittersweet reality — and somehow I feel the words are beautiful as it does so. I know we will part, and I’m not scared that it will happen.
The most memorable times of my youth were college days. Four years aren’t long, but things that happen in our youth always seems to dig deeper than they should. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much more than ex-friends and ex-boyfriends, don’t you know? Didn’t you know? It didn’t make any sense. Why why why? I’ve spent some years willing to forget, fooling myself and trying not to regret, and only now can I say that I could look back at it with some detachment. The good was good, the bad was bad, and the good moments are better remembered fondly than never.
I’ve always been angry and resentful but time has been kind. Six years and finally I’m no longer scared to think about the past. Some moments have been fun, and real, and genuine — these are worth keeping. The old friends I wrote about in my older entries are different from who they were when friendships fell apart, and still different from who they are today. The versions of themselves in stories written by a girl who’s not that much older than a teen were transient moments worth capturing. Why why why? We’ve all changed, and the hurt doesn’t last forever.
This post is a bit late, but I feel that 2014 deserves a dedicated post to help me recount where I am in life now; what my previous goals were for the last year, and what I have achieved.
2014 is a bit of a murky year. I moved jobs thrice, and I have failed and succeeded in different things. I moved out, but not only from my parents’ house, but also to a different (but familiar) country.
The past week I have struggled with some anger, hatred, frustrations at individuals, groups of people, circumstances, memories, whathaveyou. I haven’t been feeling affectionate or happy or understanding or patient. I just have moments when I’m just so dissatisfied no matter what I do and I forget that nothing will ever be perfect. I forgot that “perfection”, happiness, the best there is — all of these things fall unto my shoulders because I’m the only one who can make the best out of everything. I just chose to burry that important detail and instead wallowed at some of the more negative things in life. Continue readingWhat loving life means
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. Continue readingBroken hearts heal with distance
This is going to be one of the (possibly many) pre-2012 posts (and the first) that I will be making before the year ends. This is also an attempt to use internet memes on my personal life, but I may get it wrong (which is why I’m just posting it here and not on 9Gag!)
You have been dutifully warned.
One of the best things about working at an Office that’s right in the middle of malls in Ortigas is that everything is a 10-minute walk away from you (except if it’s the Shang-ri La mall which is so much farther to walk than it seems). This means I can afford to get a haircut during lunch break. Which is what I did yesterday. Mostly because it’s a holiday today (so I won’t be in Ortigas to get the said haircut) and I think it’s best to start the year with a nice look (ohhh yeah, that’s definitely me complimenting myself. What is vanity).
(While we are at the subject of haircuts, I’d like to mention how much I love getting my hair cut at Toni & Guy in Manila. I can compare it with trying to get my hair cut in other salons and the hairdressers almost never get it right. I’d have to pay them Php250 to get it wrong, but Php650 for Toni & Guy to get it right — so, you’d understand where I want to put my money, right?)
Anyway, it’s the 30th and the year is about to end (thank goodness). It’s exhausted me in all ways imaginable. So many things happened and they are particular enough that I doubt I’ll ever forget them or how I felt when they happened. Although, on the way home from our Tagaytay Date-trip I told C, “It’s a good year, yeah?” That’s not a lie. The year can actually be divided into phases: (1) pre-graduation, (2) pre-employment, and (3) employment with the first part filled with all the sad drama. Part 2 is more like a phase of inner conflict then Part 3 is an eventual adjustment and acceptance period (to the best of my ability).
I guess there will always be some things I’ll feel bad about, guilty over, but despite the wrongness of it — of clinging onto the strings of hate, I just can’t let go of these feelings. Not yet. I can’t because I don’t understand how anybody could be friends with him after everything he blamed on me, after all the things I heard from an alumni, after he maliciously spread things like how I supposedly wanted to have a threesome with you and her. I can accept his apology, since you insisted that it was sincere, but that doesn’t make me trust him any more than I can trust a dog who bit me.
It will make you sad in maybe a similar way as to how I’m sad (I have no other words…regretful, yes. Miserable, a little. Sorry…that, too, but really, just sad most of all) that there will always be these people (or at the very least, him) that I consider to be a thorn in the middle of something I’d consider almost perfect.
I used to be really insecure about myself because I felt that because we were both sort-of “creative” people, there’s this unsaid competition between us. And it’s a competition I don’t want to be in, which always made me want to give up an aspect of design to focus on something else.
But hearing that she’s bringing her character down to the lowest of the low, it does take a bit of pressure off me. I can be sure that I’ve still done good things and when it comes down to it, being a good (and the best kind of good) person is more important for me. That no matter how much further talent will bring you, no matter how much you can lie to other people, your true personality will always be evident to those who’ve known you longer, who’ve known your best and your worst, and in the end losing a very good friend’s trust and faith will always be the worst loss of all.
If anything, nobody can tell me I’ve accused people wrongly, or spread stories about them, or publicly shared the things she’s told me in confidence. Even when I was getting hurt and judged wrongly, I respected her privacy. I’m starting to realize that somehow, just being the “better” person (morally) has to be enough kind of justice for me, since it’s the only justice I’ll ever get.
The first time someone said bad things about me, I kept mum about his own shortcomings especially when it involved mutual friends. Despite that, his true character showed anyway and some people eventually said, “oh, she was right all along.” I believe that will happen to her too. I don’t have to prove their bitchiness at all. They’ll prove it by themselves.
I still feel like I have to prove the world wrong, for all the accusations and the gossip and the insults. But maybe sometimes happiness is my only revenge and one day, I’ll get there without any old skeletons to anchor me down.
Following a depressing night, I’ve decided to take a hiatus on designing.
I honestly hate how I got here. I’m not over some heartbreaks, and that includes feeling useless and a lot of hate towards myself. My design portfolio used to be filled with posters and whatever I did in college, and it’s a phase in life that’s filled with too much regrets, bad vibes, and shitty memories. There was a (possible misunderstanding? Or whatever.) from a few months ago that made me feel really hurt and also stripped from me one of the things I used to be proud of. I’ve been half-hearted towards design these past few months and I’m just starting to hate everything I make.
Whatever design projects I have now I’ll finish. Otherwise, I’m focusing on other things. Things that are less artsy. Less like the culture of most people I used to be friends with. I started with quitting production design. I might as well take a break off from graphic design or things like that. Right now, design makes me depressed and it’s not fun for me anymore.
I’m working as a User Interface Designer, and I think that’s the most I want to be involved with design right now. Corporate, yes, good. Not art. No art. But I’m trying to find opportunities to learn programming and I’m going to invest in that.
A different field, different people, and hopefully a different ‘me’.
I question everything I did, everything I was, everyone I knew.
The past is too heartbreaking and I have nothing to be proud of anymore.
Maybe I’m waiting to be whisked away by a job, classes, or learning. A tornado, a hurricane, a storm can take me to Oz and I’m not even sure I would want to go back home. Not when it means a chance to be someone else. If I have the rest of my life to live, I want to live it opposite of how I used to be.
Tonight I dropped by C’s house with Gail to look for something. The first person I saw was Jopy. I no longer froze, nor felt my heart race in panic, and neither did I feel like a hunted rabbit. I just stared at him, then past him, before I realized I wasn’t at the brink of a panic attack. I can breathe, and feel like a normal person.
Maybe it was the darkness, or the presence of Gail, or of my own urgency because there was something I needed to find that night — for whatever reason, I felt like a “normal” stranger in front of a person from my college org. More than that, I didn’t feel like crying in front of one of the key people who said unpleasant things about me last year, in addition to having treated me pretty badly. In front of him, I was able to maintain an emotional calm.
I’m hoping it’s not just a one-time momentary calm, but rather a sign that I’m no longer as badly affected by things. I’m not eager to test that hypothesis, but for whatever reason I got it together, I wish I won’t lose that reason again.