My Undying

My Undying

IT WAS A POINT in my past where I shouldn’t be wallowing in anymore, what with all the excruciating pains it has caused me - vows that were made and eventually broken, friendships that were lost and never been fully restored and precious ideals that were almost deserted. I guess I needed to seek the path back to my old life to be able to fully comprehend why I am here and who I am. Heck, God knows mine was a journey with perils of losing the part of me which you and I love the most. I was an Anakin on the verge of morphing into a Darth Vader, perhaps, even worse. It was everything but easy, and now, as I continue to immerse myself in the subtleties and stupidities of the everyday world, the best and worst of me is yet to come.

I posted this as a note on Facebook more than a month ago. For my acquaintances, these words are quite mystifying but for those who have the slightest idea of my past agonies, these are but understatements. As my mind drifts back to the chain of events that has profoundly changed my life, I cannot not feel wistful.

It has been four years since I suffered one of the most devastating maelstroms of my life. It happened on a clear day on a beach on the twentieth of May. The cheerful weather was a sardonic irony of the boiling tension between us, like a volcano that has been filled with the wrath of the underworld, a looming pandemonium which guarantees to liquefy the solidarity which we have taken so much pain, time and effort to build. If I had known what would happen and how I would be shattered that day, I would have chosen to be in isolation rather than be in that attempt for reconciliation, which have turned into an outright and bitter separation.

Hell, we screwed up like the hypocrites we have become! Perhaps we did deserve such torment or maybe we were just victims of our pride, our temperament and our youth. Could hypocrites be really victims? Or is there no need for euphemism as it was just plain hypocrisy on our part, nothing less. One thing is certain though - it was tragic. It was tragic how two people, whose lives, minds and character are so intertwined, have managed to use words to lacerate each other as effectively as stabbing with poisoned knives. The absence of blood in a fight doesn’t make it less damaging after all, a disproof to the cliché “Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.” Yeah right! Words may not hurt you, but it can make you feel dead, which is worse than being dead because it makes you nothing more than a cold stone – unmoving, unfeeling and withering, until the forces of the earth pulverized it and sent it back to join the soil, forever indistinguishable, eternally bound to be trampled on by passersby.

I guess it is best to reveal how I got acquainted with her in the first place, which reminds me how agonizing it is to inscribe these poignant memoirs of mine. Here I am, after a bottle of beer, which was supposed to sedate wounds that have never quite healed and have been reopened in the process of this script and still, I find myself sighing after every sentence. If only my monitor has hands, it would have strangled me for my unintentional and brutal way of bombarding it with constant and hanging suspense.

Dear me, did I say I would declare how I met her?
Okay, enough introductions then.
And now, to the start of the story.

Elated, I was greeted by arched hallways and ancient architecture which complements the eon of my new college school, Universidad de Santa Isabel. The excitement I felt was a mark of my enthusiasm to see the world again after years of being out of school and ages of hibernating. I wasn’t really expecting to see familiar faces since I have never set foot on this university. So you can imagine my relief when I found out that at least a quarter of my classmates were my acquaintances back in my highschool years at the Ateneo. . I was early, so I killed a couple of minutes chatting with them, mostly about our mischief in secondary years.

When the bell rang, a petite, brunette and shoulder length haired girl strut her way in front of me and settled in the seat directly ahead of mine. Striking hair, I thought and behold she glanced in my direction and waved. I was dumbstruck, feeling like my mouth have just been sealed with an adhesive tape. But before I could utter a word or wave back at least, my seatmate, Mitch, said “Oi” to her in response. And that was how I made the acquaintance of my little princess (go ahead laugh at the term of endearment), I will imply later, why I preferred to give her that title, which, shaking out all cliché and mushiness, really are such precious words for me.

In the next few days of our class (block section), she would sit with Mitch and talk to her within the brief minutes before our class periods. The next weeks, I was already included in their chitchats and would have a sense of frustration with the seating arrangement when our class starts and she would have to return to her seat.

It was when Mitch was absent for the first time that we had the chance to talk a little longer than we used to. Ah, that blessed day. I was about thirty minutes early, which was unusual, what with my excessive lateness in high school. She arrived five minutes after I did, well there’s nothing odd about that, as she was always prompt, prim and proper. What caught my attention however is the “little” white book in her hand.

Do you like it?” I asked.

“Nope, I love it!” she exclaimed.

From that moment on we became good friends, the best of friends and you know the rest.

I do want to emphasize that I tried to steer clear of us being more than friends, not because I wanted to, but because I thought I have to. You see, I promised myself, more than anybody else, that I would not get anyone or anything divide my attention on my studies, after all the mess I have made in my academic life – incurring enough AFs (absences leading to failure) to make even the most kind hearted dean or department chair frown.

But I guess it was hard, if not impossible, not to adore this girl, with her jet black hair, rich sensuous lips, narrow waist, big, round, brown eyes and curious baby blue dental braces. What even drew me closer to her was the seeming balance of her desire to speak and her admirable patience to listen. But what struck me the most was how in many ways she is – like me.

She is, as Antoine de Saint Exupery said in his beloved fable, “The Little Prince”, “someone whom I could really talk to.” God knows how hard it is to find someone who knows what you’re trying to say before you even finish deciphering it or how you feel even without putting it into words. It seemed our cerebral channel is of the same wavelength, until we caused too much fatigue on our cardiac muscles and lost control of our emotions - the sweet and sometimes wild emotions that have enabled us to tame each other’s restless and aloof spirit.

So here I am now, writing all this down, plunging back into my first experience of figurative hemophilia, finally unveiling one of the most momentous episode of my existence and hoping that it would somehow answer people’s queries about my solemnity and sometimes utter grimness. As I always say “I am serious most of the time, funny sometimes and pensive all of the time”. I just wish that people will finally understand why I am not so fond of surface talks and the accustomed Pinoy manner of “hear me I am so funny” stories anymore. It is not that I find humor a waste of time; it is just that I do wish that people will be sensitive to others’ hardships. After all, life is not all about hearing hilarious antics, in great part, it is about listening to the troubles of wounded hearts and easing the weariness of battered souls. So long as we think that there is nothing more admirable than one’s loud and unquenchable cheerfulness, even if it is nothing more than a bravado, we would fail unceasingly to perceive solace in sorrow, humility in loneliness, endurance in suffering and wisdom in failure, that are almost always present in the quietness of a thoughtful being.

This has been my account of a tragedy, of a loss so agonizing that it caused me the wavering of my faith in everything good, in people and worst of all, in Him. I was broken. The bereavement I had was so grave that I grieved for it, that I was driven to walk away from everything and everyone that I hold dear, trekking for three consecutive days under the sun, rain and stars, armed with only a score of pesos, an umbrella and a shabby and thin jacket against the inclement weather of December. Out of the goodness of strangers who fed and gave me enough money to be able to come back home, I did survive to tell this tale.

Now, my wounds are starting to heal and I must say that it was all worth it, for my life roadmap was enriched with every stopover, dead end, U-turn, detour and refueling station I encountered. The emotional roller coaster ride made me puke and faint. I was bruised, scratched, scarred and scathed but I also learned to deal with them (much later). If there is one thing I could asks for, it is that my would-be readers will not take these revelations lightly. This was a hellish torment for me, disclosing all these details. Four years proved too short a time to mend hurts that run too deeply. But I do hope that this story, my story – of agony, mirth, folly and glory will remind me, as well as others, of the individual that has to stand firm, of the soul that needs constant pruning, of the being who has to remain afloat no matter how unfathomably immersed he is in misery, of succor that is unending, of resilience that is unrelenting and of hope, that is and will always be, undying.


(Note: This is a Confessional Feature Article I have submitted for my Finals Portfolio in Feature Writing Class)

Pasig’s Floating World « Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism

Pasig’s Floating World « Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism

Posted using ShareThis

My Undying

It was a point in my past where I shouldn't be wallowing anymore, what with all the excruciating pains it has caused me - vows that were made and eventually broken, friendships that were lost and never been fully restored and precious ideals that were almost deserted. I guess I needed to seek the path back to my old life to be able to fully comprehend why I am here and who I am. Heck, God knows mine was a journey with perils of losing the part of me which you and I love the most. I was an Anakin on the verge of morphing into a Darth Vader, perhaps, even worse. It was everything but easy, and now, as I continue to immerse myself in the subtleties and stupidities of the everyday world, the best and worst of me is yet to come...

I posted this as a note on Facebook more than a month ago. For my acquaintances these words are quite mystifying but for those who have the slightest clue of my past agonies, these are but understatements. As my mind drifts back to the change of events that has profoundly changed my life, I cannot not feel nostalgia and sorrow…

It has been four years since I suffered one of the most devastating maelstroms of my life. I still remember it quite clearly like it was just yesterday. It happened on a clear day on a beach on the twentieth of May. The cheerful weather was a sardonic irony of the boiling tension between us, like a volcano that has been filled with the wrath of the underworld, a looming pandemonium which guarantees to liquefy the solidarity which we have taken so much pain, time and effort to build. If I had known what would happen and how I would be shattered that day, I would have chosen to be in isolation than to be in that attempt for reconciliation which have turned into an outright and bitter separation.

Hell, we screwed up like the hypocrites we have become! Perhaps we did deserve such torment or maybe we were just victims of our pride, our temperament and our youth. Could hypocrites be really victims or is there no need for euphemism as it was just plain hypocrisy on our part after all? One thing is certain though- it was tragic. It was tragic how two people, whose lives, minds and character are so intertwined, have managed to use words to lacerate one another as effectively as stabbing with poisoned knives. The absence of blood in a fight doesn’t make it less damaging after all, a disproof to the cliché “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”. Yeah right! Words may not hurt you but it can make you feel dead, which is worse than being dead because it makes you nothing more than a cold stone – unmoving, unfeeling and deteriorating until the forces of the earth pulverized it and sent it back to join the soil, forever indistinguishable, eternally bound to be trampled on by passersby. Whew, such melancholic memories…

I guess it is best to state how I got acquainted with her in the first place, which reminds me how agonizing it is to inscribe these poignant memoirs of mine. I mean, here I am with a bottle of beer as a sedative to wounds that have never quite healed and have been reopened in the process of this script and still I find myself sighing after every sentence. If only my monitor has hands, it would have strangled me for my unintentional and brutal way of bombarding it with constant and hanging suspense.

Dear me, did I say I would declare how I met her?

Okay, enough introduction (Oh my, I really suck at narratives).

And now, to the start of the story.

Elated, I was greeted by arched hallways and ancient architecture which complement the eon of my new college school, Universidad de Santa Isabel. The excitement I felt was a mark of my enthusiasm to see the world again after hibernating for ages. I wasn’t really expecting to see familiar faces since I have never set foot on this University. So you can imagine my relief when I found out that at least a quarter of my classmates are my acquaintances back in my high school at the Ateneo. I was early, so I killed a couple of minutes chatting with them, mostly about our mischief in secondary years. When the bell rang, a petite, brunette and shoulder length haired girl strut her way in front of me and settled in the seat directly ahead of mine. Striking hair, I thought and behold she glanced in my direction and waved. I was dumbstruck, feeling like my mouth have just been sealed with an adhesive tape. But before I could utter any word or wave at least, my seatmate, Mitch said “Oi” to her in response. And that was how I made the acquaintance of my little princess (go ahead laugh at the term of endearment), I will imply later, why I preferred to give her this precious title.

In the next few days of our class (block section), she would sit with Mitch and talk to her in the brief minutes before our class period starts. The next weeks, I was already included in their chitchats and would have a sense of frustration with the seating arrangement when our class starts and she would have to return on her “supposed” proper seat.

It was when Mitch was absent for the first time that we had the chance to talk a little longer than we used to. Ah, that blessed day. I was about thirty minutes early, which was unusual, what with my excessive lateness in high school. She arrived five minutes after I did, well there’s nothing odd about that, as she was always prompt, prim and proper. But what caught my attention was the “little” white book she was carrying.

“Oh, the little prince,” I said.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Nope, I love it!” she exclaimed.

From that moment on we became good friends, the best of friends and you know the rest.

I do want to emphasize that I tried to steer clear of us being more than friends, not because I want to but because I thought I have to. You see I promised myself, more than anybody else, that I would not get anyone or anything divide my attention on my studies after all the mess I have made in my academic life – incurring enough AFs (Absences leading to failure) to make even the most kind hearted dean or department head frown.

But I guess it was hard, if not impossible, not to adore this girl with her jet black hair, rich sensuous lips, narrow waist, big, round, brown eyes and a curious baby blue dental braces. What even draws me closer to her was the seeming balance of her desire to speak and her admirable patience to listen. But what struck me the most was how in many ways she is – like me.

She is, as Antoine de Saint Exupery said in his beloved fable “The Little Prince”, “someone whom I could really talk to.” God knows how hard it is to find someone who actually knows what you’re trying to say before you actually finish deciphering it or how you feel even without putting it into words. It seemed our cerebral channel is of the same wavelength until we caused too much fatigue on our cardiac muscles and lost control of our emotions - the sweet and sometimes wild emotions that have enabled us to tame each other’s restless spirit.

So here I am now, writing all this down, plunging back into my first experience of figurative hemophilia, finally unveiling one of the most momentous episode of my existence and hoping that it would somehow answer people’s queries about my solemnity and sometimes grimness. As I always say “I am serious most of the time, funny sometimes and pensive all of the time”. I just wish that people will finally understand why I am not so fond of surface talks and the accustomed Pinoy way of “hear me I am so funny” stories anymore. It is not that I find humor a waste of time; it is just that I do wish that people will be sensitive to hardships. Life is not all about hearing hilarious antics, in great part; it is about listening to the troubles of wounded hearts and easing the weariness of battered souls. For as long as we think that there is nothing more admirable than one’s loud and unquenchable cheerfulness even if it is nothing more than a bravado, we would fail unceasingly to perceive solace in sorrow, humility in loneliness, endurance in suffering and wisdom in failure that is almost always omnipresent in the quietness of a thoughtful being.

This has been my account of a tragedy, a lost so agonizing that it caused me the wavering of my faith in everything good, in people and most of all, in Him. A lost so intense that I grieved for it, that I was driven to walk away from everything and everyone else that I hold dear, trekking for three consecutive days under the sun, rain and stars, armed only with a score of pesos, an umbrella and a shabby and thin jacket against the inclement weather of December. Out of the goodness of strangers, who fed me and gave me enough money to be able to come back home, I did survive to tell this tale.

Now, my wounds are starting to heal and I must say that it was all worth it for my life roadmap was enriched with every stopover, dead end, U-turn, detour and refueling station I encountered. The emotional roller coaster ride made me puke and faint. I was bruised, scratched, scarred and scathed but I also learn to deal with them (much later). If there is one thing I could ask for, it is that my would-be readers would not take my revelations lightly. This was a hellish torment for me, disclosing all these details. Four years proved too short a time to mend hurts that run too deeply. But I do hope that this story, my story – of agony, mirth, folly and glory will remind me as well as others of the individual that still stands firm, of the soul that needs constant pruning, of the being who has to remain afloat no matter how unfathomably immersed he is in misery, of succor that is unending, of resilience that is unrelenting and of hope, that is undying.

The Struggle

It was a point in my past where I shouldn't be wallowing anymore, what with all the excruciating pains it has caused me - vows that were made and eventually broken, friendships that were lost and never been fully restored and precious ideals that were almost deserted. I guess I needed to seek the path back to my old life to be able to fully comprehend why I am here and who I am. Heck, God knows mine was a journey with perils of losing the part of me which you and I love the most. I was an Anakin on the verge of morphing into a Darth Vader, maybe even worse. It was everything but easy, and now, as I continue to immerse myself in the subtleties and stupidities of the everyday world, the best and worse of me is yet to come...

Tongue Tied

Tongue Tied

Faber Drive



Bright cold silver moon
Tonight alone in my room
You were here just yesterday
Slight turn of the head
Eyes down when you said
I guess I need my life to change
Seems like something's just aren't the same
What could I say?

I need a little more luck than a little bit
Cuz every time I get stuck the words won't fit
And every time that I try I get tongue tied
I'll need a little good luck to get me by

I need a little more help than a little bit
Like the perfect one word no one's heard yet
Cuz every time that I try I get tongue tied
I need a little good luck to get me by this time

I stare up at the stars
I wonder just where you are
You feel a million miles away
(I wonder just where you are)
Was it something I said?
Or something I never did?
Or was I always in the way?
Could someone tell me what to say to just make you stay?

I need a little more luck than a little bit
Cuz every time I get stuck the words won't fit
And every time that I try I get tongue tied
I need a little good luck to get me by

I need a little more help than a little bit
Like the perfect one word no one's heard yet
Cuz every time that I try I get tongue tied
I need a little good luck to get me by this time

I know it feels like the end
Don't want to be here again
And we could help each other off the ground so we never fall down again
What it takes I don't care
We're gonna make it I swear
And we could help each other off the ground so we never fall down again
Again

I need a little more luck than a little bit
Cuz every time I get stuck the words won't fit
But every time that I try I get tongue tied
I need a little good luck to get me by

I need a little more help than a little bit
Like the perfect one word no one's heard yet
Cuz every time that I try I get tongue tied
I need a little good luck to get me by this time

I know it feels like the end
Don't want to be here again
And we could help each other off the ground so we never fall down again
What it takes I don't care
We're gonna make it I swear
And we could help each other off the ground so we never fall down again

Immersion

NSTP-CFFP
2009 Immersion (3RD Batch)
Brgy. Sibaguan, Sagñay, Cam. Sur
February 21, 2009



“A Testimonial”



Ang pamilyang “umampon” sa amin ay may limang supling: sina Analito, labing tatlong (13) taong gulang, Analiza, 11, Anamarie, 8, Anthony, 5 at Albert, 3. Sa kanilang lima, kina Anthony at Albert ako unang napalapit. Kahapon kasi, pinahiram ko sila ng aking maliit na teleskopyo at nalibang akong panoorin sila sa paglalaro nito. Aliw na aliw sila at muntik pa ngang mag-away dahil sa pag-uunahan sa pagsilip sa mga lente. Nakakatuwa talaga ang mga bata, napakadali nilang pasayahin. Nakamamangha ang pagpapahalaga nila sa mga mumunting bagay, tulad ng isang laruan…Ako kaya, kailan pa ba ako huling naupo, nagalak at nakontento sa mga simpleng bagay sa paligid ko? Napapansin ko pa kaya ang bawat pagsikat at paglubog ng araw? Nabibigyan ko ba ng pagpapahalaga ang bawat minutong patuloy na pinahihiram sa akin ng Maykapal? …Sumisira ba ako ng pag-asa ng iba o nagbibigay ng lakas sa aking kapwa? Sadya nga kayang napakahirap sagutin ng mga katanungang ito?

Ang aming “foster father”, si kuya Marlon, ay isang “cook” sa Coco Café sa aming paaralan. Bihira lang siyang umuwi, siguro dahil sa layo ng lokasyon ng kanyang trabaho. Kaya si ate Liza ang tumatayong ama’t ina kapag wala siya. Naglalako siya ng isda para makatulong sa kanyang asawa at para na rin mapa-ikot ang kanilang pera. Bilang isang anak na lumaki rin na malayo sa ama, ‘di ko maiwasang maki-simpatya. Ganonpaman, di ko pa rin mahulaan, kung anu-ano ang mga naiisip at nararamdaman, ng mga tsikiting sa tuwing nakikita nilang may bakanteng upuan sa hapag-kainan.

Dinaranas rin kaya ni ate Liza ang mga hirap na patuloy na pinagdaraanan ng aking ina, o baka naman mas malala pa? Hindi ko alam ang sagot sa tanong na ‘to. Ang tanging alam ko lang ay tinanggap nila kami nang bukas palad at buong puso sa kanilang bahay at buhay, kahit pa nga panandalian lamang, sa kabila ng hikahos nilang kalagayan.

Noong unang beses pa nga lang naming nananghalian sa kanila, ay hindi na sila nag-atubiling ipagamit sa amin ang mga natitira nilang kubyertos. Dinala raw kasi ng mga bata sa eskwelahan ‘yong iba, kasama ng kanilang mga baon. Kaya nga, nahiya talaga ako noong nagsipagkamay na lamang sila sa pagkain. Gusto ko rin sanang makiisa at ipakitang “cowboy” din ako, kaya lang, mahaba na ang aking mga kuko at ‘di naman mainam kung magkakamay din ako. ‘Di ko na kasi nagupitan ang mga ito dahil medyo tanghali na ako nagising kahapon, dala ng kakulitan ng kaibigan kong insomya.

Marahil, ganito talaga tayong mga Pilipino, sobrang maasikaso at maalalahanin sa ating mga bisita. Lagi rin tayong may baon na ngiti sa ating mga labi at halakhak sa ating mga puso. Sa gitna ng kahirapan, pangungulila at kalungkutan, titiisin at kakayanin pa rin natin ang lahat para sa ating mga mahal sa buhay, at kahit ano pa mang kalamidad ang sa ati’y sumalanta, hinding-hindi pa rin tayo bibitiw sa ating pananampalataya.

Sa lahat po ng mga magulang na naririto, at sa mga anak na balang araw ay magiging mga magulang din, sana ay ‘wag nating kalimutan, na anumang karangyaang ating makakamtan, ay mawawalan ng kabuluhan, kung ang pamilya’y ating mapapabayaan.

Sa lahat po ng Bicolano at Pilipino, alalahanin natin na bukod sa pamilyang ating kinabibilangan, parte rin tayo ng isa pang mas malaking pamilya. Kaya nga, nararapat lamang, na ang ating kapwa at lahat ng Kanyang nilikha ay ating mahalin at pangalagaan, sapagkat tayo’y mga tagapangalaga lamang…Sa gitna ng pandaigdigang krisis sa ekonomiya, at mga ingay at away pampulitika, na bumabalisa sa ating bansa, sana’y, hindi tayo magsawa na gawin lahat ng ating makakaya, upang ang Perlas ng Silanganan ay muling hangaan. Manatili sana sa atin ang paniniwalang, sa kabila ng lahat, likas na mabuti pa rin ang tao at maganda pa rin talaga ang mundo.

At sa aking mga minamahal na mga kapwa Atenista, binabati ko kayo, dahil tulad ko, naranasan niyo na ang isa sa pinakatatanging Ateneo tradition, ang Immersion. Nawa’y ang ating mga nasaksihan at naranasan ay lalong magpa-igting sa ating adhikaing “Preferential Option for the Poor” at sa ating hangaring maging “Men and Women for Others”. Minimithi ko, na balang araw, ang ating Diyos, bayan at pamayanan ay lubos nating mapaglingkuran. Sana, pag dating ng araw, na kinakailangan na nating tahakin ang daan, palabas sa mga mapagkalingang haligi ng ating Alma Mater, ay mapatunayan natin, na tayo’y nabiyayaan ng edukasyong nagturo, hindi lamang kung paano maghanap-buhay, kundi pati na rin, at lalong-lalo na kung paano dapat, mabuhay.

Measure of a man

"Measure of a man"
Clay AIken

I
If one day you discover him
Broken down
He’s lost everything
No cars, no fancy clothes
To make him who he's not
The woman at his side
Is all that he has got

Why do you ask him
Move heaven and earth
To prove his love has worth ?

Would he walk on water?
Would he run through fire?
Would he stand before you
When it's down to the wire?
Would he give his life up
To be all he can?
Is that
Is that
Is that
How you measure a man?

II
If by chance all he had to give you
Was three words wrapped around your finger
Would that be deep enough
At the end of every day?
And how will you ever know
If the man is what he says?

Why do you ask him
Move heaven and earth
To prove his love has worth?

Would he walk on water?
Would he run through fire?
Would he stand before you
When it's down to the wire?
Would he give his life up
To be all he can?
Is that
Is that
Is that
How you measure a man?

BRIDGE
He never gives up
Lets go of his dreams
His world goes around
For his one true belief
Is that how you know?
Is that what it means?

Hey
Would he walk on water?
Would he run through the fire?
Would he stand before you?

Will he be your anchor
When the dark unfolds?
Will he always love you
The best that he knows?
Would he give his life up
To be all he can?
Is that
Is that
Is that
How you measure a man?

Would he walk on water?
Would he run through fire?
Would he stand before you
When it's down to the wire?
Would he give his life up
To be all he can?
Is that
Is that
Is that
How you measure,ooh
Is that
Is that
Is that

How you measure a man?

It’s not over

It’s not over

Secondhand Serenade

My tears run down like razorblades
And no, I'm not the one to blame
It's you ' or is it me?
And all the words we never say
Come out and now we're all ashamed
And there's no sense in playing games
When you've done all you can do

But now it's over, it's over, why is it over?
We had the chance to make it
Now it's over, it's over, it can't be over
I wish that I could take it back
But it's over

I lose myself in all these fights
I lose my sense of wrong and right
I cry, I cry
It's shaking from the pain that's in my head
I just wanna crawl into my bed
And throw away the life I led
But I won't let it die, but I won't let it die

But it's over, it's over, why is it over?
We had the chance to make it
Now it's over, it's over, it can't be over
I wish that I could take it back

I'm falling apart, I'm falling apart
Don't say this won't last forever
You're breaking my heart, you're breaking my heart
Don't tell me that we will never be together
We could be, over and over
We could be, forever

I'm falling apart, I'm falling apart
Don't say this won't last forever
You're breaking my heart, you're breaking my heart
Don't tell me that we will never be together
We could be, over and over
We could be, forever

It's not over, it's not over, it's never over
Unless you let it take you
It's not over, it's not over, it's not over
Unless you let it break you
It's not over

Tonight

Tonight

FM static

I remember the times we spent together
On those drives
We had a million questions
All about our lives
And when we got to New York
Everything felt right
I wish you were here with me
Tonight

I remember the days we spent together
Were not enough
And it used to feel like dreamin'
Except we always woke up
Never thought not having you
Here now would hurt so much

Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
And know the stars are
Holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight

I remember the time you told me about when you were eight
And all those things you said that night that just couldn't wait
I remember the car you were last seen in
And the games we would play
All the times we spilled our coffees
And stayed out way too late

I remember the time you sat told me about your Jesus
And how not to look back even if no one believes us
When it hurt so bad sometimes
Not having you here...

I sing,
"Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
And know the stars are
Holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight"

I sing,
"Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up
I need your loving hands to come and pick me up
And every night I miss you
I can just look up
And know the stars are
Holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight"

Moment of truth

Moment of truth

FM Static

here we are in the best years of our lives
with no way of knowing when the wheel
stops spinning, cause we don't know where we're going
and, here we are on the best day of our lives.

and it's a go, lets make it last, so cheers you all to that,
'cause this moment's never comin' back

I used to know her brother, but i never
knew I loved her
'til the day she laid her eyes on me
Now I'm jumpin' up and down,
she's the only one around, and she means every little thing
to me

I've got your picture in my wallet
and your phone number to call it
and i miss you more
whenever i think about you
I've got your mixed tape in my walkman
been so long since we've been talkin
and in a few more days,
we'll both hook up forever
and ever

And here I am on the west coast of America
and I've
been tryin to think for weeks of all

the ways to ask you
And now I've brought you to the place
where I've poured my heart out a million times
for a million reasons
to offer it to you

I used to know her brother, but i never
knew I loved her,
'til the day she laid her eyes on me
Now im jumpin' up and down
she's the only one around and she means every
little thing to me

Ive got your picture in my wallet and
your phone number to call it
and I miss you more
whenever i think about you
I've got your mixed tape in my walkman
been so long since we've been talkin

and few more days
well both hook up, forever
and ever..

i used to know her brother, but i never
knew i loved her
til the days she laid her eyes on me
now i'm jumpin up and down
she's the only one around and she means every little thing to me

I've got your picture in my wallet
and your phone number to call it
and I miss you more
whenever i think about you
i've got your mixed tape in my walkman
been so long we've been talkin
and a few more days
well both hook up forever
and ever..

My Heart

My Heart

by Paramore

i am finding out that maybe i was wrong
that I've fallen down and i can't do this alone
stay with me
this is what i need please

sing us a song
and we'll sing it back to you
we could sing our own
but what would it be without you

i am nothing now
and its been so long
since I've heard a sound
the sound of my only hope
this time i will be listening

sing us a song
and we'll sing it back to you
we could sing our own
but what would it be without you

this heart, it beats
beats for only you

my heart is yours

The Rules for being Human

The Rules for being Human

When you were born, you didn’t come with an owner’s manual;

these guidelines make life work better.

1. You will receive a body.

You may like it or hate it, but it’s the only thing you are sure

to keep for the rest of your life.

2. You will learn lessons.

You are enrolled in a full-time informal school

called “Life on Planet Earth”. Every person or incident is the Universal Teacher.

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons.

Growth is a process of experimentation.

“Failures” are as much a part of the process as “success.”

4. A lesson is repeated until learned.

It is presented to you in various forms until you learn it –

then you can go on to the next lesson.

5. If you don’t learn easy lessons, they get harder.

External problems are a precise reflection of your internal state.

When you clear inner obstructions, your outside world changes.

Pain is how the universe gets your attention.

6. You will know you’ve learned a lesson when your actions change.

Wisdom is practice. A little of something is better than a lot of nothing.

7. “There” is no better than “here”.

When your “there” becomes a “here”

you will simply obtain another “there” that again looks better than “here.”

8. Others are only mirrors of you.

You cannot love or hate something about another

unless it reflects something you love or hate in yourself.

9. Your life is up to you.

Life provides the canvas; you do the painting.

Take charge of your life — or someone else will.

10. You always get what you want.

Your subconscious rightfully determines what energies, experiences, and people you attract — therefore,

the only foolproof way to know what you want is to see what you have.

There are no victims, only students.

11. There is no right or wrong, but there are consequences.

Moralizing doesn’t help. Judgments only hold the patterns in place.

Just do your best.

12. Your answers lie inside you.

Children need guidance from others; as we mature, we trust our hearts, where the Laws of Spirit are written.

You know more than you have heard or read or been told.

All you need to do is to look, listen, and trust.

13. You will forget all this.

14. You can remember any time you wish.

(From the book “If Life is a Game, These are the Rules” by Cherie Carter-Scott)

Desiderata

Desiderata

by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly,

and listen to others,

even to the dull and ignorant;they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;

they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain or bitter,

for always there will be greater

and lesser persons than yourself.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you

to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals,

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Enjoy your achievements

as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career

however humble;it is a real possession

in the changing fortunes of time.

Be yourself.

Especially do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love,

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit

to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life,keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham,drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.