Designer: Manikka
Resources: 1 2 3

As we grow accustomed to the pain, we forget how it ever was to have only unbearable lightness. The hurt becomes part of us; we lose all memory of better days, causing us to have no suitable comparison to clear our judgement, with. As ironic as it is, living with only pain, we see no need for change.

It numbs, sooner or later, the same way your eyes adjust to the dark or your skin adapts to the heat. We can bear burdens and get so used to the load that it seems to disappear, momentarily. But it'd be lying to say we were ever happy..or that our backs were ever straight.

With all the lightness, I can muster, I send these thoughts to you. I hope that sooner or later, everything will be made right. This isn't right. It was, once, I'm sure -I have absolutely no doubt of that! But things change and we can only hope for the best.
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Amidst all the confusion and complications and fucking circumstance, one thing remains true..as sad as it is, my (not quite so contrived haha) happiness stays with you.
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These words don't come out of impulse, or thin air. They are inscribed by every heartbeat, every tear, every single time a lump in my throat forced an iloveyou, back down -by the cloudiness in her eyes and my loss of depth perception.

They are cloaked by fear and torn out, for the World to see, not by desperation or the intensity of loneliness..they are taken letter by letter, phrase by phrase, by the one thing that can heal and forgive and piece anything broken, back together.

Of all the things that have found ways to escape my lips or be put into characters by my fingers' tips, she must know..that these words are few of the many pieces of my soul left which collect and perfect themselves for her, exclusively. We (we being these few pieces and my little brain) can only hope to process every heartbeat and tear and misplaced iloveyou, as we try and fail to find out about and process hers, in time to forget regret and tear down walls and let loose secrets and, and..and weaken defenses!

I never should've thought about burdening her with the task of seeing past the flesh, or the kind of words that only come with tears and anger and hurt. I never should've asked of that much from her -she told me not to expect anything from her and no matter what I agreed to, I guess a part of me still wanted to..a part of me still had to ask her to meet me half-way; because there is so much I am lacking.

This silence cannot possibly incorporate all the hurt..all the doubt..I feel the rest of the world (along with the World), passing me by in strobe-light speed. I can blink twice and miss it. I can turn around once and never stop spinning. Just..like..that.

No, this silence cannot even begin to fathom the ways in which I miss her or the reasons for which I do. Because in everytime she pushes me away, the strings by which the porcelain doll's cloth unravelled -the strings put into the wooden puppet's hands, catch my every step. They've left insignificant marks up and down my limbs, they've caught me by the throat, they've strung my promises together and left the rest of the world up for hanging.

At the most precise movements, they've found cues to pull away my curtains and bring it all to centerstage..every emotion free of pretense, every face behind the masks. But Heaven knows if any of this is even close to enough.

We can only hope to surpass pride and take hold of circumstance.
Someone once said we could move God..
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All this happiness is so contrived.
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I have so much to tell you. There are so many things you need to know, so many moments I wish I could present to you on a silver screen; shadows cast on a street curb, eyes that gaze out into all the infinite Nothings, a sharp intake of breath..I wish to present to you a series of cuts and clips. I wish to hand you a sorry mess of thoughts and ideas laid out on my palms. I lack excuses. But the few I have in abundance -Love, above all, rectify every pain.

This dogma leaves me with nothing but justifications. Several parts of me that have secured themselves onto my very core have one sole function; to ensure that at any given moment I am presented with, my spirit will yield to you.

You will need no excuses..you need no excuses; Love, above all, rectifies every pain!! I am thankful just to realize that all I am is Yours, clearly; that for everything you cannot manage to give at the present time, you'd already more than provided for, ages ago.

And all this..all this pseudo-martyrdom, all the tears on those shadows and eyes between sharp intakes of breaths..is nothing more than what you -you being just you, deserve, from me. This time around, I am trying (and failing and trying again) to be strong enough for the both of us.

Please try to remember that every single time I stumble and stutter for an answer to one of those questions, it should always be "Because I love you"
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Satine: I will sleep with the duke on opening night, and your jealousy will drive you mad..
Christian: Then I'll write a song and we'll put it in the show and whenever you sing it or hear it..or whistle or hum it, then you'll know. It'll mean that we love one another.


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for popcorn and soda on the balcony, phone calls where you put the phone down with tears, guiltless chocolate, guiltless fastfood, guiltless ice cream, guiltless food!!, games that involve hiding under the playground slide, cops and robbers on the mats, lazy gradeschool mornings that don't involve rushing from the library to the AV to the classroom to the faculty, K2 hand puppets (:, photos that take an hour to develop, phone-marathons with "kwento partners" over what that boy did or said to make you absolutely kilig?

for free tequila, competitions, text exemptions, days when teachers weren't Mortal Enemies, karaoke, yellow pad paper, Math that didn't require calculators, skirts and shoes and bags and fags that choose to flirt, pin-ups, slings and signatures, old jerseys, teams and mitts and #6, jumping on mattresses, dumb dumb dumb iPod playlists, the PETSA Hut, ESPN -which is down to EP, three-way missions, the years that justified hesitation to spill iloveyous, hand games, Christmas Eve, hot chocolate and ensaymada, the lack of stupid complications, free vacations, inspiration.

for clarity in dire confusion, a reason for masochism, cuts and tears and one last smile, that goodbye kiss that keeps me reeling, one more excuse -just for feeling, the rhymes I found, a spirit lost, unsettling sounds, nobody's best, disapproval, sad denial, butterflies and sparks -to be torn apart!; inebriated friends who collapse onto the curb, three little words, one more night, that last night -another chance in the fight, security fleeting, to know Its beating, capitalization, pompoms sweat and celebration, the way Art made sense, the words, scandal intrigue and a right to say..fuck off.
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The trick in it all is staying alive;
staying in one piece,
breathing..slowly..in..
and out.

In exchange for such an obvious prize
-your survival being the only thing
left to chance,
there are narrow rules
which bring us closer
and closer
to toeing the line.

Once I see your name
be it from a message
or a memory
or a rare call,
I cannot pick up.

Once I hear of your pain
be it from her
or a fall from glory
or a rare moment of nostalgia,
I must not care.

Once I remember a faint wish
be it an old piece of clothing
or the highest point atop a ferris wheel
or a movie caught on DVD,
I should not mention a thing.

The second I realize
I need you
or love you
or want to..
I will forget the need to fight.

Because this is the code of the Isyu;
to stay alive and live and love,
beyond understanding,
past selfishness,
regardless of regret,
and in perfect silence.


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Love can strike the wrong people, at the wrong time, in the worst circumstance. Love can miss its mark. But then again, like most people will tell you, it'll find a way to make things work..until everything eventually blows up leaving the most hollow cavity in your chest, emptier. It's up to reason and logic to throw you a line. There comes a time when you can't leave yourself up for saving any longer.

And yes, some things just shouldn't be. We'll be alright.
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Stability? That's a far shot from where I'm standing. I am..constantly teetering off the edge of every manic, psychotic dream. I am..kept at a whole lifespan's distance; pulled in, inch by inch then blow off hectares into the horizon. What do I mean? Nothing? Yes, that'd explain quite a bit.

What the hell..what the hell..what in holy Hell am I doing..

This isn't me; this shouldn't be! Call it a rude awakening but how many times must I drift back into that meaningless old dream? I am..so much further back in the past than the circumstance I wish we could've taken back. I am a psychotic dream that's barely even alive..and struggling to keep your eyes shut..

No more..no fucking more..no more hurt..

Wake up and leave..just came to say goodbye, Love.
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Every step, every thought, every piece of this has found a way to come together and create something so perfect that it's got everything it needs -and plenty more, to rise above the tragedy. No, to soar. Or ascend completely into a dimension of its own.

It's not so much that it was calculated as opposed to..it just had to be. It isn't luck, it's absolute brilliance. It wasn't about fighting harder..it was about loving, more.
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Look around, there's so much to soak in..so much to drop smiles, at; so much to whistle an old showtune, to -not that I whistle showtunes, I tend to stick to those songs you'll listen to on your friend's iPod if you ever have to discover the joys of hiding in her closet (:

Where's a better place to renew than right back where you left off..right where you broke and peeled those old pieces off of you.

I can't die with you in my head and someone else in your arms *whistle whistle*
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