A Box of Fiction

I’ll be your sweet november
I’ll pick up the broken pieces
I’ll be your sweet november
and teach you to love again

come rest your daunted heart
into my open arms
because now your weary soul
won’t need a good luck charm

let me take you to places
where you have never been
and let’s unlock such secrets
no one else has ever seen

let me show you the beauty
that’s hidden in your heart
until you see clearly
all that’s in the dark

I’ll help you stand up
and start your life anew
I’ll push you into walking
’til you’re running through and through

come the time that you don’t need me
that’s when I’ll let you go
for now, I’m sweet november
and that’s all there is to know

You knew it. You’ve always known. You patted yourself on the back, almost two years ago, for not trying anything; for not saying anything. What the hell happened? Why now? Nothing has changed, right? You’re bound to go your separate ways again. Why did you push it? You know that nothing good can come out of it. You know that you’d end up on your knees, crawling, and hurting. Why? I stopped believing you can be that stupid, but you prove, yet again that you are well capable of stupidity beyond human boundaries. Jeez I don’t know what I’m going to with you.

I had a talk with one of my guy friends recently. He had this theory about love. We’ve heard a lot of those before. Although I have to admit that his was quite different. He said that people do not fall in love because of other people (like because of who they are or what they do); instead, they fall in love out of their own accord.

I can’t pretend that I am just a friend. I think I’m falling, falling in love with you….

The process of falling in love, so says my friend, does not happen when you are together. It actually happens when you are alone, in your bedroom, prior to you saying good night to the world.

And I’m dreaming of you tonight, ‘til tomorrow I’ll be holding you tight, and there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be, than here in my room, dreaming about you and me…

It’s not the flowers that he gives you, or the movies that he takes you to, but in reality, it’s your mind (yes, not your heart) telling you how things are going now, and how you would, inevitably, be unable to breathe without him by your side. Falling in love is your mind deciding that the other person is perfect for you. Then once this concept is established, your mind tells your body to produce the necessary effects (such us smiling like a mad man whenever thoughts of him flood you, or that feeling you get whenever the two of you touch) to convince you (as a person, in totality) that you have indeed fallen, deep and hard.

I’ve fallen for you… finally my heart gave in and I’ve fallen in love……

Should we buy into this theory, then it would be safe to say that falling out of love is also your own doing. The decision to fall out of love is yours and yours alone. It’s not the other person taking you for granted, or making you feel insignificant or just plain hurting you. It’s not the missed monthsarries and the daily dose of quarrelling that makes you give up on love. Sure, all the aforementioned things are factors, but the end all and be all of you falling out of love, is your mind telling you that it has made a mistake, and you just need to turn your back and leave.

I never really loved you anyway… no I didn’t love you anyway…

Again, buying into this theory, it sounds like the mind can control anything. I believe that I’m a fairly smart person, and in believing so, I should be able to control me, in all aspects. Tell me then, why can I not stop the hurt?

How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you….

Pare (you know who you are),

Letting go is never easy.

I’m not going to lie to you. It’s not going to get better, anytime soon. It will hurt, no matter how hard you wish for it not to.

But it won’t kill you. I promise you this. It feels like it will, and trust me when I say I know how it feels.

Multiple times, I’ve hurt so much I can hardly breathe. There were times when I said I’m dying, and I thought it would actually be better if I do, but I’m still here, aren’t I? Battle-scared, but nonetheless alive.

To bum a line from Third Eye Blind, step up off that ledge, my friend, because I sure as hell won’t be able to catch you.

I’ve moved on, and so should you.

something really funny happened to me last night.

my day was turning out to be pretty uneventful, at work. no downtimes to deal with, or what-have-yous.

at 5.45 i set of, homebound.

i got home around 8 pm, ate my dinner, chatted with my mom, then proceeded to brush my teeth.

that’s when it happened.

there i was standing in front of the sink, brushing my teeth in peace, when my baby brother approached me.

"why are you using my TOOTHBRUSH!!!!!?!!!?", he yelled.

i was like, what the hell are you talking about? this is my toothbrush!

i’ve been using this since i bought it! which was a good half a month ago.

he insisted that it was his, and that he was using the same toothbrush, (yes you guessed right!) for half a month now.

nyahahahahahaha!!! ewwwwnesss!

when i checked our toothbrush holder, i found two similar colored (orange and blue, which is my favorite color combo) toothbrushes.

apparently, the kid was right!

nyahahahaha!

I really don’t know what’s going on.

I’m puzzled by the way people like to take a very good thing, and mess it up. Can’t just people be contented, and satisfied, and happy with what they have? Well I guess that all the wars that this race has been in will prove that there is no satisfying mankind. There’s always more land, oil, whatever resources, to fight over. There’s always a need to convert people to your way of thinking, not finding happiness in non-conformity.

And don’t get me started on all the personal battles that we fight everyday. What’s really sad is, the most conflicting and havoc wrecking battles are more often than not, fought within one’s self. The eternal and undying non-contentment that we, as people, often nurture to blasphemous extent, may not always be as evident, but will always be present.

I sometimes wonder how we manage to reduce important matters and events; such as achievements, loved ones, feelings, amongst all other things, into nothingness by merely wanting more and under-appreciation of what is, probably the best thing that will come along in this lifetime.

Take, for example, a solid and well built relationship, slowly destroyed because of a night of passing fancy. How could people be so stupid? Why do they let empty feelings and flitting moments drive them into a drunken stupor and blind them of what is stable, and real, and forever?

However, that question will lead to more questions. Forgive my untimely sway from the topic at hand, but how do you discern which feelings are empty, or which moments are flitting? I’d have to leave these unanswered. I simply do not have the capacity to digest and understand thoughts such as these.

Actually, there is not much that I can digest and understand. The questions that I raise to myself more often than not go unanswered, and eventually forgotten. However, due to the aforementioned non-contentment of mankind, and myself, belonging to the same race, I keep asking.

All these nonsense may be a product of severe fatigue due to lack of sleep. But then again, it also may be a product of me, thinking like myself.

I need to get some sleep.

I just woke up.

My finger hurts like hell. Don’t ask me why it hurts ‘coz I ain’t telling.

You know what? Bet you probably don’t. I feel icky-fuzzy right now. I’m not for sure why. I feel like I’m supposed to ask somebody something, but I can’t remember who and what I’m supposed to ask. Not only am I icky-fuzzy as a person, but I feel like there are some parts of my memory that are icky-fuzzy as well. Like I know that there’s something but I can’t seem to put a finger on it.

Hmmmmnnn….

Weirdness floods me.

I’m bound to figure it out, but my aforementioned icky-fuzzy memory is not helping.

I’m not sure if it’s all a dream, or if it happened for real.

I’m hoping it was all a dream, like it was just a product of my utterly tired, and un-drunken-yet-icky-fuzzy (yes, unfortunately I’m too much of a good girl to have gotten drunk that night) mind.

Again. Weirdness floods me.

It was probably a dream, ‘coz if it ain’t then I ain’t very happy about it.

And yet again, weirdness floods me.

Man, I am getting old.

I just got home from “clubbing”, and I tell you, were it not for the people that I was out with, I would have stayed at home.

Amidst the blaring music and the throbbing lights, I was sitting on my ass, half falling asleep and half wishing I was at work. Dang! I just remembered my deliverables.

Talk about getting a life. Jeez.

Not to mention the fact that we were surrounded by high school kids, girls dressed up in a slut like manner, and guys wearing their pants like there’s four of them in there, all trying to act older than they really are. Thus, the quotation marks on the word, clubbing… Wow! I’m like, whatever kids, if it floats your boat then so be it…

I need to work….

I just woke up.

I’ve got a splitting headache yesterday afternoon, and after twelve hours, or so of sleep, it’s still goddamn there.

I was supposed to go out with some of my friends, but on account of my headache, I opted to sleep it through.

Well. Now that I’m alive, still with an aching head but sans the floating-sleepy feeling, I got my ass in front of my pc and started writing.

What does one write about, in a time like this? A time when you feel like you’re stuck in limbo, neither moving forward nor going back?

Nothing. That’s what you write about. I mean, I’d rather be writing about something else altogether, but being stuck in limbo land (and mind you, I still am), for a considerable period of time, led my brain to slowly lose function. It is slowly disintegrating. Jeez.

I need a break.