April 4

So, how am I doing?

I'm trying to finish one subject and I have 5 days to finish hundreds of pages. 

Meanwhile, I thought I'd help my cause by deep conditioning my hair. That's how I roll these days.

I'm in serious deep shit, yeah?

Judith McNaught Was Wrong

Judith McNaught was wrong.

If I only knew how wrong she was, I would have stopped reading her books before I met Love.
Maybe then I would have really known what not to expect
And to see Love as he really was the first time I met him.
Love did not have large muscles, long flowing black hair and a Scottish accent.
What Love had was a curly hair, wide mouth, large ears, small eyes and teeth gaps.
Those romance books and their cursed authors – they are flagrant liars.
Because when Love came, I didn’t know what to do.

I called Love my best friend and he called me his.
I helped Love  with his own heart ache while crying over mine,
Because Love, although I knew it was him, didn’t see me.
Love was honest with me. He didn’t lead me on.
He was there for me in so many ways, but not in the way I wanted Love to be.
I faked so many illnesses that Senior Year in High School just so I can avoid school.
“Yes, it’s another diarrhea.
Yes, I know I’ve just had it the other day,
but yes, I have it again today.
I swear I’m not lying.”
But I was lying. I had to lie over and over again, so I can avoid seeing Love.
Because seeing Love, whose eyes reflect nothing but friendship, was too painful for a 16-year-old heart.

Over the years, Love came in many shapes and forms,
He came with a long hair and a mean skill for playing the bass guitar.
Love was childish and immature; and he had poor spelling skills.
Love spelled feelings with the letters f-e-l-l-i-n-g-s.
Love was an idiot.
But I, I read every word of that letter like they were my last drop of water, last breath of air.

At one time, Love was a childhood best friend’s brother who didn’t like me while growing up.
That Love looked at me when I turned 18, saw me and has never stopped looking.

Love came in different intensity; and once, it reappeared with such force, I barely recognized it.
Love, this time, came at first sight.
Love was a friend who would talk to me ‘til 1 in the morning.
Love understood me. He spoke the same language. He cursed a lot – fuck, shit, damn – but Love didn’t misspell any word.
Love wanted so much for himself. Love was a dreamer, and so he vanished, leaving his ghost behind.
There are too many clich├ęs for this Love.
Love at first sight.
The one who got away.
The one great love.
All true, all true, for this Love’s cursed ghost has never left, always clinging, always taunting.
I was left seeking Love, always comparing, always wanting, always longing.
Until Real Love came along.

But this Love was not easy.
In hindsight, Love would have scared the shit out of me.
If I had known then what l learned later on, I would have run like a thousand hungry ferocious dogs were running after me.
Love devoured me, trapped me.
But ironically, Love was real.
Love had soft brown eyes that never fail to say, “I love you. You are beautiful” .
Love believes, persists, tolerates, forgives and adores.
Love, this time, was comfort, home, happiness, contentment, family.

When you’re hardly ready for it, Love pounds on your door insistently.
You’d be surprised to see who stands there once you find the courage to open the door.
Sometimes, Love enters stealthily. You hardly know it’s there until it’s too late.
Until you find yourself devouring gallons of ice-cream, watching old reruns, crying your heart out and driving yourself insane.
Love can be an old friend or a new one.
Love can be from New York City or California.
Love may come when you’re not ready for it or when it’s not supposed to come.
Love may be a bastard who would taunt you and play with your emotions.
Maybe Love hasn’t arrived yet and is still waiting for you.
Maybe you’re not supposed to find Love, maybe it’s meant to find you.
Maybe Love is meant to last for three months,
Or maybe it’s meant to last forever.
Maybe Love was not meant to grow.
Maybe it’s not meant to stay.
Maybe Love would want you to take risks and damn the consequences.
Maybe Love is meant to be confessed.
Maybe it is meant to be a secret.

Love comes when you least expect it to.
And for the time it is with you, it will change you.
Love will change you in so many ways that you will hardly recognize yourself.
And just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, love leaves.
To a lucky few, Love stays. It grows, it expands like a balloon that never fails to run out of gas.
But for everyone, Love comes and for a little while it stays.
And for that little while, you’re happy.



my version of When Love Arrives by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye

Finally, I Write


It’s the 9th day. He has been in the hospital for 9 days now – and still, he’s not getting better. Hematuria is gone. That’s one good thing at least, but the fever, it comes and goes. For a few hours or so, we’d be hopeful that he won’t have a fever again and we’d be able to go home and then the chills will start and his temperature will start climbing.

We’ve been through several doctors now. Completed all kinds of laboratory exams, some repeated several times.  It’s driving me insane. It’s driving my sister insane. She has been jumping from one possibility to another, one conclusion to another. We have been crying – and my mom won’t leave his side. She doesn’t want to. And we’re worried about her because she, too, has her own set of medical complaints.

I am going insane.

I have my own set of issues.  I am bogged down by other concerns. I so need a break. I am losing it. I am experiencing bouts of crying and I only get reprieve from watching sitcoms one after another – and when I’ve exhausted them all, I find myself crying over a bowl of noodles.  God, I need a break.

I pray he’d get better soon. No, not soon. Right now. Please Lord, make him better now.

I hope to feel better soon. I hope to forget. I hope the heaviness in my chest will go away and the pain in my stomach will abate soon. I don’t want this. I don’t like this. I hate this.

Life sucks right now. It really does.

A Letter to My Heartbroken Friend

Let me start by saying I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the other day.  You have been putting up such a good front that I tend to forget the truth sometimes. I thought of forwarding another quotation, something that could provide you a little comfort, but I thought, what the hell, I should just write you a letter, something that you can read when you need a little love…a little comfort.

Love sucks. Let just get that out of the way because right now, that’s the truth. Raw love can blindside you and it’s not so easy to turn off.  The raw heartache can be debilitating. I know that.  This is why you continue to amaze me. You haven’t resorted to eating Pringles and crying your way through the Notebook and other sappy movies. And except for those “5-second heartache” you probably experience throughout the day, you’ve managed to put on a huge smile and live life and damn anyone who thinks you’re miserable.  If you haven’t been painfully honest with me, you could have fooled me as well.

You probably hate the question, “Are you okay?”  It forces you to acknowledge the truth to yourself and lie through your teeth. I want you to know, you won’t have to lie to me. I know you’re not okay – and it’s okay. I don’t really care that you think your tears are irrational and that your pain nonsensical.  They’re valid. They’re yours. They matter.

I know how much it hurts.  I remember how it’s like to get your heart broken. I remember how rejection feels like. I remember how it’s like to feel like you’ve lost your heart..like it had been ripped away by the same person who wanted no part of it. I understand, so I wouldn’t care if it takes you forever to find your peace. I don’t care if you are sad or lost. I will stay up and talk to you until 4 AM…Hell, I’ll stay up with you the whole night if you want me to! The thing is, I’m here for you. No matter what. Please don’t ever think otherwise.

For now, I will tell you he doesn’t deserve you – because he truly doesn’t.  He’s an idiot for not seeing you.  I will tell you everything will be okay.  A year from now, two, three…we will laugh about this.  And you will forget.  You will forget everything that is causing you so much pain now. Or maybe you won’t.  It wouldn’t matter because you would love again and you would be incredibly happy. I know that because in my heart I know you deserve that.  You deserve love and happiness.  You’ll have those two beautiful girls. Someday, you will.

I love you. I’m sorry you’re in pain. You’ll find peace in time. The hurt would stop eventually. So, take your time. It’s okay.

Designer: FThemes.com | Converter: Blogger Themes & Blogger Templates