THE KIWI WHO SOARED THE SKIES...

“Where am I? What’s this place? It’s the same place but why is this like this? I recognize it but it feels like it’s not the same…”

It’s been a month and I hardly recognize what this place is. At first, I believed that it will be the same as always like when I was still in the Far East, that the only difference is the geographical location and its climate.

But I was gravely mistaken.

“We’ve changed,” an old man about 60 years old said. When he said these very words, I felt like what is left in this very soul of mine has been torn apart again. He was explaining something to someone but I didn’t care. I was trying to close my ears from every sound that is surrounding me. I just don’t want to feel my soul be torn apart more than it is now. It hurts.

In the Far East, in these kind of situations, I would have sent group messages to people, pestering them with my whines about how life is f*cking and messing me. Though some or should I say most of them wouldn’t care, having someone read it means a lot to me and makes me feel better even for just a day, an hour, a minute, or even a second. It feels like someone, at the very least, listened to my cries of pain and tried to understand me even though in reality, they really don’t. But as you can see, things are just not the same. No matter how f*cked up I become, there will be no one.

To tell the truth, I’m sick and tired of whining about everything. But most of the times, it’s the only thing that I can actually do. I’m always in situations where one wants to just die to stop the bleeding that one feels inside but oh well, the One above us all seems to not want to let me rest yet. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had enough suffering yet?

“I’m sorry,” said the old man after the long discussion. I’m wondering whether what the sorry is for and if he really meant it. Somehow it doesn’t feel he does. Well, who am I to judge him? I’m not God.

I wonder. When I said sorry to a certain girl, did she not believe me like the way I do not believe that old man? Had she had enough of me saying a bit too many sorry to a bit too many mistakes of mine?

I don’t really know.

I wish she was here. I miss the way how everything still feels it will be alright no matter how much it really isn’t.

I guess the “home” where I once felt is now burned to the ground and will forever be out of my sight.

I’ve been dying to post this one but I became too lazy to write it so this took some time. Good thing I finally got the mood to make this (wait, is it just me, or am I getting more talkative than usual?)

So last Saturday (if I’m not mistaken, don’t have a good memory you know), we watched the crappy Pacquiao vs. Clottey bout. Come on, the pay per view was about $50 and all you get to watch was a 12 round “Pacman-making-Clottey-a-live-dummy” fight. Ugh, I so hate that fight. Well, let’s skip the boring fight.

Before the fight, there was this girl that was talking way too much. I mean, TOO much. Want a hint why? She was literally talking bout topics that shouldn’t really be opened in public (oh, but wait, I forgot, I’m not in the Philippines now. Maybe such things are normal here. I wonder.) I won’t mention in public what she was talking about. After all, she was just asking someone how to please HERSELF more. Get it? If you don’t, well, it’s better. If you do, well, that’s that. To make things weirder, the people she was asking didn’t even seem to be surprised. Oh well, people really are more liberated (if not totally) in other countries I guess. By the way, I didn’t intentionally listen to her stories. Want a proof? The left earphone was in my left ear (she was on my right side. *wink*)

Earlier that day, we had our first Holy Supper here. It’s same as always except that it was in the English Language. Well, not literally the same. I saw that cute/beautiful girl again.

We were both at the exit (I was with my mother. And I think she was waiting for her family.) She’s not that tall (about 5’5 or 5’4, I think.) Her hair’s about shoulder length. She have cute eyes, is a bit skinny, and has a white skin complexion (haha, I really do like the skinny and white complexioned girls, don’t you think so?) At that time, I was thinking, “Miss, aren’t you feeling cold?” You guess why.

She was wearing a formal jacket, yes, but come on. Her dress was just up to her knees and not wearing any thermal leggings or stockings. (Don’t blame me for looking at her legs, it really is noticeable. XD) I always see her every Sunday and I think I already have a crush on this girl. The problem is, in this area, unlike in the Philippines, I don’t have any connections to be able to know her name. Haha! But I do want (if not “badly want”) to know her name. Oh, and before I forget, she looks like she’s just on high school (those who knows me well would know why she captured my eyes in the first place. The only difference is that she wasn’t wearing any glasses. *winks*)

Well, that concludes my crappy report. I wonder why I was dying to post this one.

P.S. I miss Darah, Arianne and ***** right now. *sighs*

“Kung hindi siya, huwag na lang.” – Sen. Gilbert “Gibo” Teodoro Jr.

Hm, I heard that phrase from a certain T.V. show and it caught my attention. Can you guess why? Well, basically, it’s what runs in my head every time they say I should just find other “fishes” in this vast ocean.

It’s been exactly 8 months and 9 days since that happened (if I’m not quite mistaken). Many things already happened. Many things have changed. I myself know that she doesn’t feel a thing for me now. However, no matter how stupid you call me, how fool you think of me and how much you pity me, something really haven’t changed a bit: I still do love her.

This has been my problem since she broke up with me. I can’t stop thinking about her, if not all day, it’s a nightlong suffering. I miss her and at the same time I’m hurt by the truth that no matter what I do, it’s hard (if not impossible) to bring her back. My mind always wanders aimlessly into a time and space that would never exist. A vacuum where she and I are still together, living in a fairytale-like story that would end in a “happily ever after.”

Even though I’m now in the far west (based on man’s own sense of direction), nothing much really changed except the climate here. It’s VERY VERY COLD here. It’s a place that is exactly the opposite of the place where I came from. When you go outside during the day, you’d feel the warmth of the sun’s rays, yes, but it’s still dead COLD. It even worsens during the night (oh by the way, the current time in here is 4:40 A.M.).

I was just thinking why in the world I can’t move on. She wasn’t the first girl that I loved after all (fact: I was rejected by about 6-8 girls, can’t really remember the exact number, some of them where crushes, but there are some that I really did love. Well, I still got rejected by them anyway until she came).

And you know what? I came up with a simple yet stupid answer. Haha. It’s okay if you’d laugh, but it’s true. The answer was that I considered her as my wife (you can laugh, go ahead). Pathetic, isn’t it? A 17 year old that was in a relationship with a 15 year old, thinking of her as his wife. Come on, it’s insane isn’t it? Yeah, call it crazy, call it insane, call it every name you can call it. But I call it “love”.

I keep on telling myself, “No, come on; don’t be stupid. She’s not your wife. She doesn’t even want and will never want to marry you right now or in the near future, wake up!” But guess what? I’m really am just plain stupid. I answered myself humbly, “I didn’t love her to love me back.” And there you go; my other self won’t answer back. Plain stupid, isn’t it?

Someone said that time heals everything. Yeah, I know that. Everyone does. However, I don’t need to be healed or let me just rephrase that as “I don’t want to be healed” for some unknown reason (at least we know it’s another stupid one).

Maybe I should just stop thinking, no? It’s already 5:02 A.M. here. I feel a bit sleepy, but let me write a short letter for her (even though there’s just one in a million chances for her to be able to read this):


Dear ____________,

I’ll always love you.

-- J.D.