Loaf

You know what I really hate about myself right now? It’s the vile fact that I always cram. I cram in everything. Anything that has a deadline, I’d cram in it. I cram in studying for my finals. I cram when submitting things at work. I cram every morning when I have to wake up, take a bath, get dressed and not be late for whatever. It’s so chronic I’m starting to think I’m addicted to it. I have this suspicion that I secretly deliberately cram, that I actually like the rush in doing things like crazy just to fit everything in a ridiculously small amount of time, all that excitement of the possibility of not making it and getting screwed up in the worst ways. I think I told Mae one time while she was panicking for her final exams that,

The most blissful form of relaxation is the kind done in the middle of a deadline.

Here is no doubt a manifestation of my perverse way of thinking, particularly on the idea of “taking it easy”. The worst part in this whole cramming business is I somehow always find a way out of any situation I cram in, which really sums things up as hopeless. It’s hard to convince myself to do things on time when I could simply slack off and still get away with it (sometimes with flying colors even).

This should stop. I can’t settle for things half-baked, petty excuses, and mediocrity. If I let myself continue on cramming, I’ll end up cramming for the rest of my life. I will not stagnate. I will be better than this. I will change.

Another thing I hate about myself is that no matter how I would tell myself to change, I can’t seem to do it. But that’s another story.

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Knots

It was the night of our second anniversary, and things ended up quite different from the way we would have liked them to. Dinner wasn’t in that place we were really hoping to go back to, and we talked about things we weren’t really ecstatic on talking about. It was a bit far from the sweet and happily-ever-after way that dinner dates and anniversaries usually go, but, you know what, somewhere along the way I think I fell in love with her even more.

Who is she whose spirit was as free as the haze that cuts across the night sky? Who is she whose will was as fierce as the darkness of evening twilight? Her heart was as tender as the silver moon. She was free to go anywhere her heart desires. She can choose to have anything she can dream of. And yet, she’d rather have me.

I guess I’m caught right there, again, with no hope whatsoever.

I'm hers, now, always.

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On the hardest part

The hardest part in loosing those you love is not that moment when you are actually loosing them. Not really. I think that is the easiest part. That's because you don’t usually expect those so close to your heart to just go away, just like that. You always had that idea that your love for them will keep them near and safe always, and so when you loose them, you are usually in shock and denial. You fall, with nothing to do but wait for the bottom to hit. You cry and you feel lost, but that was just the beginning. The hardest part comes much much later. It is when you start missing them, and you realize they are never coming back. Not this time.

I miss Dad. However, I try not to stay sad too long at one time. I say, take one pint of sadness a day, because the whole bottle will drown you. If a pint is not enough, take two, and then sleep it off and wait until morning, or thirty minutes before deadline, whichever panics you first.

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