I'm not a big fan of competitions. Honestly, it was not something that I enjoyed doing (even when I was actually in it). This is the main reason why I hated being placed in a spot where I will be open to being compared with someone else. I know what my strengths are and I know where I am weak at. If I know that I can contribute to the cause then I will gladly lend a hand but if I will turn out to be a liability, I would rather sit in one corner and watch those who are excellent in that aspect shine. Sadly, some people perceive this as an attitude problem. Oh well, we can't please everyone.
Apathy, the answer to such problems.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
A Letter
Dear Heart,
Stressful year, right? After that eventful September last year, we both thought that you could no longer handle the blows but you sure proved me wrong. I watched in amazement as you braced yourself to be displayed on my sleeve again, bruised but ready to give whatever what was left. We loved again without caution, thinking that fate was on our side this time but sadly, we were wrong again for the nth time. I was the sad spectator of how he ripped you apart and I just let him because we both thought he was the one. I am sorry. I should have kept you safe and gave you time to heal instead of jumping on that bandwagon again. I made a mistake, Heart and I do not know how to fix you this time. You seemed different now. You harbour ill feelings and you nurture the hate growing inside you. They hover above us like dark clouds. Your wounds are not healing, you're not allowing them to heal; hence we remember what happened - the airport scene, Chinatown, the secrets, the other women, the endless packing, and the waiting. You are bitter, angry and resigned to disenchantment. I did this to you. I should have taken better care of you and kept you away from the clutches of that mad man.
Don't worry, Heart. He can't hurt you anymore because I won't let him. Sleep for now, rest and find comfort in knowing that I kept you where no one else can find you. When the right time comes and God wills it, you'll be yourself again - shiny, happy and alive.
Wake up when you're ready.
Stressful year, right? After that eventful September last year, we both thought that you could no longer handle the blows but you sure proved me wrong. I watched in amazement as you braced yourself to be displayed on my sleeve again, bruised but ready to give whatever what was left. We loved again without caution, thinking that fate was on our side this time but sadly, we were wrong again for the nth time. I was the sad spectator of how he ripped you apart and I just let him because we both thought he was the one. I am sorry. I should have kept you safe and gave you time to heal instead of jumping on that bandwagon again. I made a mistake, Heart and I do not know how to fix you this time. You seemed different now. You harbour ill feelings and you nurture the hate growing inside you. They hover above us like dark clouds. Your wounds are not healing, you're not allowing them to heal; hence we remember what happened - the airport scene, Chinatown, the secrets, the other women, the endless packing, and the waiting. You are bitter, angry and resigned to disenchantment. I did this to you. I should have taken better care of you and kept you away from the clutches of that mad man.
Don't worry, Heart. He can't hurt you anymore because I won't let him. Sleep for now, rest and find comfort in knowing that I kept you where no one else can find you. When the right time comes and God wills it, you'll be yourself again - shiny, happy and alive.
Wake up when you're ready.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
After Rehearsals
my unbound hands traced the price
and it was more than what I had prayed for
I sat here brooding for hours
over stitches that were never clean enough
and wounds that unknowingly open
just for the heck of opening
I watched the shadow hover above my head last night
as my body spiraled around the studio
while my feet tried to reclaim its former glory
the price
for wrong decisions that were corrected
for impatient strides that were retraced
and for love, love that has turned sour overnight.
and it was more than what I had prayed for
I sat here brooding for hours
over stitches that were never clean enough
and wounds that unknowingly open
just for the heck of opening
I watched the shadow hover above my head last night
as my body spiraled around the studio
while my feet tried to reclaim its former glory
the price
for wrong decisions that were corrected
for impatient strides that were retraced
and for love, love that has turned sour overnight.
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