Extinguished

I am an extinguished fire.

I have always been the type whom people would assume to be someone strong and capable. For so long, I thought  of myself that way too. I thought that every difficulty that people go through is just like a hump on the road or an obstacle in a racing field, just give it some time and you'll get through it. But with the way things go for me right now, it's like as if all those dreams that I've spent so much time and energy dreaming about are nothing but faded memories of a dreamer who's finally awake and aware that some things are just too far from becoming possible.

I've always been positive, no matter what situation I get myself into, I've always managed to come out of it stronger and better than ever. But this, whatever this is, is totally different. At times I'm hoping it's just a phase, but most of the time, I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle and even if this is just a phase, I feel like it's a phase I will never be able to surpass.

They say the world is like a spinning wheel and that whether you are at the bottom or the top, you won't be there forever. I however, feel like I am down and that I am bound to stay here forever. Unmoving, frozen at the bottom.

An extinguished fire, yes that would be me.

I used to withstand the powerful winds of life, I used to manage to keep the fire burning. This time, albeit, I have been put out and I don't think I'd ever be able to rekindle the fire that had once fueled me to go on despite the winds of life that's been dragging me back.

I Just Have To Cross

I've been worrying about our final swimming practicum for weeks now. For someone like me who can't really swim that well, 50 meters freestyle is torture!

So I spent a couple of afternoons going to Sta. Fe and practicing a bit just to make myself comfortable with water. And earlier today, I really thought that all those afternoons of swimming practices, those evening jogs I did to have better endurance, will go to nothing.

The moment I stepped into the water, my unshowered body chilled.

I waited for my name to be announced by our teacher and after four names, I heard mine.

It felt like the world froze for seconds and I used those seconds to place myself at the other end of the pool where I was supposed to kick my feet to save myself a few meters of swimming.

So there I went, I took a deep breath and performed the long practiced kick and swooosh! I could no longer describe how I looked while I was swimming. I don't know how long it took me to reach the other end but when I was already in the middle- which is exactly the part of the pool where people who stand at 4ft and 11 inches like me- shouldn't linger, I felt like stopping for a while and just catch my breath.

It was extremely tiring and I thought for one moment that my legs would be detached from my body.

But I kept on kicking and flying my arms upward and down again into the water, I breathe every time I could and just kept on moving.

I remember I thought of grabbing that rope on the pool and just rest for a while but doing so would mean having 85 over 100. So I struggled so hard to keep myself from being tempted by the idea. I don't even know if I was still doing it right but the whole time I was doing it, I had only one thing in mind: I HAVE TO CROSS IT. And that's exactly what I did.

I felt the hard, wet pebble coated cement on the other side of the pool and I felt proud of myself. I DID IT!

I was able to cross the pool.

Now, as I sit here while pouring my current emotion out, I think about how things went for me this second semester. I must say, I haven't been doing that good. Should I give a range for how I've performed, I would even say it's closer to bad.

Then I think about it, everything that I am going through right now is so much like crossing the pool (while swimming, of course!)

I have to cross, and though most of the time I feel like stopping and catching my breath, I guess I should better just take a deep breath all the time, dive into the water, keep my arms and feet moving, breathe whenever I could and just reach the other end. I shouldn't stop, because if I would, the tendency is I would lose the courage and the strength to go on and just let myself be drowned by frustration, self-pity, regrets, anger and pain.

I guess, that's where I failed.

I have an idea of who I am and of what I could do but every time I feel tired, I don't try my best to just endure whatever it is that I am going through. I don't set goals, I don't usually know the WHERETOs and HOWTOs. Or if I know, I keep on lazing around thinking that I am not ready for anything when, just now, I have realized that no one is really ready for anything unless they try.

I talked to one of my teachers this morning and though I could have spent a few more minutes talking to her, what she told me made me decide to just back off.

I am waste.

That's what she told me. A waste not because I am made of nothing but because I am made of something and yet I am throwing everything that I could ever be into waste. Hearing her say those words felt like I was being stabbed with the sharp TRUTH.

I am throwing myself away. I am not trying hard to get to the other side of all these things that I am going through.

I think I know exactly what to do and still, I keep on feeling scared and unready all the time.

But really, when my PE teacher said "Go" earlier, which had meant that I should start kicking and swimming, I just did what he said. I've let go of my apprehensions, kicked on the wall, started swimming and never stopped until I reached the other side.

Perhaps that is something that I should try with my life right now....

I have to let go of everything. Pluck up the courage to just cross the pool of education, of love, of hardships... of LIFE and reach the other end no matter what I have to go through.

I was given a second chance before, I failed. Now, I'll be the one to give myself one more chance to try on another path and take the challenges I'd have to face while walking on that other road.

And just in case there'd be rivers, I now know what to do...

I just have to cross.

THEM

Since I thought that all magazine articles were all past deadlines, I was very much determined to finish my article before sunrise. I set an interview with the College of Education's choice for  this year's The Class and yet in the end, I also had to postpone for some reasons.

So I went home just to change into clean clothes after taking our associate editor's advice that it won't be good if I would go home in my uniform on a Saturday morning. I spent about an hour and a half in traveling, showering and preparing to go back to school.

I was irritated however when by the time I got back to LaSalle and called the office to ask someone to fetch me at the second gate, no one was answering the phone. The guards told me that they (SPECTRES) have all gone out, to have dinner I supposed.

So to cut the long story short, I had to load up just to ask where they've gone, walk from the second gate to the end of Lasalle avenue, wait for a few minutes for a Talisay jeep, ended up riding a Silay jeep instead before I finally got to Chicken house where the gang of Zombies was waiting for me.

I wasn't really in a good mood but when I saw them, I don't know why I was suddenly reminded of a family.. So when I finally got to sit on one of the chairs, I was eager to enjoy dinner.

There were the usual gossips, jokes and endless conversations about everything. By the time we rode the tricycle back to the office, I felt joy.. And that's when I realized that, despite all the pressure being a spectre gives me, I still could say that it is in being a spectre that I find joy and fulfillment.

It is with them that I laugh like as if I'm about to die the next day and have fun like as if there's no other day that I could enjoy except at the present moment.

So, maybe, I just want to say that, I love being in the publication. I love the Spectres and above all, I love being one.

The Lost Sheep

I was there, among the others who were flocking the chapel that hour. It's Ash Wednesday so everyone intended to have a cross sign on their foreheads, like as if it would give them a ticket to hell if they fail to do so.

If you would ask me why I was really there, you would probably be surprised to find out that I don't really know either. For weeks, maybe even longer, I haven't been praying. I go to church, I listen to the gospel, I get to eat the Body of Christ and yet I just know that something's missing. I no longer think of God the way I thought of Him before. I'd like to blame myself for entertaining the probability that there's no God after all these time. Maybe we are just being made to believe that there's a place called heaven where angels and a supreme being live and that there's hell where people who do evil stuff would be burned forever after judgement day.

I get scared at times. Is my questioning of His existence the reason why my life is going crazy right now? Am I being punished for doubting Him?

While at the chapel earlier, I found myself shedding tears before and after I had the holy communion. I couldn't help it. They say, when you are not saying anything to Him, He would be the one to tell you what He wants to say to you. And the whole time, I forced myself to focus, to think of nothing but my relationship with Him. And the more I thought of Him, the more I realized how worse I have become. I find myself already half eaten by anger. And I thought of my mom who tirelessly tells me to forgive everyone who has done me wrong and stay humble. I thought about all the people I've hurt because I am just so mad. I thought of myself, how much I have screwed things up, how I have let go of almost everything just because I am tired, confused and bitter.

I thought about everything and I only wanted to cry. Thank the heavens there were lots of people in there. Still, I felt like exploding in pain. I wanted to let it all out. I felt like I needed to burst out just to calm the storm inside me. Yet I didn't.

I stared at the bronze imitation of Christ nailed on the wooden cross at the chapel, I tried to be in my most spiritually sensitive state. I found it hard to even listen to Him, it used to be easy for me. The fact that I already find it difficult to pray is proof enough that I have gone so far away from His flock.. That I have been terribly bad, that I have been lost.

And as I stared at the figure of the man whom I dreamed of being married to before, I let a few tears slide down my face. It was relieving. Ignoring the remaining people inside the chapel, I prayed, " Just let me believe in You, the way I do before.."

I stayed for a few more moments, and when I went out.. I have nothing in my heart but hope. Hope that everything will be fine, because He's real, and He'll never forsake me.. I JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE.

Brave water

It was two quarters before seven, I remember hearing the sound of my alarm, the sound I loathe the most ever since I started school. I would have gone back to sleep if only my not so brilliant mind didn't work too fast the very second I opened my eyes. I don't know, all of a sudden, there were lots of things in my mind. 

I thought about the exams I have to take, the script I have to finish, the articles I'm supposed to work on. Questions like, "Do I want a cold or warm milk?", "Would the water be warm enough for me not to chill while taking a bath?", "Would it rain today?" and a lot more things that, oddly enough, I rarely think about had just crossed my thoughts.  

Surprisingly, I had noticed, though a little later, that I have already been thinking deeply about how my life has been in the last five years.

My life has been pretty messed up. 

If I should be honest, I think I have already realized this fact long ago. The problem was, I was just too weak to even admit it to myself. I was in denial. I have always been the kind who took pride at being independent, strong, invulnerable, and positive.

But this morning, I thought of how pretentious and dishonest I'd be should I even make myself believe that everything in my life and in myself is okay. They're terribly NOT okay. 

I haven't been talking much to anyone at home for about a month now. Just a few weeks ago, I wasn't attending my classes. I haven't been in church for a couple of Sundays. I have been ignoring everyone and even everything. I have been undeniably rebellious. Silent, and yet rebellious. (You shouldn't really be fooled by my often boisterous laugh.)

I was already taking shower, the water was quite warm but the morning breeze goes in through the small holes of our bathroom window so despite the warm water, I felt cold. No matter how much my teeth would chatter however, my thoughts about my really disappointing life are like questions of a 'DON'T LEAVE ANY BLANKS' exam paper. Unless I answer everything, I can't go out. For a moment, I wondered whether it was the water from the shower or my tears that had wet my face. 

I knew I had to do something about everything. But really, I thought, "HOW?"

I tried to think about Elpijay, how I consider him as the only thing that's right in my life. I think about the Cube, how I would want to be there for him. I think about the publication, how the pressure inside the office makes me remember that I still have purpose in this world. I think about those people who really care for me, I think about Bujek and Buyong, how much younger I get when I am with them. I think about my BEST friends, how hard I could laugh when we hang around. I think about my possibilities, my strengths. I think about everything I could be and I can't help but feel bad. 

How could I let myself be drowned in this pool of I-really-don't-know-what, laze around and pretend things are fine when they really are NOT?

I have been so angry and though I really don't think that I'd ever be able to stop myself from getting angry, I just want to admit that right now, I really am tired of it. 

And as I let water cool my head and watch it fearlessly slide down the tiny dark holes that would- I think- lead them back to where they come from.. I have realized that like the water, I should also be brave enough to slide down some dark holes so I could go back to where I've been, to where I should be.

Think about this, the water may flow through canals, rivers, ponds, falls, may be drank by a human, evaporate, condense and then someday, after such a long cycle, would go back to the ocean. 

Sigh. 

I honestly find this blog lousy. What with the comparison of water to myself? Eeew..

But really, if the water goes back to the ocean, I just wonder where I'd soon be. Or perhaps, I should be asking this instead:

Where SHOULD I soon be?

DISGUST

I stood in front of them

Their razor sharp eyes shot towards me

In disgust

I stared down

At my two hands

So tiny, so fragile

Hands that,

For them,

Are never capable

Of anything worthwhile

I did run

Away from them

To find myself

But the world was harsh

And never kind

So I struggled until I found

Myself, my stronger and better self

And they stood in front of me

My cold eyes

Froze them to death

I was disgusted.

SHE

Hi blog. It's been long. How are you? I'm sad to see that you were not updated for so long. What happened? Well, I won't mind if you cannot answer. The girl behind the words you so proudly let anyone who could find you read cannot even answer that at this moment either. She'd been through a lot during the last months that she was not in touch with you. She had been fighting her battles alone for so long and deliberately ignored you because she didn't know how to talk to you, what to tell you, or how to let things out. She's been keeping all of it in. She reckoned everything will go well for her. She refused to talk to anyone apart from the few she chose to keep inside the walls she built around her.

Yes. Walls. Tall, sturdy walls which had kept everyone -apart from the few she chose to stay inside- out.

Don't tell her I told you alright? But I saw her burst out and break down a couple of times. Her red pillow in her room smells like the sea already, I bet she had cried on it a lot of times.

I saw her running around the campus, too... She tried to walk with her head down, trying to hide her face with her thick black hair. But of course, I know her too well... I know that the way she walks depends on how she feels, and I just know that she only walks head down and face hidden by her hair when she can't stop from crying. I saw her when she went out of that shop down town too, she looked like she was not sure where to go. She was so sad. I followed her, she went past the shops she used to go to when she's bored.  I think she was thinking of going to Shoe Mart but though I wondered why she went the other way, I didn't dare ask nor go near her. She looked so fragile that time, too vulnerable. I kept on walking a few feet behind her. If her thoughts were not elsewhere, she could have seen me. I tailed behind her until I found her in the compound of the Cathedral.

She kept on walking, I was tired following her but I didn't have the heart to leave her... I wanted to be there just in case she'd break down again. She seemed to be searching for someone. I saw her talk to a middle aged man, I tried to eavesdrop. Well, she was actually searching for a priest... That was just so her. She always seeks for spiritual counsel. That's just one of the things she does when she's down. I hid when she turned towards my direction, I thought she saw me but, strangely enough, she walked past me and sat in the first pew in front of the altar and attended the mass. I sat a few pews behind, all the time during the mass, I was just staring at her... Her face, though lonely, was blank. I caught her wiping tears away. Under the golden light inside the decades old cathedral, her face was almost the color of the dying sun.

Just after the mass, I saw her stood up. She walked out, I saw her gaze at the sky, I  saw her gave the beggars outside the church a look of compassion. I smiled when she did that. I just know the kind of heart she has, the kind that would never run out of compassion for the people who need help and passion for helping them at the same time.

She kept walking and so did I. She rode the jeepney home, I rode with her too. I wanted to make sure she'd be home safe. She was so lonely, when she asked the passenger beside her to pass her fare along to the driver, there was sorrow in her voice.

She was trying to hide her face again, she was starting to cry, again... When she finally got off the ride, I went down too and walked just behind her. She entered their gate. I saw her stood still just outside their balcony, obviously mesmerized by the Christmas lights her cousin put up earlier that afternoon. I tried to go nearer, just so I could see her face.

I was right, she hadn't stopped from crying. Her eyes shone so bright, as if trying to mirror the dazzle of the lights that had caused those tears to stream down her face in a beautiful cascade.

But oddly enough, when I gazed into her watery eyes, I saw not only sorrow but a tinge of joy. Not just a glimpse of her weakness but a little spark of strength.

And that was the only instant I felt that I, after a couple of hours of following her, am free to go home. *