my persons, my words.


Ocean

Today is 8 June 2009, and we’re all together, for the first time in a long time, at the beach. I spent the day with her, the girl I usually grow apart from. It was nice, but it wasn’t as nice as I’d want it to be. We spoke about him. We spoke about my He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and truth is, it was okay. It hurt, and I wanted to cry, because she was saying things that were happening to her that were actually happening to me too. And that just made me realize many things that aren’t as great. Right at this point, there’s nothing to look forward to. There’s no deep, ocean blue eyes to look at, no future to foresee, and no desires to fulfill. There’s just nothing. And to tell you the truth, that’s just sad, and pathetic. It’s basically my life story. I always have something great and grand on my hand, carefully laying on the palm of my hand. I have it there, with me, and I’m so happy. But I have to close my hand somewhat, so it doesn’t escape. Still, I can’t close it too tight because then I’ll crush it. So then I open my hand at times, to take a good look at it, and admire its true beauty. And every time I do, my heart just lights up, and I feel like I can fly, and like I can do anything I’d want to do, because it gives me amazing and unimaginable powers. But then, as I’m admiring, it breaks away from my grip, and I lose it. Unfortunately, I can never get stuff back, but… Again, that’s just the way my life is. It’s a big cycle that ends when I finally lose the thing I love the most, just the way I lost my Mister Person. But he’s happy, and he’ll forget everything that happened, even though I made him promise me he wouldn’t. Maybe he won’t. But…

I found out something today, as she was talking. She said she doesn’t know how people will remember her. She says she doesn’t even think they will. But I know they will, and if they don’t, then they weren’t supposed to. But she doesn’t know that. She does, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. She’s like him in a way. I told her so… But what I finally learned is that I found my passion, something she hasn’t yet, and wants to find. I’m actually glad I’ve found it. I am. But what does it mean? Words are just words. That’s what they are. They don’t mean anything, and they don’t make anyone any way. My words don’t mean shit. They are just… things I tend to feel, everyday, and things I need to write, because it’s the only way I’ll be able to express myself, and tell the people I feel things for just how I feel, even though I never actually get to tell them. But that’s all. I wish people could see my words for what they truly are. I wish people could see that my words are me, and that they’re feelings, and emotions, and fears, and wants, and desires. I want people to see that my words are real, and that they have a voice of their own, or at least I want them to. And…

I wish I finally met a guy close to what he ever was for me. I wish I could meet him, and for him to understand me the way no one has ever understood me. That was actually one of the reasons why it wasn’t the way I wanted it to be, our conversation. I wanted to say things, and I wanted her to believe me because she believes me. I still haven’t met that person who blindly believes in me. And it just hurt when she said that other girl could have been the girl able to save him. She mentioned all these qualities she is supposed to have, and I know I have it all. But I can’t tell her that it could be me, because she would so say that I’m not, and that I just need to forget about him, completely. But I don’t think that way, which is why I have to lie to everyone about him, because it’s the only way that I can finally get along with people. Now that I’ve said I’ll forget about him, people are actually feeling less… You know; all that weird stuff that they were saying. And well, that just makes their life better, and maybe now mine will get a bit better as well. All I want to do right now is just leave and finally get away and maybe find my true calling, which most likely be something having to do with words, and writing.

 

PS. We were also talking about the things that she wants. I didn’t tell her mine, but I just NEED someone to finally understand me, and believe me because they know that I wouldn’t lie about certain things, and that I just am not the way they all picture me.



27 January 2009|Letter 1

Words are just glorious, whether thought of, spoken, or written. They are just beyond our imagination. And yet we try to reach that level of imagination to produce the words that we feel for a person, or a thing… or just feelings in general. And as these words are written, spoken, or thought of, they fly. These amazing words fly into the sidereal and unleash their magic, falling into the ears and minds of the humans that were meant to know them.

You may be wondering why on earth I’m writing to you. You don’t even know who I am, or if this letter was directed to you, much less know how I write. If you did know, then you would at least have a clue. Yet you don’t. And I’m glad. The only thing you may know is the fact that I chose you to write to. But I guess that’s more than obvious, since you’re already reading this letter. Yes, this letter is odd. More like, “out of the blue”. But there’s always a day in which one wishes to reveal one’s true feelings to a significant other. And when one does, it’s truly gratifying knowing you said what you said. And that what you said was exactly what you meant. And that what you meant was something grand.

Given that the world is getting close to that day in February when the human race goes upside-down due to love, public displays of affection, the color red, and gifts, I thought I’d put some words on paper to show that not only friends and lovers give and receive. But to show that strangers can also make the air smell sweet and love-like to those who receive their mysterious treasures.

Since you know not of me, I just thought I’d write and deliver you these words I wish to preach, as powerful, long, or boring, as they may seem.

It’s hard for me to write to you. Yes, random thought. But it’s quite a difficulty, for I don’t know what you feel, or if you do feel at all. Or what you think of many controversial issues like a black president in the White House, abortion, religion, and love. But I guess I’ll just write what I wish for someone to tell me, and maybe you’ll love it.  

I’d love for someone to tell me that he or she loves me. To read those longing words spread out on paper, where all the scribbles and doodles on the corner of each page will say a story of the thoughts that person had right before writing those amazing words. However, to be able to hear or read that from someone, one must have history. And that’s just something we lack. We have history. I believe everyone does, whether the only thing registered on file is a “hello” at seven in the morning while entering school. Still, we don’t have that deep history lovers possess.

So due to this, I will preach softer words, ones you will digest properly.

It’s something about your eyes, and their color. That deep dark color that makes them abundant in depth. There have been times when I’ve gotten lost in them. But then your eyes smiled, letting out a beautiful light that guided me back to shore. You never noticed when I got disoriented. You were always too busy to notice the little things and feelings that went around you. But that’s one of the wrong things I so rightfully like about you, because it means you will never get to know who I am.

Through your eyes I was able to see your soul, and that’s when I put all the puzzle pieces together of the way you are, and why you are such way. It was confusing yet admiring. I was experienced enough to touch your soul now, in those infinitesimal moments when you would let your mind wonder off into space. And those were the moments when I noticed your soul was sweet, genuine yet scared. That to be able to let your true self out, years and decades of friendship would have to pass by first…

And that’s when my wall went up. Because I was trying to get close to you… for you to willingly let me in. But you never did. And so here I am, a stranger letting you know its true sentiments.

Truth is, it’s never too late. You’re imperfect, in many other ways than the ones you may be thinking of right now. Yet there’s someone in the world who’s thinking that all those imperfections just add up to your true perfection, because no one is able to be perfect without little deformities here and there. So try to look for that person that wants to fill in your heart of smiles. Don’t close doors, even if affairs or relationships aren’t what you’re seeking. Give chances, and you’ll receive many treasures, ones you would have never been able to receive with your doors close shut. Live! Experience! That’s what the world’s all about. Live your life so a long time from now you only regret the things you did, and not the things you weren’t able to do, or the feelings you didn’t let yourself feel.

So I believe that’s it. I’ve said what I wish to say. Maybe it’s not what you expected, but at least someone took time off and wrote you something meaningful that maybe no one has.

I hope this letter serves as something, whether it serves as being just a letter, or a counselor, or a revealer, or whatever you may want it to be. Maybe in the future it will serve as something, if not already. Just don’t try to find out who I am. You’ll fail. I can bet you that. You already think I’m someone I’m not. So please don’t try.

And don’t flaunter these words. In my world, they’re considered treasures, and one doesn’t flaunter treasures. You keep them close to your heart, or somewhere similar.

Until so soon.

 

It’s odd how things may happen, specially that mysterious thing or feeling some call “love”.