A little bit chilly today, isn't it?

There was
nothing
but grey skies
raining that
Saturday morning.


I set two
cups of coffee
on the table.
Your head was
still in your hands.
I felt bad.
I wanted to
pat you
on top of that
brown head.


I grabbed my
ombre blue 
blanket and
tucked it
over
you.


You said you
felt a little
cold
and moved
further away
from me.


I only
sipped the
black coffee in my cup
It tasted cold.

Ouch

A split/second decision

had landed me

on

    the

         floor.

Black streams fell

from my coffee cup

as an army of petals

marched on top

of my head.

Papers strewn all over

like flustered crowds

scattering in a subway station.

A murmur of creases

take refuge on my clothes.

Huh. I swear I could almost see

the Aurora Borealis

above me.

You stand there,

almost flustered, I see

as you help me up

and frantically search

for my missing

earring.

Overshadow

"What time will you be home?" I ask, never looking away from your face. I notice that your eyes have grown darker and your lashes longer. All around us, the walls mesh into a dreary grey. The color seeps and bleeds and molds around your bending figure, bright, bold, and yet sullen. It hurts my eyes, looking at you like that. I look away for a split second. I notice something odd.There's a subtle crack running down the wall. I have never seen that before.


"Late. Don't wait up." you say. Deep down, I feel a little needle pricking my heart. I swear, I can almost feel the blood gushing out. Crimson. Fatal. You grab your jacket and slip it on. It too, is drab grey. Why so much grey? I wonder, as you head for the door, your worn out shoes touching down on the creaking, miserable sepia floorboards. You place your hand on the metal doorknob. Even from afar, I can feel the chill radiating off its silver conical shape.


The door opens slowly. You place a tired foot outside the door, but you hesitate a bit. Watching you, I can't help myself and I cry out softly. "Please. Come back." The walls begin whisper to me in their grey, hushed tones. I feel a dizzying sensation, having said those words. The stabbing pain comes back again, and as it creeps up my spine I begin to cry. I don't know why, but I cry. You look at me with stone cold eyes. But I cry anyway. Because I know that those stone cold eyes are soft beneath the waters in your eyes. 


You stare at me sadly. "Goodbye." That is all that you say. You turn around and leave me in my own silence, closing the door with one final click.

Friday Feature: Naked Vision by Gwen Hardwood

Naked Vision

Gwen Hardwood

I was sent to fetch an eye

promised for a fresh corneal graft.

At the doctor's rooms nurse gave me

a common paper bag;

in that, a sterile jar;

in that, the disembodied eye.

I sat in Davey Street

on a low brick garden wall 

and looked. The eye looked back.

It gazed, lucid and whole,

from its colorless solution.

The window of whose soul?

Trees in St. David's Park

refreshed the lunchtime lovers;

riesling gold, claret dark;

late flowers flaunted all colors.

But my friend and I had eyes

only for one another.

Expectation overload

I really dislike it when people force so much on you, and they only expect the best of the best from you. Especially when it's a combination of efforts. I'm already being crushed under the weight of my own burdens, be it personal, academic, or whatever aspect of life, but people just drop their own loads on me, expecting me to solve or do everything by myself. I try so hard to keep a calm and patient demeanor, but time ticks away and sometimes my patience wears thin, along with my stamina and strength. Most of the time, I really just want to snap. But I can't.


I need to hold myself together. For my sake? Maybe. But it's mostly for other people's sake. Sigh.


I especially dislike it when they blame you for all your efforts, even if you are the only one who actually stayed focused throughout the whole ordeal. It's a combined effort, as I said up there. I'm not the only one who's supposed to be slaving away. I can't be blamed for the things that go wrong. At least I try. It wouldn't be my fault if I'm the only one trying. 


Ughh I'm not supposed to be complaining, but geez. I'm tired and sick of feeling that way. Give me a break, yes? :)

Listening to the presidential speech

I find it strange that SONA is such an emphatic, verbose event. Why can't SONA be a day alloted for outreach activities that the president so promises to commit himself to and take action on? It's one whole day of endless chattering and heated protesting. It would be a nice change if we actually did something, right?

Wala lang. I'm just curious. 

Some things in life that I do not understand

Sumilong ka sa 
payong ko
at lumuluha ang
ulan,
Ngunit, 'pag tayo'y lumuha,
wala nang iba...


Paalam.

Hay. Masarap maging bata ulit, noh? Kahit isang araw lang.


Nakangiti, walang pakialam sa mundo. Basta lang masaya ako, okay na. 


Ang problema ko kasi ay hindi na ako inosente. Masyado marami akong alam; matindi ang mga damdamin ko sa mga iba't ibang bagay. Mahirap na mabuhay sa mundong ito. Maraming kailangan, maraming bagay o tao na nawawala, maraming pagsubok na dadaanan ko. 


Puwede lang ba? Isang araw, maging bata ulit ako?


Hay.

Woooooo

Hey.

I doubt you'll chance upon and actually read this, but if you do, well, I hope you don't kill me on sight, okay? Haha. 

Sometimes I get mad at you or jealous of all those other people who receive your special attention. I don't expect much from you, but it's difficult for things to work one-way, and you know that, don't you? It's funny since I'm the only one who wants to save this friendship. While I'm working hard to do just that, you do nothing at all. You may protest, but it does feel like that. 

Sometimes I may act as if I'm such an attention freak or overbearing or simply annoying. Hell, I think I'm really like that sometimes, but I only want to talk to you. Even just for a while. Small talk. You scolded me before that we shouldn't talk that much. I know, okay? I'm not stupid. We have a deal. But I swear, it's a really, really stupid one. But it's not like you care about my opinions. I understand that we can't talk as often as we used to (what a shame), but I'm trying to talk to you every chance I get. It's always an awkward silence between us. Do you know how painful that is? Yeah, you don't care. 

I'm sad, I'm angry, and I'm hurt. But you know what? I'm doing this for you. Even if my patience is so worn out and abused, I'll keep on waiting on you. Because I love you, no matter what. I'll love you even if you keep on hurting me, disappointing me, or leaving me. Because I love you. 

And that's what really matters. Even if it doesn't matter to you anymore.

Escapee

She's dead. Oh, God. She's dead.

           

The night was furious and cold, its ice-dagger eyes looking down on the young woman who ran down the dark road, arms hidden underneath layers of cloth. Tucked away in the sea of swaddling white lay a body, still and unmoving and silent. Splotches of flowery-red blood stained the stark-white blanket. Yet the body lay quiet, and not a single cry did it utter, even as the woman struggled haplessly to carry the figure and gather the blankets together. Underneath the glaring street lights, the figure draped on her arms mockingly looked like a cheap, knock-off corpse.

            

She ran even faster now, adrenaline coursing through her veins the way drugs did when they were injected into soft skin. But instead of feeling the satisfaction of ecstasy or giddy euphoria, all she felt was fear. And hopeless desperation. The street was empty, much to her rising horror. There was no room filled with glowing light, nor sleepless shadows that moved behind the windows. Only worn out cars and the scent of dying cigarettes lingered on the dimly lit lane, the ghosts of a far-away morning she may never wake up to. The sound of her heels clicked into the night as she spun around several times, searching for any sign of life in this dead road. Desolate and terrified, she began going up to the houses that were lined up, and as she pounded madly on these doors, the light from a single lamppost flickered eerily to the rhythm of her desperation. She needed help. She needed to get away from him.

He killed my daughter. She’s gone. I can’t let him catch me.

            

No one answered to her knocks. She staggered away, back onto the road, her eyes glistening, petrified. She clutched the bundle closer to her chest, with an unconscious hope that her heartbeat could revive her dead baby. As the night slaved on, she willed herself to keep running. Shadows stretched infinitely everywhere, on her paralyzed face, around the cold body of her child, beneath the closed doors, on top of the houses. They followed her as she neared the sight of a bridge, lonely and ancient and looming in the distance. Unwillingly, she let out a shriek of unadulterated relief. Solace, oh sweet solace, could be found at the end of that bridge. Her feet lifted her off the ground, and wildly she dashed down the dusty pavement, clutching her daughter’s lifeless body, blinded with relief and hope and mad recklessness. She ran away and never looked back, away from him, away from the darkness, away from her inevitable doom.

            

The incoming truck didn’t see the woman.

What happened yesterday

Hi.


Acquaintance Day was fun. This year's theme was a notch better than last year's, but I think I stand my ground when I say I enjoyed last year's acquaintance day better. Though the presentations were better and more amusing; I personally liked the pink batch's show. Blue and Yellow did a nice job, and so did Green, even if it didn't have much substance (don't judge me!). The sports complex was filled with students in funny (and sometimes elaborate) costumes, and I spotted a couple of teachers wearing a cape or wielding a hammer. It was all really nice to watch, from the opening remarks until the end, but my mood was ruined because of someone. Sigh. 


The interaction with III-6 went awkwardly yet smoothly. During the whole program, I was resting my head among the throng of bags because strangely, I was sleepy. But I enjoyed the time anyway; watching both sections cheer delightfully over paper fish and aww-ing to harmonious serenades. We ate in a buffet afterwards. My appetite was measly because my mood was still sour, but the food was delicious anyway. After the party, me, Raizza, and Teresa headed to the new POEE room.


It was so nice to be together with the POEE family. We talked and laughed for what seemed like hours in the big, ornate room with a balcony and a worn-out piano; no one felt out of place or left out. Ms. Rivadeneira suggested that we play Catchphrase, but we were so hyped up that we couldn't quit talking at all. We played a prank on Ms. R first, though it backfired horribly, and we ended up sitting on the floor in a wonky circle. There was a round robin of how our summers went,  and how much has changed in us; Ms. R said I grew taller and thinner. I found that very funny. We tried to play a bit of Catchphrase, though sadly, a lot of POEE friends needed to leave. Ms. R had to attend the teacher's party at 2, so we bade our see-yous and parted ways.


I went around the campus with Graziela since there was nothing else to do. We went around and ended up talking about I-2 and sophomore year and everything in between. Reminiscing is lovely to do, even if it brings back painful memories. We talked in terms of round circle, like last year's Acquaintance Day and first impressions and new experiences. Speaking of which, I missed I-2. There have been some bad times and sad ones, but I-2 is a first of many things for me. This went on for at least two hours, until Graz had to leave. I was lonely afterwards but I enjoyed talking to someone. 


Wooo now I need to study for the forms next week. Hectic.