the gapanese invasion is nigh!

"pinakamaganda ka nga sa buong kapuluan, pero latina na naman ang magwawagi ng korona at sash sa miss world! racism ba ito? lupasay!"

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

truth is, you just want to die

You wish it were just a bad dream from which you would eventually wake up. The photographs do not exist, old wounds have not reopened, farewell words remain unexpressed. Then again, destiny has a twisted way of mocking you, and your worst nightmares have already crawled out of your unconscious to slap you in the face. You can’t deny this happening; your world is about to experience apocalypse.
You try to save as much of yourself as you can by rewriting history. You delete numbers and stored messages, file pictures away, muffle theme songs, change wallpapers and screensavers, edit profiles. You prepare lessons, attend lectures, discuss ideologies and how these influence social conditions and stratify classes. However you vainly attempt to feign that the good things are here to stay, fact is, they are never bound to last.
While you learn your lesson the hard way, you also realize that your difficult times do not even matter in the wake of more difficult instances sprouting the world over. The US is back to its recession jitters after achieving a milestone in its political history. China executes market recalls of its life-threatening products. Global warming rapidly melts polar ice caps, soon flooding the low-lying terrains. Banks go bankrupt, workers get laid off, corruption worsens, hunger and illness rates sharpen from Latin America to Africa to Asia. Don’t even compare your personal tragedy with those of others; you have not been gang-raped, your shelter does not get demolished, you do not anguish over land-grabbing, ethnic displacement, police extortion, abused rights. You hurt and try to get over it all on your own, because life goes on no matter how you die a cruel death inside you.
When this side of the world sleeps, you stay awake. You think of him, wonder whether he loved you all these years, ask how your personal savior could ironically turn into your angel of death. In a few moments, you are reminded that your private destruction is not the end of this world, and he is sound asleep, his innocent beauty looming, his dreams quivering to life but without any more trace of you.


  1. tight hugs, mare...

  2. hi ces... a sincere writing... love you. basta dito lang ako parati... one text away! take care always

  3. Anonymous5:54 PM

    care for a drink, sir ces?

    hayz... saddened yet again.

    -ever after