Trees

I went to Laguna on Christmas eve.  I didn't spend the eve there though thus the long journey where I came from, if you've seen the earlier posts. The traveling part was one good thing that happened that day. The road was packed with trees, made to draw shades. I've never seen so much trees for a long time so I was just in awe. That moment there, in the jeepney, I watched and absorbed the view I would rarely see from where I'm now.

Trees seemed to be my idiosyncrasy for a long time. I have the habit of looking up at them. Observing how the earth has formed it's roots, it's trunk standing tall with its branches made stretch up high. I love passing through trees and see how their leaves form to make a unique frame of the sky.  I love how they shed their leaves on the ground. And when they've dried up, you couldn't help but be amused of the crunch sound the leaves make.

I especially like trees that grow colors from its flowers. When I ride one of the trains in Manila, it passes by a huge cemetery. The cemetery happens to be a solemn place for the lost and gone. There stood all over the place trees that bears white flowers. It's always seems like a silent offering not everyone would notice. Then there was this tree that makes yellow petals. I keep passing by the tree every morning during my review days. Everytime, I'd regret not having a camera to capture what I see. There was the same tree but in another place. One day, I was walking by and God knows, there was wind that made the tree let it's petals slowly rain on my path. And I was stunned because I was walking with my art teacher, and he said it was so beautiful.

I want to hold on to this idiosyncrasy like a piece of inspiration. They keep me away from my thinking head and rather fill me with happy thoughts.

Synthesizing the Black Hole

May I warn you that what when I was writing this, I was once again struck with deep realizations and thoughts that overpower my urge to sleep and tinkers the tiny corners of my brain to write somaething. This is not a cheerful piece. If you’ve grazed my blog lately, you would know how some of the things I’ve written have decomposed; wilting like a plant I’ve tried to grown. This is another confession about things I really hope doesn’t exist in my line of thinking but they still do, because somehow, these fragments have become a part of what I am.

I’ve been feeling alone lately. Thanks to people that exist in my life, they somehow make me feel more alone. I’m miles away from everything I grew up in and I’m adapting in such place I can’t feel a meaningful reason to be in. What is the sense of being here if feel mostly like this, always caught vacant, watching the things that doesn’t seem to bring anything out. I think this city I’m in used to be coated in silver and it’s shiny and beautiful. But it wasn’t real silver after all, because as years pass, it has faded and has shown it’s true rusty colors, exactly how I see it. 

Let me just say that I’ve grown tired of being like this. These sad words always move me to search for reasons of living. What is living anyway? How do I know if I’ve lived yet? How do I know? I believe its finding happiness. The feeling of being happy with whatever you might have. But it’s really hard to define and know if you’ve lived with just a thought. Maybe, I have lived when I wasn’t thinking like this. But I can’t tell.

I feel like I’ve lost a lot lately. There are friends that have forgotten, some things I missed doing, some lessons I didn’t pay attention to. My mother kept saying I’m still too young. I am young, now. That thought bother me in some way, because tomorrow, I might miss something, Tomorrow, I might spend another day doing nothing. Tomorrow, I can’t really tell. I can’t bare thinking that time moves too fast and I can’t do anything about it but go what will come. 

See how I think now. Some of these thoughts doesn’t even make sense. It’s like my way of punishing myself for doing nothing sensible or not being able to find what I’m looking for. If you are reading this still, I warned you. When I write like this, it almost sounds like something I can’t mention because it is not. Go figure. This is just me beating my head again, not in a literal way, of course.

Yes, I know, life is a big surprise. It may even be a joke, or your worst. But the worst wouldn’t exist if there is nothing good where it came from. Realize how I ‘m trying to let my positive side out. I’ve played with pessimism too much today. Welcome to this black hole, where everything is dark and gloomy and difficult to escape from. Don’t worry. This is just a phase. I’m going to keep looking for brighter things. One might be coming soon.


You shouldn't have read this. Still.

book thingie

As you've noticed, I've just had two recent posts about a book I decided to read. I want to say that it's kind of a uniquely written book. It was delivered like the character was actually speaking to me. As I was reading, I just realized that he was talking about everything that comes to his mind, and it doesn't seem to mess the entire page of things he was supposed to say. He writes the way he thinks or speak, and I guess that's how we all do. We tell a story about something and for some reason it branches out to another story, and it goes on and on.


I got tied on his second to the last letter. So I spent a night thinking about what has happened to him. It's crazy how I was just literally cut reading when he was saying goodbye. Much to my surprise, the next letter was his last. And he was well.

I learned that we couldn't let our past loom over us. That we should keep moving forward and live. We will always learn things from different kinds of people. We make mistakes and we learn from them too. It is important that we always be true to what we are. Real friends will never leave you whatever happens and they are the ones that makes beautiful memories. We should be grateful with what we have. Our family may put us down sometimes but they will never leave us at our hardest moments. The lessons and realizations from this book may never end.

Books are one of the best things created. This one made me laugh and cry and get goosebumps. It feels sad but happy in most parts. It makes you sigh and agree to the infinite line of thoughts, wonder and wander why he thinks like he thinks. :)

the perks of being a wallflower

I'm sorry, but I have to stop this letter now. 

But first, I want to thank you for being one of those people who listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even though you could have. I really mean it, and I'm sorry I've put you through this when you don't even know who I am, and we've never met in person, and I can't tell you who I am because I promised to keep all those little secrets. I just don't want you to think that I picked your name out of the phone book. It would kill me if you thought that. So, please believe me when I tell you that I felt terrible after Michael died, and I saw a girl in class, who didn't notice me, and she talked all about you to a friend of hers. And even though I didn't know you, I felt like I did because you sounded like such a good person. The kind of person who wouldn't mind receiving letters from a kid. The kind of person who would understand how they were better than a diary because there is communion and a diary can be found. I just don't want you to worry about me, or think that you've met me, or waste your time anymore. I'm so sorry that I wasted your time because you really do mean a lot to me and I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too. Okay, then. Goodbye.

Love always,

Charlie

side note: I just started reading this last night. I have no idea what page I’ve been or how long this will go since I copied this on the internet and wasn’t able to reach the end. I can’t believe this has happened. I was cut right on the part of the book where Charlie’s last words were goodbye. And I screamed. His goodbye might mean a lot of things. For some reason, I think like Charlie. He thinks a lot like I do. Weird how I always had moments of sitting alone thinking of my existence, why things kept happening, what people are doing, and what they are thinking. What I do is watch what I could see, observe things, watch details, listen and feel. I can’t talk much because it necessitates careful filtering of words. Words are best ways to express yourself. Spoken words are harsh when it comes out wrong at a wrong time. For some time, I’ve settled in writing words where few gets to read, and think. This is a habit I can’t seem to get rid off. Now I can’t tell what has happened to Charlie or what his dreams meant to him. Come theories flooding in my head and I can’t prove them without reading the entire thing. I need the entire thing right now! But I can’t because I had no internet. Frustrations come from being caught in a book and getting hanged in mid-air Charlie.

December 26, 2011 10:54 PM

>_<

I've decided to read the book I found (thanks to the internet) and get lost in it.

hello...