By: Silent Sanctuary

Inaayos ko ang iyong isipan
Ngunit di ka naman nakikinig
Lahat na ng bagay ay aking ginawa ngunit
Wala parin

Ilang beses ko bang sasabihin na
Wala nang kwenta ang nakaraan
Pero ngayo'y pinipilit

Ikaw lang ang nais kong makasama
Wala na kong gusto pang balikan
Kahit ako'y papiliin ikaw ay umasa
Gusto kang makapiling

Lagi na lang tayo nag-aaway
Kahit di dapat pag-awayan
Tuwing ika'y lumuluha ako'y nasasaktan
Pag nakikita kang ganyan

Sige na, tahan na, dahil mahal na mahal kita
Ikaw lang kasi, maniwala ka

Ikaw lang ang nais kong makasama
Wala na kong gusto pang balikan
Kahit ako'y papiliin ikaw ay umasa
Gusto kang makapiling

Pero bakit ganyan
Tayo ay napaglalaruan
Siguro nga'y sadyang ganyan

Ibibigay ko ang lahat
Pati na rin ang 'yong pangarap
Sasamahan kita kahit saan
Kahit saan

Ikaw lang ang nais kong makasama
Wala na kong gusto pang balikan
Kahit ako'y papiliin ikaw ay umasa
Gusto kang makapiling

-------------------------------

Wala akong maisip i-post, lagay ko na lang tong bagong LSS ko hahaha

-Robert

This is a very old entry of mine, about two years ago. I said a few days ago that I can no longer write the way I used to. Seeing this old post, I can really say that I can no longer write like this again. This is an essay overflowing with emotion. I must have had may muse when I wrote this.


-----------------------------------------------




Noong sabado, ako ay sumama sa aking ate na mag-swimming. Inaya niya akong kumain ng ice cream. Syempre sumama ako dahil gusto ko ring kumain ng ice cream dala ng init.

So, ayun. Naglakad kami patungo sa stand ng selecta at nagtingin-tingin sa mga makukulay at naguusok sa lamig na ice cream.

"Miss, Cornetto nga po," ang sabi ng aking ate sa tabi ko.

Binuksan nung babae ang pinto ng freezer ng ice cream at kumuha ng isang cornetto sundae.

"Miss, isa na nga rin ho," ang aking sabi.


------------------------------------------------

And even after a few years, nothing has changed. The ice cream still tastes as sweet and as bitter two years ago. And it's still as cold as the tears that flowed that night--maybe colder.

That day is nearing....

Again...

-Robert

Last night, I walked around UST campus, hand-in-hand with my already worn out soul. It was as uneventul as it could possibly be: noone to shout out your name while walking, no clumsy students that bump into you as they walk without looking where they go, no cars that try to run you over as you cross the pedestrian lane. No, it was all quiet, partially because it's summer vacation, and partly because it's already night time.

A strong gust came and played with my hair, and I felt the wind sting my flushed cheeks. It was cold, very cold. It made me doubt if it was still summer, for the cold was abnormal--it was too cold, even for me.

As I walk past the familiar, old buildings of the campus, I can still feel the cold air around me--or was it inside me? I don't know, all I know was for the first time in a long time I felt cold, really cold, and alone, all alone.

Another gust blew and the cold wind stinged my skin, cuts right through the bone, pierced my insides as a sharp edged dagger would. And the cold was terrifying. And it felt like it was at home inside me, inside my already ravaged soul.

I continued to walk, and I discovered that the AC of the hospital was on full blast, maybe that's why it was so cold. Or was it just winter somewhere else. Can it be in Alaska? Or in Dapitan? In St. Martin de Porres builduing? Or maybe somewhere closer to me? Maybe somewhere within me?

I don't know.

I walked back, thinking on what to do when I get home, and my gaze falls on the neon lights, shining and twinkling as if they were multi-colored stars covering the velvet canopy that is the sky. The wind blew again, but it was still cold. It played with the leaves in the trees as if they were children who wanted to play after being separated for a long time. It rustled up the dust inn the ground, slowly spinning it in a spiral.

The gravel crunched below my feet as the soles of my shoes walk over them, and hand-in-hand with my already worn out soul, I walk back to my home--leaving this beautiful scenery behind, where noone awaits me, except for my bed and my laptop.

Will I forever be walking? And will I always be alone gazing on the night sky?

-Robert

Funny how I just said yesterday that I ai'nt melodramatic anymore, that I've grown up, and that I'm no longer a self-pitying whining teenager....

Guess those hormones are really hard to flush out one's system....

I hate wallowing in self-pity, I hate drowning myself in sorrow: I't ain't cool, it sucks--but somehow I find the idea very appealing....

And even though I'm up to my neck in melodramatic seawater, I don't have the energy or will power to write....

Oh well, some other day maybe....

-Robert

P.S.

My eyes hurt, my body aches, but most importantly, my head is flying off somewhere.
Maybe I can write again when it comes back...

If it can find me that is...

By: Second Hand Serenade

I wish my life was this song
cause songs they never die
I could write for years and years
and never have to cry I’d show u how I feel
with out saying a word
I could rap up both are hearts
I no it sounds absurd

and i saw the tears on ur face
i shot u down and i slammed the door
but couldn’t make a sound
so please stay sweet my dear
don’t hate me now
i cant tell how this last song ends

the way that i feel tonight so down so down
i pray i can swim just so i wont drown
and the waves that crash over me
i am gasping for air take my hand
so i can breath as i write this last song down

and i saw the tears on ur face i shot u down
and i slammed the door but couldn’t make a sound
so please stay sweet my dear
don’t hate me now
i cant tell how this last song ends

the broken glass ..... your moistened skin
was everything was everything

and your broken voice ..... was quivering
your everything your everything

scream at me make it the best i ever heard
laugh out loud i no it sounds absurd

scream at me make it the best i ever heard
your everything your everything

heart beats slowing pains are growing
does she love you that’s worth knowing

heart beats slowing pains are growing
does she love you that’s worth knowing

I'm bored.

I am currently sitting at my desk on front of my laptop, happiliy clicking away at links from who knows what and God knows where on the net as I try to think of something to busy my already dying brain.

Yes, I'm that bored.

Well, as of the moment I realized two things:

1. I need a new layout.

    I've been trying to find a way to fix the layout of this blog but it seems that the templates blogdrive provides suck. I tried making my own but my laptop has no frontpage, and I'm too lazy to go old school html notepad. I tried installing dreamweaver but it won't push through. Therefore, I am still stuck with this 2-3 year old lay out...

2. I now suck at writing!!

    It's not that I was a good writer before, but it's safe to say that I was better one before (2-3 years ago) than now.

    I got nothing to do so I browsed my old entries--and I don't even recognize them anymore! I don't think i can write like that again. It has depth, meaning, and its a bit more poetic. But like I said, it's not like that I'm good before: I just degraded.

But I do know why I don't write like that anymore.

(1) I've had tons of practive because I practically post everyday. One's writing prowess can decrease exponentially due to lack of practice.

(2) I was a fresh high school grad from ma'am Labay's eng class. Who wouldn't be trained to write after that. lol :P

(3) And lastly, I think I can't write like that anymore because I'm no longer melodramatic. I was 15, 16, 17 back then. Teenage melodrama--hormones, that is-- is usually dominant and permeates even to writing.

But it was fun reading all those backlogs. Maybe I'll try to continue some of the ideas back then.

If I can still catch up to the train of thoughts that left me here at the station.

-Robert

P.S.
Teenage Melodrama doesn't fit me, and it's not cool. but somehow those hormones still haven't completely left me just yet.

NOT!!

Whew, with that said and done, I hope someone out there hears my plea and decides to ban the workdays forever.

But alas! if that were to happen everyone would die from hunger and what nots. So i must resign myself to the fact that tommorow, again must I walk to my impending doom...which pays pretty good by the way. But hey, work is work is work, no matter how much it pays.

Today I did absolutely nothing. Well if you count playing Mysteryville: Prime Suspects all day as doing something, then I guess I have been busy!

*sighs* still dehydrated...

Damn this weather it's so hot!!

I got a new LSS by the way. Too bad I can't write down the lyrics here. It's korean.

Hay...

Soo-in...

Hyun-woo...

Damn those koreans for creating such sappy lovey-dovey stories.

Bomb the koreans!! Slay all those who live!!

Maybe not... then I'd lose the chance to watch more koreanovelas he he ;p

-Robert

P.S.

Really got nithing interesting to write. I think I had one this morning, but I think I lost it somewhere in between the gardening and work (yeah I still work at home).

Oh well...

For the past few nights, I have been crying myself to sleep: Hugging my pillow, wrapping myself around my blanket while trying to muffle out the sounds of my heavy sobs. It has been like this for around 4 days now, and my lacrimal glands are probably tired. I feel dehydrated and I think I lost a vast amount of OH­­­^- as I created my alkaline river that flowed out of my eyes, down to my cheeks, and finally being caught by the already wet pillow case.

 

And whatever I do, I just can’t stop the teas from flowing. It’s as if my eyes have a life of their own and will no longer obey the orders sent to it by my befuddled mind transmitted by my myelinated axons emanating from the nerve body.

 

(Again I say, I’m a nurse so sue me for the jargon)

 

I’m dehydrated, seriously.

 

Damn it, it’s all her fault: For being so lovable, for being so beautiful, for being so irresistible. He’s an idiot, a moron, why does she love him anyway? What so good about him…

 

Soo-in…

 

Hyun-woo…

 

Damn it, I should stop watching Love Story in Harvard right before bedtime.

 

----Major Plot Spoilers----

(For people who haven’t watched or finished the series, stop reading now. Contains major spoilers)

 

Hong is a real man among the men. He’s love for Soo-in is so deep that he even sacrificed his license as a lawyer just to help Soo-in. He has always been behind her, but always one step shorter than his rival, who now happens to be her husband. I don’t have anything against Hyun-woo, it’s just that everyone knows that Hong loves her more than anyone could love her in the whole world.

 

It’s just that her heart doesn’t belong to him.

 

----Spoilers End Here----

 

It doesn’t matter how deep you truly love someone, it you don’t have their heart, all you can do is watch in the sidelines. Watch as they get married, have kids, build a home, have a family, have arguments, make up after that big fight, hug each other when its cold, and care for each other when they get old.

 

You can only watch as somebody else lives your happiness for you.

 

And that’s why it’s so sad…

 

I cry myself to sleep for the past nights due to the emotional roller coaster that I was placed in after watching. It’s amazing the characters don’t get Myocardial Infarctions, from the stress alone of their love lives I would’ve died.

 

So that’s why starting today I will drink a lot of fluids and electrolytes to replenish the lost alkaline and fluid content in my body.

 

-Robert

 

P.S. Although I have finished the show, I think I’ll still cry myself to sleep for the next few days. All for different reasons now.

 

P.P.S. Damn… *sighs*

What is it with men and big muscles and chiseled features anyway. What do they gain with all the increase in brawn and lean meat? Is the health they’re after? Or is it the increase in popularity? Or is it to check out hot hunks in the gym? (Bunch of gay men? Who knows…)

 

Whatever the reason may be, they freak and annoy me to no end. Okay I’m being too biased, I only hate those guys that are upstairs. You see above my office is a gym. And worse, MY part of the office seems to be directly under the weight lifting section of the Gym. So all day long I have to endure the grunts and huff of buff guys as they try to lift a barbell nearly half their weight—or almost equivalent to mine. And I get scared out of my wits as I hear the thuds and crash as they let go of  their heavy burden that is really too heavy for them too carry. It’s as if I hear their pecotralis majors and biceps (I’m a nurse, so sue me for the jargon) screaming in anguish as they try to make lift those things way above their heads.

 

Don’t they know that downstairs, a thin, scrawny geek has a myocardial infarction (Heart Attack--sounds a lot cooler) every time they just suddenly drop their weights. Don’t they think that if they added a little bit more force that they could crack the thin cement floor separating our two confined worlds and cause mayhem and destruction to my office.

 

Okay, I’m just too paranoid…

 

I don’t really hate buff guys per se. It’s just that aside from good health—which you can get some other way—what do you achieve by trying to carry around a weight equivalent to your dear old mommy?

 

I actually dream of a chiseled six pack, but I like my scrawny, geeky look thank you very much. They say I look kinda cute (I think with emphasis on the “kinda” which was just thrown their so as not to embarrass me) with my get up. To me it looks like a cross between an anime look and emo get-up.

 

And speaking of emo…what is emo really? Wikipedia says it’s just a fashion or subgenre of punk and sometimes goth. That it can be associated to fashion, attitude, and music. That emo is a shortening of overly emotional teenagers who wallow in self-pity and despair.

 

Whatever.

 

Whatever emo is, I like their genre of songs. If you look to your left, just below the tag board you will see (yup, you noticed, oh my god congratulations) the lyrics of my current LSS (Last Song Syndrome). It’s entitled—if you can read—The Last Song Ever (no pun intended) by Second Hand Serenade. If you’ve got limewire or any software to download songs on the net with, I highly suggest this artist (yup, he’s solo too… like most emo songwriters). It’s like Dashboard Confessionals, only raw—as in raw, r-a-w.

 

And who says I’m a geek huh? Huh? Huh? Okay, I confess. I am and damn proud of it too. I won’t say that I didn’t think of having a buff bod once or twice. But I’m perfectly happy with the way I look now-sans the excess flab on my love handles that I am so desperately trying to shake off.

 

So, do I look geeky, emo, anime-ish. Whatever.

 

All I know is, I’m scared to death at the thought of the ceiling collapsing on top of me. That I might just find myself underneath a buff guy with parts of what used to the ceiling office flying everywhere around me.

 

Yep, I’m scared.

 

-Robert

P.S.

As of the moment, I like listening to Emo, Punk, Goth, and Metal. But as you all know music fads are like underwear: they change every so often that you forget that you even wore them.

Yes, i will say it out in the open right now. I am in love. I mean, it must be love. What else can give me the giddy feeling in the stomach. Or the butterfly feeling in my insides. Where I cry, and laugh, and cry some more...

yep it must be love..

I'm in love...

With another Koreanovela...

*sigh* I blame it on my sister for being addicted to koreanovelas...

Hyun-woo...

Soo-in...

*sighs again*

Love story in harvard... who wouldn't want to fall in love...

right?

-Robert