pre-halloween scare

THIS IS LUCAS finally having the time to resuscitate this blog. I haven’t been able to update because I voluntarily gave away my laptop in exchange for a portable media player. Well, my Tita needed it more than I do. It’s just frustrating not being able to vomit words straight into a computer. And thoughts easily dissolve into thin air when I attempt to put them into writing using pen and paper. Luckily, I’ll get my laptop back after two months. Besides I have all the time in the world. Oh wait. Time doesn’t exist in my world, does it?


Halloween was still Halloween. I mean it’s always fun to have a family gathering in a cemetery, meet up with friends, and scare people with hideous masks. But ‘fun’ was not the right word to describe what happened the day before Halloween. It was ‘terrifying’. My father was caught up in a bad car accident. He was traversing the length of SLEX, when one of his tires exploded and a bus crashed against his car straight into the driver side. I was at my grandmother’s house when my sister told me the terrible news and added that my father refuses to get medical help insisting just to stay at home. I was suddenly reminded of those exaggerated dramatic scenes in telenovelas where in a protagonist dies in someone’s arms, bleeding, saying his last words. In a flash, I filled a bag with medical supplies I could use and went home.

My mind was racing, moving on a flash-forward, with images so revolting that I felt nauseated. It was one of those moments when I could actually say that I am scared. I couldn’t deny it because I could see it on my own eyes when I looked at the rear view mirror. And once again questions attacked the last remaining part in my head that could make sense of what’s happening. I tried to block them away. I saw years of regret in front of me and billowing unspoken words that had made a gap between me and my father. That was when I said to my self—He can’t die.

I saw the wrecked car as we got near to our destination—severely damaged with an enormous dent that practically bent the car from the middle. A total wreck. No one could’ve survived this. The car finally stopped. Breathe Ron. Clear your head. Don’t panic. As a nurse, trying to save someone’s life is challenging but when someone important is involved, it’s a whole different story. It’s very hard to compartmentalize the personal from the professional stuff. But as a medical practitioner, you’re not allowed to panic or make mistake because whoever needs your help, a life is at stake. No room for mistakes. And the more reason I got scared. I broke into a run, my heart hammering my throat, and my lungs mimicking a brown bag being used by someone suffering from acute hypercapnia. And then it hit me. How did he manage to go home. Refusing medical help?—that is so stupid?!!!

I arrived at the threshold frustration and fear churning in my gut.

“Ano, Conicks?” I heard my father say my weirdest nick name, with a crooked smile that practically said ‘Whew! That was close.’

Relief rushed over me like cold water in a very hot summer day.

“Akala ko mamatay ka na eh!” I exclaimed feigning the urge to bang my head on a wall. My father survived a car crash with just a few shallow scratches, cuts, and a sprained wrist. I insisted that he get himself checked by a physician. He still refuses till now.

Stupid. We both are.

the wrong choice

''If you could be anywhere? Where would you be? Answer: It doesn’t matter, because wherever you go, you’re still falling.''

-- Paul Harris, The Rule of Four


HE WAS SITTING ON A BENCH by the bus stop. He wore his faith, faded like the rugged jeans on him while waiting for a bus to arrive. Behind him was a vast open space of golden fields of barley. Facing him was a dark patch of concrete highway stretching to the both ends of the earth. And beyond it was another bare and wide space of uncertainties extending towards a horizon that married the endless ocean of the azure blue skies over his head. He felt like he was in the middle of nowhere; almost insignificant against the billowing possibilities surrounding him, taunting him. But in that moment he couldn’t do anything but feel small and wait. The bus wouldn’t arrive fast enough.

For a moment he watched his hands, and traced the lines that ran across his palms. Fate was written all over their skins, ready to be realized. He closed his hands tight and it felt good. For a fleeting moment he was in control of his destiny and the person he wanted to be was in his grasp, etched deep and unfading. Cotton clouds occasionally stained the sky above sometimes forming into familiar faces he knew—his face included. And he watched them all traverse the wide spread of the air eventually disintegrating into wisps until he couldn’t recognize them anymore. The wind had swept away his face.

Very slowly, he opened his closed fists in way like there were fragile-winged butterflies in them he wanted to set free. And then a muted noise reached his ears. It grew louder and louder. He could hear the crunch of loose asphalt against rubber. There was a hiss of an opening door and a booming sound of a horn that shattered the calm silence. The bus had arrived. But he didn’t expect that climbing aboard was far more difficult than waiting for it. He stood by the bus door—ajar and inviting, his hands on the frame, and unable to find the courage to lift himself up. Seconds flew, awkward and pressure-filled. His eyes brimming with confusion met the bus driver’s.

Are you coming, son?

With head on a bow, he filled his lungs with air and let go of the frame. He stepped back and gazed back into the driver’s fatherly eyes, ever wondering if he would regret the next words from his mouth.

No. I think I will take the next bus.

The door closed with another hiss. The large tires started to move. And he watched the bus vanish into the horizon. He looked up to the heavens and look for familiar faces. There weren’t any. He imagined himself sitting on the bus, watching hills roll, grass-scented air caressing his weary face. Could he have risked everything and rode the bus till the end? He looked up again and there it was—the face he longed to see, smiling at him.

And then he ran as fast as he could, his shoes biting good on the rough surface of the road with the wind crashing brutally against his face. He closed his eyes as he sprinted towards the horizon, praying the opposing air could blow away the ghosts in his head and the cramps in his legs. But it was too late. Because like a snail in a race against all the fastest creatures of the world—he just couldn’t outrun himself. He couldn’t outrun gravity. And in that moment he realized that horizontal motion is an illusion—that he needed to move just to convince himself he’s not on a free fall.

what i should have said...

"I'm not frightened. I'm not frightened of anything. The more I suffer, the more I love. Danger will only increase my love. It will sharpen it. It will give it spice. I will be the only angel you need. You will leave life even more beautiful than you entered it. Heaven will take you back and look at you and say: Only one thing can make a soul complete. And that thing is love."

--Michael, The Reader

I LIKE YOU. And more than that, I feel like I'm stepping beyond the lines of just liking someone. I maybe be too young to understand what love really means, but I think this is it. If this is not love then I don't know anymore. But I will never think. There's already too many questions in my head. I'm just gonna say it and let it hang. But I will never spend the rest of my life thinking and not be with you.

I'm going to jump, and scream I love you as I fall.

the hermit came out of his shell

AND AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE A GAZILLION YEARS, I finally had an opportunity to actually have a social life. I attend to my sick grandmother (A nurse is required to take care of her since she breathes through a tube in her throat and she eats through a tube in her stomach-- tubes everywhere) for 12 straight hours without sleep starting from 6 PM to 6 AM and I usually spend the rest of the day usually by sleeping or watching TV series on my laptop. My life has been pretty boring and monotonous that I sometimes feel miserable. Wait, I am always miserable!

So yesterday morning, just to save myself from depression due to lack of human contact, I went out despite of the fact that I am restless and bags burdened my eyes. I decided to watch the movie Fame. As I wait for a jeepney to take me to my destination, there was this strange feeling of bliss. I got to experience once again the chaos in the streets--people scouring, the annoying traffic, the open air and skies. Yeah. it's that bad. I am a hermit. For months my world revolved in a small room that smelled of urine and disinfectant.

10:30 AM-- I arrived at the movie house and I got very disappointed. The mall will not feature Fame. Alone and feeling pathetic (I mean who would go to the cinemas at 10-ish in the morning?), I reached for my cell and texted PJ and Ego almost pleading for us to meet up. And I was glad that I did because we had a blast. I missed hanging out with them. It's always nice to chill out with crazy people!


We ended up window shopping for cool clothes. Shopping for clothes is not my thing but if you're friends with vain people, I think it'll rub on you somehow. We ate at McDonald's--my treat (See? SEE!?)

After 4 hours of catching up, we said goodbye and I went back to my world of monotony.

6 PM-- My shift started and I felt so tired and sleepy. Sometimes, I wish I could fast-forward my life to 5 years from now. Because sometimes, I feel like I wouldn't miss anything even if I could.

twist and turn

Questions twist

And turn

In my head—

Unsolved riddles

Hungry

Angry

Weary

For answers

Hiding in shadows

I couldn’t follow


Questions turn

And churn

In my gut,

Burns the edge of my heart—

A sick carrousel ride

Of fate unkind

That binds

My will to walk

And talk

And think

And love.


Questions echo

And say hello

Then bellow

My name—

You coward!

Feet moving backwards

Toward a past

That will not last

And to lust

Eating your face so fast.


Answers twist

And turn

And churn

And burn

In shadows

I couldn’t follow

Because myself is my foe

And its feet take me

To rivers where truths don’t flow.

if you exist in this lifetime, then this is for you

Peyton,


I have taken the most dangerous step and it was worth every risk for it had led me to the lost piece to finally decode the never-ending riddle in my head. You are the comet that I once saw and now that you have found a way to light up my sky again, this time, I will never let go. Everything had fallen into place and I could no longer ask for more. I will no longer move for there is no better place; for the broken road had finally ended with you.

Shine your light to the heavens; paint it with stars from the palette of your hands. You are the artist and I am your art. With your brush strokes, I was brought to life in vibrant swirls and dynamic hues. I was alive. Not blank nor empty. I am filled, mouth brimming with love and colors your heart created and mine beat for, plunging my system into an overload; an intoxicating bliss that I wish not to end like an ever sweet reverie.

You make me exist and I love you.

Thank you for giving me a piece of your heart.


Without wax,

Lucas

the bench

IT'S TIRING. And no matter how hard you try, you still fail. But failing in love is a different kind of failure. Then you realize that love is simply not enough.




And to save what's left, sometimes, you just have to hand over a flower and...

walk away.

forgotten

I HAD FORGOTTEN THE SCENT OF LOVE and its bittersweet taste on my tongue; the fluttering wings in my gut and the calming warmth I used to feel from an embrace or a kiss. I had cast away the elusive emotion in the deepest trenches of thought, oblivious of remembrance. Nothing remained but the faint traces it had left on my memory; embedded, echoing like a lost whisper in the air I wanted to inhale and exhale at the same time.

Once upon a time, I was struggling to forget but my heart just won’t let me. There are some things that are best left forgotten but the heart remembers things that the mind easily fails to remember. It was impervious to my will of purging my consciousness off of the repugnant memories, but most of all, the beautiful ones; that were reeling in my head on an endless loop, blinding and causing me unyielding pain. Beautifully painful—it was irony in its cruelest form.

I couldn’t choose what my heart wanted to remember that is why I wanted to forget. Because whichever memory it had decided to keep in its beating chambers, the feeling had always been the same. Those fragments of fading thoughts became a part of my identity. I couldn’t deny nor lie about them. They constantly reminded me of what I had become and who I was. No wonder I wanted to lose myself. I was desperate to shake them away from me; those parts that were hurting so much. Before I knew it, the hurts had already transformed my face—severely scarred and wrinkled to the point that I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.

But time happened and I had succeeded. I had forgotten. Nothing was left except for the fading shadow of a love that used to light up my grey skies; forged by my imagination in an attempt to bring back the sensation to love and feel love. I guess I was just starting to learn that it’s better to hurt than not to feel at all. But now as I lay in silence, witnessing the creeping daylight wash over the absolute shade of the night, and with my hand upon my heart, I am once again reminded and I remembered. I braced myself but surprisingly enough, there is no pain. Wide eyed, I have come to learn—it doesn’t hurt anymore. It feels like letting go. But how I wish there’s a way to know for sure.