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

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.

conflicted steps

Step one, two

Spell love

With your kiss

That I miss

And then release

My lips goodbye

Then say hi

To the end

Knees bent

On the ground

Feet bound

To last forever

But never

Forget my scent,

Nor lament

The fading shadow

That is I.

Till death not part

From my heart—

A secret place

To find and chase

Your voice

That sings songs

And prolongs

My breaths,

And breaks the line

Of decaying time.

Swift as air

My pulse beats

In the heat

Of your skin

I inhale

In reverse—

A curse

I will embrace

And trace

Back to this night

And your light

Tearing my mind

Rewind!

Step one, two

Say I love you

Then free me from you—

That I will miss

And I will kiss

Only in dreams

After this fleeting bliss.

one hundred and one

I WAS NEVER THIS INTIMATE WITH WORDS until I decided to make this online diary. I knew I could write but not like this—wherein I can express myself, in a very subtle way and with virtually no known limits. I realized I could write anything that whirls inside my head as long as there’s a spark of inspiration. No piece of paper will remain blank with a free mind and an ounce of inspiration.

I have a personal connection with this blog. Sometimes, I feel like I am actually more honest with what I write here than what I share with my friends. There’s a different kind of satisfaction in expressing your thoughts, feelings through written words than those that are spoken, or perhaps it’s just the introverted me taking over. Well, this is my other side and I’m kindling it.

Usually when I’m inspired to write something, I would just sit by our couch, turn on some music, and start scribbling words, having no idea where they came from nor what they really stood for. It’s amazing how words find you and not the other way around. That is why I get so excited when readers psychoanalyze me through my works. Whenever I write, it’s almost always an opportunity to dwell on my thoughts, becoming fully aware of what I think and feel. I get to reflect and to learn about myself. And it’s really surprising how my words sometimes connect to those who read them. And it’s pretty flattering that certain people here really do care of what goes on inside my convoluted brain. Writing brings about surprises even to the author and I think that is one factor why I am drawn to this. I am a lover of surprises.

A year has passed and the Coffin Rock has finally reached a milestone. I am really proud of what I have accomplished here. (Yes. It’s an accomplishment, keeping this blog afloat despite all the chaotic stuff happening.) Sometimes, I’d browse through my archives and I couldn’t help but feel strangely happy, remembering the times I have spent to write each post (mostly on editing and re-editing), the inspirations and stories behind them and that familiar feeling of satisfaction I get from finishing one. You will not believe me if I tell you how long it usually takes me to write a decent entry. :P

I can say I have somehow improved on my writing skills. I sometimes compare my older posts to my recent ones. But there are still a lot rooms for improvement of course. I’m still struggling with my sentence constructions and tenses and I can go on and on). Anyway, that is one reason why I decided to blog—to enhance my creative writing skills. Good thing there are loads of brilliant writers here I am learning from. I get to broaden my horizon on different writing styles and they are gazillions of them here. It’s nice to have a glimpse of how the minds of other people work through their words, how they choose to express them in so many artistic ways, and relates to the circumstances happening in your my life. Indeed, a story doesn’t exist in itself. My story might be your story too.

To you readers who gave me words of encouragements, shared their views, and gave pieces of yourselves; to Haley and Steph, who supported me with this endeavor, and finally to Ton, who introduced me to this virtual sphere—Thank you.

So what’s next for the Coffin Rock? I guess I’m just going to keep writing in an attempt to deconstruct the reality of things. Life. Love. Myself. I will continue scribbling these chronicles in the hope that someone would get lost in here and find himself.

This is Lucas and you’re reading my 100^th post.

pheo

THE LAST TWO MONTHS have been probably the most trying times of my life so far. I have been testing my physical limits while witnessing my emotions fester. Placing sadness and despair into hidden compartments within me while brawling with physical exhaustion was indeed hard. But surprisingly enough, I have seen myself rising up to the challenge settled on my shoulders. I haven’t cried a single tear which could only mean two things—that I’m strong and maturing or that I am emotionally sick, stepping beyond the lines into a state of frigidity.

When your plate is filled even with stale food, it’s very easy to forget everything else. Time. Friends. Yourself. You live by the moment, with no thoughts for the future because if you think about what’s ahead and not see an end, the ounce of drive that keeps you going will just vanish. And whatever that is, you have to kindle it like an invisible flame illuminating the darkness in your heart.

I have been struggling to understand the proverb—Everything happens for a reason. And I think God wanted me to fully fathom this in a way I am hesitant to accept. Soon after my Lolo Philip recovered from his respiratory ailment, a series of unfortunate events unfolded. It was then that My Lola Nelia suffered from a cerebral infarct—stroke. And since then I have been seeing death eye-to-eye and neither of us wanted to blink. But he knows I am growing weary, and tired, and I sometimes feel that my heart is going to give in to the pressure, to the lack of sleep, to everything. His stench never left my nostrils and how I wish I could sneeze him out of my system.

My world has been in chaos and the circumstances are taking their toll on our family but I can’t afford to break down and give up. I am clinging to the hope that there is still so much to live for in spite of everything. After a month and a week (and counting), after two cardiac standstills, two surgeries, being tended by twelve doctors, a gazillion medications, a thousand needle injections (and counting) and she’s still here. We’re still here inside this hospital room, breathing the same sterile and forbidding air. But the fact that we are still able to breath in air into our lungs is a realization that we’re still alive.

There is very long road ahead and I have to muster all my strength to wade it even though I am not sure if there’s a good ending to it. Fear licks my heart and the feeling of inadequacy is always on my doorstep. But I think the lesson here is to learn how to keep those things at bay. There are so many ways to endure in the middle of an ill-fated reality, and sometimes it just includes closing a door to everything that will feed the gathering clouds of despair and hopelessness.

I think God wants me to appreciate all the good things when the world seems to crumble down before my eyes. He wants to teach me that hope can be found even in the smallest of things; that it can be in a form of a good urine output, or well coughed-out sputum; a spontaneous eye-opening, a contorted smile or simply a beating heart. God is training me, and disciplining me, because he loves me. He is bigger than I am and I couldn’t help but wonder what plans He had set for me. And I think, to see the end, I have to brave the troubled waters and traverse the ominous paths. I have to walk on, in the hope that a beautiful journey awaits…