Disillusioned

Not as good as I thought I was. Now back to the drawing board, unfortunately.

[therecoveryspace]

I wish I lost it (but it’s still here)

I thought I lost the water bottle you gave me for my birthday in 2015.

I use it every day and it does its job really well, keeping the temperature of whatever beverage it holds consistent, whether it be hot or cold. The great quality is not surprising – you’ve always been a stickler for getting the very best of anything, of course, falling within the realm of practicality and value of money.

I use it every day, bringing it to the office with me and since I started doing Crossfit, I would bring it there as well. And I mention the latter because this is where I thought I lost the perfect water bottle, one of the only few remaining reminders that you set foot on my track and I on yours.

So as I was trying hard not to die to participate, I left the water bottle on the floor as I normally would. When I went back for it, it wasn’t there anymore. Of course, I didn’t panic. Maybe I just forgot where I left it so I circled around the box, looking for that black cylinder with sticker that says “The Weekend Movement.”

There wasn’t much space to really look around in, and after doing a double take, I just gave up and hoped that someone would see it and return it to the receptionist, just like any normal do-gooder would. I alerted the receptionist, letting her know how it looked like, and hoped that after everything gets cleaned up, they’ll find my missing water bottle.

That was Thursday night.

I went back on Friday because I just wanted to know if it was there. If it was there, someone would have surrendered it by then. If it wasn’t, then I thought, someone must have stolen or grabbed it by mistake, or I don’t know, it could also be one of the mysterious disappearances that we all know so well.

It wasn’t there. So I ordered a new one on Amazon. The exact same bottle, exact same specs, except this one wasn’t from you.

This new one wouldn’t bear the weight of our year-long relationship that blossomed in the prettiest colors of Spring, but unfortunately surrendered to the inevitable harshness of winter. The new one would be something that wasn’t from you; I thought, this was my sign to really just let it go.

Because I read into signs like that, taking every mundane coincidence and thinking maybe, just maybe, this is showing me something I wanna see.

Monday came, and Amazon informed me my order was set to be delivered around 8:30pm. I’m a little excited; I’m finally not devoid of a water bottle and I can help save mother nature by lessening the usage of disposable cups. Also, I just wanted to go back to normal, and normal for me meant having the water bottle within a close radius most of the time.

After work, I went to Crossfit, telling myself that this was the last day I’ll have to drink from the fountain instead of filling out a water bottle. And alas, it was but for a reason different from my expectations.

Because as I looked over the front desk, there it was. Everything was intact, in all its metallic glory. I grabbed it, knowingly showing a little too much excitement as I got something back that I thought was lost forever. The receptionist didn’t even remember that I told her to look out for it, but whatever. Nothing matter.

I got my water bottle back. And when I walked out of the Crossfit box with it, I realized, I suddenly wished I didn’t. Because I knew how my head worked; I knew my head would tell me that this is a symbolism, that this is reaffirming me about something I really should stop wrapping my head around.

-

It’s been roughly four months, and within that timeframe, I’ve travelled to four countries, including going back home to the Philippines, and been through two different jobs after my long break.

I’ve reconnected and disconnected with friends, spent precious time with my family, and I really focused on discovering who I am without anyone by my side.

And now, I feel great most of the time. 

I went from bawling my eyes out every day and idealizing the afterlife to finding jobs in recognized signature brands in the fashion industry, and starting to really focus on myself and my goals.

I went from crazy ex-boyfriend begging for another chance to just about being able to control my emotions. Most of the time, at least.

I used to hate routine, but I’ve developed an addiction for it now. 

Wake up at 6:15, take care of business in the bathroom, get dressed, cook my breakfast of 5 egg whites and a yolk, concoct my protein smoothie in the blender, eat, clean up, and leave the apartment around 7:45. 

Get to work earlier than is required, drink coffee, work, work, work, eat my healthy lunch, work, work, work, walk to Crossfit gym, try not to die, shower, and get home around 8:30pm. 

Have dinner, put stuff on my face, drink fishoil and collagen supplements, and call it a day.

Repeat the next day.

I feel like a well-oiled machine when I’m able to carry out this unwritten manual in my head, and when something pops up that messes with it, I tend to feel a little discomfort. I even started to hate weekends a little because I wouldn’t know what to do, and the spontaneity would give me a bit of anxiety.

It’s been good, really.

I try to tell myself that, and that’s because, there is some truth to it.

I’ve picked myself from the ground where I was once too weak to stand up from. I’ve started to go back to a steady pace of setting goals and creeping up to slowly achieving them. And I’ve new friends to keep me company in this country that tries hard to be my home.

I’ve distanced myself from conversations that harness negativity, going so far as blocking people or avoiding social media altogether to sort of cleanse myself from the hustle and bustle of the digital age. Until now, I only keep Facebook messenger on my phone. If I wanted to use Facebook, I’m gonna have to be on my laptop. It’s good practice, and it’s one way of decluttering your thoughts and getting to really know what matters to you.

I’ve taken a meditation class in a Buddhist temple somewhere in Jersey. Drove to DC with friends, and had a blast. Went to a concert alone, and planning to go to a music festival alone – the latter could change depending on my friend’s decision.

-

But anyway, I’ve gone over and beyond the textbook definition of moving on. Except maybe, I’ve skipped a very important chapter: TIME.

I had a mini panic attack when I saw your dating profile somewhere. I mean, yes, we’ve broken up. And slowly, I felt the chains that linked us slowly disintegrate until there is nothing left but a subtle, thin thread. I’ve lived a life without you, and I know it is possible. 

But every time I see something that blatantly reminds me of that fact, of the fact that I will live in a world where there is no longer you and I, where there is only I and there is you, but never on the same spectrum, I still cannot help but feel a void.

It’s not as strong as before. It’s more like a gentle tug now. But it’s still there.

And I know it will be here for a while. 

And for now, I guess I’ll just have to keep making myself feel accomplished by being a well-oiled machine, until I start getting back the wholeness of my humanity.

Until I learn to fully love myself again.

Every wound heals differently. And I don’t know about you, but mine takes a while. And I have to constantly tell myself that it’s okay.

–

Really though, I wish I lost it. 

But it’s still here.

[walkingtheuncharted]

started this new blog thing bec of my feelings

i havent written anything substantial in so long so forgive my indiscretions, if any

[walkingtheuncharted]

no im not okay the best thing that’s ever happened to me thus far doesnt feel right and it’s crumbling and i just wanna disappear

[walkingtheuncharted]

i don’t know. it feels right and then it doesn’t. it gives me the thrill of my life and then it wades off. do i really need this in my life right now? any more uncertainty is going to drive me nuts.

[walkingtheuncharted]

[walkingtheuncharted]

I throw the cigarette through the rusty grills, hoping I threw hard enough for it to land outside our gate. But I dont. It hits a leaf and lands inside our garden. I'll clean that up later. And then the thought went back to me. Went back to you. Being a baseball player and all, would you have thrown it hard enough for it to land where I want it to land? Except, you don't like it when I smoke. And I did try to lessen it. Remember? I told you that whenever I knew we were meeting, I always try not to smoke so I don't stink. And then you said that we should see each other more often. And we did. For a while. Until we didn't anymore. And so I consume more sticks now than ever. But I still feel empty inside.

[walkingtheuncharted]

I think I’m moving.

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[walkingtheuncharted]

I am my own being

My thoughts are mine and from these thoughts, my actions spring 

[walkingtheuncharted]

Now I’m trying to figure out if I ever really felt for you or I was just trying to. Was it really a sustainable source of euphoria or was it just a euphoria of the moment—the kind that jumps up and down, but always ends up being stopped by gravity?

I’m trying to figure out if nothing ever really changed. That I’ve really moved on (or there was nothing much to move on from.) That whenever I am reminded of you, I just force myself to feel bad about it. Maybe that’s what happens when you’ve ever so desperately wanted to feel something; so desperate that you had to fool yourself to think that you actually do.

[walkingtheuncharted]

Tanungin ako | ask.fm/buzzaldrin

i'm bored

[walkingtheuncharted]

still waiting for the time when the voice in my head--the same voice that allowed me to damage blank pages and turn them into a canvas of words--to make its resounding presence once more

because all that's left here, every time i try to lift a pen, is

silence

[walkingtheuncharted]

You are so loved, Aldrin.

Love can only do so much

[walkingtheuncharted]

Hello, dear precious boy. *hugs you gently*

*places my head on your shoulder* whoever you are

[walkingtheuncharted]

Not what you think it is

                I cling to sadness because I have this strong belief that it’s all I’m good for.

                I can’t write for shit anymore.

                And when you can’t do something you thought you were passionate about, something you thought you had a future in, it leaves you with a lot of questions. It leaves you with a lot of questions, and the answers to which aren’t always the right ones.

                But you take the answers anyway because they’re all you’ve got now.

 -------------------------------

                I cling to sadness because I have this strong belief that it’s all I’m good for.

                Because even before anything, even before I found means that would give me a sense of fulfillment, there was sadness.

                Because in second grade, I wrote a note to Santa Claus. I wrote “I wish I would die” on my notebook, kept it in my cabinet and waited until Christmas. But he’s not real. Maybe that explains why I’m still here.

                I was never, and still am not, strong enough to cause my own demise. But maybe someday, I will be. Because the years didn’t toughen me up, they simply made me get used to how things are.

                I was never a fan of growing old, of the endless struggle to become something after each and every pursuit.

 ------------------------

                It works differently for me. I’m not sad becauseof anything. I simply am sad.

                It’s not the effect in a causal relationship. It’s a given. It’s a constant.

                Truth is, I’m over him. I’ve been over him even before it really ended. I simply act otherwise; I simply swallow my pride and leave myself clamoring for him because he gives me a reason to be sad.

                You give me a reason for this loneliness, because without you, I’m left to spin my head until I get dizzy just to find a reason for what I feel.

                You’re simply a diversion. Just like all my past relationships and all the things I did after, the desperation and vulnerability I showed, because you all gave me something to attribute the sadness to.

                I find it safe to find sadness in other people. I find it convenient to blame people for how I feel and how I act towards that.

 --------------------

                Ever heard of the paradox of happiness?

                When you proactively seek happiness in its pure and absolute form, you’ll only find yourself in shambles. They say it doesn’t work that way because happiness is gained through a channel, through different means other than seeking it directly.

                Well, you know, I think there’s also a paradox of loneliness.

                You take this idea of absolute happiness and hope that perhaps, it will lead you somewhere else, anywhere but your current disposition. And this idea of absolute happiness engrosses you, and it kills you because you can never really have it.

                Because for fuck’s sake, there is no absolute happiness. As said earlier, it is procured through ways that do not directly target it.

  ---------------------

                So what am I gonna do about it? I don’t know. As long as I feel safe here, perhaps, I’ll choose to stay.

[driftpetal]

Vincent Van Gogh’s last words before he died from a self inflicted gun shot

[walkingtheuncharted]

Always remember the things you do for yourself.

[walkingtheuncharted]

Sa dilim ng gabi, aking sasabayan ang langit.

Hindi na ako papalag.

Hahayaan ko na lamang tangayin ang aking kumot, ang kumot ng aking pagkimkim; ang kumot ng aking mga luha, ang kumot na minsa'y nagbigay sa akin ng init noong ako'y naghihikaos. 

Hindi na atin ang langit.

Nagpahiram lamang ito ng ilang sandali, at ngayo'y tinutubos na nito ang utang nating panahon. Marahas, hindi inaasahan, ngunit kailangan. 

Kailangang tanggapin na may mga bagay na sadyang hindi mapapasaatin; may mga bagay na sadyang hanggang hiram na lamang.

At ngayong gabi, sa iyo na ang lahat, Langit.

Sa gilid, akin na lamang sasabayan ang iyong pagbuhos.

[walkingtheuncharted]

My white lies in your chinky eyes

Read it when you're ready.

---

Take a deep breath. 

--

It's slowly starting to sink in. I'm starting to feel the weight on my shoulders, the lump in my chest left by longing. 

It’s only now that the reality of losing you is unfolding. I’ve no one to eagerly text in the morning because I want to give you a boost before you start your day, and I’ve no reason to check my phone for a random, silly text message that gets me every single time.

There’s no one to start my day with, or wish a good night’s sleep, or to remind to eat and rest; no one to share my qualms with, and no one to listen to and comfort (or at least, try to.)

I found myself staring at my Facebook chat bar, looking at the thumbnail of your profile picture, whether you’re online or not. Sometimes, it says how long ago you were online, and sometimes, it shows me a bright green circle.

But that bright green circle has taken on an equivocal meaning—it no longer is a go signal, rather, it’s another struggle for me to hit the brakes, to stop and try to sway my line of thinking towards a different direction.

It’s over.

I think I broke my record for how many times I said “I’m okay” this week. Fact is, I’m not. At least, not right now. Buildings can be destroyed in a day, but the eventual effect of losing something that was once there persists.

I threw the clothes I let you borrow into the laundry bin, buried them because I couldn’t bear the thought of you. I was so proud of you that night, stunning and confident and responsible as you are.

But all that’s behind us now.

I deleted our photos on my phone—the ones from when we first met at Reg’s party, from LIV when we first affirmed each other of our mutual liking.

I deleted that picture I took of you when we went to Starbucks Matalino, the one I posted on Instagram saying, “With you, I’m home.”

I deleted your number, your texts, all those sweet messages from when I watched you perform at Market Market, from the conversation we had after LIV and the exchange of encouragement we liked giving each other.

I thought I could erase everything, but I could not erase what’s on my mind. I’ve committed you to memory—your chinky eyes, your hairy legs, your broad shoulders that made me feel safe, the manly scent that tickled my nose, the hands that touched me like I was made of gold, like I was precious, and those lips that gently pecked on the back of my hand.

You shook every inch of me like never before.

From you, I learned how I should be treated. I learned the ability to appreciate myself, even in my rawest, in my most vulnerable state.

My faith in humanity went up a notch. I now understand what people mean when they say that their significant other looks at them like they’re everything, like they mean the world to that person. I’m not claiming that that’s what you intended to do, but it’s what your gaze made me feel. That’s the effect on me, regardless of your intention.

I never knew I had the propensity to be treated that well, to be treated like, for a fleeting moment, I had no flaws to worry about, nothing to conceal or no reason to pretend.

Truly, I learned what it feels like to be at home with someone. Finally, it wasn’t a concept in my head anymore. For a few weeks, it had been actualized; you made it real.

I am writing for the aforementioned reasons. I am writing because what I’m taking away from what transpired during the ephemeral period we were seeing each other is, and will forever be, of great significance.

I am writing to you for the very reason that I started getting into writing—because writing allows us the privilege to think things through, to organize our thoughts and express ourselves in the best possible way.

I am writing because I felt like how I behaved during the last time we talked was uncalled for. I am writing because I was a douche. Anger and pride are armours I often use to mask my vulnerability. Anger and pride are easy, safe, and convenient.

I thought I was being mature when in fact, come to think of it, I was simply being obnoxious.

I know I said sorry isn’t gonna do anything. Nangyari na eh. Wala na tayong magagawa. Those were my exact words, and I take them back now.

Sorry, when said at the right time and backed by the proper reasons, is essential and acceptable; it is a way of coming to terms with our flaws, with things we did when we weren’t being ourselves, or when we encounter a breach in judgment.

We say sorry for things we cannot control, because it’s tested and true, that there are plenty.

So, if “for what it’s worth” were a query, this is the answer. This is why we apologize. We apologize because screwing up is inevitable, no matter how hard we try, no matter how strong we make ourselves believe to be.

I am also saying sorry.

Sorry for how I behaved. I wanted to act firm, to salvage my pride. It’s wrong. You don’t deserve that because you gave me the best for as long as you could.

Sorry for cheating on you. You’re right; faithfulness was implied given the circumstances. Sorry, and thank you, because I learned that even though people are treating you like trash doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate. I should’ve known better, should’ve strove for being the better person.

Sorry for not replying when you asked if I was cutting you out of my life. I still don’t know. I thought it was for the better, for my sake. I’m not an expert at moving on, and there are times I backslide and become someone I hate.

I've been to darker places. I've become different versions of myself--many of which, I abhorred. I'm scared if losing myself to someone else, like what happened to me many times over.

But I realized, if I was keen on changing myself, then I’m gonna have to learn to keep people in my life, for all the right reasons, especially those who deserve it most.

I’m gonna have to learn how to be happy for other people. I’m gonna have to learn to properly let go and take away all this negativity.

I’m working on it. And if you’re still willing, if the offer still stands by the time I learned to truly come to terms with everything, it would be my privilege to keep you in my life, albeit on a different spectrum altogether.

Sorry for the tweets. I didn’t know you were going to look at them. But I’m not saying sorry because of that. I’m saying sorry because the content was tactless. I wasn’t in the right mindset when I posted those updates.

I wanted to save face. I wanted to exceed what people expect from me. They expect me to be in shambles, to break down and be in a dark place. And sometimes, it’s okay to do just that, because it’s all essential to growing up.

If only I believed in praying and an omnipotent, omnipresent being, I would keep you in my prayers. I want the best for you because you worked hard for whatever you have right now, and you’re constantly striving for whatever is in store for you.

But I believe in luck, and with that, I wish you good luck. I wish that things would fall into their proper places, and although they may not feel right at first, I hope that you would stick it out until you get a sense of comfort.

Remember that thing I said about a Buddhist concept I learned in Taiwan? Yuan fen? I guess this is it; we’ve stretched the gravity between us, and it has now come to a close.

I’m not saying that what transpired between us is the L word already. Things went by too fast for me to be able to gauge that.

One thing I want you to learn from me though is the difference between falling in love and being in love.

Falling in love is all the good shit. The kilig, the spark, the initial strong attraction between two people.

Being in love is different. It’s the challenging part. It’s when you start to question everything, because being in love is an entirely different paradigm. It’s about extending your ego boundaries, recognizing that there is another addition to your significant universe.

It’s the type of thing you work on; it’s the type of thing you choose to work on, even if it gets tougher and tougher, even if you start questioning everything—your emotions and feeling.

This is because love isn’t merely a feeling; it is a choice. You love because you choose to love, because you choose to stick it out and you choose to work on things and not simply drop everything because your feeling changes for a brief moment.

Good luck with everything, kid. You’ve the whole world going for you.

    For what it’s worth,

Aldrin