Pending Passions

It started before it ended When the news broke before the waves reached the shore When the tears never fell and the words never spoken But the lives go on as if good-bye has been spent It started before it ended Though I'm still here, it's as if I'm not Though posts still exist and likes still persist It's as if the distance has already separated us It started before it ended When the laughter burns and the conversations flood But the moments are fleeting and the nights are longer And the songs are louder in the silence It started before it ended When the routine is broken and built When the habits and promises are safe in the treasure chest of time In the forgetfulness and fickle memory of time It started before it ended When the hellos are empty and the small talk is all there will ever be And the good-byes have finally been said As if good-byes were meant by saying hello As if good-bye was what was meant to be said from the beginning It star...

Halfway into darkness, I found myself grasping. The edges of the pictures, the faces, the brightness fading. The heaviness of darkness blanketed my head, embracing my skull with the warmth of suffocation. It was daunting. It was undeniable. It was irresistible. Halfway into darkness, my eyes could no longer carry the burden of seeing. I fought. I fought as valiantly as any knight would against the dragon breathing fire. But my dragon breathed darkness. My eyes were swallowed slowly into oblivion, drowning, now seeing, now blinded. Halfway into darkness, I heard the rush of life. The cries of faceless people, identities never shared. I felt their hurry, their eagerness to move on, as if the darkness never threatened them---as if I were the only one engulfed by it. Halfway into darkness, I could not fight. My mind felt numb, my body paralyzed but for fleeting jolts of resistance. I dared and braved the ancient paths of those who tried and failed but lived to tell the tales---the st...

Out of the darkness, the music came. Calling, capturing those who dared to listen. Like sirens to the sailor lost at sea, the music allured the people, except me. It didn't matter what song it played, what movement it was, which instrument it used. It didn't matter that after every song came the devastating emptiness of silence. I knew it would come again, and with its return, the cries of longing unfulfilled. The strings softly strummed sang an intro to the sun. The drums beat deaf the wooden floor below. The keys depressed rang deep beyond the walls. The walls could not contain it---the walls of human hopes. I cast aside desire, knowing well the pull of want. The voices call me crazy to give up and take a stand. The music, the instruments, the humming, and the songs, they were of no use outside. They held no allure, no symphony, no harmony to a rider of a broken vessel. And yet. The songs came again, inching, whispering to me. The strings that sang to the sun struck...

11:00 p.m. She lies on the bed and stretches. The bed sheet crumples under her and the pillow flattens, forcing her to fold it just to make it appear plump. She stares at the ceiling and decides to clean up the cobwebs in the morning. Maybe. She waits for sleep to come. The light remains on. Midnight She turns the light off. 1:00 a.m. She turns the light on and decides to brush her teeth. She considers reading until she falls asleep, but her eyes complain. Her left eye fights to keep closed in the sudden brightness. She weaves around the mess that is her room, brushes her teeth, then goes back to bed. She stares at the ceiling again. 2:00 a.m. She watches a cartoon series. She goes through four or five episodes when the Internet stops her. The video fails to buffer, and she gives up refreshing the browser. She decides to read a few chapters of a book she considers boring, hoping to fall asleep out of boredom. She finishes one chapter. 3:00 a.m. The light is still on. She...

Didto sa kilid sa dalan Kung asa ko pirmi nag-atang ug sakyanan Didto tika una nakita Nagtindog ug nagtanga-tanga Didto sa kilid sa dalan Nipara kog jeep padung trabaho Nakihuot ko sa mga galinkod Maong ako kay nakurat sa akong pagtalikod Hala ka, kay nisakay man pud ka Nakihuot pud ka sa jeep nga wala na gyuy lugar Ug sa tanang pwede nimo suksukan Didto pa jud ka sa akong tapad niplastar Pansina pud ko oi Pirting humota ra ba nimo Di parehas sa uban nga buntag sayo pa Bahog singot na Pansina pud ko oi Ka-hamis ra ba jud sa imong braso Nga ga-sigeg bangga-bangga sa akong braso Pansina pud ko oi Kabalo ko gwapo ra kaau ka para nako Pero bisan na Pansina pud ko oi Didto sa unahan sa may iskina Nanganaog ang mga tawo Ug ang nabilin kay kita na lang duha Didto sa unahan sa pagliko sa jeep Nilingi ka sa ako ug ikaw kay ningisi Haskang lipaya gyud nako Napansin na jud ko Di na kinahanglan mag-iring-iring Ug magpaduding Gipansin ko nimo Ug bisan bakan...

It's what love does When it suddenly calls and the randomness of it catches you off guard When its words slur and its voice fades and it loses itself for a while When the moment fills with tension and it makes you realize how unprepared you are It's what love does When you see it and wonder if it truly exists or you may just be making things up When you listen to it taking control of the conversation because you can't find your voice to respond to it When the moment passes and you find yourself wondering if the silence was what was best It's what love does It asks how you are and listens to your answer It wakes you up in the morning to tell you that you are thought of, you are remembered It creeps into your memories and your dreams and makes your reality, for the first time, better than your fantasy It's what love does When it decides that who you are today is not defined by who you were before When it forgives you of the most damaging of faults...

When asked how much I know a person, there are a couple of things that run around in my head. I think you never really stop knowing a person. I think you can never really know a person enough . And it's funny and sad that we think we know people so well that we can be comfortable with just being with them, with just being who we really are with them. I've thought that would be okay before, but when you lose that trust with someone once, you can't really get it back without thinking if all those years were just tolerance. Anyway, I've found that it's very rare to find people whom you can truly talk with. There are people you can have long meaningful conversations with, and there are people who just chat, scraping the top of the iceberg, the superficial fillers, until one gives up and decides to waste time elsewhere. I think it then matters what you mean by knowing a person because you can say that you know a person well by the many meaningless things you've t...