She Said He Said

She Said He Said

06/16&20/10

Your name, considered sweeter than the sweetest Rye.

But now I can’t utter it sweet without lie.

My heart gone cold, Darling I don’t know why.

Maybe for now you should loosen our tie.

Believe me; I’ve done all with my best.

But maybe I have done it carelessly.

Coz my love had simply slipped away.

And without guilt I can’t even close my day.

With you I can’t find now the heat.

My heart can’t even have that skipped beat.

We laugh just like the way we used to.

But the humor is lost before you do.

Forgive me but I’m asking for space.

To breathe, to fly and to lay my last ace;

It may hurt I know but soon we’ll heal.

And maybe fate will settle our deal.

I can’t love you the way I used to.

But believe me in my heart love is still there too.

I’m lost or maybe I’m just tired.

For keeping the heat of our vanishing fire.

Don’t think that I never loved you.

Because I know I did more than I can do.

My heart’s confused, in vain.

Loosing you I can’t even find so much pain.

And that what hurts, my beloved.

I fear the ease of loosing the one I have.

For now let’s take our time.

Because maybe tomorrow,

Again you can call me mine.

I am once your one special ‘Private Joe’.

I’m the ‘knight in shining armor’ who bowed low.

But why my dear you’ve gone so cold?

Where is the princess who never looses her hold?

In your eyes I saw now some lies.

To loosen our tie, you’re asking me to die.

You should have known I’ve done my best too.

I held you a little bit tighter, I admit, yes I do.

But with all the guilt I blame you not.

From the mistakes I’ve done I take the cuff.

Don’t leave me alone because you’re my better half.

You’re the one who changed me, the woman I love.

You’re asking for space, I had given you my world.

It hurts; I’m left shattered crumpled to fold.

You want to be free, to breathe, I had given my life.

Without your love, my home I’ve nowhere to hide.

Why let fate defines our deal? Is this game for real?

I can’t win without you, because your love can heal.

Why can’t you love me now the way you used to?

Did I give too much or did I give a bit too few?

I know you had loved me but why your love died?

I never asked you for more, just please don’t tire.

And if you’re confused, in vain and was stranded,

Darling I’m pained, broken and deeply wounded.

You felt the ease because I’d taken the entire blow.

I can’t bear seeing you, taking the pain you caused.

I’m wishing Darling that today is tomorrow.

Let doubts be cleared and give me a chance.

I promise that for the second time,

It’ll be a sweeter mine.

Once Again, I saw him "I Never Lied" he said.

Once again, i saw him. "I Never Lied"  he said.

by Carlvon Aquino (blogger's bestfriend)

One thing, I learned is that TRUST weighs way heavier than love and respect together.

Waking by the mornings filled with the world’s“WHAT IF’S” and “IF ONLY’S” is worse than not having waken at all. Sometimes the universe do not permit us to live as how we want to, not because it simply says “no”, but because not everything in it is worth trying for, because if we do, this may either hurt us or make us just dejectedly a failure.

Sometimes, it is better to keep out from the opposite’s snares and temptations because, simply, we are better off alone or maybe because we have this simple happy heart that would long to smile just as exactly what it requires.

Most of relationships fail because they are being founded with merely just the thought of trying it.“Would it work out?”...“Would it last long?”  Essentially, everybody should know, that if we happen to meet a partner and find ourselves asking the same questions, we probably have also found ourselves inside the most dangerous peril of failing.

Not only that! We probably have also found ourselves lost and more confused. But wait! There’s more.We probably have found ourselves asking the universe’s most controversial questions---
“WHAT IF?”
“ IF ONLY...”
That is because we never thought of learning to trust ourselves with it, learn to entrust ourselves to our partners and learn to trust our partners for the relationship.
“WHAT IF I WAS JUST THAT SWEETER?” ...“IF ONLY, I REPLIED TO HIS TEXT MESSAGES…”
“WHAT IF I NEVER DROPPED HIS CALLS?” ...“IF ONLY I ANSWERED HIS CALLS AT NIGHT EVEN WHEN I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE ANSWERING IT…”
“WHAT IF I SAID YES! WHEN HE WAS ASKING TO JOIN ME ON A BARKADA TRIP?”...“IF ONLY I WAS NOT THAT RUDE AND STRICT,…”
“WHAT IF I NEVER MET HIM?”..."IF ONLY… I NEVER HAD SEX WITH HIM OR HER…”

See??? See how it works? We bargain ourselves in exchange for those unlived moments which we should have done. Even to the singlest and smallest detail for us to exchange ourselves into, we desperately succumb to deal for the bargain JUST NOT TO FEEL THE IMPACT OF THE SEPARATION. Just not to feel the pain. Well, I should say, THAT is not as easy as wanting to listen to “MARIPOSA TRAICIONERA” sounding from his blackberry.
“WHAT IF I JUST TRUSTED HIM ON WHAT HE SAID?”
“WHAT IF HE WAS REALLY FAITHFUL?”
“WHAT IF WAS’NT REALLY LYING ALL THIS TIME?”
“WHAT IF I WAS WRONG WHEN I TOLD HIM HE ALWAYS IS A LIAR?”
“IF ONLY I JUST LISTENDED…”
“IF ONLY I WAS JUST THAT FIRM…”

--------
This is an article or a note from one who’s heart is dying.I rarely talk to him.But one time, I saw him singing one of his favorites on a videoke bar. I barely recall it but I think Its called “HERE WITHOUT YOU?” I stopped what I was doing and just stared at him.

His voice was a crack. His singing sucked, but there was something in him that made me stare longer. There was something in his voice that made me understand why he was singing his song again.With the song’s piercing lyrics, resonated his voice that was full of longing and desperation.

I asked him how he does that. But he answered me with his sharp brown eyes that produced the moist I can never forget---the moist that echoed the beats of agonizing heart.

I asked him, “Do you miss somebody?”

He looked down and felt silent for a second as he reached his hand to his pocket and pulled out a folded paper with encryptures in it. He cried even harder.

I could feel the pain flowing with the tears his two stressed eyes brought out.The wet tears glistened as if they were feasting and shouting sound of joy after having sharp-stabbed the man’s heart and left it still caged inside his thorax bleeding and with no air.

He handed me the thing, now, moistened with his bitter tears and troubled with the shaking of his hand.

“What is this?” I asked in a soft comforting but probing husk.

He just stared at me straight like shooting me with his two irises that totally pierced me in my own two eyes like a dart board.

Suddenly, he whispered shakingly, “ I never lied to that somebody!”

Perplexed, confounded and stymied I managed my composure as he leaped and ran towards the darkness until I can not barely see his silhouette.And there I was. Puzzled and silenced with a note in my hands like having given the most classified secrets of the world.

It took me not an hour when I already found myself bursting in tears gazing and reading what the man gave me. It took me days to digest what it said.

Now, what appeared to me was a very clear explication of what he wrote. It took me more than strength and confidence to grasp it and tell to myself what it liked me to process.
“UNDERSTAND YOURSELF BOY!”
 Alas, I breathed an air of relief. A pipe of hope.That man was an icon.
Intelligently, he changed himself through learning the most essential savor of relationships. Sadly, he only learned this after having failed to the spiking truth that regrets are done and enjoyed last.

I rushed to search the man because I wanted to listen to his stories. But he was nowhere to be found.In exhaustion from my rushing, I rested a seat on a boat’s pedestal facing the tired sun setting on rather tranquil sea. Now, I believe, that I met the man, who, in how many years of black and white lies, have learned the concept of entrusting himself.Only that, maybe, in the wrong person who’s intention was never to treasure his once-in-a-lifetime-self-discovery. He learned that.Yes! He really did. Maybe, he was from a very sad and unfortunate experience where he probed not to trust anybody.

I believe he did not lie to his somebody!I should know that! It was clearly encrypted and sculpted in his solemn but tired sad tears.
“HE NEVER LIED!”

I blurted to myself “AND IT WAS, FOR HIM, A VERY GREAT ACHIEVEMENT!”

It was like him, saying, it took him a day to fall for someone but it might take him forever to diffuse and forget.I wonder when and where would I be given a split second to see him once more and listen to his stories.I know, he will never stop loving… and he will never stop learning. I just wonder really, when and where again, when I have already found myself. #s21

All The Lasengga Ladies

“All The Lasengga Ladies”
by glenmore bacarro

I was shocked when I opened my Facebook account and saw an edited picture of me tagged from the group page I am active to. I didn’t know how would I suppose to feel. I was slightly annoyed and somewhat felt disrespected. I wondered if I am the only one having this kind of picture. I immediately removed it from my wall and continued my browsing. I looked for my notifications and opened links. I almost fell from my seat when I saw another picture with same edited design but this time it’s with the picture of one of my mates. I laughed out loud. I had had the urge to roll on the floor and laugh till death, but still have the decency not to do so. J! I purposely clicked the picture to satisfy my curiosity and in my delight other same pictures with different faces showed (including mine). This time I’m really hooked up into the humor of these pictures.

One picture was really like a brandy endorser with her lascivious and revealing picture in it. It makes men really want to buy her products (wink!). Another one picture where you can’t help but to smile when you see that the lady in it, the picture in it (thanks to the prank!) with her phenomenal ID like picture centered the designed background. The idea of taking this particular picture (not her profile picture which is supposed to be) tickled my ever jolly mind. I burst into laughter when I imagined one’s reaction when they saw the picture. The next in line is the picture of the woman who’s usually the subject of our vodka session’s jokes. Her picture proved that she is indeed a subject for humor (peace!hehehe). She looks like a proud vendor with her products on display (literally!). Moreover, who doesn’t miss her coyly smile? When she did, she’s the most beautiful and sexiest of them all! Just don’t offer her “kanin” because surely you’re gonna eat with her (nah! forget about dieting!). Next to the last, lets “move on” (ehem!), the lady on her proud nursing uniform had her ‘mona lisa’ smile which gives you the feeling of being annoyed. You can’t tell if she’s really happy with her picture or she really want to bite the ‘pasimuno’ who did all these ridiculous pictures. Finally it’s my turn, my picture that pissed me off a while ago; but this time I smiled and I uttered softly “Gago talaga ‘tong si Alex”.

The tag phrase on each hit me amused as what the pictures did. The tag proudly says “The Lasengga Lady” just below the name of the group “Palit Status Gang”, centered by each picture. Recent memories of us having our ‘sessions’ are enough fool proof for this tag. I laughed and asked myself “So what if we’re branded as ‘lasenggas/lasenggos’?” I closed my eyes and heard the laughters and the sobs we’ve been through every late day ‘inumans’. People may say that we’re irresponsible and waste much money for nothing, but I just want to ask them “Will they can ever make us memories to share for a lifetime? Did they ever know that from every shots of vodka bind us together to share same memories? That with every bottle pilled friendship creates new foundation that can hold us in one home, one family”.

I can’t help but remembering a text message once sent to me by a friend.

“Drinking, they say is the heaven of the weak. We forge a persona that we only have the courage to show when we’re drunk enough. We escape reality even if it would risk our health. But I tell you this, the most honest individuals are those who drink to drown, coz they LOSE their social masks. No pretensions, no limits, NO LIES. That’s NOT weakness, that’s being FEARLESS; and I guess what they can never fathom is that, because of intoxication we become PURE!”

To all Lasenggas and Lasenggos! Bottoms up!

Guess What? (lol :))

“Guess What?”

(The Legend of the Boiled Egg and Peanut)

by glenmore bacarro

Part I / 041610 / loc: R.Papa

I was on my class when a friend sent me a text message asking for my presence on an unplanned after work session (again!). Of course who am I to say no?:) I said I’ll be there as soon as my classes are through. It took me two trains and a tricycle to get there. The one who sent me the text message direction to the exact location of the house played a prank to me that nearly pissed me off. Nevertheless a “new friend” (ehem!) fetched me from the place where I waited.

The session had been halfway when I arrived. “Few attendance.” I thought. There were only four of them and the host (new friend). The ambience already heated up, maybe in relation to the very hot day. Their session actually started two hours after noon!

One thing I was sure of, when the vodka consumed us, we are hard to manage!:) I pity those houses and hosts who extent their hospitality way far beyond one’s limit. I hope all our sorry and laughter somehow eases the disturbance we caused.

After those throat scourging shots we requested for hot soup. One of us went to the kitchen and went back with something in his hands. He is obviously hiding something in his hands. After a moment of curiosity he took a bite from it and gave a guess-what-I’m-holding smile to us. He smiled exaggeratedly that we saw a yellowish stains in his teeth from the “food” he bit. The craving for the hot soup was lost from our curious minds. All of us wanted to get a bite from that mysterious food he’s holding. He let us peek somehow and I accidentally saw the white smooth color of the “food”. I wonder then, how come the yellow stains? Out of the blue he offers a bite to the one on his left. She actually gave a snorting laugh when she saw what was it, and gladly took a bite. My curiosity peaked, I beg for a bite but he didn’t let me, instead he gave the bite to our other friend. She too can’t help laughing when she saw what it is. I was frustrated and somehow annoyed I really can’t help but to asked and this time begging. They all laughed and randomly took a bite to the “food” he’s holding. After seconds of sneaking I figured it out. “Itlog!” It was an Egg!!! Ridiculous! I don’t know what am I supposed to be feeling by that time. I just smiled and again accepting the fact that drunk person usually do unusual things. Boiled duck eggs as pulutan? He offers me a bite but I refused, not that because I don’t want to, it’s just that because I don’t like eggs very much.

After a while the egg thing was lost again on the course of our session. We end up eating instant noodles with boiled egg (this time I ate eggs) and “pumangas ng mangga” after. The host cooked and prepared “lumpiang sariwa” for us. He is a very good cook indeed. After then we decided to have some beers for “banlaw”. We even planned for the next day nature tripping.

We part ways just early for us to get back home not late and safe. Again I took the trains and this time an “fx” going home. While on the cab and having a hard time controlling my stomach not to vomit (nilunok ko pa ata ng palabas na:)) the egg thing suddenly crosses my mind. A smile lined my lips I can’t help but remembering the once one topic we had had. The “Shoelace” thing. Again, to divert my attention from my rumbling stomach, I’d tried to make sense from what had happened.

Let’s talk about the Egg. At first I’m curious on the thing he was holding. When I have had a peak on it my curiosity rises. I really wanted to know what it was. And I even beg for a bite. Frustrations consumed me when he refused giving me a bite. I asked, I begged, I expected something, I hoped for a bite. But when he finally reveals it I was disappointed, I didn’t take the bite.

Let’s talk about Love. At first we’re curious about it. What and how it feels like. When we have had a taste of it our curiosity rises, we wanted more; we even sometimes deny all reasons. We really wanted to know its every essence and how great it was. We beg for it to taste even the slightest sweetness of its promises. Sometimes we’re frustrated when at the long ran of waiting and finding one true love chances deny it to us. We asked, we begged, we prayed for it. We expect and we hope that the love destined for us is ideal. We set our own wants and limits believing that love should be magical. We let reasons aside and set standards for the love we believe is for us. But when love finally reveals itself, when it came knocking on our doors and when we found out that it wasn’t the love we are looking for we were disappointed. We tend to don’t accept it and deny a bite or a taste from it because it wasn’t the love we wanted to have. When it doesn’t reach even half of our standard the ideal we created we tend to close our doors and again wait for the love, the love we had created from our dreams. Have we ever asked ourselves that there is no perfect love?

I was then infront of our house when I’m back to reality. I forgot about my stomach but when I opened the cab door and got off after a while, the urge of nausea overpowered my control. It took me more than a minute to relax myself and stomach while helping myself bending on the sink. When I opened my eyes the mess of my vomit on the sink made me smile…guess what I saw?

Itlog (it-lOg)– n eng.egg, the oval or round body produced by hens/ducks and used as food; also similar body produced by the females of many anumals.

Part II / 041310 / loc: Langaray, Dagat-dagatan

It’s one of my mates birthday. I was on the Hospital for my scheduled completion of IVT cases (I was absent in the school where I am teaching and 2wks “absent without leave” from the institution where I do volunteer works). Before noon, text messages kept on pestering my phone asking where I am and asking what time should I be on the meeting place. About 3pm I was on my way.

I arrived just early enough for the party but some of my mates are already tipsy. Some actually left after a moment, they had appointments and some are simply drunk already. But some visitors are still on their way - visitors of the birthday boy – ‘male’ visitors. ehem!

Laughter and undying pointless talks ruled the moment, well not to mention the river of beers and vodkas plus the choices of pulutans completed the day. Then after a while a peanut vendor pushed his cart towards us. The hot steamed peanuts on his cart called our pulutan-hungry mouth. Then the topic about the ‘peanut’ began.

I ask for forgiveness for the sexual connotation of this topic especialy for the girls, more to the obscenity of some words.

Out of the blue, when the birthday boy asked us who likes peanut, one of my mate answered in a question saying “Dry or wet peanut?” and he smiled naughtily. The question cracked laughters around the table. “It’s a dry peanut, it’s hard to find some wet peanuts here.” One answered. “No!” I exclaimed riding on to the joke. “There are actually too many wet peanuts here.” I continued and ran my glance towards my female mates. It created much more laughter. Then I asked. “Wait, what is the tagalog term for peanut?” this I’m really into this obscene joke. Suddenly nobody answered, then after a moment pause one of us clearly and crisply shouted. “Tinggil.” Some of us burst with laughter. The word really creates uncomfortable yet laughable tone. Because no matter how soft or hard, slow or rapid pace, high or low pitch or tone way of saying the word, still the sense of humor is in there (well for us Filipinos only I think). The humor actually is for close friends only when malice and “bastusan” is not an issue more when all are drank! We were all busy contributing some things about the topic when one of us suddenly fell something… “Ay! Puke!” she exclaimed out of surprised. (expression usually exclaimed by Filipinos when surprised). Another one exclaimed almost in unison with her “Ay! Tinggil!” A stomach aching laughter proceeded.

The expression became the words of the day. No matter how indecent, how obscene and how naughty one thing may get the laughter and the moment created with it will be as beautiful as any cherished memory may be. Talks about these things will soon be forgotten but the friendship created will never last. Laughters may become mute and pictures may fade, when all things change, when distance and chances separates us, when one forget about the other, when old age blurred one’s familiarity with one’s face, when memory denied us the things we’ve been through, when life exhaust there will be this one special moment when we remember things. Even for just a second or a minute maybe, behind every laughters all things will clear, and for this particular moment I am sure of, with this single word, this moment will flash back. Guess what word this should be?

mane/mani (muh-ne’/muh-nee’) – n eng.peanut, highland legumes(?);nutlike edible seed of a plant of the 
                                                   pea family.

                                                -- n inf.clitoris(fil.trans.) a very sensitive part of the female sex organ.

AppleS and OrangeS

Apples and Oranges

050310

by glenmore bacarro

Yesterday was one of my mates birthday. We came to their house late for lunch but too early for the party. I, in particular spent much time in the dinning table, I ate more “ulam” than “kanin” and “pumapak ng sugpo” till I bloat.

The videoke and the beer party started later after I’m done eating. The table outside was set (just along the street; the hell with city ordinance #0397!J!) The ladies made their cocktail drink as we had started our RH session. Generous slices of apples and oranges float on their bowl of sweet mixed juices splashed with vodka.

The party gave our fill for the day and we ended up empty headed and had unbalanced gait. I woke up today with a searing headache, not to mention waking up late in a very hot summer day elevated my symptoms. I took two tablets of pain killer and had my shower. Later, I’m more than fine.

I looked back to what had happened last night, again a moment worth remembering. Familiar faces, friends old and new, forgotten and remembered, new hands clasped for a new beginning. Friends, who are missed, remembering when was the last time been together, warm hugs and kisses showered the moment. It’s as if the long time of longing was just a minute before, for friendship never counts.

They are the apples and oranges on my cocktail bowl. They balance the bitterness of the vodka and keep me going through painful obstacles on my unsure path. They enhance the sweetness within me, never minding if they drown into the depth of my stupidity. They are the slices and pieces afloat that can make me whole whenever the aftertaste of every hasty gulp shattered my reasons and pride. They are my friends and forever they will.

The apples, it is in different shapes and color, some almost round, some are elongated; some are green others are deep red. But no matter what, its distinct characteristic is when you cut it half its shape resembles a heart and the meat is pure, white and clean. Friends have different personality, genuine in their own special way but no matter how different they may be there is this one thing that binds you together, together in pain, in sorrow, in tears, in laughter and in love. They can see the sweetness in you and they can tell when you will be ripe enough to go on your way towards your dream. When you’re sour they are there to accompany you on the cocktail bowl to balance and for the people to know that you’re different from the rest of slices floating on the bowl. People tend to look and seek for your sourness to wash out the bittersweet sting of the splashed vodka. When you’re sweet they tend to give you your special bowl for everyone to pick. That’s how they are, apples that can be pick young and unripe and yet they can mature and ripen within your heart as long as friendship stays, as long as love remains.

Never pick an orange when it’s not ripe because it’ll never ripen, it never will. Oranges, each of its pulp encapsulated its sourness, bitterness or sweetness. You’ll never know what you’ll get because its rinds can deceive you for what sweetness you can see outside does not always housed the sweetness you’re craving for. Sometimes its pulps are dry and hardened by its sourness and bitterness. And sometimes when you’re lucky when its sweetness touch your lips you crave for more but not knowing with this sweetness it hides its sourness, the acid that can destroy one’s appetite. However oranges will always be oranges, many crave for it, seek for it. They are just like friends whom ingenuity outstood every reasons and pride. Its juices cure every wound that can’t be healed by time. It comforts every thirsty heart from the drought of sadness and sorrows. Its bitter rinds can be sweetened just as one’s past can be rebuild a new. It deceives one’s perception of what is true and what is right. It shows the reality of what life should be, that not at all times, sweetness can give us comfort, that in the long run of this life sometimes we had to taste the sourness of every obstacles and the bitterness of pain and failures. Afterall we can’t be the one we are now without the failures of yesterday and we can’t be the one in the future without the pain of today. Remember, what makes the orange sweet is its bitter taste.

In the bowl, floating with the rest, apples and oranges bathed with the sweet mix of juices and vodka. Not for forever we’ll be together because when the bowl got drained and every slice had its fill, all will be gone. Laughters will mute and pictures will fade. Friends come and go but the memories made from this bowl of sweet moments will last if not for forever then at least for a lifetime!

When to be Proud? (A Dedication)

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When to be Proud?

 by glenmorebacarro

While we’re having lunch one very hot summer noon, we were having our talk or plan for this coming election. A chance for us to have a grand vacation to the province because we were all registered there. We’re still having our lunch when my father took 2 pieces of bananas (lakatan) as ‘panghimagas’. There were four of us so I have to fight for it.J! After a while my father and I had one each. I am still eating what was left on my plate when my father peeled his share. After the first strip he put it back and put it down the table and took my share, peeled it and eats it. I took his share instinctively and open the peeled part, looked at it and I can’t help but to smile when I saw that some part of the banana was rotten. I looked at my father and we both laugh. J!

Then in an instant I had a thought. When I was a child my parents usually give the best part of whatsoever for us, their kids. When we hah had our pizza we always had the biggest part or double slice. When we ate our meal and had fish, they usually give us the body part and the head theirs. We usually had the best clothes than those they wear. And when things get tough they tried to make us feel that there’s nothing to worry. All the best belongs to us, second rates to them. But this time, I have had a sense of responsibility, I am old now, I’m not that kid anymore who demands for what is only the best.

A smile curved my lips when I peeled the fruit completely, removed the rotten part and eat it. This is the sweetest banana I ever taste I thought. Then my mind went over seas. The thought of my mom away from us created a lump on my throat. Then suddenly I remembered. Three days from now it’s her birthday!

When were having our siesta, I can’t get rid the thought out of my mind. Then I took a piece of paper out and a pen and started writing. “Things I made that makes my Mommy Proud” I started. And on the other column I wrote… “Things I made which Mommy can’t be proud of.” It took me a while before deciding to get another piece of paper and wrote the following. “Things my Mommy made that makes me proud.” And “Things my Mommy did that I can’t be proud of.”

At first I decided to fill up the second paper. I was surprised when I almost filled up all the space provided on the second column. I read it again and in an instant I felt the pain and the urge of hatred within me. The “Things my mommy did that I can’t be proud of.” column outnumbered the other. And I still have this urge to write more, tears fell. The frustrations and the pains inside me seared and for once I pitied myself.

It took me overnight to continue my writings. I had had a thought of not finishing it anymore, but finally decided against it. When I was writing “Things I made that makes my Mommy Proud” I felt a sense of increasing ego when I have countless of thoughts and moments to include in the list. Every detailed from the past, every cherished moments I have. There are also those moments that I know she’s proud of me but she’s not with me. I reviewed my list and I was surprised when almost half of my entries are moments I considered great moments but she’s not with me. Moments I know I’ve made her proud but she doesn’t know. Then it struck me…have I ever realized that she too had done things I should be proud of but it’s just that I didn’t know? I stopped, guilt overridden my flaccid mind. My hand became numb and I felt the touched of shame enveloped me.

To punish myself, I started writing for the “Things I made which Mommy can’t be proud of.” I was stupefied. I never thought that I had filled all the space provided yet I’m not yet half through of all the things I’ve done. I never had written those things that I’m too shameful to write. I intended to lessen the evil things I’ve done but with all those little things accumulated, it mounted in a landslide of shame and guilt. I don’t even have the courage to reread my entries; I simply put down my pen and had a heavy breath.

On the night before going to bed I took my completed lists and compared it by column. I smiled when I saw the first entry on my first list. “I made my mommy proud when I dance on the school presentation.”

Opposite it I wrote, “Mommy can’t be proud of me when I came sneaking coins from her purse.” The list extended I can’t even remember why I wrote some of those things. Entry number 8. “I made her proud when I had had my medals and ribbons during recognition days.” – “I can’t make her proud by when I lied.” Below this entry are the times when I lied. I smiled in awe when I saw that the list took much space and again I have more in mind. “I made her proud when I marched on my graduation and took my diploma.” “I made her proud when I passed the board exam.” –  “I can’t make her proud when up to this date I’m jobless.”

I took the second paper and began reading it. “She made me proud when she came on my high school grad.” – “I’m not proud of her, when we came home after my high school grad and had nothing to eat.” This entry made me smile. Too shallow, I wondered why I had written it. Another entry… “She made me proud when she’s one of the prettiest moms on the hall on my College grad.” – “I’m not proud when after the ceremony I can’t find her for a “picture taking” moments with friends.” “She made me proud when she promised me a rubber shoes and a gold ring/necklace as a presents.” – “I’m not proud of her when she forgot about that promise.” I had many on my list. But this time I had an urge to tear the paper because it made me feel how shallow I am, how I value materials than of her presence and love. I’m not even sure if I had written that she made me proud that when I was a child she always gives me her share of food. Have I ever written that she made me proud from those times she went back home from work with a “pasalubong” for me? Have I ever realized how much she made me proud when she kissed me in public when I was a kid? Have she known how proud I am when she cured my bruises and wounds? For the times she scolded my siblings for hurting me? Everytime I went back home crying after every childhood brawls?  I even asked myself, is there ever a time I have told her how much I love her, and how proud I am for having her?

I made her proud when she carries me on her womb for nine months. And I know how proud she is for having me as her son. My first cry was my first thank you. I’m proud to be her son!

My mother, for much time I hated her. She raised me with fears to them but she never let me live in fears.  There are things that are beyond what I thought was ideal. When reasons and lies collided with my confused mind, I tend to believe what my young mind knew was right. Until then when reason presented itself and showed that not every ideal was supposed to be right. There are things beyond one man’s understanding and the only relief is acceptance.

My mother, she’s not perfect. She’s not the mother all child want to have, but still the best mom for me; and I gladly take every chance just to be his son if I were to be born again. People may say anything they want, they may remove her right to be a woman but they can never take her right to be a mother. They may all believe on the curses of sins, but I still believe on the power of forgiveness. She’s not a superwoman, no saint but a sinner likes us. She’s just she, human with flaws. What makes her special is that she is a woman and she is a mother.

Today is her birthday!

“Mom, have I told you yet today how much I Love You?”

Shoelace (A Conversation)

Shoelace

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by gb!

After an exhausting day of assisting and rehabilitating the old ones in an institution where I work, my team decided to have some beers to close the day. We went to the house of one of my mates. A long, hot and an irritating bus and tricycle journey to his place added to our thirst for a cold beer. After a moment of rest and a very long discussion of what kind of beer we’re going to drink we ended up buying vodka. 

It takes us more time to prepare for our session to start, nobody want to take the first shot! At first we talked about anything and the silence of some of us was undeniable. Some simply talk too much and I guess made some of the silent ones irritated. But as the shot glass accelerates its rounds, discussions heated up. The sun had finally set and bottles of vodka piled. The silent ones finally released some of the voices they had kept. Laughter ruled our session; and in some sensitive moments tears fell. 

One of the topics that strike me most on our talks is when one of the silent ones dropped his metaphorical phrase. “Relationship is a Shoelace.” The bomb overtook me by surprised. At first nobody dared to speak, it’s as if everyone on the table were lost on their thoughts. Then finally he resigned, submitting from the silence he created he went on to his talk. 

“Love or a relationship is a shoelace.” He repeated. “I can’t even say that it’s ‘like’ a shoelace…but ‘it’ is a shoelace. A shoelace has two ends, both are tied and must submit and must tangle each other firmly to secure the shoe. A relationship won’t work without each other’s trust and loyalty for each other. A shoelace can’t be tied using only one end, the other laid untouched. A relationship won’t work without the other’s effort. A shoelace when secured and tied can be loosened by pulling even just the other end. A relationship will never be the same when one decided to let go.”

All ears were on him and as he had done talking, one of us raised her right foot and literally pulled one end of her shoelace to prove his ingenuity. We looked amazed and surprised by the simplicity of this act. Some laughed; others were caught by the absurdity of the act. Then in an instant she questioned him. “I may find it faulty, forgive me being naive…I had pulled the other end and you’re right the grip loosened but I had noticed that the other end still tangled to the base of the other. There it lay attached and loosely coiled but still holding and left trying to hold the shoe.” All eyes were on her shoe by this time. “One thing more…” she continued. “no matter how hard the other one want to let go. Even if I pull it with all of my strength still they are one. They are both have the same body; they are just the end point of a single body. The truth will always remain that they can’t be separated, because they are one.” 

With this she was backed up by one of us. “True and correct!” She said. “In a relationship when one decided to let go, still there are much chances to rebuild the relationship because in some way you had weaved memories and had passed through obstacles that made you’re relationship strong and made yourselves better persons.” She was looking on the twisted shoelace that ran through the shoelace’ holes on her shoe as she said this. “When one decided to let go, as long as the other one kept on holding and because they are one still there are much chances.” She concluded.

Another point I thought. But then I can’t resist asking both of them. “But what is the purpose of the shoelace? And what is the purpose of a relationship when one decided to let go?” the argument heated up. Each of us has something to say. Some agreed against the others. I end up answering my own question. “Its purpose is to hold the shoe. Both ends must be tied together for the shoe not to loosen. Both parties must have the love and will or perhaps must have the choice to make the relationship stronger, tighter. Yes it is true that the lace has both ends, these ends are connected and one can’t go on independently. But how can the shoe go on walking if one end was untied? At the end it’s either the shoe will fall or the feet will go bare.” I continued uninterrupted. “A relationship can’t go on with a tainted foundation. If one decided to let go things will never be the same. Trust is very important, if without, the relationship was either molded with lies or with unreasoned suspicions. Bitterness and guilt will overcome the true essence of the relationship. And too much of either of it is enough to let love grow cold.” 

“Then it’s all a matter of Choice!” exclaimed one. “The other end who decided to be pulled to release the knot has his/her choice or it was his/her choice rather.” He continued with the I-am-very-serious expression on his face. “The other had his/her choice by holding still to the one who let go. There is hope somehow even on the slightest that the tie he’s/she’s trying to hold can make the shoe/relationship go on.” 

I never expected that this simple session with my group ended up with this incredulous topic. Simple and silly as it seems but the thought and the bonding it gave us is incomparable. The shot was passed; the vodka has its spirits within our near flaccid brain. After his talk no one dared to speak. The conversation simply died out. Laughters diverted our attentions to other unremembered topics. But then still the thought keep on teasing my mind. Is it really a matter of choice? Or is it a mere selfishness on one’s part and foolishness on the other or vice versa? Is it just right to hold on to what is left when one decides to let go? Is it still possible for one to carry on the relationship as long as he/she has her/him beside, even with the absence of love, after all they are just one? These thoughts made my mind swirl and it pained me thinking about the endless possible answers. 

Love. Relationship. Trust. They are just words. Has anyone of us ever asked ourselves by that time that even without the lace, even without the shoe, the feet can go on bare? It’ll be tough to walk on to the road towards happiness on barefoot maybe, but how can you tastes the sweetness of every fight without frustrations and pains? Afterall feet are for walking not the shoe. Love was to be felt not just to be said. 

So I lay my case closed. 

Questions (A Confession)

Questions

by glenmore bacarro

dedicated to Ry-ann Cortea and Jo-ann Tengson

The warmth of the summer morning woke me up early than my usual waking up habit. I took my toothbrush and brushed my teeth with a heavy heart, washed my face disappointed by the warm water for it did not fully wake me up. I made my coffee and intended to increase my usual morning dose. I tuned the fm radio, took the morning paper and began reading as I settled myself on the couch. 

I advanced to my favorite page, the entertainment pages. The news somewhat lifted me up from my half wake state. As I go on into the pages while sipping my bitter beverage my mood hoisted. It took me ten minutes to satisfy my “showbiz-curious” mind before flipping the pages to my next favorite column. I found the feature and readied myself for “what-will-be-my-comment-for-today” type of reading. I read the first line then I paused for my eyes caught a quoted line within the column. 


The line said, “He that is not jealous is not in love.” 


I stared at the line for a time, and then my lips curved a knowing smile. I just remembered instinctively what had happened last night. When I had had time talking to the two lovers having their troubled affairs (online).

I put down the newspaper and took my laptop and began typing, coincidentally, the radio played a song by a local band ft with a known rap artist entitled “kasalanan”. I smiled and then continued my typing.

Love, trust, loyalty and faith to one’s partner keep the passion in the relationship burning. Insecurities, jealousy, possessiveness and too much of everything can fuel hatred that can freeze the heart. 


But “One who is not jealous is not in love?” then again I had to ask myself “What is the standard of being in love? When can you say that love is enough and when to say you need more? When to say you had had enough and you need space to breathe? When to hold tight and when to let go?” or above all, “When to say you don’t love him/her anymore?” and to satisfy my confused mind again I asked, “Does love really die? If it’s so, is it in a natural death? Or one can actually kill this feeling to make the heart go cold?” 

“What is the standard of being inlove?” This is a subjective type of question, one answer differs with the others but all are right. It depends on one’s idea of being inlove. Each of us has our own standards when it comes to love. We claim for the ideal not knowing that not all ideal are supposed to be right. We set limits not knowing all limits had their own limitations. We create our own love in a blissful perfection not knowing that it’s living in fantasy beyond reason and reality. 


I remember him saying last night, “She’s not the one I used to know before; she changed a lot.” 
I fight against my mind on cursing him, “How dare him!” How pathetic one can blame others for the things he’s not even sure was right. Had he ever realized that when he accepted her to be his girlfriend he had had his responsibility to keep things as they are and to challenge changes when it comes? 
People don’t change, understanding do. When one’s mind was corrupted with guilt and unreasoned jealousy, his views changed. One must always remember “a stone will always be a stone, but a hand which touches it will never be the same hand forever.” 
Instead of saying “She’s not the one I used to know; she changed a lot.” Why he didn’t try asking himself “Why I saw her differently now than before?” in this way he can surely find an answer within himself. And if he did, his standards will surely crash. 



“When to say that love is enough and when to say you need more? When to say you had had enough and you need space to breathe?” 
Humans were made without satisfaction. We always hope and pray for something we considered best, sometimes even bargaining everything we have just for this single thing or moment were dying to have. We always look forward to it and it keeps us trying to go on for this endless path of life. 


Alas! Endless path of life, tireless and infinite; the simple fact we forgot or we tend to forget. We keep on denying ourselves that in the long run of our course when we had had what we wished to have for; we tend to ask for more when we saw that the path ahead of us still has an eternity. 


We live in no satisfaction, we always ask for more. The thing we bargained for when we had it is of no importance than on what more we want. The sad thing is, most of us deny it, we deny that we’re disappointed and we ask for more, we deny that sometimes denying sounds so real that we end up believing it. And when these reasons we denied, mounted into a landslide of guilt and shame, we tend to find ways for an escape. We leave our reality and we began creating our own world for us to breathe, a world incomparable to the one we left. Not knowing that what we had created is a limbo, an unfathomable prison made within ourselves. 


Her words reverberated in my ears, “We’ve been through this a million times, I have had enough, I need time to think, and I need space. He never trusted me, I love him very much before but for now I’m not even sure…I’m confused.” 


If I’m in front of her by that time she may had seen my strong opposition expression from what she said. How selfish she is, how sure she is that it was him who never had his lesson learned from that million times they’ve been through? 


What is she consider enough if in the first place she never accepted what he had offered? If in the million times she never actually listened to him? Space can never be an escape because it is void and expand into nothingness. It can steal one’s feeling and it’ll take an eternity to find it when you want it back. It’s selfish to ask for it, for your distancing yourself for good without explanation. 


How in the world she can say that he didn't trust her and didn’t realized the fact that in the moment she’s saying that, she had lose her trust to him? For you can’t say that one didn't trust you if in the first place you had trust in him that he will never do such thing. 


It pained me more when she said her last words, how shallow is a love that gets confused? Love can never get confused because it doesn't have a mind to reason out. The affection felt can never be tampered by itself, guilt and insecurities can stain its sincerity but strengthens it when one hugged forgiveness and acceptance. 


Why not say, “I can forgive him a million times because I have enough love for him. And I think he surely do the same. We must create a space together a world for us to grow. I love him very much before but not as much as the love I will be feeling with him on the future. I am confused because I can’t find the word how to say how much I love him.” I dare her to say these words to him and surely they realize how lucky they both are.



“When will to hold tight and when to let go? When to say you don’t love him/her anymore?” 
Have we ever asked ourselves what are the reasons why we’re still holding on and or why we’re letting go? Perhaps yes, but have we ever found even just a single plausible answer? Perhaps yes, but can this answer worth everything that we’re ready to give up? Again perhaps it’s a yes, but one thing is definitely true no matter what, either way, the pain is real and it leaves us broken. 


But have you ever tasted the bitter sweet of these moments? Because for every ‘holding-on’ there’s hope and sometimes hopes become dreams of reality; for every ‘letting-go’ there’s freedom from pain and pains are nothing but temporary. Sometimes when we don’t let love rule over our confused heart we tend to make decisions that we usually regret at the end. And as reckless as we had been we end up breaking our own heart and sometimes changing us into a cold and selfish monster that it takes another lifetime to recreate. It makes us live in sorrow and incapable of loving even our own selves. 

We can say that we don’t love our partners anymore when we stopped believing that we’re not complete anymore; when we’re lacking something that once was ours. Because the moment we accepted our partner he/she had filled the emptiness we have. Either he/she lost his/her part, or you unconsciously withdrew the part you had given. 


Mistakes and wrongs we’ve done are part of every relationship. Forgiveness is another thing. It’s hard to forgive just as hard as to ask for forgiveness, but in every relationship love can outweigh every hatred and guilt. You may never forgive him/her for doing the vilest thing but within your heart the love once shared will always be the same. You can shout to the world that you don’t love him/her anymore but when the façade of silence greeted you the emptiness and longing for that love shouts louder. There are choices to make and chances to take and the best thing do is not to make or take it alone. It should be mutual, afterall both parties created the foundation and to break it shattered with bitterness is far more complicated than to let it stand still if not for the future then at least for the past to finally had its home. 
Moreover, it’s still nice to reminisce the pain of the past with a smile curved on the lips. 

I remember her asking, “Do I need to let him go?” and him telling me “I love her very much and I’m afraid of losing her.” This time I want to ask the same question to them, to her “Does your heart feels like you need to let him go?” and to him “Have your heart feels like you’re losing her for real?” Sometimes the hardest questions are those with the simplest answers. 


“Does love really dies? If it’s so, is it in a natural death? Or one can actually kill this feeling to make the heart go cold?” 
I once asked a friend of mine who’s having a hard breakup with her boyfriend to do a simple exercise I devised. 
She’s filled with bitterness and vow to never love again. Her heart beats her hatred to love. She can’t move on because the ghost of her past keeps on haunting her. She pitied herself for giving too much and left nothing for herself. That the love she gave were wasted and never appreciated. She felt that it was her who left hanging and lost from the battle she thought she fought with. 


With her tears welled, I asked her to get a piece of paper and a pen. I asked her to write every happy memory she had with her boyfriend, I asked her to write every detail no matter how painful it gets. I know it’s an agonizing punishment to do such things. 
Then after I asked her to read all the things she wrote, at first she did but the pain is just too much for her, she end up crying almost in hysteria. 


After she calmed, I asked her to look at the paper and said to her, “From all those times do you think he never appreciated you? Do you think he never loved you? How does the sweetness you’ve been turned to bitterness right now? Tell me now; do you think he never gave you his all?” She looked at me confused. I continued “Can you pick at least one of those memories where you once said into yourself that you have everything, that you’re the richest girl in the world for having him, that you’re willing to bargain and give up everything just for that moment to last forever?” she looked at me this time I saw a bitter smile and said “…all of them”. 
I smiled and said “Never ever said that he never loved you or never appreciated you.” I continued. “He did, and he will never forget you because he played a part of you and you a part of him. It’s just that love didn’t work between the two of you. Fine, he hurt you, he broke you into pieces but that’s the way it should be. All of what of you should be broken so that you can create a new you for the next love to find. Never pick your broken pieces and mold it again as whole because no other love can polish it again for you. Every crease of those broken pieces made whole holds memories that belongs to the past – you can never move on. You can’t give your all for the new love to nurture within your heart if from the very start you started with the broken products of your past. That’s the reason why break ups are painful, everything is broken and we can do nothing out of those but serve just as memories to cherish and lessons to learn. You should create again a new you… unstained, polished, whole and perfect for the new love to find.”

We split up knowing that still she has a heavy heart. After a couple of weeks she called me with a lifted heart. We talked till she cries again but this time the bitterness was gone. She told me one of the sweetest line I ever heard “I do still love him…but I want him no more.” She smiled then I answered her “You’re whole again.” 


I smiled as I remember these things, Love therefore never dies. It may gone cold but still the presence of it linger till one’s heart stops beating. No one can ever kill one’s love just as sure as that no one can ever live without love. 

Before I end up my typing, I just want to ask this couple to do the same thing. I want them to write every memory they’d shared but this time after, I want them to compare and ask themselves “Have I ever loved you?” Then perhaps all worries on their relationship will fade and trust will build a foundation that no one can break. Trust is one of the best guards of a relationship it keeps the passion to never lose its heat. With trust honesty will surface, loyalty will strengthen and love will keep on burning.

With all the questions I laid, I may have answered it maybe in denial and lies but one thing I want every reader to know. “My heart speaks and sometimes hearts do lie but every lie a heart made can be an excuse for guilt to be cleanse, for truth to be noticed, for love to grow.” 






gb!

Love Sick (A Sentiment)

Love Sick

by glenmore bacarro

A friend sent me a text message…

            “…no one in this world is single…each of us are only on different levels of being taken. Some of us are happily taken and some are happily being taken for granted.”

I laughed at first, and then it struck me hard after a while, a straight blow that I began feeling a lump in my throat. An old pain seared inside my chest.

People always say that love will find its way through our hearts. We deny the possibilities that love may also be lost along its way towards our own doors. We are in fact afraid of being alone; being unloved but we deny it. We deny that we are afraid. That in the long run of denying we end up believing what we choose to believe-and at most it doesn’t work, because there are those people who are denying what we choose to believe and believing what we tend to deny. And when it hit us, we felt lost, we got angry, we thought that they had tricked us and they had taken us for granted.

We always sayt that we know how to love. We laugh, we dance and we spread our arms saying that we are in love this much. We can paint the town red, go against the flow and tire ourselves by showing how happy we are. But after all those things we’ve done, after all the “lives” had taken our strengths, when we are alone in our own solitary room, when the darkness and the coolness of the night creep inside our hearts we felt how hollow, how empty our hearts had been. How in much time we had been left and hurt. We let all those bitterness we’ve been trying to hide to overcome us. For a bit of a second we let the tinges of grudges and fears to eat our hearts then we begin hating the people who hurt us and end up hating the life they had made for us and eventually and perhaps the most destructive of all-we end up hating ourselves. Some go beyond the line…killing themselves.

We are inlove to the idea of love. Each of us has their own fairy tale; own fantasies which poisoned every rational reason our mind can ever perceives. We have our own world where we painted love on its every corner, the world of perfections, of happiness and of ever afters. But it is in this world where we set conditions, where the love we’ve been dreaming are made upon our own conditions, own likes, own wants, beyond limits and even beyond perfections. Love without flaws. Love out of reach. And when love knocks unto our doors, to our own disappointments it’s not the love we’ve been looking for, not knowing that love is no perfect. Love is just simply painfully true. And the drawback is, with this love we’ve made, though it keeps our hearts burn with hope, somehow we knew deep within us that we are in near desperation.

There are those loves that simply can’t be given a chance. Love that had been forbidden, love that had been defied by chance and by time, love that had been tabooed by races and sex. With these, we tend to bargain love even to the simplest just for it to be given a chance. We simplify complex twists of love and learned to give great value even to the slightest deed that had been done to us by the object of our affection. Sometimes we even equated simple gestures to love, and cherish every moment, chance may have nicked for us. We hope for things that are next to impossibilities and we are ready to give up everything just for the little spark of love we hope to have. We tend to promise that we’ll handle love with so much care if it can only be ours to have. We embraced and be contented with what chances can only offer to us. Even by any laws…we deserve more!