There's Nothing Like Love

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There's nothing like love to throw you off course

or straighten your path.

To make you wary of taking risks

or propel you to take the leap of faith.

To make you fear  

or trust implicitly.

To make you hit rock bottom

Or take you to the greatest of heights.

To bring out the inner monster in you 

that you feel hurt and jealous all at the same time,

or even unreasonable.  

But it can also create 

an understanding, giving heart in you

and even inspire you to be selfless.

There's nothing like love 

to take you to a life of upheavals 

but it will be 

your most thrilling rollercoaster ride yet...

Whatever it is that love brings you, 

remember that it is your doing - 

your choice.

So love wisely,

taking care of not just his heart

but of yours as well.

Loving is Taking Risks

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Loving someone is always a risk, but it's one that's worth taking.

For X

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I don’t know why I’m writing. I don’t even know where to start. I’m having second thoughts too on whether I should continue this. Is chickening out an option? Whoa. Now you’re taunting me.

“Aren’t you courageous?” you often say. And therein lies my truth. Because with and for you, I am anything but brave.

It’s been two years since I met you. And in that short span of time, you have managed to take me into the most nerve-wracking rollercoaster ride of my life.

I have always told myself to never put myself in a situation where I do not know where I stand in another person’s life. And yet, I am in such a situation now.

I don’t know how to read you, you know. You say you like me. You care. You miss me. Truth be told though, hearing those words brings me anything but assurance. Hearing those words makes me more confused. Scared.

Why can’t you just say things outright?

Where does caring for, missing and liking someone lead to? What are those endearments for? I really am confused. And annoyed. I hate it that we’re both too stubborn. That we play a game of wits and will. I enjoy the former, hate the latter. I do not know if you’ve noticed but my response has always been as guarded as my heart is. I don’t want you to think I am leading you on, is why. And I also do not want to appear easy or aloof and heaven forbid, unreachable. And so I play it cool. Maybe way too cool. Damn.

You very well know what our dilemma is. It is the fact that you want me to be the first to admit my feelings for you but I want it to be the other way around.

Maybe culture is a big factor. From where you are from, women can easily admit to their feelings. Some even openly flirt. But I, despite your perceived sophistication of me, am still a traditional Maria Clara at heart confined by the long-ago notion of my ancestors that women should wait for the guy to woe her…

I don’t know how long will I be able to keep up with you. Or why should I, in the first place. If I am going to be very honest with myself, I have to admit that I’m getting tired of guarding my heart. Of waiting. Of being unsure of anything that concerns you.

Funny how just when I, a person who only takes calculated risks, am willing to abandon all and take the great leap of faith, the very person that I am taking the plunge for is nowhere to be found to leap with me or break my fall.

But you know what I find is funnier? It is that you can dare talk to me about courage when you are anything but brave.

And you know what’s funniest? It is that I thought of courage as taking the leap of faith for you because now I know that where you are concerned, courage is about letting go of my beloved who does not know that I am worth defying his great fear of love.

--------------------

May 18, 2007 was when we met.  May 18, 2008 was when you reminded me that it's our anniversary.  I laughed because you remember the date of our first meeting.  I did not.  As we spoke, I was actually feeling sheepish, torn between amazement and being touched because really, it's rare for a guy to remember.  May 18, 2009.  We both remembered the day.  I was hoping you'll come out clean but you just continued dancing that avoidance waltz that I despised.  That same night, I wrote this post as I mentally said goodbye to you.  This post remained sitting in my Drafts folder though.  May 18, 2010.  My iPod Touch's calendar reminded me that it's May 18.  I cancelled it.  May 18, 2011.  The same alarm from my iPod Touch rang.  I immediately cancelled it then deleted the yearly reminder.  It's been about two years that we lost contact with each other and days ago, I found this while I was sifting through my files.  So here I am, posting this in celebration of my moving on.  

Ironic

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My friend: I'm listening to Ironic by Alanis. Isn't it ironic to find the man of your dreams then later meet his beautiful wife?

Milai: Nah, the irony there is meeting the man of your dreams. (laughs)

The above exchange made me do a double take. Have I gotten too cynical beyond redemption?

There is no denying that I am romantic to the core.  You see, I began reading romance novels at an early age.  While most children read fairytales and picture books, I, much to my mom's dismay, took delight in reading Mills and Boon and Harlequin novels starting at age eight.  I also loved reading the works of Barbara Cartland.  At age ten, I was into Danielle Steel and at twelve, was into novels by Judith McNaught, Johanna Lindsey and Jude Deveraux.  Reading about their heroines ending up with the man of their dreams sure made me think about my own happy ending.

Ten years after, my view on love, or rather, on men, soured due to the fact that some of my friends and acquaintances became victims of their infidelity or were in an abusive relationship.  There were some too who fell in love with men who were difficult to love in the first place.  And some who were with men who could not find it in themselves to commit to a relationship or marriage.

With the above, and also because I experienced heartbreaks and heartaches firsthand, I became very wary of love.  Or rather, of men.

A friend in college said not just once that those like us who grew up reading romance novels would have a difficult time finding the "man of our dreams" basically because we already have our ideals on who or what we want in and from them.  "Admit it, unconsciously, you have the tendency to compare a suitor to that dashing, romantic duke from the Victorian era in historical romance novels or to that confident, urbane, a little difficult but loving man you read about in your contemporary novels."  And we laughed because it was partly true.  Matthew Allen Parker from McNaught's Paradise, where are you?  Ha ha!

Then there's this Linda Howard novel I read where they joked about Mr. Perfect being "science fiction."  Ha!  I just had to laugh on that one.

When I was home in Aklan last January, a relative, knowing I am already twenty-seven and most of my batchmates were already married, joked, "So when is the grand walk down the aisle?"  I laughed and replied that I am even yet to find THAT  man I will walk down the aisle with.  Polite queries followed, with most of them asking all the hows and whys that they could think of regarding my being uncommitted and all later coming to a concession that I am just being choosy.  Ooooooo-kay.  Whatever.

Is there anything wrong with being single, especially when it is someone's personal choice and she's happy being such, as I said so in a previous post?  Is there anything wrong with having standards for THE man a woman wants to marry?  I'm not looking for Mr. Perfect because we all know that perfection in anyone or anything does not exist.  But I do have standards for the man of my dreams.  And on this I refuse to compromise.  Why?  Because we are all entitled to choose who we want to spend the rest of our lives with.  And mine is to be with a man who is like Daddy.  Oh, he isn't perfect.  He sometimes drinks and used to smoke and he is scary when he gets mad but he's faithful to my mom and wonderful to us.

You may have noticed I wrote "on love or rather, on men" twice in this post.  I want to emphasize this because men (and of course, women), may become unfaithful or jealous or insincere but love is not and never will be.  It is and will always be the same kind of wondrous, saving love that it is made to be.  Anything less than that is not true and lasting love - the reason why most relationships don't last these days and why some marriages crumble.

I want to end this post by addressing my cynicism.  Yes, I admit to having gotten jaded over the years but there's still that part of me who sees the world through rose-tinted glasses.  Who still believes in the wonders of love and in God's perfect timing for everything.

True love waits.

Past and Future Love

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Seasons change and people too

But I believe that some feelings don't

The clock keeps on ticking and people come and go

But our longing for them just continues to grow.

We may forget some of yesterday's memories

But those that we wove with that special someone 

Would remain, and may even haunt us

That we couldn't help but look back on what was.

I miss your smiles, those bedimpled cheeks

And the way your knowing eyes would look me over

I miss all the laughter, and even our silly fights

And the kiss-and-make-up that is sure to come later.

I sorely miss the way you always inspire me

Those words and acts of love that you share

But most of all I miss being with you

And being enveloped in your sweet and tender care.

I remember all these, and painfully, more

For I also remember the day we parted ways

I remember saying goodbye for I thought it was best

Turning a deaf ear to the pleas you expressed.

Until now, I don't know why or how we drifted apart

And I have stopped trying to analyze everything

All I know is that somewhere, somehow, we changed

That what used to be two sides of a coin became estranged.

Things happen for a reason, so they always say

And maybe, ours is to learn to lose ourselves to an US

Because admit it, when we were together we seldom compromise

Self-absorbed and stubborn, to our own self each one relies.

I still believe that what happened is for the best

And though I still sometimes miss you, I can smile

Knowing that you and I have grown individually

In ways that our being together did not allow us to be. 

Wherever you are, my love, I hope you now know

That sometimes the greater proof of love is in letting go

May love teach us to truly love in ways we failed the other

That we may become braver, wiser and better.

The Heart Chooses to Heal

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In all its fragility, I marvel about the capacity of the heart to withstand innumerable heartaches and hurts.  I guess in the end,  a heart that CHOOSES to freely bask in sincere, selfless love is bigger than any and all of life's struggles.  Cheers to all WARRIORS OF THE HEART who never give up on love despite being heartbroken at some points in their lives.  Happy hearts day!  :)

Taken Too Soon

I did not ask for you in my life but I was glad you did come to take part in it. For the first time, I was happy. Really happy. And I knew you were too.

Then you got sick. And that’s when our nightmare began.

“Why did it have to be you of all people?” I kept asking God this question. I had no answer. Yet.

At the back of my mind, I knew no one deserved any sickness but I couldn’t help but feel that it shouldn’t be you. You were too young. Too good a person. You had a whole lifetime ahead of you. Why then should it be mercilessly cut short? Why couldn’t the sick be a criminal? Or the one contemplating suicide? Why take away life from someone who wanted to live it to the fullest, to make the most of it?

I wouldn’t glorify myself by saying I accepted your fate (?) with an open, gracious heart. I did not. I fought it. Hated it. Hated you. Well, at least the part of you who firmly believed that it happened to you for a reason. What could that reason be? To make you suffer? And for what? To torture me?

I hated God. I hated Him for giving you to me only to take you away too soon.

For the longest time, I was wallowing in feelings of bitterness. I was mad. At whatever or whoever really, I couldn’t figure out. Maybe I was mad at the whole world. And at you for being steadfast in your faith. Couldn’t you or your faith nurse you back to health? I was mad at myself. For being unreasonable. I knew that when I would think things over, really think things over, I’d become more understanding. But I was too mad and hurt to think, to let God soothe me. I was specifically mad at Him. His reason for letting you get sick eluded me.

All my pain, my anger, compounded when we lost our battle for your life. Too mad and in too much pain, I withdraw deeper into myself, further nursing my anger, my hurts. Gradually spiraling towards feelings of despair, I stopped believing in anything good.

But something you used to say came back to me. “If there is anything I couldn’t let myself lose, it is my hope.”

Then I remembered. And I couldn’t help but smile as I was reminded of your zest for life, of your boundless energy that was fiercer than ever even when your health was failing.

You were never afraid of death, were you? You lived your life courageously that rather than death claiming you, you embraced it, as calmly as you have embraced life and lived it to the fullest.

While I lived mine in waste.

I couldn’t go back, I knew. But I knew too that I could change my view of things. That even when I still mourned your loss, I could bear it not with anger or despair but with hope.

I still couldn’t understand the reason why you were taken from me too soon. Maybe it was to teach me to be in control of my attitude towards circumstances that were beyond my control. Or maybe it was to teach me something about faith, to bring me closer to God and let me improve my personal relationship with Him. Or maybe it was about teaching me how to truly love someone but to love him in a greater way by letting him go.

Or maybe I just shouldn’t think about the why.

“Let it go,” you said in your deathbed. Then, I didn’t know what you meant. I even thought that the pain might be taking its toll on you that instead of using the personal pronoun “me,” you used “it.”

But now I knew better. For it wasn’t just you that I had to let go of but also those burdensome feelings of anger and placing blame on whomever I could conveniently put the blame on. It might even mean letting go of my quest for the why that I so desperately sought.

Letting go had never been so sweet.

I would always remember you, you knew that, didn’t you? And whenever I would, I knew it would not be just with love but with hope as well.

Random Thoughts # 12

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TRUE LOVE
Truly loving a person sometimes entails excusing the inexcusable in him. It is not turning a blind eye to his frailties but seeing beyond the imperfections and beholding something totally beautiful.

stuck

"move on."

my friends tell me

and i'd just smile --

a smile that just doesn't

reach my eyes

and i'd laugh

albeit hollowly

and in a voice ringing

with false conviction,

i'd even dare say,

"what for?

everything's so yesterday.

i am now over him."

but who am i fooling?

i'm stuck

in that place

where there's still an us

i'm helpless

so desperate that i refuse

to wake up

choosing to instead

be in a dream

than in an empty bed

with only my tears

for company.

it's not that

i don't want to move on

i do try

but something

seems to always

remind me of you --

little and big things

that the more i blot out,

the more they seem

to taunt me with their

presence.

much like your omnipresence.

i'm stuck

and a way out

is nowhere to be found

for even my own mind

and heart betray me.

what's worse

than not moving on?

it's being stuck here

left alone to fend for myself

and still loving the jerk

who's responsible

for all this mess.

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haunted

i left

and was adamant

about not looking back

because remembering

is as painful

as leaving...

but the mind

is a powerful thing

for it remembers.

and i find it funny

that something

seems to always

bring me

back to you --

a song, a book,

a movie, a quote...

a place, a food, the rain...

even the littlest of things.

worse,

the things i used to like

now i see and feel

with pangs

of loneliness

gnawing at me.

what's with this endless

torture?

this mockery

of my desire

to forget you?

anything and everything

seems to remind me of you

and worst, even nothing

becomes you

for even in silence,

there still is

you.

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Lies

i listened

as your

carefully

rehearsed speech

became endless

ramblings

i heard the denials

and lame excuses

but was careful

to hide the dispassion

from showing

in my face

i stifled a smirk

when panic

laced your voice

and despair

brought you

over the edge

seeing me unaffected

you expertly

switched tactics

and started to say

you're sorry

while pleading

for another chance --

your nth chance...

suddenly,

i felt so tired

and hurt

and the more

you talked,

the longer

your speech went,

the colder

my heart

had become.

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heart talk

heart,

be still

be strong

never for once

doubt your resilience

never mind that

you've been fooled not once

but thrice

or have loved and lost

a couple of times

gather strength

from your memory

of picking up

your broken pieces

and enduring

the pain of having

each broken shard,

each jagged edge

and becoming stronger

because of them

remember

how you painstakingly

put together each piece

while learning to let go

look back on the time

when in the brink

of a breakdown,

you rallied admirably

and moved on

with rare grace...

never fear

to love again

or hold back

just because

love stung you

just stay strong

and continue loving

till it hurts

no more.

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a cynic takes her bitter pill

and i could have sworn

i never knew you

whatever made me fall for you,

now i wonder?

i should have seen

the implacable man

beneath your amiable exterior

should have known

that we're too stubborn

to allow ourselves to give in

to feelings we deemed trivial

we're too rational for that,

right?

love's stupid

and lovers foolish

we cynics proclaimed

but look who's laughing

at us now -

two people in love

who couldn't quite admit it

even to their own selves

love's funny

till it laughs back

at you.

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of love. of me.

loving me
may entail
more pain

than a fragile heart 

can ever hold

it's not that i purposefully

or knowingly inflict pain

it's just that 

love sometimes hurts

even when we do our best

to make things work

it's not that i'm unlovable

it's just that i make the process

as challenging but ultimately

just as rewarding as i can make it

and not everyone 

is up to these challenges

it's not that i don't want

to commit myself to someone

it's just that it takes a lot

and a long time for me

to admit someone into my life

and this admission

is not even a guarantee

that i will love him back

it's not that i'm afraid

of getting hurt

it's that i don't want

to cause pain to anyone

it's not that i'm in a rush

it's just that i want

the right time, 

the right reason

and the right person

to fall in love with

it's not that i think

i'm unworthy 

of someone's love

it's just that 

i know my worth

that i won't settle 

for anyone 

less than what i deserve

it's not that love is ideal

my view of it is

it's not love, see

it's me.

Random Thoughts - # 6

Love

Love is undiscriminating and requires a universal heart for when we love, we open our hearts to all, not just to a chosen few.

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inner turmoil

this isn't the way i want

our story to start -
with promising romance
and possible exquisite heartache
think positively?
am trying to...
but i can't help feeling
apprehensive
i just can't...
maybe this is the way i am -
cynical
tightly wrapped in an intense need
to protect myself from possible pains
that i end up holding back
trusting but still wary
caring so much
and loving sincerely
but doing my damnedest
to appear detached
which would eventually lead to
my pushing my loved ones away...
how ironic
that in my desire
to save myself from pains
i ultimately end up
being the inflictor
of my own hurts.






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For my Beloved Friend

You have told me a lot of times that love is a gift... and I have believed you. You are a gift to me, a very precious one for to me, you are love – the very person who, being love, gives me love in its purest and sweetest form.

Love is truth. Truth, bliss. In loving each other, life is at its most colorful... in its happiest... in its peak. A simple thing is made special because the two of us share it.

Love is freedom - the beauty grasped in the conviction that when we are together, each can be just her true self, with no masks or protective barriers for we know that each is accepted and loved by the other for who and what that self really is. We have differences, yes, but these differences more so deepen our understanding of and our love for each other.

Love is growth. Each of us allows ourselves the space to grow continuously as we deepen our friendship. You grow, I grow. One wonderful thing though about our growth is that we can grow individually without drifting apart from each other.

Love is totality. We either give the best in us and give our all or give nothing at all. Love is also totality in the sense that when we love, we love the person as a whole, along with her human failures. We do not love each other only for our good attributes for if we do that, we are not loving but just admiring.

Love is blind, the cliché goes but ours is not. We see our faults and weaknesses but we choose to see beyond those. We do not dwell on our imperfections. No one is perfect, anyway. Our weaknesses are known to and accepted us part of each other but when you motivate me to know and face my weaknesses, you actually are giving me the strength to overcome those same weaknesses and the inspiration to rise above my human limitations. Motivate is the operative word - gentle and nurturing. We also motivate each other to change for the better, possibly to become the best that each can be. Again, motivate, not force, is the word - gentle and nurturing, as we are to each other.

Love is being. That’s the utmost lesson your good heart taught me. We are to be love incarnate. We are to be its essence, its epitome. We cannot love without being love ourselves.

Love is a mystery... Too deep to fathom and too powerful a word to be fully defined. It is beyond reason. Countless times have I wondered as I do now of how we became friends or when everything had started. I have come up not with answers but with even more questions to answer. For instance, was it you who initiated our friendship? I used to evade you like the plague, having heard many negative things about you, even having witnessed myself your moodiness. How come we became friends, really good friends? Is there such a thing as a destined friendship? I have asked myself those nagging questions a lot of times. I have pondered... and mused... but I have gotten only splitting headaches. It is until now that I learned this: There are things in life that are beyond reason. Ponder not for even the most intellectual and genius of us will never really fathom the wonders that only God knows of. Just let some things be what they are – puzzles and mysteries. And since our friendship is such, I will leave it at that.

Love is what you continuously share with me. Not just any love but a true, life-changing one. And so now, I want to thank you, my beloved friend – thank you for making me see things at a different perspective. Thank you for making me live my life as I have never lived it. Most of all, thank you for your love.

From my heart, thank you.

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burning (love) letters

i watched as tongues of flame

licked the papers that held

your thoughts of

and feelings for me

or whatever remained of them

i stared, mesmerized

by the slithering fire

snaking its way

over a handful of letters

scorching what had been

(un)dying professions of love

i listened

as the very same fire

cackled and roared

while its light flickered

over my face

i watched it dance

as the wind

fanned its flames

gradually reducing everything

to embers

leaving me

only with its heat

to thaw

the coldness within.

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Save me I’m hanging...

Most people would say “Catch me I’m falling” but I’m not most people so I said, “Save me I’m hanging...”

I was eight. Being the hyperactive child that I was, some of my time was spent scaling trees and picking fruits or just sitting in my favorite branch, reading a book as I relished the feel of the breeze on my face. One day, I slipped and found myself hanging on a branch, clinging on to it for dear life. The minutes I spent there seemed like years. The pain was excruciating. The longer I held on, the heavier I seemed to be and the more difficult and painful it became. I did try to pull myself up but I could not. And that’s when I thought of letting go...

Off I fell. And oh, what freedom I felt as I hit the ground. It was painful, yes, but it was a wonderful feeling - to fall, to allow myself to let go of the branch and be spared from the pain of holding on unto something that was obviously futile.

Twelve years later, I fell in love. The song “Fallin” kept playing inside my head.

Help me I’m fallin’

Fallin’ fast again

Why do I always take a fall

When I fall in love

But catch me he did not. I did try to hold on to the love I had. I thought it would be enough. That I’d be content. I was wrong of course for love is a two-way traffic thing...

And unrequited love is rapture and agony in one overwhelming package.

It was when the pain became unbearable that I remembered the time I was hanging by that tree.

It’s just that I recall

Back when I was small

Someone promised that they’d catch me

And then they let me fall

The pain was incomparable for then, it was only physical pain. Love’s sting was more vicious. It gnawed at the very void in me – wanting to be filled but remained empty.

I had to escape. No savior would deliver me from the predicament that I was in. I only had myself. Just myself.

And so I saved my hurting self...

By letting go.

your words

a game of words
played eloquently…
words of utmost caring
professed lovingly.

but did you really mean them?

you knew what made me tick.
prose. poems.
anything literary…
so you dished them out
lavishly and creatively.

words have always been
my strength.
i thrive on them.
breathe them…

but words are my weakness too…

that when you armed yourself with them,
i was helpless.

and so i succumbed
to the power of your words.

to you.

your words
elevated me
to the most blissful of joys,
they touchingly spell out
your love.

but words could turn sour
and yours did
the moment you hurled
words of accusations and excuses at me.

your words hurt.

you tried to make amends
by again arming yourself
with sweet,
maybe even carefully rehearsed
words.

but i grew deaf to them.

so i said the only word
that could save me
from you.

“goodbye.”

in your coming’s wake
are words strewn here and there
the words that used to inspire me,
the words i thrived on and breathed
are now just mere words
spoken but unmeant.

such hurtful words.

i now regret
savoring your words
for now i am left
only with
a bitter aftertaste of them
in my mouth.