On the necessity of small sadnesses

Look at me mulling over an encounter again. I couldn’t stress further how radical the changes in my life have been in the span of seven months wrought by someone’s sudden departure and thus invalidating everything I’ve grown to know, love and want out of life, so imagine my surprise upon stumbling upon the realization that I’ve allowed a perfect stranger to inhabit my thoughts this past week or so, despite said thoughts being plagued by questions about my supposed inadequacy and other similar indulgences since January. My bestfriend tells me it is just like me to dive into something head first and without much care for the consequences I’ll probably chalk up to experience anyway, the recklessness then being justified by, at the very least, a tighter grasp on things I’ve given up trying to comprehend because of the aforementioned departure, a fuller understanding of life, yada, yada. That sounds like I’m fulfilling some pretentious artist stereotype, no?

Write about what you know, they say. And so, this return to blogging as I re-learn how to churn out poems for that manuscript I’m finishing. To be honest, at this point, I’ve given up trying to hold back the urge to get to know someone I find intriguing, strings attached or not. I’ve so much to worry about and opportunities to look forward to lately. I go at them full force, yes, but unfortunately, I employ the same temper with these things. I wish I could stay afloat and feign nonchalance but I’ve given up too on childish pretensions. It’s been so long since I actually admired someone and felt the need to learn from and all about them, from what makes them tick to what resurrects them at their lowest moments, so it’s just unfortunate how my heightened interest caused the dwindling of another’s, and without so much as a warning. Earlier this week too, someone who has been around for years told me how a horrible human being I must be that I’ve grown blatantly unaware of the fact that I’ve kept him around despite the certainty that I won’t be able to reciprocate what he has been offering for so long. That felt like a slap, a sign that I’ve to detach myself from this new one, thinking I’ve better chances of staying sane especially in light of everything else that is happening in my life if I just let this one go as early as I could, seeing as it is that everything has officially stopped making sense in this department to me. Like all else, though, this shall pass soon enough.

However, I refuse to accept that this is just the nature of encounters at this age. I’m terribly romantic and gravitate towards things, be it a cause or another encounter, who carry the possibility of consuming me. Despite of all that has happened this year, I still believe there is no other way to go but through this route. Meanwhile, there’s revising my thesis, Barthes, a paper for my first conference, work, and trying to get fit despite injury. I’ve better things to do with my time, indeed, but this one is really, really, just a shame.


Live Poem

Some people just make you want to slow down. Retain faith. Learn patience.

Sharded Verses

“Love is a choice,” my mother always says,

But this time her spatula did not point
Pragmatically in my direction.
It stirred silence on the boiling broth,
Ripples matching the excited rhythm
Of the TV sports anchor’s voice
In a basketball game my father is watching.

Now that I’m older, I’m forced to reconsider
You and my fixation on the Addams couple
As our role models forever.
One always hungry for the other.

I never listened to my mother,
But every day I see her.
And I’m older and love must be domestic,
Responsible, sensible as a haircut in summer.

Is it possible for us to make something more
Out of what we are about to have?
Of course, you do not know.
Even I do not know.
Why did I even begin asking questions?
I just wanted to write you a love poem
But I can only live one…

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