Iniisip ko minsan bakit may mga magulang na naging magulang.
Kung wala naman silang kakayahan para maging magulang.
Ano kayang iniisip nila bago pa sila naging magulang.
Anong kayang gusto nilang maachieve at naisipan nilang maging ama at ina.
At nang naging tatay at nanay na sila,
Bakit hindi man lang sila nagbago habang lumalaki ang mga anak nila.
Tapos wala man lang kalaban-laban mga anak nila.
Malay ba naman nilang isisilang sila.
Pwede ba silang tanungin kung gusto nilang isilang sa mundo na ang tatay at nanay ay tulad nila?
Hindi naman. 'di ba?
Tapos ngayon kailangan nilang tanggapin na lang.
Makinig sa mga nagsasabing
'Kahit pagbali-baligtarin mo ang mundo, sila pa rin ang mga magulang mo.'
At palubagin ang mga sarili nila sa pagiisip na
'Mas maraming may mas mabigat na problema kaysa sa'kin.'
Bakit ganoon..
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Monday, August 20, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
きみと わたし なりたい
Pwede ka palang malungkot dahil sobrang saya mo
Parang nanalo ka pero lahat ng tinalo mo ay kailangang maparusahan.
Aba, parang sa Hunger Games pala.
Victor ka pero kinailangang mamatay ng mga kalaban mo.
Masayang-masaya ka, gusto mong magdiwang
Ngunit hindi mo gagawin
Dahil sa ibang lugar may mga pamilyang nagluluksa dahil ikaw ang nanalo.
Hanggang kailan ko kaya hihintayin ang sarili ko.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Random
I never thought that extreme sadness and super real happiness could co-exist at the same time. Ibig sabihin nito, baliw na ako. =))
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Wheel Of Fate
Pakiramdam ko nawalan ako ng isang napakahalagang kayamanan.
Kung kaya ko lang sanang gumawa ng happy ending story para sa'yo. =;(
*Credits to Eraser Head's With A Smile and Enchanted Kingdom's Wheel of Fate.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Gusto Kong Maging Malaya
Gusto kong maranasan
Ang tumakbo sa ilalim ng ulan
Hindi naghahanap ng masisilungan
Tumalon-talon hanggang madulas sa kalsada
At tumayong muli habang tumatawa.
Gusto kong damhin ang init ng araw
Maglakad sa tirik na tirik nitong sikat
Walang paki sa pawis na nalilikha
At sa pagkauhaw na maaring madama.
Gusto kong maging gaya ng iba.
Nakapagsasalita.
Nakukuha ang gusto.
Nakapagrereklamo.
Nakaaawit.
Nakasasayaw.
Nakatatakbo nang mabilis.
Nakasisigaw.
Nakalilipad.
Nakalalangoy.
Nakalilimot.
Nakapagmamahal.
At minamahal.
Gusto kong maging malaya
Hindi nagaalala sa magiging resulta
Hindi nagiisip na hindi ko kaya
Gusto ko ng mapagod sa pagaalala.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Killer Addiction
Now he thought that the fault was his.
Too late because she would never open her eyes anymore. He would never see those tears again deliberately flowing from those pleading eyes. Her heart would never beat anymore. He would never hear its scared pounding as he succumbed to the manic soul laughing shrilly inside him. They were now a million miles away from each other.
She just went over to the other side. Too much for being together no matter what it may cost.
'Was it worth it?'
His voice was very distressed.
'Oh dear...Oh dear.. I'm sorry.'
He cried hard.
'I told you... I told you... I told you I'd just stay away...'
He felt his knees weaken from the despair and knelt down. Now on all fours, looking madly lost in his wide eyes, crying loudly as if it might wake his dead wife beside him, he banged his head on the floor. Until he died.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Rain Dance
The rain summons me.
It wants to fill me with cold.
It wants to fill me with warmth.
But I stand under a tree,
Where only minuscule drips are allowed
I see them all laughing.
They run around like lunatics.
Constantly stumbling,
Constantly falling,
Sometimes blinded by the curtain of downpour,
Yet finding their ways around effortlessly,
Yet enjoying every stinging droplet
For where they are, they also feel comfort.
They also feel secured.
They also feel complete.
They feel loved.
And they can show love the way they know how -
Fearless.
When will I leave the tree,
When will I throw the umbrella,
When will I strip off this raincoat,
When will I dance with someone under the rain.
Who can hold my hand firm enough to pull me?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Profession
A sudden burst of words.
Not yet meant to be heard.
Dazing valor, indeed!
Admire you, I admit.
Yet pain is its merit.
Self-doubt imprisons me.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
I miss You
Hi. You know, I miss You.
I remember the times I used to play inside your 'house'. My mother said I used to run around the long seats, the aisles, and toward the front, up the steps.
When I was younger and whenever my mother and I visit You, I would always want to be the first to dip my fingers in Your water. Your steadfast guards always held them inside a bowl of cold stone, I thought that was why Your water was always cold. I got sad if all the bowls were empty, though. If that happens, my mother would tell me it's fine, just do the sign without the water. It felt weird. I felt that I was playing a game of pretending and I thought You might know this and You might not like it.
The next bit of memory was during those times I always asked my mother to let me see Your Son lying on His deathbed. Oftentimes, my mother would allow me, in fact, I can't remember a time she wouldn't let me. There I remember gazing at His bare feet, at His sad face. I would spend the entire time just contently looking at Him. At times, I get annoyed whenever other people come to see Him while I was still there. Because, when that happens, I sort of get shooed away so they can get a better view. Don't they realize that being adults, they were a lot taller than me? Then my mother would get me, and we would finally go home.
Then, during my birthdays, my mother would accompany me to Your house. She said, and until now she says it, that I should thank You for another year that passed. If my birthday fell on a Sunday, I didn't mind. But if it fell on a day other than a Sunday, it felt awkward. Because I thought, Sunday was the only day one should visit You.
Then I went to high school. Every morning, I learned to visit You. Not in Your same house, though. You have a lot of houses, right. :) This one was smaller. And that was how I learned and got used to visiting You even though it was not a Sunday. I also learned to talk to You more often - reflections after lunch time, morning praises, feast days, adorations, confessions, retreats. I also talk to You every time there will be a test. I read to You the text from a small plastic card, with Your Son's picture on it. I always keep it inside my skirt pocket whenever there were tests, reports, presentations. Later on, my friends would ask me to talk to You for them. I also learned to do the same. But I also learned not to visit You anymore during Sundays.
When I went to college, however, I missed You more often.
Your house there was too far away. During my first days, I tried my best to visit You everyday. Walking every morning to Your house before my first class started. My effort and determination didn't last, unfortunately.
It came to a point when I just visit You because something went wrong and I did not know where else I can go. I'm sure you witnessed several episodes of me suddenly breaking in into one of Your houses while I tried my best to keep my tears from falling down.
I also started to lose that white plastic card and found myself reciting my own piece whenever there were exams. During those times, I felt and I thought You were starting to punish me because the distance between You and I were getting bigger each passing day. I experienced failures I never once did back in high school. I was never able to have any organizations, back in high school I was president of a club. I never got the stage for my own, back in high school I made announcements that the whole high school department wanted to hear. I got failing marks on exams, I never got them in high school. I skipped classes, I came late for a class. And I did not graduate on time.
But never mind, there were other people experiencing worse things.
The point is, I am missing You. I wonder if You miss me too.
I remember the times I used to play inside your 'house'. My mother said I used to run around the long seats, the aisles, and toward the front, up the steps.
When I was younger and whenever my mother and I visit You, I would always want to be the first to dip my fingers in Your water. Your steadfast guards always held them inside a bowl of cold stone, I thought that was why Your water was always cold. I got sad if all the bowls were empty, though. If that happens, my mother would tell me it's fine, just do the sign without the water. It felt weird. I felt that I was playing a game of pretending and I thought You might know this and You might not like it.
The next bit of memory was during those times I always asked my mother to let me see Your Son lying on His deathbed. Oftentimes, my mother would allow me, in fact, I can't remember a time she wouldn't let me. There I remember gazing at His bare feet, at His sad face. I would spend the entire time just contently looking at Him. At times, I get annoyed whenever other people come to see Him while I was still there. Because, when that happens, I sort of get shooed away so they can get a better view. Don't they realize that being adults, they were a lot taller than me? Then my mother would get me, and we would finally go home.
Then, during my birthdays, my mother would accompany me to Your house. She said, and until now she says it, that I should thank You for another year that passed. If my birthday fell on a Sunday, I didn't mind. But if it fell on a day other than a Sunday, it felt awkward. Because I thought, Sunday was the only day one should visit You.
Then I went to high school. Every morning, I learned to visit You. Not in Your same house, though. You have a lot of houses, right. :) This one was smaller. And that was how I learned and got used to visiting You even though it was not a Sunday. I also learned to talk to You more often - reflections after lunch time, morning praises, feast days, adorations, confessions, retreats. I also talk to You every time there will be a test. I read to You the text from a small plastic card, with Your Son's picture on it. I always keep it inside my skirt pocket whenever there were tests, reports, presentations. Later on, my friends would ask me to talk to You for them. I also learned to do the same. But I also learned not to visit You anymore during Sundays.
When I went to college, however, I missed You more often.
Your house there was too far away. During my first days, I tried my best to visit You everyday. Walking every morning to Your house before my first class started. My effort and determination didn't last, unfortunately.
It came to a point when I just visit You because something went wrong and I did not know where else I can go. I'm sure you witnessed several episodes of me suddenly breaking in into one of Your houses while I tried my best to keep my tears from falling down.
I also started to lose that white plastic card and found myself reciting my own piece whenever there were exams. During those times, I felt and I thought You were starting to punish me because the distance between You and I were getting bigger each passing day. I experienced failures I never once did back in high school. I was never able to have any organizations, back in high school I was president of a club. I never got the stage for my own, back in high school I made announcements that the whole high school department wanted to hear. I got failing marks on exams, I never got them in high school. I skipped classes, I came late for a class. And I did not graduate on time.
But never mind, there were other people experiencing worse things.
The point is, I am missing You. I wonder if You miss me too.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Ganoon Talaga
Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit kapag wala akong pera, marami akong gustong bilhin.
Kapag naman nagkapera na, hindi ko na mabili ang mga gusto kong bilhin. Nagi-guilty kasi ako na bumili ng mga bagay para sa akin. Bigla kong naiisip na may mga mas importanteng bagay pa na dapat paglaanan ng kinita kong salapi. Haha. So kailan ko pa kaya mabibili ang mga gusto kong bilhin? Ang hirap naman kapag laging gipit. Laging nagtitipid. >.<
Pero kung iisipin, maswerte pa rin kasi nakakapagbayad kami ng mga utang. At ang bahay namin ay gawa sa semento. Hindi katulad ng mga nasasalubong kong nanlilimos at nakikita kong mga bahay na tagpi-tagpi. Ayoko talaga silang makita. Nakakapunit ng puso. >.< Kasi, pagkatapos ko silang makita, masasalubong at makakasalamuha ko rin ang mga taong laging may pera. At makikita ko rin ang mga bahay nilang mansyon sa laki at itsura. Ang dami pang kotse sa garahe. >.< Tinatanong ko tuloy bakit ganun.
Pero, paano ba nagkakaroon ng mayaman kung walang mahirap 'di ba? Hindi mo naman malalaman na mayaman ka kapag wala kang konsepto ng mahirap. Haha. Basta magulo. Basta, parang ang sagot sa tanong na bakit ganun ay, kasi ganun talaga.
Kapag naman nagkapera na, hindi ko na mabili ang mga gusto kong bilhin. Nagi-guilty kasi ako na bumili ng mga bagay para sa akin. Bigla kong naiisip na may mga mas importanteng bagay pa na dapat paglaanan ng kinita kong salapi. Haha. So kailan ko pa kaya mabibili ang mga gusto kong bilhin? Ang hirap naman kapag laging gipit. Laging nagtitipid. >.<
Pero kung iisipin, maswerte pa rin kasi nakakapagbayad kami ng mga utang. At ang bahay namin ay gawa sa semento. Hindi katulad ng mga nasasalubong kong nanlilimos at nakikita kong mga bahay na tagpi-tagpi. Ayoko talaga silang makita. Nakakapunit ng puso. >.< Kasi, pagkatapos ko silang makita, masasalubong at makakasalamuha ko rin ang mga taong laging may pera. At makikita ko rin ang mga bahay nilang mansyon sa laki at itsura. Ang dami pang kotse sa garahe. >.< Tinatanong ko tuloy bakit ganun.
Pero, paano ba nagkakaroon ng mayaman kung walang mahirap 'di ba? Hindi mo naman malalaman na mayaman ka kapag wala kang konsepto ng mahirap. Haha. Basta magulo. Basta, parang ang sagot sa tanong na bakit ganun ay, kasi ganun talaga.
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