Confessions : Nothing Matters

Confessions : Nothing Matters

If anything, the past few days have allowed me to live the remaining days that I have in this city without rush. No plans, no nothing to follow, just taking each moment as it comes, without worries, without cares, cigarette on one hand, a hot mug of coffee on the right, experimenting, admiring the designs of smoke rings before they fade away.

Some friends tell me that I should go and write. I do not. I have all the time when I get home to do just that, and so I do take things easy.

For some reason, leaving makes me think of all that has transpired since I arrived here. And with each door of yesterday that I unlock, it then leads me to other doors, and other doors, and other doors, all reaching out to that chunk of memory we call the past.

As my friends have told me, I do have a colorful past. Please, do not be fooled by the word “colorful” though it is really that. It has the spectrum, and all the right red and dark and gray shades.

But then, if there is something that I realize these past few days, with me and my memories my only companion, it is this: nothing matters among them.

The past, my past that is. So what if I was once loved? So what if I was once happy? So what for all the things that I lost and the things that I found?

There is nothing about the past that matters. I do not know if I should be happy about this, or sad, but that’s how it is: it doesn’t matter how everything went before.

Because no matter how sweet or tragic things were in my life, its there, in the past. And for a good reason, the past is indeed dead.

With these few days spent in leisure for I know I would not have days like these when I get home, all that matters is how I live every single day after this hiatus is over.

Of course, I do have some use for the past: if anything, it’s my own personal sponge and I’m going to squeeze it of every last drop that I could, to use as water, as paint, as ink for what I have to finish. But that is all.

All that remains for me is to somehow make something worth the remaining time I have out of the garbage that is my past.

I do not know if I would endure. I do not know if I would finish it. I am afraid like I have never been before. But I have to go on, and so it, live the life I chose and sacrificed for, and die the death that is its payment.

Friends, this is how I am these days. All I know is that, after losing everything that I knew would make me happy, I should never lose the things that made me who I am: my madness, my shame, my despair, my stains.

All that matters is how I live each and every day of Project Life.

At least, I can still enjoy the remaining days in transition: between the past that doesn’t matte, and the future that may never be.

I’m tired.

Confessions : "It is The Mystery That Lingers, and Not the Explanation."

hello.

i did promise i was gonna write something about the things that leads to changes. last time, it was about knowledge, about knowing things and the changes that it brings.

on the other hand, there is its lover, its twin, its partner in the great dance that is living and dying: not knowing.

because indeed, in our lives, there are events that take hold of us, not because of what we know, of what we have felt, of what we have endured, of memories that we can smell and taste and feel.

Indeed, it is the mystery that lingers, and not the explanation.

Somehow, these mysteries that defy our attempts to uncover leads us to a sense of something that is lacking. in my life, i have realized early on that as much as knowing can be painful, so it is with not knowing.

there is this old saying about "the things that we do not know about could not hurt us". bah, if only this could be true. like all smart quips, this admittedly holds a modicum of truth, for it would not have survived otherwise. Still, only that, a fragment, depends on the weather, so they say. but as we all know by now, there are some things that we do not know that hurt us unlike any other.

i am leaving, and for the past 2 years of this fruitful life, it has come to an end. well, soon it will anyway. the seasons have lived and died, and soon so will i be of the past, of the things that could not last. i have a many questions, some with answers, many without.

i have to admit that for these things that i desire to uncover (which at some point i believe becomes so much more elusive for they are fueled by the same force as my desire to uncover them) and though i know i could hope for chance and time to allow me the grace to find them, i am also realistic that may of them would not be so.

funny, that is only i did not know where to find the answers to these mysteries that possess me. but then, as much as i can try to ask, i could also be denied.

Denied as i have been, denied as i am now, denied as i will be.

It is the mystery that lingers, and not the explanation...

and so i would leave this city, and everything i know and do not know of it. i leave with these mysteries that are all mine to keep until memory fails me but never ever mine to uncover.

Perhaps, like gifts that come in different packages, and in varied forms, these mysteries are the gifts that is given to me.

And so, i will go, here, there, anywhere..

However. Whatever.

Confession : Confessions

i have to admit, i feel at ease, without worries of giving my best and worse to my job.

no more early morning wakeup calls...no more time in/out...no more deadlines...

i sleep late..i wake up late...

still, i have to admit, what i have now are just mere weeks..about 3 more weeks to go before this piece of heaven is to be traded for something so much like hell.

as much as i am at ease..i am also a little bit eager, though i do hold myself back...for the very thought of plunging into the project seems to burn me up, seems to make time go so fast..feels like its eating up what years i have left. at least, i am going there, into the frame where i have run away from...

i also have to admit, that i am afraid.

afraid that i wont endure it. that i would lose myself. that i would lose everything.

funny, that i have almost lost everything. i tell myself, that leaving this city is not that bad, considering it never loved me anyway. and aside from friends, no one here got close enough to feel my absence. which i suppose is my fault, keeping myself and my armor always in place. which i also suppose is a good thing, for it means i do not have to add another name on the long list that i remind myself of every night, before i close my eyes...

..the names and faces flow like a lullaby...

i have to admit, i will somehow miss this city.

i will miss Cagayan de Oro, if not for the ghost of memories that wait for me there, then for the books that i found on second-hand stores at bargain prices. who knows, one last raid might prove essential for the library back home. i will miss the park, the long jeepney rides, the fried chickens..

i will miss her smile, her voice, as i have always had...

i have to admit, that there are a lot of things i do not know about. things i would like to know before i go.

but i know.