Archive | November, 2018

Salamin

22 Nov

Inspired by Omar and Osly

Magkamukha, madalas sabihin ng iba.

Bakit hindi nila nakikita ang tunay na katauhan nating dalawa?

Oo pala. Magkamukha hindi lang sa mukha, pati sa damit, sa lahat ng gamit.

Oo nga pala. Pati sa kurso, sinundan kita.

Lumayo tayong dalawa sa mga mapanghusgang mga mata.

Lumipad tayo. Sinubok mangarap ngunit nadala.

Nagising akong gusto na ding lumayo sa yo.

Dahil sa mundong ating narating, nasundan tayo ng mga matang nagdidikta, nanlalamang, mapanghusga!

Kinulong muli tayo sa hawla, na ikaw ay ako at ako ay ikaw!

Ang pagkakaibang kanilang makita — pagkukulang ng isa.

“Tignan mo siya, naiiba.”

“Bakit hindi ka tumulas sa kanya, nangunguna?”

Sa puntong ito, ginusto kong basagin ang salamin at hindi pumares sa iyong mga adhikain.

Ginusto kong kumawala at ganun ka din.

Nagwagi sila, pinaramdam nila na tayo’y magkalaban.

Sa aking pag-iisa, niyakap ko ang kawalan, ang espasyo na dati mong kinalagyan.

Nahanap ko ang sarili kong pagkakakilanlan.

Tama nga pala ako.

Tama ang naiisip ko noon na pilit kong binabaon.

Magkaiba nga tayo, tol.

Masaya ako sa katahimikan, mas kampante kasama ang mga kaibigan.

Pinipili ko ang aking susuyuin, mas gusto mo namang jowain saka kilatisin.

Marami pa, bro.

Pero ito ang sigurado — marami pa tayong madidiskubre sa ating mga sarili.

At ito pa ang tumino sa eksperimentong ito —

namiss kita, Tol!

Hindi ikaw ang kalaban.

Walang kailangang patunayan sa mga taong hindi kailanman matatahimik sa katotohanan.

Mahal kita, Tol!

— Ang Proud Mong Kambal

Advertisements

Someday

20 Nov

It hurts my heart. Knowing I may never make my mother understand why I am who I am.

I am who I am because of their decisions, of my upbringing and of them not witnessing my growing years.

I have been sharing my pain, begging her to understand why I am what I am.

That this is the product of my circumstances when let me be on my own.

I have spoken and written words, was brought to tears, dried my throat, hanged a call, thrown tantrums I am not proud of and I don’t know anymore.

I feel like a restless tiger inside a cage who just wants to be embraced.

But I think I have to stop fighting this.

And live NOW. I know somehow that if I keep at this I could loose myself entirely.

I must let go and not let this define me. I knew of that. But it is so hard to accept defeat when I know they are the core of my being.

When I know that I haven’t felt known to them.

I want to believe I am reaching the end of this desperation of being accepted and understood. My heart is tired. My mind is loosing focus. I must not. I must stop. I must GROW. I have to let go of the child who was left behind. The child whose innocence was snatched because no one was looking.

They say they sacrificed a lot for me.

And all I’m saying is I did too and I hurt.

I pray I won’t have to tell some hard truths Because I don’t think she will handle it well.

I don’t have to hurt, right?

For now, I’ll keep my secret and pretend to be what they want.

I’ll find my way. Someday.