At times like this, I feel like my thoughts are speeding automobiles running on a wild racetrack, while my logical processes are the photographers trying to frame a good shot. My mind thinks too many thoughts at a time; my consciousness can only capture so much. And at the finish line, many are blurred, lost, forgotten.
I AM UNHAPPY FOR SO MANY REASONS.
There is infinite evil and wickedness inside me. I can feel it, crushing my rotten heart, corrupting what has already been beyond decay. Jaded by the ways of this cruel world, my eyes have been opened to the underside, the dark stench of the injustice of existence. They say life is unfair to everyone. But what they don’t tell you is that life is especially unfair to others, immensely more than some lucky ones, who are apparently more favored by fortune. Life is unfair that way, despite the premise of fairness in the presence of difficulty in everybody’s lives. Allow me to alter a popular contemporary quote:
Some adversities are bigger than other adversities.
I AM A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT.
Solemnly traipsing along the pavement, I tilt my head up to greet the gentle breeze from the drizzle of a moment’s past. The cold air fills my chest with electric glee. I am alive.
I AM ALIVE UNDER THE DUSKY SKY.
I turn left through the narrow gate, and come across a great many people—some like me, creatures of the night, but with a mighty rush of adrenaline in their veins; the others are hazy, drunk with the weariness of a hard day’s work. I move onwards.
I AM NO LONGER HUMAN.
Devoid of the civility shaped through years of assiduous education by society, I allow myself not a moment of weakness. I gather my cruel strength and jostle forward, paying no heed to the un-people I am up against.
I AM A PHOENIX, REBORN
The narrow orifice of the pregnant vehicle serves as the womb by which I emerge a victor. I am once again: a human. There is no shame from my prior savagery, only the feeble comfort of a dingy cushion seat.
I AM A WANDERING MIND.
Thoughts afloat the confines of my mind scamper in all directions during the half-hour it takes to get from this point to there. I have no body, but only a soul—a soul drenched with dreams and possibilities. The bus stops. I feel the languor creeping in, and all the unwritten thoughts escape from my notice. I am home.
CONTEXT: I commute daily, from home to work, then work to home. Usually, I go out of the office by six or seven, or when the sky turns mostly dark. And being a person who’s most alive during the night, I enjoy these dusky strolls. But Makati, which I like to call the rush hour city, isn’t exactly the friendliest place for commuters. Courtesy gets you nowhere. I swear to god, riding a bus during rush hour is worse than the LRT. For a brief moment everyday, people forget that they are people for the sake of getting home.
I haven’t written something, anything, for so long.
I am no longer certain if I can still find the words and phrases to fit together the thoughts and rants that float in my mind. Unstable, incoherent, irresolute. Random fragments and broken reveries instead of wholeness and definitive purpose.
This is me right now.
Wondering where, between then and now, I did something wrong.
Amidst a world that is forever in flux, where I hang on precariously for dear life.
Bitter against the thrashing of fate.
I try. But not enough, no. Never enough to satisfy.
if writing reflected the author’s state of existence, then perhaps I am doomed never again to write with wholeness of being and sensible purpose.
I feel reborn into an HD world, like everything’s at least a thousand ppi. I see further from the path, the distance frozen into frames of the smallest ISO at the narrowest aperture, with infinite light enabling the quickest shutter speed—the sharpest, clearest, queerest feeling I’ve ever had.
So this is how it feels, huh.
i am choking
set me free?
/ leave me be.
or so help me, I will burst into a furious, fiery, fuming failure.
Intensely furious thoughts running rampage in my body,
seeking a means to perforate through my trembling skin and brittle bones, splattering a frenzied gush of boiling blood to burn your wickedness in its escape.