Archive for September, 2010

Pain: The Incapacity to Love.

Now listening to: Broken – Lifehouse.
I try not to think much these days. I try not to speak as loud as my actions. I try to believe that every day is beautiful; because I need beauty in my life. I try to shift over those times when it gets gloomy. I try to put a smile on every day; because I need happiness.
Things sometimes, tend to go where we don’t want them to. Things sometimes, start somewhere but end up completely and entirely mistaken in the wrong direction. They tend to get carried away, and for a split of a second – you think; oh lord, what have I done?
Mounted guilt is what comes after – and lots of it. It’s a bit scary how guilty we can feel at times. It’s terrifying to know that with our actions we become assorted under groups we never thought we would ever belong in. At times, life seems to be so perfect all at once, that it falls – all at once, removing the mask it once wore, and revealing the hideous reality it truly is.
I wanted to give myself a chance to believe that the sun does shine after heavy rain. But I never pondered for a moment – what if the sun burns everything and everyone?
What if the over-shine of the sun unleashes an unbelievable fire that could only be put out by the heavy rains – the same ones I prayed upon to stop?
I never thought I’d wish for the rains to come, and turn out the fire that I accidentally triggered. I never thought that I’d rather live in a windy season, full of internal emotional cyclones – as long the only person in pain was I. I never thought I was going to hurt anyone. I never thought I would ever let myself reach that far along in the cycle. I never thought I would turn into a heartless creature.
I swore to myself I will never let anyone feel any pain. I took a pledge upon my damaged heart I shall never let a soul feel the confinement I was once felt. I promised myself I shall never join those heartless creators – the ones who broke hearts mercilessly.
Now, I know how they became heartless and why they broke other’s hearts.
The cycle of pain is quite absurd. The way it unfolds from one person to the other, breaking their heart; smashing it into little pieces, crushing it into smithereens, and then burning it into ashes – complete nothingness, is completely dire. Turning them into merciless creators; unable to love again.
The matter seems to be summed up in one devastating rational statement: “A Breaks B’s heart, B Breaks C’s heart, C breaks D’s heart… and so on…”
The definition of pain; as Google and Wikipedia both helped to define: is the unpleasant feeling common to such experiences as stubbing a toe, burning a finger, putting iodine on a cut and bumping the “funny bone”
Nevertheless, that is not the pain cycle I am refereeing to. Pain – is the incapacity to love. It is physically impossible to grab someone’s heart out of their body and break it. The actual heart cannot be broken. As my English professor has acknowledged the symbol of love however, is pointless.
The one we draw with cracks in the middle, or with an arrow crossing over, or even with another symmetrical one right next to it.
My question here, which heart should represent love; the one that is physically unbreakable, or the one we tamper with whatever way we please?
As awful as it may sound, we all end up hurting someone in our own cycle of pain. Maybe because once before, we were hurt or maybe because we can’t bare the idea of getting hurt again, or perhaps the idea of really moving on; taking that final leap of faith – is the one step we wish not to make.
The whole cycle confuses me.
Who hurt who; to begin with?
Who do we blame?
Do we blame A – knowing that A has already been broken – for completing the cycle?
Why should D pay for what A did?
Should be blame B and C as well?
Why does it have to be a cycle?
I just don’t know anything anymore.

Purity of the soul..

Listening to: Sundial Dreams

The beauty of matter lines within its profundity. I believe in all things good. I believe that we all have a good soul. I believe that no matter how hideous the actions are; the intentions however, are almost always pure.

The other day, I was with a group of friends; waiting to register for this semester’s courses. There was a huge crowd waiting as well. One conversation led to the other, and soon enough I was asking everyone if think humans are good in general –deep, deep inside. Everyone nodded sideways; disapproving my question.

I was the only person who still believed.

I was the only person who still hoped.

I was the only person.

Nonetheless, those thoughts lead me to my post tonight. Why am I unappreciated within my own circle of people?

My question is completely rhetorical. I don’t want proof of the uncertain. That way, I’d always have a wide scale of speculations, and the worst of people won’t always get to me. I find so little hope sometimes; that no matter how hard I try, I scoop down to the level of frustration.

Even with all the hurting, even with all the misunderstandings, even with all the painful accusations and even with all the painful desertions I’ve been through; I still believe that every single person out there is good – No matter how deep/far the goodness is, it’s still there.

The fountain of disappointments doesn’t pile up from actions. No, it piles up from lewd intentions. No matter how impure one’s intentions are; the actions won’t come out as bad – unless, the initial purpose was tainted.

Which brings me one sole question, why do people choose to be bad to one another?

Is it the internal pain they feel within?

Is it a way for them to avenge for their misunderstood soul?

Or is it the only way they’re heard?

Despite all reasons, it all comes down to one statement: ”If you hurt me, I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I’d want someone else to hurt you, so you’d feel the pain I felt without me actually causing it.”

But isn’t that too harsh?

Why would anyone want someone else to go through any pain at all?

Enchanted land.

Listening to: Man of the world.

I remember when I used to be a seven year old child, how alluring I found swimming pools to be. I used to always wonder how I could see my hand once I put it inside the water, but if I tried to look from underneath the water I only saw my reflection. How fascinating I thought that was. I used to think that swimming pool water was different from any other sort of water. I used to believe that it was some magical water from an enchanted land only mystical creature can see, and every time I set my body inside of it; I too, belong to that land.

I remember being the only seven year old who could swim to the “Deep”, It always awestruck me how the water got colder the deeper I went. From the moment I set foot inside the swimming pool, I feel the gravity of its deepness pulling me towards it. I swim like no other, and once I reach there – every single time – I twirl in my position over and over again, until the dizziness finally gets me.

I thought if I reached the deep end of the pool, my twirls would take me there. That’s why I always closed my eyes. I wanted to feel the magic lift me up from the water to the air, and swipe me away to that world I was never a part of. I never felt prouder of myself than those times when I reached the deep end of the enchanted land. It was my greatest joy.

I started to walk around the swimming pool wondering to myself if I could ever go to that land. The thoughts got the best of me and the more I ran out of answers or ways to try, the less I went into the pool. I felt as though I was being kept out. The magic soon started to fade, and I found myself growing away from the water that once captivated me. The enchanted world became a myth to me and my feet were never to set foot anywhere near or inside a swimming pool again.

Years later, I find myself nostalgic towards it. I find myself needing to let loose into the water and – twirl again. I find myself wanting to believe in that magical world again.

I still find it fascinating, how I can’t see my hand out of the water if my head was under the water. I find it very interesting that it still fascinates me till this day. I guess some myths just grow to be a part of us. No matter how old we get, we still believe everything we thought we true decades ago. Regardless of how old we are, or how true/fake those beliefs turned out to be.