Tacloban City

Hey, you’ve always asked what keeps me going?

Isn’t my existence in this so-called universe enough to keep me prodding? In instances life is unpredictable but not meaningless, sometimes boring but not useless. Even-though most of the times, its like a shrewd sheet spread before me in dull colors and sometimes tinted with — strong dark ones, but it appeared abstract to me, still (mid-life crisis?). Yet, myself is persistent to hang on to life. I still have to prove my worth. I don’t know if I had already committed some, but I still have to wait for the ” best”. (Don’t ask what’s “best” is all about, I am not even sure how it looks like,either).

I wanted to write- very much. I will write anything that tells about Life and matter. About revenge and forgiving. About real and hypocrisy. About the butterflies and their colors. About the death of a childhood dream. About you and me…Maybe I’ll tagged along with me a bottle or two of Mule ( coz I don’t know how it tastes); a packed of tranquilizer ( in case I felt my sanity’s slipping off ), and a dozen of marshmallows in case I craved for something childish.

And I will leave my home and trail off somewhere.

Not in those mountains ( nor the underground), but in a place where it is unfamiliar, yet it will embrace me with vigor and honesty. I will brush away the faces of so many hypocrites and forget I’d slept and fucked with poverty. My would -be masterpiece? ” When The Mountain Becomes Weary & Tired of Embracing Its People” I am not so sure about the content, yet. I just thought the title sounds captivating. I promise to give you a signatured – hard copy when its done.

Yes, when its done. Because everything in this world is full of uncertainty. We never know if tomorrow will ever come. That death might be on its way now…

That’s it. Now, what’s new with you?

Tell me.

I’m Still Breathing, ( isn’t it amazing?)