On Losing Ibrahim. And Others.

I didn't realize how much I treasured someone's mind until it was too late. I keep thinking that maybe, perhaps, I had shown my ugly colors too fast and got him scared. Or maybe he was just as brilliant and smart as I thought he was and realized that prolonging contact with me would sully him, taint him even. I really can't say that I'm a good influence. I have a jar full of wicked things inside my chest. Most people do but I'm better at hiding them. Most people have petty affairs, tangible worldly concerns. Mine... Mine is of something deeper, something that cannot be washed. Something rooted at my very essence and perhaps would stay with me throughout the tides of time.


For the sake of this entry, I would name him Ibrahim. Naming him as such reflects upon the sentiment I carry for him for he is so dear. So very few has been on par with me. Ibrahim is one of my favorite names and I think he deserves whatever pleasantry I could grant.


There are only a number of people whose opinions I regard, whose voices matter to me. Ibrahim is one of them. I have placed him on a pedestal since I was in high school. He would always be untouchable. He would never be a friend. He would be my brilliant acquaintance, a sort of beacon for my drowning mind..Have you met such person in your life? See someone with a great mind, be scared of him and know instantly, deep down in your bones that he was someone you could look up to and be scared at the same time?


I have re-established contact with him lately and he was very insightful. I could see the smudges on my skin and see where things got wrong with me whenever we exchanged mails. I loved his views, his opinions. Like all that is good, though, he stopped his correspondence of course.


And as usual, I got too scared. It scared the shit out of me that I couldn't even find the courage to ask him where things have gotten wrong. Did I repulse him? Did I scare him? Did he think my penchant and love for homosexual relationships sinful? Did he think I was a lascivious person because I admittedly watch adult animes when the truth is that I actually am asexual? Did he disapprove of my views? Did he think I'm a liar when the truth is that I never lie when I write But that I am often blind sided and cannot see myself for what I truly am?


I didn't realize how much I am gratified with the amount of Kudos I receive over my posts, how much they uplifted me until Ibrahim pointed them out. I wanted to send a private message and gleefully tell him how he's been right and I didn't see it...but he already stopped his correspondence.


And I am too scared to ask him exactly why he decided to cut off ties.


And now that I think about it, I was always scared of him because not only was he a beacon, he was also someone I recognized even from long ago, could exchange blades with me and crush me mercilessly. That is why I have placed him on a pedestal. So very few scared me. I have met less than a handful of people who could ride the current of my hay wired mind and not get burned or get swept aside.


He was grounded.


I wonder if I would regret not having sent him a message how much I appreciated his correspondence and respected his view of the world; if I would regret not having asked him his reason for cutting off our internet ties? I'm too scared to hear his response and even more scared that he would not respond.


I feel so different from everyone.


Ibrahim is not a friend. Not even someone I considered having an amorous relationship with. But he has become dear. A dear acquaintance.


A beacon. A blinding one. One that covered a wide radius and served as light.


I wonder if he understood my feelings. If he would understand.


I also think that this is very selfish of me, placing someone on a pedestal without their permission.


But I guess he deemed my mind dirty and sinful. I failed at that, I guess, for I thought he would be indifferent with colors. I treasured his witty blows and cutting sharpness. I did not dare cloak the demon inside my mind. That was careless of me. And perhaps a smart move on his part.


Well then, it is done.


Goodbye, Ibrahim.


For I am a selfish person, and a coward one at that. I would never have the courage to establish contact once again for even when I am the abomination I am, I am not ashamed and would not apologize for the monster my mind may have become.

~*~*~

I think, maybe, that there is something wrong in my head. I generally prefer that people don't talk to me when they have nothing note worthy to say, when I am outside my work or outside my social gathering. People should avoid me. There is a time for them. I like to be left alone in my own devices when I am not conditioned for a social-relationship-catering mood. But this...the Quiet this time is irritating. I find myself restless. It is most unpleasant. My brother and sister are preoccupied with their worldly affairs and I want to hear from them. This is intolerable. While I, myself, don't talk to them when I'm in one of my moods and while I do understand them, this time, the Quiet is just grating my nerves. Unforgivable. So I expressed how I strongly miss them and I think perhaps, people would not be able to understand the message I conveyed so dearly...

  "Talk to me, peaches!!!!!! The world is not right when I don't hear from you! I feel like crawling out of this human skin, summoning Crowley and  
    unleashing Armageddon upon the world as the angels drop from the sky like cascading bullets. I would tear every living organic that kept your attentions
    away limb per limb and I'll gift wrap them with a bloody ribbon back to you. My laughter will be the thunder in the darkening sky and my wrath palpable
    as a maddening quake. So I say once again, talk to me,"

As I was saying, then,

            I miss them bastards.

~*~*~*

Buck Tick... Never thought I'd say it. There was a time I used to look at my sister (renovati) and be puzzled over her fussing and worshiping. It was in the past. Buck Tick, thanks for salvaging the day. My soul feels like soaring the thunderous sky. You are a lover whose embrace remains solid and warm. Your voice generates the mass effect and I'm your turret that keeps the enemies at bay. I feel like taking up arms once again.

My Name is Sloth

I've got a secret I decided the world should know about. I am the child of Gluttony and Greed. My name is Sloth.

I was a soldier before-- with clear eyes, level head and firm stance, I surged forward. Unstoppable.

Then the tragedy. Change started to take place. With the lines, as everything else in this world is, blurred, I started lumbering into the other side. I was chin deep in the sea of all that is Undesirable before I finally noticed where I was, blinded by Pride--my twin who was somehow sharing the other side of my brain. He possesses my transport when I neglect being vigilant about keeping the shields on my mind. I was swimming in the sea of sins when I regained control. I couldn't escape from the liquid anymore, then. I was drowning. I couldn't separate the dark pool from my limbs. We are of the same color, the sea and I. It was an eye opener. I was one with all that is Undesirable.

I am Sloth.

I remembered.

The soldier has been purged out of my system now. All that is left is the broken shell of a man who used to carry guns and stormed the battlefield while wearing a medal of honor and military fatigues.

Sloth has taken over, without a shred of humanity--devoid of human impulses. The true nature of my being, my very essence, has sipped through from the cage that contained it.

I am home now. With all the Undesirable. In this dirty sea.

I look at Lust and Envy prancing around each other like teenagers and I snort at them. They invited me to their private party but I was too lazy to take up their offer. It was much better to stay inside the flat and drink my tea. I might be the child of Gluttony which meant I have a different kind of hunger sitting inside my belly, nut I have never wanted anything more than my drink. Lust is a shallow person even when he is truly beautiful. He could make me forget but he was never someone I'd break a leg for. It's always a "no" for him. My tea would always seem preferable than him. Envy is hot and sometimes I fancy him but he has a habit of demanding too much from me so I just pass up his offers most of the time.

Wrath sits beside me. He was the most tolerable. Pleasant even. I like him. He's sharp and abrasive but his mind is illuminating. Fiery.

Wrath is always restless, but the quiet in me was like a vacuum. I find Wrath lovely. And sometimes I call him Anger. He calls me Lazy.

I suppose it ought to make sense since I'm a child of Greed... but then it doesn't. When I watch Anger drink his tea and watch the telly with me, I just think there's no other place I'd rather be. I want him and the tea, both. The world could burn right outside our window and I'll remain sitting in my chair watching the sparks and the smoke and hearing the agonized cry of all that is organic. It would be picturesque.

Anger's always angry.

But I think he shares my sentiment.

We'll watch the world burn while we drink our tea.

I'm too lazy to care and he's too angry to actually do something about it.

Someday. In the future... If I do take up the gun again and try pushing back my nature--try suppressing Sloth back into the shell--and return to the world of the living and leave the sea of all that is Undesirable,

I know I'll always take a part of Anger with me. Carry it inside my chest and treasure it desperately.

I'll burn my tongue every time I take my scalding tea and remember Anger just as I burned him in my memory.

I'll go to war, maybe burn a person or two, maybe wage war against the world even,

and all the time...

I would hope Anger was watching me from the window of our flat. As he drank his cuppa.

And I would pray deep down that he would recognize me for who I am even when I am inside the shell of a human.

I am Sloth.

LAW 7: Life is a Race and we're ALL its Runners

LAW: 7
LIFE is a Race and we're all its Runners

We really have no choice in the matter except on how to play the game.
There's no escaping it.
There could be shorcuts and longcuts but it all just means we stay in the game.

It's such a journey isn't it? Life, that is. One doesn't end with a lone goal. It's a series of goals piling up on top of one another. It's like a long race where you only get to reach stop overs but never really see the end of the line. One can only imagine but he can never truly set his eyes on the end game. Like knowing there ought to be a flag somewhere but all you see are roads and paths and alleyways. That's why life is truly a marvel. You could hate it or learn to love it. You can embrace all the shit and see the beauty of things at the same time. There's no rule that you had to choose one over the other. See things for what they really are and recognize life for what it really is. It is dreadful sometimes but it has wonderful people and some miracles dropped every now and then and they serve as water filling your dry, thirsty throat. Like this, we can be anyone we dare to be. One could choose to stay at one stop over for years and years or one can decide if he'll stay only for a short period of time before standing up to his feet again and continuing the run. There's no right or wrong with choosing the stop overs as long as one doesn't decide to simpy resign himself at one goal post when deep inside he just truly wants to leap for another more league. So don't hate people who keep running. Don't look down on people who has decided he liked a certain stop over even when he could've leap for another or two more. It's our own individual choice what we want to do with our lives. We just better stand tall and carry our chins up. There's no shame in playing the game as there is no shame even when we stumble every now and then, drunken or not. We write how we want the race to end up. We can never truly control the time but how far we could take up the game decides on us. We could be barging in at stopovers one after another then be contented for a time before we decide to march forward...doesn't really matter. We're stuck in the race so may as well learn to be good at it and love it.

...................

LAW 6: The Art of Flirting

LAW 6 :

 The Art of Flirting. How hard could it be>>?

When without knowledge or experience, let the animal part of you take over. End.

Hypothetically, and perhaps theoretically speaking, there must be some kind of rules in the art of flirting--just as there are thousands of unspoken rules about other more irritatingly mundane things. Realistically speaking though, advices in the art of flirting most likely should not come from a person who's had so little-to-none of such activity... well, one such as yours truly. But really, apart from the tangible, material and physical aspect of it, how hard could it be or how difficult could it be to try to attempt it? Take aside the outside skin, the artificial perfumes and other worldly things; I believe there are just some things that are ingrained in every cell of our existence, some things that were already existent in our human drives. We aren't wholly clean slates to begin with, the conscious part like attitudes and behaviors,- they may be influenced and directed and only filled up by human experience--but instincts, they were given birth the same time we mortals first breathed air. Instincts are there in our slates, perhaps hidden, perhaps ignored, perhaps have been behaving like the infant it was but surely growing, maturing and awakening with time, dependent on our needs as humans, as some higher form of animals. That is why in the art of flirting, I believe that no one is truly innocent of the knowledge on it. At the very least, a primal drive exists. An instinct, at the back of everyone's mind, that could turn savage anytime.

To someone whose never had experience in practicing the art, succumbing to the drive can be the only reasonable option. In short, be the animal that you are. Close off the rational thoughts that attempt to follow logic and norms and be the blind who lets something more raw and powerful take control. When to bat eyelashes, when to render a fleeting smile, when to tease with a ghost of a touch or when to put a solid caress,---such things you don't really learn from watching or from other people telling- and such things you especially can't execute efficiently by logic alone... (probably). Though these are all just theories, we're basically still animals..., there's some animals in us. It's the scent. Flirting is useless when the target can't even understand that you're flirting with him/her. Targets have to feel. Flirting is never an innocent act after all although it can be guised as one. Flirting is a purposeful act, so full of intent and scheming---though the scheming part consists only of a goal, that is, the end--the getting the target's attention or affection. Step by step actions don't have to be plotted or agonized over when you can let loose the animal anytime. They'd scent it--your intention, your desire. The subtle things suddenly become noticeable because you desired it, wanted it to happen... When the targets scents you, every little thing you do becomes magnified. A shy smile from you would seem coy and teasing, your normal gait would seem accompanied by a sweet sinful sway, your voice he or she would hear with a purr... In a way, it's like a mating process. Flirting is.. 

...I think so,

LAW 5: The Broken Blade

LAW 5 THE BROKEN BLADE

A blade that's broken shall still forever remain as what it is: a blade.

Even in its confines, in its degraded state, its steel will continuously and stubbornly refuse to get dull. And in silence or the sound of turmoil, it shall tremble in excitement to once again strike at a fellow blade or pierce through a man's flesh. You can use it in may other ways, being broken and altered, but what it really is, you can never erase. The blade can't help being what it's made for in the first place. Different people may wield it for different reasons but the blade, however weakened and broken it may be will opt to choose what it'd painstakingly longed for. And trust me, it will make known to the world when, what and if it'd finally chosen another wielder,. And it will surprise you with its own vigor after the long time it has been suppressed.

There will always come a time when you will realize what you're made of and for. There's no definite date and time, no definite landmark. It shall be completely unbeknownst. You're like an empty gauge that's being filled with skills, experience, wisdom and a little bit of everything else. You never really get to know which factors are slowly but surely making up your whole being. But you can bet your ass that without a doubt there will come a time you'll realize that the gauge been filled up. And there's one thing that's taking the large part of what you are. And trust me, this you can never change. It'd seeped through slowly and thoroughly to your core, the relationship deeper that whatever you can dare to imagine. And may the years come upon you, this one thing that makes you who you are shall also age alongside, attached bloodily to your heart.

LAW 4: JOB TRASFER

LAW 4: JOB TRANSFER.

When the job you so wanted for a very

long time comes knocking on your door,

and when you know you'd be there with just

one more leap, you'll suddenly get afraid of heights.

No matter which new job you get, it's always

terrifying to quit from the old one 

'coz from the latter you already felt safe and comfy,

no matter how unhappy you were with the work.

Why must we feel so contradicting when we ought to be celebrating?

Sitting the day to the next one--and probably to the next hundred days, chewing lips how you wished you had another job, cursing fervently how you're being unhappy, you must be really frustrated. I did. And now the job I'd been wishing, hoping and praying for calls me to quit the old one, to process some few more papers then start with them in a week's time. I'm feeling risky and scared that when I quit my old job some inevitable accidents might occur and just leave me completely jobless, losing both at the same time. Why be such a pussy.? Then I realized, the thing is, the same process and sequence of events will happen. The only difference for me is that things are taking place a bit sooner. They are happening now. I got my dream job a bit earlier. Even if I'll get it a year or a couple of years from now, same changes would still take place. So I just gotta take a deep breath and take the blasted jump and be done with it. We have to take the risk ourselves and keep our fingers crossed we'll land to that safe place.

LAW 3: Aristotle and Life

LAW 3: 

Aristotle and Life. They have two things in common.

They can be bitches--but they're damn as hell right!

 Aristotle has this notion that men are at a never

ending quest of finding their happiness, 

always on their self inflicted torture of a journey.

I'd like to think Mr. Aristotle wrong. Who wouldn't want to get the H-thing sooner?

He's just a bitch! And apparently just as Life is.

Because the latter always chooses to bite us up at our ass

every fleeting moments when we think to ourselves 

that which we fervently and most begrudgingly wish for

seemed to finally breeze by our grasps.
Well, life seemed to agree just fine with Aristotle here
making his bitchy notion just as real as how we say
Life is.

Well, that was long.

Seeing the words 'Aristotle', 'Life' and 'Happiness' never fails to put me on a disturbed mood. I keep thinking about all the crazy stuff about how being happy IS DIFFERENT from Happiness (with the capital H!). Being happy comes in fleeting moments, days, weeks... while Happiness, I believe, is something far larger, far more difficult to fully understand but which we all have some profound idea of. Happiness must encompass something deeper, more significant and greater than whatever happy feelings I'm getting and meeting it every day of my life. While we all have different notions about the things which may serve as keys to our meeting Happiness, Happiness must most absolutely be mutually linked with Contentment.

I can't help but think of the discussions I've had with Nox before about this H-thingy.

And Nox, you're just like Arisfckngtle! Why am I not receiving any freakin entries from you?! Amp!!

-Ms Roughnight