Why you should be alone.

Being alone isn’t necessarily about loneliness, solitude and all those negative words.

Just as there are two sides of the coin, there are always two completely opposite ways to look at some thing. For example, having known that someone immediately left you without saying goodbye might mean two things, probably more. One is that they were in a rush that they wasn’t able to have time to properly bid farewell. On the other hand is that they don’t want you to feel the pain of separation, even if temporary.

Look at this simple ‘goodbye’ this way. By biding farewell to a person, you actually are saying that you wouldn’t meet for a certain period of time thus you should say goodbye for now and you will see one another whenever fate calls it. Be it having the need to set an appointment with them or just serendipitous-ly meeting up with them on the street. That’s sad. It’s almost the same as cutting your communication with them, no matter how short.

By not saying goodbye, you still seem there, actually present. You are just kind-of hiding, in a sense. But this actually tells that you would be back very, very soon which is promising.

Going back, having to be alone isn’t actually something to be sad about. It is actually a time for you to be excited. To be excited about who would come see you next. To be excited to know who would come to meet you and who would actually be back quickly enough. And with these people whom you meet comes stories, or adventure. The most beautiful thing here is that you’ll eventually know who really loves you because you’ll know that they love seeing you. From time to time.

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A Shot.

After a whole day’s work, nothing beats a good and warm bath. A warm bath relieves the body from those aching muscles tired from a mountain’s climb. I am a photographer by hobby. Well, most of the time. My actual profession is a journalistic writer. However, having such work that would give too much publicity would limit my hobby so I am writing under a pen name and a hidden identity. Just earlier I climbed up a mountain and did some adventure looking for an undiscovered view. It was tiring, but the whole process of hunting, looking, seeing, taking shots, and reliving the experience is in itself very rewarding. By the way, I am changing clothes by now. Suddenly, my friend who just got home from abroad, called and said that he wanted to roam around the city. It was a cold, good night for a much-needed rest, but hell. It has been years since we saw each other. Besides, I have this sort of tug in me that there would be something exciting that’s going to happen. So packing my bag, camera, and chocolates, I went on to meet the dummy who would dare call me out this late.

The place was one of those cozy night life place. Not much happening, except that I forgot that there was a fireworks competition that is being held. Lucky that I brought my camera. A few minutes of wait, as I was battling sleep with a yawn, which was futile, the dummy of a friend of mine came into view. It was a sight you see. To have a guy like him coming towards me like one of those people which movies usually portrayed in a sunset then taken in in slow motion is really a sight. Well, I am not in the mood for a hug. So I think I kicked him in the shins. Well, after the pleasantries we held a strategic meeting on which clubs to visit. We both agreed to visit it after the fireworks display. So we waited. After a few hours, it started. I managed to secure a good place to take shot of the pyrotechnics. The photos were good. Nothing grand. The event ended and my friend pulled on me and threw me, literally, into one of those clubs nearby. The rest is just fuzzy memories then BAAAM! I’m in my bed with a hangover. Which was a surprise, I have all my bags, clothes and everything with me. Nothing weird. Well, except the breakfast on the table. With some meds. And a note.

I really have no clear memory of what happened, partly because I was bad holding my liquor and the other because I was too damn tired. I reached for the note as I settle in the chair. Wow, pretty handwriting. It was girly. It said something like thank you for last night or something. I then ate the breakfast that it came with and drank the meds. Then it hit me. There was a girl in my apartment? Yet I can’t remember anything? Who is she? Can’t think straight for the mean time though. So I just scanned the pictures last night. There might be a clue.

And among those pictures of the firework display, I found one that was out-of-place yet beautifully taken. Because with those colorful and beautiful lights, a girl was there having the saddest expression that totally contrasts the cheerful atmosphere of the event. Then I remembered. That exact moment I asked her what was wrong. She looked surprised. Then dropped a gaze on me, smiled sadly then looked up just at the time a cracker exploded and echoed throughout the night. I remember reaching for my camera that time. I took a picture of that exact moment. I scanned the pictures for more. Looking for that specific shot of hers. Then I found it. As beautiful as she is, smiling yet in tears. I do not know why, but tears found it’s way to my eyes. There is that tug in my heart wanting to ease her sorrow. I may not remember what happened last night. But this girl is special. This girl is someone I want to be with. Riddled with these thoughts I didn’t notice that there was someone knocking on the door. I paid attention to the door when I heard a quite familiar voice yet there’s no immediate name coming to my thoughts but something told me to open and see who that person is. Carefully I stood up, camera still in hand with the picture on display. Trying not to knock any furniture down along the way, I headed for the door while looking at the picture trying to make up a name. I fumbled to reach the doorknob and then opened the door asking who is it. A pretty voice said hi. Startled, I looked up. It is the same girl last night. But without the sadness that comes with that smile. dumbfounded I just stared at her. Then without breaking her smile, she suddenly hugged me and then asked, “Did you like the breakfast I made?”

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Filed under Short Stories.

A visit to a bookstore.

The smell of old paper slowly aging. The feel of dry paper against skin. Titles, each trying to grasp my attention from shelf to another. An old bookstore. Unlike regular visits to those bookstores who sell new books that come with their plastic covers and has a paper that is so smooth it seems surreal, the visit to a bookstore that sells old books is more exciting. It is like a heap of hay with a lot of valuable golden needles hidden all waiting to be uncovered. And it only comes with a good bargain of a back pain and lost time. Without further ado I started with the hunt. I do not have a good book in mind. I just aimlessly scan the summary provided in the back of the book making the hunt longer. Until I come upon a familiar book.

It is not that special, the book that is. It’s just that I remembered someone. Hmm.. What could that girl be doing? I immediately thought of the day that we first met. It was when I was staying at the province for a vacation. I was to stay there only for two weeks and my jerk of a cousin would keep me entertained not knowing I am an incarnate of a scheming devil back then. One afternoon I was with him and my cousins playing volleyball. I am no good at such a game. Well, I tried and the ball flew directly the opposite direction. Which was totally awful. Embarrassed, I then volunteered to retrieve it. It took me some time looking for it but I found it in a patch of grass right smack in between an empty lot. To get it I have to go down to the middle of the lot that is covered with grass higher than my knees which hides who-knows-what. Well, brave and stupid little me, I went down. Right as I was reaching for the ball, I saw something green slither into view just a few couple of inches to my left. I stiffened (of course!). Breathed in. Held it. Then screamed at the top of my lungs while running up the other side of the lot. Before breaking for the run I threw the ball to where I came from. Lucky I didn’t slip. As I reached the roadside, on the other side, catching my breath I was startled to see this girl a little younger than me. She was looking at me wide-eyed. Being startled I said hi out of nowhere while still wheezing from the run that was quite long for the young me. Awkward moments preceded. Her gaze still on me. I straitened my back still wheezing trying to catch my breath. Out of nowhere she giggled. And offered a candy along with that cute little smile. I smiled back and said my name. Before she even managed to say her name, the girl was called back by her mother. I sighed. I heard her shout that maybe I should go back tomorrow to play. And I did. Since then, I spent every day of the week which so easily passed by. Inevitably the dreaded day came. The day that I should go back to the city.

That day my parents went to my tito and tita’s house and my mother is busy cuddling and playing with my two cute cousins. They were teens with all those awkward and funny stories. Since no one is looking after me at the moment, I went to call the little girl again. She might be sad because I was going away, leaving her without any words of parting beforehand. Unfortunately, she wasn’t there. Heart broken,  I went home. Back to the city with sad thoughts.

A bump on my back brought me back from these thoughts. Startled, the book fell from my hands. I apologized and was whizzed off so heartlessly. I went to collect the fallen book but am surprised to see someone picking it up. As she looked up, my world stopped. That. That cute little mole by her eyes. I can’t forget it. Again, just like before, she smiled at me. Handed me that book. Dumbfounded, confused, surprised and flushed, I again looked at the book’s title. Oh. My very first love story

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July 24, 2013 · 9:00 am

A new kind of mix.

 The sound of glasses, wine and alike, bumping into each other has been a usual night orchestra for people like me, along with the sound of bottles being collected and floor being swept. For some reason these sounds always calms my mind down. The night has been good to me. People ordered usual cocktails. Mostly beers. Men have always found their tranquil in the company of another. Noise, laughter and alcohol have showered the four corners of my club. As I collect the keys to my condo, leather jacket for the night and my phone, a staff of mine bid farewell, his thanks and pointed at the corner. Curious as to why, I looked to where he pointed completely forgot to return pleasantries. And there, sitting there in the corner table, hugging a bottle of still almost full vodka, a woman mumbling something to herself. This is a first. I do not always call my hired bartender to inform him that I would take over for the night, of course he is more than willing to let me. Now I wonder if that guy faces women like these who do not know how to handle their alcohol. I sighed. Well, what can be lost?

                 I came over to her table, tugging along a chair and a glass for myself. As I settle down I grabbed the bottle from her just to be surprised when I heard a loud clear thud as her head hit the wooden table because, apparently, she was leaning on the bottle for support. Surprised, I just stared at her for a few seconds wondering how drunk can a woman get, because all the women I’ve been with knew no other alcohol other than that of wine labels. Feeling guilty for causing her to hit her head on the table, I walked over to the bar and mixed Salt of the Border without much sugar. A treat for the lady. Walking back, I can hear an awfully loud snoring which seems to come from her. Now, I never thought that a woman that small can make that loud of a snore but it certainly brought a smile to my lips. I then proceeded to waking the little lady up and let her smell the mixture of lime and ice cream. Her eyes flitted open and her pretty little head quickly scans to her right and left making her hair get into disarray, only to make her beautifully disoriented, if that made sense. Looking at her, I thought that she must be about 19 or 21 and that a lot of women would probably kill for a look so perfect yet in utter chaos that took beauty in her form. Her hair must have had an argument and settled taking an arrangement of their own, exploding in different directions, sticking and covering parts of her face keeping only enough to see a good view of that perfect skin. The lipstick she put on now looks smudged and her lips slightly swollen as if from a kiss, maintaining a petty pout. Finally her eyes that looked so lovely with a color that is three hues darker than hazelnut brown that seems to look for attention settled on me. Flushed from seeing her just now and embarrassed for blatantly observing the beautiful lady in front of me, I again grabbed the bottle of vodka in front of me, poured my glass full, gulped it down and then closed my eyes, slowly feeling the heat crept up from my chest up to my neck. Seconds pass and when I opened my eyes, I saw her licking the spoon in her mouth looking innocently at me. Probably left a chunk of ice cream in that drink of hers. She then said thanks. For the drink, I thought. But she said thanks for not being asked to pay for that bottle that she took from the bar. This time it is my head that hit the table. Such a troublesome girl. Looking up again, I saw her trying to fit herself on the chair while aiming for a fetal position. I sat and stared at that determined expression on her face and when she managed to fit herself, blushed at that triumphant look she had. My head leaned to the the right, while thinking what a naive girl I got. I closed my eyes, then.

                    I do not know why but the faces of the women that came in my life flashed in front of me. She is unlike any of those women. She probably isn’t even used to socializing judging the way she acts with me, or even going into a bar. If she was bullied about being unable to taste wine or alcohol yet and decided to go and tried to drink in a bar alone, that would have made me giggle in my thoughts. She isn’t the usual type of girl I hang out with. She definitely is not the type of woman who left me for another man. She is like a fresh new breeze. A new breeze that I have not yet decided to let into my home.

                    Unexpectedly, she chose that moment to tell her name. Unwittingly, along with her actual age which is really young. I do not know how to react or handle her anymore. She, probably seeing my troubled expression, giggle then followed with a bright smile that almost literally brought sunshine to the closed bar. Unfortunately, it tugged at my broken heart.

                    Conversation easily followed and we kept each other company, easing each others feelings, up till the hours when I should really be sleeping for my daytime work. So, as a last treat, I mixed her one last drink. A drink made for a special lady like her. This young, captivating and innocent lady may not understand what it means for me, as a bartender to offer her such a mix as a drink but I do hope she goes back to this bar next time. Or meet her somewhere. As if predestined.

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Filed under Short Stories.

Time.

Drip.

Time. Wash away all the things we built.

Patient.

Consistent. But ever so slowly.

Take.

Thaw. Break it down little by little.

Nibble.

Claw. Bring it down ever so slow.

You.

Monster. Enemy of ours and all that we built.

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The beauty that there are in the unspoken

Much like in every discussions or conversations, there are something about the unspoken that we could take pleasure from.

In the current state of things wherein information lies at the tip of our fingertips (followed by a clicking sound) we forget to properly check the information that we get and simply accept them as an obsolete truth.

This then presents a paradoxical situation. While we are in an abundance of fact or truth found in the objective reality, people do not process the ‘truth’ which then result into a lot of misleading and usually wrong information.

Now, the beauty comes in those that are unsaid. For example, a friend tells you a story. Every one or two sentences he so excellently hangs you afterwards. Stops to smile and let you ask, ‘What’s next?’ The irritating thing about this is that he will not stop. He would continue leaving out pieces. Stopping every once in a while to tease you. To tease your thoughts because with every single time that he does that your mind takes on a turn and makes you speculate a lot of things all brought out by following the thought of the person and the narrative presented. The cause for this to happen is the most instinctive part of the human mentality – Curiosity.

This is one of the things usually practiced wrongly. One should have a better view of how and when they should let their curiosity run free and one could know it when they are exposed to questions rather that just plain old facts.

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