unreal

                          Vivid, tormenting dreams. Life has been slow lately, slow to the point that what I once was in a hurry after now just seems to pass by unnoticed. Thoughts, hopes, dreams, days that go by so lazily without even the need for attention-- I wonder where all the hype went. Somewhere at the bottom of it all, are piled up questions needing answers that seem to only exist in the deepest, darkest, corners of my memory-- the memory I left behind years ago, the memory I thought I erased with the passing of time. Truly nothing remains predictable, and all of a sudden you just find yourself going back to when you last fought with yourself, with the lies, and with the truth in the lies. Just when you seem to have it all figured out, you got swept away by some cloud and you find yourself in the middle of nowhere apparently lost, and confused, asking the same questions you believed were already answered. And you think you're just so messed up, you try to understand, try to come up with a possible explanation, but all you have are false pretenses that lie everywhere. Somehow deep inside, amidst all of this, its comforting to know, that someone greater than you already knows what lies beyond the yellow brick road of your life, thus you don't need to worry too much. Life goes on, and the irony of it all is no matter how vividly real the dreams are, they remain as they are-- dreams.

dusty dreams

                  If I were in Leyte right now, I'd be on that big chair by the doorway, sitting like an Indian with crossed legs, I'd watch the sun set from a distance, marveling at the colors of the sky that are gradually changing, thinking to myself how awesome the Creator is, for life on earth has definitely been beautiful. I would be right at the shore letting my senses get the best of me, hoping to get a quick dip in the water, then eat avocado afterwards with our brown puppy who is strangely a fan of sweet smelling fruit. I would count the number of days I have left to stay and whine at my Aunt for the short-lived time. But I'm not in Leyte anymore, I can't stay and I can't whine for the limited time I have because I'm already here. The breathless take of the rising of the sun will forever be a distant memory, the tangible feel of the still water on my skin will be but a dream, and the scorching heat of the sun on my face will remain to be a sting that is not really there. I'm not close to the sea now as I was days ago, and I would never be close to it again. I can't feel the roughness of the sand in my feet, nor the stickiness of the ocean breeze on my hair. There's no more deafening silence for me, nor the choir of crickets at night, there's only me in a four cornered room feeling so far from existence and far from my own reality.