The Scenic Drive

I must admit that even in these times, amidst the scarcity of friends, I have been actively meeting people… going on dates even. I think this state of being alone is what drives me to courageously putting myself out there. In retrospect, it has always been these points in time that my life moves to the next level. Being alone, or being self-reliant gives me the inner strength to move forward.

It’s quite difficult for someone like me to find another who compliments my vibe, amidst all the sub-texts, assumptions, and the sub-cultures of this cruel jungle that is the metropolis dating scene. I’m just feeling lucky that I chanced upon a person who I feel at home with. Finally, I can slow down and enjoy the view.

That Empty Chair

It is my mother’s birthday today, and I know that I have not yet gotten over her passing. The first year is always the hardest, I realize. Celebrating every special occasion would always be the first time without her. Right now, at 2am, dealing with such profound sense of sadness is just inevitable.

Last year, I remember, I did not even have the chance to greet her. Who knew that it would be my last chance to do so…

We fought a lot, especially after my Dad died. But I always knew that I could count on her. I always knew that I could count on her prayers…

We were not the best of friends, my Dad was my bestfriend. But she treated me as an equal. She was my ally through and through. Now I don’t have them both…

It just breaks my heart that no matter how much I call on them… Even in the dark of night… Even when I’m miles away… There’s no chance that they would answer that call…

I look out and there I see
Two shadows moving away from me
A tears drops as I see them fade
Once part of me, now separate…

Happy Birthday Ma…

Flood of Realizations

Waking up today to a rainy day, then having to deal with a fixer-upper of a house in the middle of it just gave me that jolt of reality that was long overdue. For weeks and months on end, I’ve been feeling like I was living outside my own existence. Maybe I was protecting myself subconsciously, amidst all the problems and heartaches that have bombarded me since my mother died.

If I could not own up to my own existence, I believe that I could never really move on. I could never really forgive. I could never really love.

These realizations might just be the first step to regaining all that again.