My Choice. My Curse.

I had just gotten slapped by one karmic happenstance. It shook me to oblivion. 

As the song goes, "It’s too late to apologize."  INDEED! I shattered the life of the only man who has taken the time to make me a better person. I gave up the only man who loves me more than himself because I chose to take the road less travelled. I broke the heart of The Only One who saved me from the nothing I almost become.

Now, it’s too late. Too late to pick up the pieces. Too much damage was caused. He does not deserve to marry a complete pretense with a broken spirit. But I could have pretended to be perfect for him. I could have just kept silent and stuggled within even if it means lying to myself as to who and what I really am. I could have just given him the life he’s always wanted with me. 

Instead, I chose honesty. I chose the truth. And I chose to tell him.

My choice. My curse. Hindi na yata ako sasaya ulit.  

Rebecca Knows Best

AKO: "Mom naghiwalay na kami ni Niyaku. Nag-move out na siya sa Burg."

REBECCA: "Ha? Bakit?"

AKO: "Di ko pa ma explain."

REBECCA: "Baka naghiwalay kayo ni Mark tapos pabayaan mo ung school mo. Mag-aral ka mabuti."

AKO: "Yes Mom. Worried lang ako sa pag-aaral nya."

REBECCA: "Bakit nga kayo naghiwalay? Anong nangyari?"

AKO: "Basta. Di naman kami nag-away. Hindi din kami galit sa isa’t isa."

REBECCA: "May 3rd party?"

AKO: "Wala."

REBECCA: "Sira pala ulo mo e." 

My Personal Tragedy

For years, I have made myself believe that love shall be my worst personal tragedy. The greatest threat to my sanity. The end of my time.  Yet each time I see myself inlove with a man, I become a paradox wanting to nullify the claim and longing to believe in fairy tales. That perhaps happy ever after could actually transcend my cynicism.

Today, I woke up confronted by the very thing that has always haunted me all those years. He moved out. Out of the apartment. Out of my life. Almost four years of my life, which I thought could travel a lifetime, ended. There is no one to blame. Twists of fate can sometimes catch you unexpectedly and knock you off sideways. And I’m back there again.

Love, indeed, is my worst personal tragedy.  

Freudian Slip

Human beings are funny. They long to be with people they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear–Fear that their feeling may not be recognized, or, even worse, returned.

But one thing about human being that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be remotely connected with their object of affection, even if it kills them slowly within.

- SIGMUND FREUD

Mastering the Art of Pick-up Lines

Although Alibata is part of the Filipino heritage, the modern day Juan is not familiar with these characters nor can he translate them. When I had these characters inked on my left hand (whose meaning I would never tell), it opened the doors to the mastery of various pick-up lines. Here are a few things I told people who were curious to know what the white Alibata characters meant.

My MOM, who gets agitated each time I get inked: "Rebecca" (My mom’s name is Rebecca)

Atty Lazo, AUSL’s Dean of Admissions: "Law School Vixen"

Khalid Gunting: "Wish you were Christian." (He’s Muslim.)

John: "Wish you were single. Wish I were too." (He’s married with kids.)

Starbucks barrista: "The best mistake you’ll ever make." (She didn’t get it.)

A Better Player

Imagine this.

You are always in control. Of your emotions. Of your choices. Of your adventures.  You sleep with whoever, whenever, how ever and in which manner as it pleases you. You go out, get drunk, go home in the morning with no guilt whatsoever. You’re the main man. You guard your feelings so as not to cause any disastrous situations. Detachment is an art you have mastered even when dreaming. Hardcore.

They call you a player. An expert of some sort. You take pride in this lifestyle because with this, heartbreak is a stranger.

Now comes someone. You get fascinated. Really fascinated. Then it hits you. This being is a complete duplicate of you. Yet better at this game. Emotions are shelved somewhere. More carefree. More in control.  Cockier. This person is like your mirror. Only better at this game. What do you do?