I don't usually write naked paragraphs and entries. Most of the time I write equivocal and ambiguous phrases so only the people who understands my soul could read me through it. But today, let me.
Someone once asked me why I like writing journals so much. I said because when I reach 60, I would like to look back and gladly re-live the feeling of what it feels like to be eight, sixteen, twenty, so and so forth, because I have no plan of stopping from writing and pouring my heart out.
It is a rainy 28th of July and I stood there, near the pedestrian lane watching people do their work. They were slow and unprogressive. I caught some of their eyes and they were dead tired. How tired and exhausted were they from the hustles of this week? More tired than my exhausted soul?
I stood there for several minutes and watched the buses go by. It's so tempting to ride one. Is there a vehicle here that travels to the ends of the earth? Come, take me.
I lost count of drivers stopping by. I nod my head out of hesitation a countless times, too. I held the umbrella a little more tight when the wind blew instantaneously. And my thoughts grew wilder as the cold dominated my body. It reminded me so much of Tagaytay. I still stood there, motionless. Also came to a thought, of how many people actually have realized that a hundred years from now all of these will be irrelevant. These people, who would actually remember that they were the ones painting the exterior look of this certain coffee shop that's under construction? No one. And it would probably be gone in a few years time anyway.
I just read a book about death and it changed my entire perception of life. My goodness, sometimes it really just takes a few sentences to turn everything up-side-down. Yes, a hundred years from now, no one's gonna remember that you walked through the streets of this city. Because in the grander scheme of things, and just as how big the cosmos, who are we to even matter? But that is not entirely the question to be asked. Rather... what will be our legacy?
My phone rang and it was a notification. I ignored it and focused my eyes on the road and cars that were passing by. I am starting to hate social media. I hate the fact that we are so much dependent on it as a platform of expression. Why can't we just go out of our way to paint murals, build miniatures, write books, poetries and songs? Social media is feeding our egos without us realizing. I hate that I am a victim of this too. But grateful to have realized it. People are preaching things they don't even practice themselves. Ten year-old children are posting nasty things and using nasty languages I wonder where their parents are. People defining love as if they can't live without it. We don't need someone to complete us. We are already complete on our own. Why the heck are you teaching your children to find love and put their entire dependence on it? Nothing stays forever, teach them to stand on their own. Afterall, ourselves are our own longest commitment.
So much for that.
My thoughts are bolder when it rains and my hands itch to write. I moved my legs to cross the street. Today reminded me of Tagaytay, but also, with my younger self on a deep thought everytime it rains. It reminded me of 2013 and years before that when I used to watch the rain pour down our tinted glass window at home. Today reminded me of Tagaytay, but also reminded me of that porch at home, and if it also raining there today. I can't wait to go home. No, I meant not the place. I meant me. I can't wait to go home to myself. One day, when the rain stops pouring. It'll be so much clearer, the fogs would go away and I would know which way to go. One day.
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