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Yen’s Blunt Weather Report

Funny how things seem so important at the instant that they are happening. They seem so crucial, so critical and very life-threatening. But really, in the grand scheme of things, all our emotions, all our doubts, all our fears, all things that haunt us, are transitory. None of them matter that life would entirely depend on it. All things come to pass. Emotions blow over, feelings change, people move on and forget. We are beings capable of adapting, of evolving, of changing, of loving better. I’m just hoping that as things come to pass, I get honed into someone with a bigger heart, a wider understanding, a calmer, more forgiving soul. I am no saint, I am far from perfect and there would be instances when such moments in life would make me put on my defenses and be selfish. I could indeed be the greatest witch or bitch. I may, indeed, seem pathetic and pitiful. But ultimately, why wallow? People may have hurt me but that’s no reason to hurt them too. For as much as it is hard to let things go and just let things be, fighting a useless cause isn’t the act of a person trying to love and live better. I would always end up regretting many of my misses, I would forever hold myself responsible for such slips and stupid mistakes. But maybe, I should also forgive myself for they seemed dear, and true, and sincere, at the time I was in such phases. There could only be learning. And there is only time that heals. So yeah, things too, shall pass.

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“When Love Arrives” By Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye

This poem never fails to tear me up. This is “awesome” bottled in a few minutes. Sarah and Phil are my language heroes. =)

My fave lines from this poem are:

“Love grew. Stretched like a trampoline.”

“Love had songs that reminded him of someone else. Songs love didn’t like to listen to. So did I.”

“Love is messier now. Not as simple.”

“And turns out, love shits!”

“Love still thinks, you are beautiful.”

“Maybe love stays. Maybe love can’t. Maybe love shouldn’t. “

“Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to. And love leaves exactly when love must. When love arrives, say ‘Welcome, make yourself comfortable’. If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her. Turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper: Thank you for stopping by.”

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Wounds That Need Stitching

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Due to an unfortunate accident while I was taking a bath this morning, I lacerated my left thumb. It’s one deep and wide-open wound that’s about an inch and a half in length. I now keep it in a tight bandage, hoping, wishing it’ll sew back rapidly. All the blood I lost while showering and the nasty look of the slash didn’t freak me out so much at first, not until my friends urged me to visit the clinic and have my injured finger checked. With fear, I obliged and thought of good thoughts instead; thoughts like cuts like this are nothing, it’s far from critical and my friends are just overreacting. To my shock, the doctor told me I should get at least one stitch on it to make healing the wound faster. I said no, no way! I said I’d go for the natural pace of curing or mending flesh. I said I am a weakling and that I am afraid of doing anything else to this fragile finger of mine. And I left the clinic with some antibiotics and instructions on cleaning the wound from the physician. And I promised to care for this little finger of mine to the utmost of my ability. Then I continued with the routines of the day: checking papers, recording grades and kidding with friends.

Now that it’s night, it dawned on me.

This is the exact same bull I’ve allowed myself to face in the past months. I chose to linger on the pain! I wanted the hard route!  I refused getting stitched and helped out from my cuts and bruises! I should have allowed all the doctors, and nurses, and loved-ones that came to care for me. I shouldn’t have thrown all my pains to the wind and just leave it hanging there. All because I’m too scared to risk, put in great effort, or move forward. All because I wanted to believe I am capable of recuperating on my own. All because I wanted to hang on to what’s left of what I had. All because I was being dumb.

Thank God this happened. I don’t mind the blood bath anymore, or the panic of getting stitched and mended without anesthesia. I shall go where the battle is, within this very body, this one mind. For really, if I want out from this mess, there’s no one else to convince me that I can, if I won’t believe I can heal. I will follow through on my word, this time. My pride can’t afford any more of these tears that don’t fall or this heartbreak that touches me whenever it gets the chance.

I will heal, in God’s name, I will.

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Summer

I know for certain that there’s a reason why another summer is here. Not that it means the blossoming of what was lost or the warming up to where we were; but that I should be reminded, should be remembering consciously, how breathing got difficult, how the earth lost it colors, and how basking in the goodness of life after the worst of storms feel like again.

Summers are lovelier now. Fruits haven’t ripened and flowers are yet to grow but it wouldn’t be forever that I weep. It’s summer that’s slowly changing me. Happiness, you are summer.