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Binangonan, Rizal. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Let me tell you a story.

There’s a man who is constantly searching. Searching for what, we don’t know yet. I think he doesn’t still know it yet. He is always wandering, never staying in one place for too long. Even if he stays in one city for a couple of years, he gets easily antsy and finds that he needs to move houses after a year or so. He is a restless soul.

At some point he thought what he was searching for is a home. He asked her for a home and she gladly gave him that. For a time it seems like he was home.

However, his spirit could never be still in one place. She knew that from the very beginning it was his nature but she thought that the ticking of the clock, the natural propensity of the body to get weary could finally anchor him down. It was her worst fear. But the time has come: his spirit longed to fly again. He felt caged. She refused to believe it was happening again and it was already too late when she realized that some people are created to be lone wolves. He may be an ambivert on the surface but deep inside she knows that he will thrive more being alone. It was already too late when she learned that there are different kinds of partnerships; it doesn’t mean that they have to be together. A partnership is an understanding of each other’s spirit, supporting each other without having to cage one another.

She had to let go and let him sail into the horizon against the setting sun. Sunsets mark the end of a chapter; but it is also a promise of a new one that both of them could write separately as their spirits dictate. She is just asking the Boatman to take care of the lone wolf in this journey. She whispered to the winds and waves and asked them to be gentle and to carry the wolf and the vessel safely to wherever the Boatman will direct them.

Then she scattered light on the boat as a farewell, to serve as a beacon in the night until daybreak when he finally writes a new chapter.

Maybe someday he can look back and remember he used to have a home somewhere on that hill, in that island in the middle of nowhere. Maybe when he comes to visit, that house in the middle of nowhere could be locked as nobody is home for she has embarked on an adventure of her own like slaying dragons and casting spells over kingdoms.

Or maybe it may still have smoke billowing from the chimney and a warm glow of candlelight that can be seen through the window from the outside, welcoming him back.

Maybe.

Sorry

The book is closed. I had to say all these things to him, to let go of my anger. To find my release. All he can say is sorry and take care.

I think I can move on now.

I remember
Walking in the rain
No umbrella
With your arms around me
How can I forget
That was the last time

I saw you
Waving down a taxi
Getting on without me
And you’re sorry
How can I forget
That was the last time

You’re sorry
You’re sorry
Sorry, sorry

I remember
Somewhere in a dream
A man without a face
It was you
You were quiet
I knew what you were thinking but
You couldn’t say it
Letting go of the feeling
Things ain’t what they are now
Rain is falling no umbrella
I remember you

You’re sorry
You’re sorry
Sorry, sorry

You’re sorry
You’re sorry
You’re sorry
You’re sorry
You’re sorry

I could be evil

You checked in on me today to make sure you’re still in my good graces. You’re scared I might snap and do something evil. That’s the only reason why you’re being nice to me now. Because you know very well I could ruin you as I know the loopholes in that thing that allows you to stay here. You know that I could mess up your business.

Plus I could also hunt down and haunt your little girlfriend on social media.

Because nice people could be evil when we finally snap; you just have no idea the extent of how evil I can be.

This is all I can say for now: have a happy life with your young bitch. If you get her pregnant, I will have the last laugh, you asshole.

I’ll just have heaven strike you down.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Joy

Yoyoka is happiness in a tiny box. She made me smile even though there’s little to smile about these days. I never knew cowbells could drive the cobwebs away. Look at/hear her triple bass. She is John Bonham incarnate. And look at the joy while she plays. She was just 8 years old here. ❤️❤️❤️

And my 9-year-old couldn’t even keep her desk neat and orderly.🤦🏻‍♀️

I tried introducing my girls to rock through Cranberries but it hasn’t caught on yet. They do not like it that much when I play P.O.D. and Breaking Benjamin in the car. But there’s still hope. Slowly, Nirvana and Rage Against The Machine will make their way in.

And as for Yoyoka, continue loving Led Zep and Nirvana. The world needs you. Her family is sooo cool as well! Look at her mom rock out to Rage Against the Machine, with her aunt playing the bass. During quarantine.

I am saved again by music. Thank God for music.

Liar, liar, your pants are on fire!

I am convinced that he has this thing for this co-worker that he has been singing praises for months and months on end. He even wanted to get her for the other company where he is a partner. But he had always insisted she is almost half his age and she’s a lesbian. I won’t be surprised if there’s already something going on now that he’s free.

Sorry, been there. I’m not stupid. She’s the reason you’ve treated me really badly.

I hate you. I hope you rot in hell.

I am the worst person you will cross swords with. I am the person you should fear the most now.

Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.