“Last Year’s Wishes are This Year’s Apologies” -A recollection of past transgressions vaguely simplified in the form of verbs and concepts

I won’t really say much in this write-up like I normally do when I want to make an entry that connects. Instead, I only want to talk about verbs. Just two verbs, to be exact. Two verbs that fuck me up real nice. 

See, the problem with hopes and expectations is you are never ready for how bad you’re going to feel when things fall short of how you intended them to end up. There’s no warning of how bad and how utterly regretful it can get when you finally realize that all the promises, all the plans, all the long term goals you have set, are simply just what they are; and God forbid, what they’re only ever going to be. Concepts. 

Concepts of good intentions. 

My friends, there is nothing more poisonous, more toxic, more morally damaging to the heart and mind, than the promise of good intentions set as concepts and supported by the verbs Will, and Can

Supporting Verb 1: WILL

Will is where it starts. Will is the verb that sets everything in motion. It’s the verb that perfectly describes the promise of intention that tricks people into believing in you without you actually needing to do anything yet; or in my case, ever. 

Allow yourself a moment to digest this concept

“I will be good.”

Sounds really promising, right? But what do you say when you’re finally asked: When?

Will is a powerful verb, but its enemy is sure as hell as equally powerful if not moreso. While it holds great power in making people stay and endure your seemingly endless and repetitive stupidity in making the wrong choices, it is not without limit. Because its enemy is Time. 

Time trumps your willingness to be good simply because you can’t expect people to put their happiness on hold to wait forever for an asshole that is only willing to be good but never actually is.

Hindi ka magiging mabuti sa laging pagsabi na magiging mabuti ka.

Supporting Verb 2: Can 

Can offers the ability and opportunity to make possible of any good intention. It speaks of capacity and one’s overall skill to put in real effort in proving that these concepts of good intentions can be transformed into actual truths. 

Internalize and truly feel this concept for example:

“I can be good.”

Now, don’t get too hopeful just because it doesn’t sound like it’s strongly constrained by time; for it is, however, easily defeatable by conscious action, or lack thereof. What it comes down to is what you actually do rather than what you say you can do. Because what use do good intentions have when you can’t even pull your own head out of your fucking ass to really understand what needs to be done or what it actually fucking means to be good?

What it comes down to is being able to wrap your brain around the fact that people get tired of waiting. That they get tired of being let down all the time. That most of the time, the things you do are just as awful as the things you don’t do, and that they can’t stick around loving somebody who’s only good at saying beautiful things but never at actually doing them. 

Paano ka magiging mabuti kung ang kaya mo lang gawin ay paulit-uliting sabihin na kaya mo?

You will not be good. You cannot be good. Because the only true concept is:

“You aren’t good.”


There Is No Path. There Is Only You.

I like to believe that we follow a strict and pre-designed system of life occurrences that when combined altogether, defines us as a person. It’s very natural for people to embrace the long-standing idea of free will and the ability to make our own choices, but in the considerable years that I have spent in this wretched reality, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that freedom of choice -free will- is nothing but an illusion. A social construct that tricks us into thinking that we are the ones in control. The masters of our own fate.

Such is the case of the most (arguably) iconic villain in the entire galaxy, Darth Vader. Or, if you’re the sentimental type, Anakin Skywalker.

At a very young age, he was thrusted into a world that, like in all galaxies, had two opposing sides battling for their respective ideals. One, of course, was the light, where all good things proved dominant. Hope, peace, loyalty, love. Ideals that were to mold Anakin into becoming the prophesied chosen one that will bring back balance to the force. When you’re young and have the whole galaxy to take on, it’s easy to mistake these ideals as absolute. That once established from the core, nothing can go wrong. That you are incorruptible. All Anakin wanted to do was prove himself and show everybody that he is what he was initially made out to be; but people from the other side had other plans. This side, the dark, took advantage of Anakin’s desperate need for validation and used these ideals against him and twisted them into becoming the path that would later lead to the chosen one’s fall from grace.

The path to the dark side.

FEAR

You’re afraid of what you don’t know because not knowing is not understanding; and not understanding leads to fear of what may come.

Fear, being the complete opposite of hope, succumbs you into an inescapable state of mistrust and malice. This state prevents you from having a positive and hopeful outlook towards the unknown, by tormenting you with life’s cruel reality that there is a lot of things you won’t have the ability to control. A lot of people you won’t be able save. A lot of pain you won’t have the strength to endure.

ANGER

Fear breeds hostility. The more you discover things you don’t understand, the harder it becomes to be at peace with what you currently know.

You are constantly reminded to take things as they come, but the flaw in that is attachment and sentimentality. You refuse to accept any possibility, any outcome that isn’t in your favor, and you get angry and attack the people who tell you to embrace these uncertainties, driven by the assumption that they do not share and understand the same fear of losing what you hold dear.

HATE

Anger fuels selfish acts misguided as concern that inevitably push away the ones you love instead of pull closer.

Your desperation for control over things you can’t and shouldn’t is what will drive people to lose their faith and abandon you. With this comes pain, and with pain comes the clouded judgment of betrayal, and with betrayal comes immense feelings of hate that tips the scale even more towards your journey’s end of becoming the villain you have fought so hard not to be.

SUFFERING

Contrary to popular opinion, whether it be light or dark, good or bad, you have less to do with your choices growing up and more with what you’re ultimately bound to become in the end. The element of choice and the paths you take are merely plot devices created to mislead you from the terrifying truth that you become what you become not because you choose to be. You become what you become because you are. Like I said, it’s pre-designed. It’s an inevitability that hides under the guise of capacity and common good.

Happiness isn’t in another life.

Happiness isn’t anywhere.
Happiness isn’t real.
Nothing is real.

There is only suffering.

There is no Path. There is only You.

Bisyo

Katorse anyos ako nung simulang matutong magbisyo. Nung unang sinubukan ‘yung mga bagay na akala ko hindi ko gusto. Mga bagay na nag-umpisa nang palihim. Nang konting subok, konting testing, konting tikim. Sabi ko sa sarili ko, “hindi naman siguro masama kung paminsan-minsan lang,” at hindi naman siguro makakasakit kung hindi naman sosobrahan; kaya sige lang. Kailangan ko ‘tong pagdaanan para hindi naman ako maging tanga sa dulo at hindi makantyawan. 

Kaya dala nang impluwensya ng barkada, natikman ko ang maraming klase ng bisyo. Red Horse, SMB, Emperador, Matador, Generoso; lahat sila pinaikot ang aking ulo. Sinabayan pa ng yosi na inumpisahan sa pa-hits-hits lang. Winston. Fortune. Mighty. Marlboro. Dere-derechong pagsagad sa paglipas ng mga taon hanggang sa ang konti ay naging kulang. Hindi tumigil sa paglunod sa sarili hanggang sa tuluyang nalimutan ang paalalang “konti lang.”

“Konti lang.” ‘Yan ang pilit na paniwala sa sarili nung una akong sumubok. Sumubok sa’yo. Este, sa bisyo. Kasi, hindi naman kita gusto no’n. ‘Yun ang akala ko. Isang tao na tinipo nang palihim. Nang konting usap, konting bati, konting tingin. “Hindi ako magpapadala,” ‘yan ang laging sabi ko sa sarili. Okay nang paminsan-minsan lang, basta’t hindi sosobrahan at mawiwili. Kailangan manatili ang distansya at sukat kung hanggang saan lang, kasi mahirap masaktan. Kung kaibigan lang ang takbo, edi kaibigan lang. ‘Wag daanan kung hindi kailangan para hindi maging tanga sa dulo at hindi makantyawan.

Pero napadalas ang pagsasama gawa ng barkada. Nakaharap kita sa maraming inuman at sa hindi mabilang na mga gala. Sa mga lakad na patakas at kuwentuhang walang sawa, kaliwa’t kanang pagwalwal sa lahat nung mga yaya. Masaya. Sobra. Kahit magulo minsan. Turuan sa ambagan, agawan sa pulutan, dayaan sa tagay, aminan nang nararamdaman. Magulo minsan kasi, may mga pagkakataon na akala ko ‘yung gusto ko eh gusto mo rin. Akala ko pareho tayo nang gustong lugaran sa isa’t isa, pero ganu’n ka lang siguro talaga ‘pag lasing. Kinabukasan ‘pag wala nang tama, hindi pala tama. Mali pala ako. Epekto lang ng lasing ‘yung lambing na pagtapos mong itulog, hindi pala seryoso. 

Pass na. Kasi ang dami ko nang nainom. Hindi ko na dapat sinubukan. Ikaw o ‘yung bisyo, o ikaw ‘yung bisyo, hindi ko na alam kung saan ako nasobrahan. Haha. Sabi ko konti lang eh, pero masyado yata akong natuwa. Ba’t ba panay ang ulit ko sa’yo, eh wala naman akong napapala? Sabi ko konti lang eh, ba’t ‘di n’yo ‘ko pinigilan? Ang sakit mo na bisyo na masakit tigilan. 

Sabi, ang bisyo, sa tiyan ang punta, hindi sa ulo. Putang ina, ang tindi. Pati puso tinalo. Teka. Ayoko na talaga. Napakahirap magpahulas sa tamang dulot mo. Pass muna. Wasak na wasak na ako. 

There’s no place like your mom’s uterus

End. 
I don’t know about you guys, but to me, the word “End” just sounds and feels so scary. It’s probably due to the fact that most (if not all) endings that have taken place in my life, don’t quite fit into the “Happy” category that all the Disney films have so deliciously drilled into my brain since I was 6. 
For starters, I am a product of a forced and failed union of an egotistical mother and a dead-beat, crackhead father. Both were too much pussies to say no when they were getting hitched despite the fact that they were clearly not up for that next level shit yet; so as an unsurprising result, they ended up breaking up long before I had enough brain cells to utter the words “mama” or “daddy” or “Fuck this shit, I am not coming out of this God damn uterus.”

Best believe Walt Disney would be shitting in his grave if his film empire found a way to make a happy ending out of that. But I digress. 

Endings hurt. It’s that point where everything you have held on to so dearly finally withers away. Where no amount of effort can make up for all the bad decisions and fucked up calls. The scathing arguments, the bruises, the awkward silences, and the half-hearted apologies; I’m pretty sure my dad wanted their relationship to work as much as my mom did, but when you’re an ass destined for failure, I guess there’s no stopping it. It only takes so much pain and disappointment for one person to get tired trying, and as self-driven and contextually subjective as this entry is, that marks the beginning of the end. 

It’s a tragedy we all are aware of but never ever ready for. 

One moment you’re merrily walking in the park. The next, you’re being pushed off the edge of a cliff to fall to your impending and inevitable reality. Where there are no chutes. No soft, fluffy feels to cushion your descent. No warm embrace to catch you. 
Just the fall. The end. 

Where face meets concrete and where gravity says “fuck you.”

There’s no running back to the safety of your mother’s uterus anymore.

Hello, 2017

I can’t remember the last time I had my thoughts collected that I was able to write something close to absorbable. Everything’s a mess. Nothing in this shit show I call a life promises an outcome that’s even remotely desirable, and what’s constantly funny to a point that it no longer is is:

I. Never. Learn.

When you’re as much a fuck up as me, you’ll find very few things that make sense because when you’re as much a fuck up as me, I’m a hundred percent certain you have ruined every good thing that had had the unfortunate misfortune of coming in contact with your wicked hands. I wish I can say it’s a process. A necessary, extremely fucked up system of habits that would only later push me to acquiring a better sense of existential purpose; but given my stellar record of repeating the same mistakes over and over and over again, I’m not particularly confident.

Let’s get one thing straight here: I am a carbon-based lifeform, and carbon-based lifeforms decay and die.

My entire molecular structure is made up of  1. tiny bits and pieces of every bad choice I’ve made that I am still unable to learn from until now, and 2. amazing people I’ve hurt and couldn’t quite learn to treat properly and keep. With any luck, I might just decay a little faster given the highly toxic results that all these bad choices and failed relationships have brought upon my severely catastrophe-stricken life.

I am a walking disaster. But I like high-fives.

#TeamJoJo #HBD Kyle

So let me steer away real quick from my usual hugot and kurot-feels entries and slip something a little personal. I just really need to get this off my chest, and quite frankly, given my severe lack of existential purpose these days, I don’t really have a better way of actually blowing off steam.

So, it’s a Thursday. Yey. One more fucking push through the week and it’s hello weekend. It’s exactly 3:37pm on my watch right now and I don’t even know why I’m including a timecheck in this entry but what the hell. More characters. More length. Gah.

Anyway…like I said, it’s a Thursday. And I’m fucking pissed as hell. What’s funny is, this mood would have made a lot more sense if it were a Monday because let’s face it, nobody, in between the ages of 23 to 30, likes Monday, and there’s no better day to go ape shit on the world and go Wreck It Ralph crazy than, you guessed it right, fucking Monday; but that’s besides the point.

Again, I’m pissed. And when I’m pissed, I’m extremely petty. And when I’m extremely petty, I buy into stupid, immature arguments very easily; and combine that with my bad mouth, expect things to really get all blown up. Like, Pearl Habor blown up. For reals. I find it difficult to actually stop until I’m certain that I’ve hurt your feelings. That’s my end game right there. I will use anything and everything I can to get under your skin and make God damn sure that you don’t go to sleep without questioning if you’re even supposed to still exist in this world. I find curious satisfaction in knowing that I’ve trampled on your entire being and yes, I am a horrible, horrible person. But here’s a fun fact: Do I give fuck? Well, on rare cases, I do.

But I generally don’t. I’m sorry I’m not sorry.

What’s interesting, though, is, today is actually one of those rare cases that I do give a fuck.

I give a fuck because he’s a good friend. The kind you really want to keep. But he’s a stupid friend. And despite my incessant verbal rampage about wanting to kick his teeth in and how he’s gaano ka-putangina and I don’t consider him a friend anymore, I actually don’t mean any of that shit. Well, maybe I really do want to kick his face, but after that, I still want to be friends.

The issue here is concordance. ‘Pag may ipinakiusap sa’yo na dapat gawin mo tapos sinang-ayunan mo, putang ina, pangatawanan mo. Especially when you’re bro’s, man. It’s the fucking Bro Code on the line here. If there’s a God damn agreement between two bro’s about trust and accountability, tang ina, sagrado dapat ‘yun. Hindi dapat na-o-overlook dahil lang napilit o nakumbinse. Sana hindi ka nalang sumang-ayon kung babaliin at ililihim mo lang din pala, ‘di ba? And before you get all creative, no, I’m not trying to be righteous here. I have my fair share of lies and deceptive acts, yes, and most of my friends are aware of that; but when it comes to honoring a pact between one bro to another, Tang ina, solid dapat diyan.

Kaya putang ina mo.

I apologize for wasting a good 3, 5 minutes of your time. Tang ina lang kasi talaga.

Thank you, and shout out to my brother Kyle. Happy Birthday, man. All the best.

(Insert desired title here)

Hindi ako pasensyosong tao. Mabilis akong mayamot sa mga bagay na mabagal. Sa inuman na matumal. Sa oras na matagal. Sa taong hindi alam kung saan ako ilulugar.

Hindi ako nasanay na maghintay sa alam kong hindi darating, at lalong hindi ako nasanay na maligaw sa wala namang pupuntahan.

Kaya’t ipagpaumanhin mo kung ngayon ako magsimulang magreklamo. Kasi tang ina mo, tinuruan mo ako.

Tinuruan mo akong makuntento. Makuntento sa kaunting oras na ilalaan mo sa tuwing mananawa ka sa sarili mong mundo.

Tinuruan mo akong matuwa. Matuwa sa pagpili mo sa akin kahit alam ko na huli ako sa listahan mo.

Tinuruan mo akong maghintay. Maghintay sa mga bagay na sinabing mong totoo. Sa mga pangakong paulit-ulit mong ibinaon sa isip ko. Sa mga matatamis na salitang pilit kong pinanghawakan at dinala hanggang sa pagtulog ko; kahit hanggang sa paggising.

Na may pag-asang magkaroon ng ikaw at ako. Ng tayo.

Tinuruan mo akong magtiis. Magtiis sa mga walang linaw na sagot sa lahat ng katanungan ko sa’yo.

Ilang sahig pa ang kailangan kong laglagan bago mo maisipang saluhin na ako?

Ilang band-aid pa ang kailangan kong bilihin para pangtapal sa mga galos na iniiwan ng bawat pagkalimot mo?

Ilang pahinga pa ang kailangan kong gawin sa tuwing mapapagod sa kahahabol sa’yo?

Tinuruan mo akong magising. Magising sa ilusyon ng pag-asang magkaroon ng ikaw at ako. Ng tayo.

Putang ina, sawa na akong magpahinga. Gusto ko nang tumigil.