One rainy afternoon

All it took was an invitation. And I’m so glad we did that. I deem it to be the very first sincerest moment we had together. I heard genuine laughter. Saw an honest smile. Actually, I saw more than a smile; I saw a candid you I’d never met before. I was able to meet you for the first time in a long, long time. It meant a lot to me. Truth be told, I never expected I’d tell you things I just did or you’d ever wait for me to finish my food. It was so felt. The realness. That was legitimate. That did happen. And I wish time had stopped all else except the rain pouring so hard. For if it was not wet, we wouldn’t have shared umbrellas of that small talk. Rain brings joy. It makes people hungry.

Talk about randomness

Pouring continuously like rain. Storm perhaps? These thoughts keep finding their way to the keypad to get to the screen and be moving. They don’t want even the littlest censorship. They want to reach this humanity and thieve it of its emotions. The sentiments could be so overflowing that they wouldn’t be satisfied being confined within the endless corners of a loop. And they manage to come out. They have found their way to coevolve with grasps and recognitions of the unfathomable questions whose answers are just either known or refused to be known. They all gush out. Practically.

And this may be pathetic. Or tragic. Or soulful. Words have never painted an award-winning composition yet have gotten all trophies of perplexity there is. Mystification is ever the friend of a statement—a statement from the heart of a scarred pen painfully dragging itself to create a masterpiece. Masterpieces on screen and in the sky are such because of the eternal puzzle put to them by their biased breathing artist. Hence, this blog.

Talking to your crowd was like

Talking to your crowd was like
Erasing all mysteries
Between the encoder
And the decoder;
It’s like filling in the gap
Of past and present;
Like bridging still two mountains
Far apart.
Your crowd makes me show
My feeblest side
And softest corner—
If this were a circle, the always
Misconceived absence of such.
Yes, I have shown you
The precious juice of my eyes,
The same juice that welled out when
I experienced the most painful feeling one could ever imagine
Or unimagined at all.
Yes, I shared to your crowd
Slices of life at its actuality
Which young minds
May barely handle,
But there’s that belief
That the improbable emotions
Stay as they are
As totally understood.
Your crowd takes away wariness
And defies reservation
As it warms my spirit
And hugs my scars.
Your crowd pushes doors open.
And I’m glad this is all reciprocated.

To my future guy,

To my future guy,

Hi, how are you? I hope you’re doing fine there and not exhausting yourself too much.

I wish to tell you I’m missing you already. We haven’t seen each other since the moment God writes our names on that book of destiny. You know, I always wonder when I will be able to read the chapter of that book where I would meet you or you would meet me. I understand you do too, don’t you? Kidding aside, I’ve searched almost every bookstore in the world but none can give me the next chronicle of that book. I’m starting to think that nothing of that kind is available. Is our love story never actually written?

Hey, don’t be sad. I know it is. I feel it is. Perhaps the bookstore I’m looking for shall have its grand premiere on a date unexpected to both of us. At that time, I shall see you by the same shelf, looking for the same book.

When that happens, I feel that I will be so amazed at how you speak and how you act and how you look into my eyes.  Why, you are so intelligent, you’ve achieved so much, and you have so many talents. Fine, you have good looks too. Yes, you are my ideal. I’ve always wanted to meet someone so great but who is humble enough to fall in love.

You will agree with me if I claim that we see in us greater than brains and beauty. Beyond each of our own high standards and soaring expectations, we see ourselves as us. Not people high above the ground but two hearts taking chances of love, admitting that none of us can ever explain this concept in a scholarly manner no matter how articulate and gifted we are. And would you agree with me if I say that for people like us that’s the most beautiful feeling?

I also wish to thank you in advance for buying that book for me. You are thoughtful in ways unique to you. (Your ideal someone would really have ways of making you happy.)

Oh, I know you’re just out there. The author of my favorite book is readying both of us. May I just request something? Please notify me when you’ve already seen me. I might not notice you among crowds of pretenders or bunches of frauds. Any notification will do inasmuch as I will know if you really are the one for this little girl.

I know how busy you are (just like how I am) so I won’t keep you any longer. When the perfect time comes, we shall read that chapter together, okay?


Your future lady