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Saturday, August 23, 2008

in mEmORiaM




Benigno Aquino (1932-1983), Philippine political figure, leading member of the opposition Liberal Party who was assassinated during the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos (1972-1986)

"Aquino, popularly known as Ninoy, married Corazon Cojuangco in 1954. He entered politics at the age of 22 and subsequently became the youngest mayor, governor, and senator to serve in the Philippines. Imprisoned in 1972 when President Marcos declared martial law, Aquino was allowed to move his family to the United States so he could undergo heart surgery. He later served as a research fellow at Harvard University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. In 1983 he returned to Manila to work in the legislative election. Despite high security, he was assassinated as he deplaned on August 21. Although an investigation commission declared that several military allies of Marcos were responsible for the assassination, all defendants were acquitted in a 1985 trial. In 1986 a popular uprising in Manila, called the People Power Movement, forced Marcos to flee the Philippines, and Benigno’s widow Corazon Aquino took office as the elected president. The Supreme Court subsequently declared his murder trial a mistrial. In a new trial that ended in 1990, 16 military officials were convicted of his murder." Microsoft ® Encarta ® 2006. © 1993-2005 Microsoft Corporation.

August 21, 2008, the very same day, 25 years ago, sent the nation into mourning. Their voice for democracy was mercilessly shot as he got off the plane that brought him home. When he landed to the ground, Ninoy became immortal.

That scene has never faded since. To those who had seen it, they became the audience of history and went on to narrate it. To the rest of the Filipinos, that scene urged them to create and become a part of history.



Ninoy's death sparked a revolution. Reminiscent to what happened after Rizal's execution. But this time, it wasn't the Spaniards or the foreign colonizers that we were against, but the dictatorship and the cruelty of a government which was tormenting its race instead of working for its benefit.

If we look at it, Ninoy's death wasn't totally a tragedy. It was our weapon in destroying the trap which held us to being puppets of an unwanted way of ruling. His life served its purpose.

Now, 25 years after, the new generation is struggling to grasp the ideals of Ninoy. Beyond the history books and the articles, his legacy must live within the lives of the young. Ninoy gave himself to make sure that we are able to live freely, with nothing to hold us back, making us Filipinos with dignity and with pride.

mico, lauron, lolo quiring



P.S. Ika-21 ng Agosto, 2008 alas-otso ng gabi, namaalam ang aking lolo. Mawawala muna ako sa blogosperyo pansamantala. Nagluluksa ako sa pagkawala niya. Nawa'y ipagdasal po ninyo ang kanyang kaluluwa.


Photos courtesy of http://www.photobucket.com/. And special thanks to Pinky Jalandoni (http://pinkygj.multiply.com/journal/item/22)

Monday, August 18, 2008

anToinE

Upon noticing the door of what used to be my room flying open, I saw a boy with a very familiar face. A vision of my childhood days gushed before me. “Oh well, a new boy in town,” I said to myself. So I scampered off to work ignoring what I saw minutes ago.

As I departed my residence, things I habitually do seem to change that very moment. Instead of taking the jeepney and say that monotonous “Manong, bayad oh…” and the usual “…sa lugar lang ‘nong.” I realized that I was walking towards work. Because of that, I arrived later than expected.

At the office, I can’t take my eyes off from the clock hanging on the wall behind me. My manager noticed it and squinted. Raising her eyebrow, I squirmed inwardly. There was silence. My officemate grew scared of the silence that surrounded us.

“Mr. Reeds, please stay after work,” she announced breaking the stillness. I groaned while my manager’s almond eyes flickered on me. She picked her book and got on with the meeting. When she finished a line, the bell rang and everybody went out the room. The manager looked at me and sighed.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Reeds? Is there anything wrong? I have noticed that you’ve been so conscious about the time. Hurrying to go back home?” she asked me as her throaty voice penetrated the deafening silence. I gave no answer.

She kept on seeking me out until I finally said, “I need to go back home as early as possible. My goldfish died.” A morbid reply. But that was not the reason, really. I needed to go home because I was mystified by that boy who was staying in my old room. I feel that he needs me.

That event came to pass unnoticed. Months after, I realized that I was following that boy wherever he went. One can even be misguided by that actuation. There I discovered the life he lived.

When the clock struck six, the boy left without a word. I tip-toed down to his room and was surprised to see his diary open on top of his study table. In it said, “I am walking on the long road of life. I can clearly see the beautiful sun pasted on the heavens.” Curiosity enveloped my being as I started reading every word written on it. “As I would continue walking on that road that was leading me to nowhere, there was this feeling of emptiness. Something seems to be missing. And so my mind ordered me to look back and not continue this endless journey. But it was hopeless. The road started to cover itself with thick mist. The clouds turned coal-black, the sun vanished, it started to rain. I started to run hoping that I would escape this horrible sight. At that very moment, the road went crooked until I saw myself and realized that I was standing on a crossroad. With so much confusion on what road to take, my heart began to beat faster. I can do nothing but helplessly cry in vain.”

“Is there no one cares? God help me!” These were the very words I uttered. Then, at a snail’s pace, the rain stopped, lighting vanished in the great beyond, the thunder’s roar disappeared.”

“Sitting on the road, I stood up and wiped away the tears that welled in my eyes. Then, I saw somebody walking towards me. He held my hand, helped me stand, and comforted me. Knowing I’ll be safe, I did not dare look at him, not even a glance. With His presence, the road became clear again despite the trauma I had with what had happened continued to eat me."

“Do you know how much I care for you?” He asked as we sat on the grass underneath a tree. Then, He continued, “When you woke up this morning, I exploded a brilliant sunrise through your widow hoping to get your attention. You were unperturbed. Later, you were walking with friends, I bathe you through thunderstorms and painted a beautiful rainbow. But you didn’t even take your time to stop and gaze at the heavens. I hope you’ll talk to me soon. I’m just near. I love you!

Reading these lines, I was deeply moved. I decided not to finish what was written. My body shook. I was guilty. I was slapped with so much humiliation that I did not know what to do or what to say. I was left hanging in the air and was tongue-tied. As I slowly went out of his room, shame enshrouded my body. Shaken, I went back to my room, called some long lost friends, and thanked them for their unconditional support.

The following morning, I woke up early. I was surprised to see myself so excited of hearing mass after fifteen years. I went next door to say my apologies for sneaking my way to his room. Again, the door flew opened.

No one was there.

He wasn’t home.

It was empty.

This is the same old story my grandfather used to tell me when I was young. For the past twenty years, the only father I have come to know was my grandfather. It left a void in my heart when he died. “Now, I’ll never know what a father’s love is,” I said to myself. For the past twenty years, I haven’t seen my father – not even knowing who, what and where he was. I grew recognizing no man as my real father. Maybe it was part of God’s plan for me. Reminiscing the story, I slowly felt a yearning – a yearning for a father’s love. Time after time, memoirs of the story still haunt me. Tears form in my eyes as I recall the very lines my grandfather said – it was the very soul of my being before I breathe my last.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

dOmiNiQuE


I can never understand my silence. Nothing seemed so possible especially when all I’ve gone through are quite different from everyone else. I found myself very contrasted from my own surrounding. I can’t help but ask “Why am I so different?” There may be times I find it so unique and made me, somehow, proud of my self. In the contrary, from time to time, I feel left out.


I am an ordinary boy everyone would come to think - a na├»ve being who is nobody’s concern. And I kind of like it even better. My story began when my parents divorced.


Mom and dad separated when I was at the tender age of sixteen. Being a surrogate parent to my younger brother was a tough duty. I had to stop schooling and had to find a job. I cried so many nights wondering where and how I could find one. Twas a great blessing that I landed one. Working in a mall – mopping every tile, sweeping every corner, and wiping every window – was, somehow, a decent and clean job. I stayed in that company for quite a long time and the management was happy to have me there.


During my stay in that place, I had lots of questions lingering inside me. Of the entire “why” and all the “what ifs” that made me think of doing so much revenge yet my conscience tells me not to. It would be so pathetic of me to do such malicious act. I keep on contemplating and hiding myself from the world I used to and learned to love. I shaped a barrier out of the disasters and of the hatred I feel deep in me. It made me despise the world and the life it gives.


Months passed and soon my fellow schoolmates, my teachers, and my friends knew what I was up to. “I don’t give a damn!” said I. No one cared, I thought, until the rumour buzzed around the whole campus. Upon hearing it, the school’s guidance counsellor called me. She told me that I have to see her one of these days. And without any hesitations, I decided to visit her office the succeeding day.


At the crack of dawn, I prepared myself to everything that might happen. I dressed my self to cloak the infamy my name was carrying - I annihilated my own reputation. On my way to the hall, I noticed that everyone was staring at me. I felt like a candle - bit by bit melting because of shame. I felt so insecured and that I had to get out of this loathsome sight. Every step I took seemed to be a very hard one. Every stride has its own feeling - a feeling of disgrace and of humiliation. Slowly, I sneaked my way into the counsellor’s office. Fear then started to envelop me – as if mortification was going to eat me whole. Her secretary approached me minutes later and told me to wait until I was called. To my surprise, I found the principal and the counsellor looking for me, too. With feelings of dread contained by me, I started to walk towards the conference room. There, everyone else was waiting.


Upon entering, the panel told me to stand at the middle of the room. I found myself cold-footed. Sweat, at that point, was dripping like water from an opened faucet. My body began to shake and feel numb. The interrogation began. There, they asked me to tell them the whole story – the story I always wanted to erase from my young and corrupted mind.


At the occurrence of remembering what had happened, I didn’t help myself but cry while telling them my story – of how dad beat mom up, of how he maltreated us, of how he placed me inside a sack and hang it upside down. Telling them of how he punched me and how blood flowed from my mouth and of how I suffered the pain it caused, of how he planned of shooting me at the head. And of how I began to look for a job to support and sustain my younger brother’s needs. I cried and cried remembering all these things until I could cry no more.


“No wonder it was a necessary thing for mom to divorce dad,” I said to myself.


I told them the information they wanted to hear. Even though my family’s reputation and dignity are at stake, I have no choice but to tell them. Soon, after hearing from me the story that was going around the campus, the panel talked with the counsellor and the principal. They let me out of the room for it was a very confidential conversation. So I walked out of the room with a great sigh of relief. The secretary sat beside me and told me that she knew everything. I just gave her a smile and nodded my head. After the long wait, they let me in again. Now the secretary has to accompany me. She led me towards the room. And with a wonderful smile, she opened the door. I wonder what that smile meant.


The principal, the counsellor, and the panel told me about their proposals. How happy was I upon knowing that the scholarship committee is very much willing to help me pay my brother’s and my school fees and that I have to worry no more.


Years passed and I graduated from college. Yes, growing without parents was a difficult for me. But it didn’t stop me from graduating Magna cum Laude. My brother is now a highly respected lawyer and I, a respected doctor. How thankful was I to the committee, the principal, the counsellor, my friends, and to everyone who helped out. And I began to realize what that smile meant.


Before, I was so embarrassed if everyone knew about my life’s story. Now, I can’t find any reason not to tell everyone else of how lucky I am. Every now and then, those bad memories still haunt me. Now, I fully understand what I feel and what to do with my own silence.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

aLbiNo

ALBINO (the lone father of five, a widower)


When I was eighteen, my parents and I used to live in a small house situated opposite an old oak tree. The place was so picturesque, a Nirvana to one’s sight. It was as if the place was not altered by any human activity. It was heaven on the face of the earth.

As a young boy, I grew contented of what the Omniscient Being has given me. It made me realize that despite life’s enigmatic nature, one can still move on live life to the fullest. I started my pilgrimage in search for my fate.

Walking on through life’s path seemed to be exhausting. But seeing the beautiful sun perfectly pasted in the vast skies, smelling the flower-perfumed air and hearing the robin singing songs of praise slowly turned my exhaustion to excitement and my frustrations to longing. Yet, I grew skeptic and realized that the road I was trudging on was leading me to nowhere. Discontentment and forlorn enveloped my being that I began to perceive that I needed someone to share my life’s glories and turmoils with.

It was when I met Sandra.

Sandra, a girl born with a golden spoon in her mouth, was the only child of a rich couple working in one of Brunei’s sultan’s private-owned companies. School was fast approaching. Knowing that she owned a portion of where our humble home was located, I decided to befriend this spell-binding goddess. Somehow, I was hesitant of talking to her and seeking her out. Our friendship grew intimate as seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours and hours turned to day. And months turned to years. Because of all the gutsy actions I made, it changed my life when Sandra and I became one at heart.

Soon, we graduated with flying colours. Her parents were against the relationship. They tried to separate us but love always prevail. They slowly understood that nothing could equal with the love she has for me. It went on for years and we reached the verdict of settling down and get married. Sandra was one of the top international investors during those times while I was a highly regarded lawyer. On the day of our wedding, oh of how I wished that day would never end.

She bore me five little angels who made me so proud of being a full-pledged father. I was blinded by it all. I never took in the meagre fact that existence was like a wheel – which we cannot hold on to something forever neither can we stay permanently at the pedestal. One has to step down.

One has to change. One has to move on.

On the tenth year of our life, Sandra was diagnosed to have brain cancer. Fear started to cloud my mind as if it was the end of the world. I began to foresee that one day she’d never be on my side again. I was stunned. As we hurriedly rushed her towards the hospital, I began to question the Divine with all the “whys.”

On the way to the hospital, seeing Sandra gasp made me feel pity towards the enchanting beauty of the girl I love most. Tears welled in my eyes seeing her struggle with the hopeful wishing that everything’s going to turn out right.

One night, when the world outside was sleeping, while the soft breeze swept each leaf of the tree, while the stars endlessly twinkled above the cosmic skies, she slowly opened her eyes and called my name. It was like that of an angel’s voice kissing my ears. Hearing her, I hastily went beside her. She smiled at me. Right then and there, tears began to fall from our eyes. She panted and tried to say something.

“I’m so tired.” she said.

“No. Everything’s going to be fine,” I replied in total disagreement.

She was weak.

She was pale.

She was powerless.

“Please do take care of our cherubims. I love you!” slowly closing her eyes and went back to sleep.

I did not understand what she meant at first. Maybe someday I would.

And on that night wandering at the twilight zone, after saying those lines, Sandra breathed her last and never woke up again.

Life is a constant struggle with ourselves and with the world. One has to face the fact that change is the only thing permanent. Though Sandra left our children and me, I know she is always with us. She’d always be in my heart and mind. I know one day we’d be together again for love views each day with eager eyes, with wonder and surprise, with fresh delight in simple pleasures.

Love dreams its dreams and dries its tears and though the busy years gather bright, enduring treasures.

Monday, August 11, 2008

siPa-aN

Sa tanang buhay ko, ni hindi pa ako nakatanggap ng gantimpala sa aking mga naisulat. Palanca Award kaya, pwede?! JOKLAng po. Bise-bisehan ang drama ko noong nakaraang linggo kaya hindi ko gaanong nabigyan ng pansin 'tong kawawang blog ko. Pahinga muna tayo sa mga EMO posts ko.

Lingid sa aking kaalaman, may nangyari na pala sa kabilang bahagi ng blogosperyo. May "KISS-ASS BLOG Awards" na naganap. Naku po! Award award ang drama ni Miss Elle. Akalain mo ba namang binigyan ako ng award? Kaya eto, hala sige, mag-award award drama na din ako.


Ano ba ang basis? Eto daw:

Incredible, original content. Chak! Malay ko ba. Baka galing lang isang lumang diyaryo ang mga ipinagsusulat ko. Chak! JOKLAng po! Ewan. Hahaha!

Overflowing creativity. Sobra. As in. Kaya kahit ako dumudugo din ilong ko. Hahaha! Meron ba ako nun? Malay ko ba. Hahaha! Ika nga daw ni Miss Elle, "Pain brings out the best in you." Chak! Parang David Salon yata yun ah! Hahaha! Kaya tara, magsapakan tayo.


Helps you become a better blogger. Hala! Paano kaya pag lahat ng tao maapektuhan sa mga isinulat ko? Emo daw kse lahat. Naks! Baka maging baliw ang lahat. Naku po! Hwag naman sana.


A bloggy friend you can count on. Ang alam ko lang eh marunong akong magbilang. Tara, turuan kita. Hahaha!


Simply inspires you to be a better person. Ha?! Talaga?! Inspires? Ano yun? Masarap kaya yun? Hahahaha!

Kagaya nga ni Miss Elle, qualified din naman siguro ako. Marunong din naman kase akong sumipa ng puwet ng tao. Hahaha!


"Do you know any bloggers that kick ass? Maybe they've got original, incredible content. Or they're overwhelming with creativity. Is is someone that helps you become a better blogger? Or a bloggy friend you can count on? Or maybe it's someone who simply inspires you to be a better person... or someone else who sends you to the floor, laughing your ass off. Whatever the reason may be, I'm sure you know at least a couple of bloggers that kick ass. Well... why not tell 'em so? "


Hmm... Meron din naman. Kaya eto, sinisipa ko sina:

LEVIUSQE. (http://www.leviuqse.blogspot.com/) Retarded ang isang 'to kaya mahal ko. Hahaha! Loko lang. Mahilig siyang magtago ng notebook. "I am the light that wants to shine like the stars in heaven," ayan, lumuwang ang turnilyo sa utak. Peace!

FLINCH. (http://www.sweptunderrug.blogspot.com/) Nakikita ko ang sarili ko sa kanya. Yun nga lang, mas magaling siyang magsulat kung ikukumpara sa akin. Kagaya ng ibang bloggers na kilala ko, he writes from the heart. Kaya kung babasahin mo ang blog niya parang nasa harapan mo lang siya't nakikipag-usap sa'yo. Penge naman ng kinakain mo.

JAKE. (http://www.twistedkamatis.blogspot.com/) Idol ko ang abogadong 'to. Napapa-twist ika nga ang utak mo pagbinisa mo ang blog niya. Bakit?! Sabi niya, "This is the story of a lawyer living in a third-world paradise; who made a life-long commitment to a partner from the medical profession; who chose to be an observer rather than a participant; who acts rather than whines; who speaks about the mundane and the profound; who appreciates the ordinary and the bizarre; and who questions the conventional.This is the story of Jake Tornado's twisted life."

Miss Elle, maraming salamat po!

Sipa-an na!

Friday, August 8, 2008

twaS i aLL aLonG

“Sure thing…” Then he started to act diversely in such a way that it’s hypnotizing him already. He doesn’t even seem to care about the things that are happening around him. I saw the shadow of the devil cloaked him and slowly poisoned his young mind until he was totally blinded by it. He knew not that I was watching from a distance. No one, neither a single soul, perceived what I was up to.

Then one day, I was horrified knowing that he hooked up with a guy. I heard all the gossips that were running around. It slowly pierced my heart and depicted a tear in my eye. To think that he’s got everything – with all the talents, coupled with the exceptional intelligence everybody gets to envy with – I pity him of being so inane and of not using all these justly. Or maybe because he was just so overwhelmed by the love he found and that was given to him.

All these lasted quite long. I tried to forget what had happened and go on with my life but it never ceased of haunting me. I felt so much guilt especially that I knew all along what was happening but I made him go on his way.

Until one day, after sleeping on a bed full of roses, his life changed into complete hell. Depression and darkness ate him up. I cry seeing him so down. It totally ate him up until I unearthed him situated in a solitary confinement – he went to see a psychiatrist. The tragedy of his love almost made him lose his sanity and it was so pathetic of me just contented of gazing at him and doing nothing. He suffered from total misery and I didn’t know if he’d be able to cope up with it all.

“I think my son needs a psychiatrist. I’m so concerned!” his mom anxiously told me.

It was Christmas time and yet I see tears cascading down from his eyes. He seemed to ask himself why those things had to happen. He was not able to embrace such reality that they’ll never be together again. I felt so sorry for I wasn’t able to help him. I didn’t even know how.

New Year’s eve came and I was seeing no hope. It’s still the same old scenario I always behold since that day I saw him with his psychiatrist. I prayed that, sooner, he’d be able to get out of it and look into the brighter side of life.

It all started when his parents departed. His mom left to work abroad; his father was busy for a job promotion; his older brother was studying. All the duties and responsibilities were left to him. Somehow, I understood why he suffered all these. It’s just like a glass – so delicate and breakable, so vulnerable – once filled with water, there’s no way out but to give up and overflow. Like him, he gave up for he wanted to see the world and behold the wonders that stand tall against him. He wanted to be free. He wanted to behold everything there is and believe that he has everything in his grasp. Unfortunately, he never became one.

All these happened when he was invited to join his friends at a bazaar. There, he met this someone. They met in a very unique way – both started as enemies coupled with all the nonsense insults. Soon afterward, I found them busy communicating with each other.

“Will you be here tonight? I need some company, I guess. Would you mind giving me your landline?”

Then he asked, “Should I give it to him?”

“No, don’t give it out. I bet you know who this person is,” answered a friend.

But everything was too late. The number was already given.

Both communicated and ended up as lovers. Neither did his friends know. So, after it all, the two was the talk of the town. It was like fire spreading quickly through dried and rotten leaves.

On that occasion, they both left the group and never returned. Since that time I saw them both walking somewhere in the city, I heard the news that they finalized their relationship. Right then and there, his world turned upside down. They said that he doesn’t talk to anybody anymore. Not even to God. Sometimes, his parents would find him crying alone in his room. He began to be paranoid - he did not eat nor sleep.

Because of too many lapses made by me, I plotted out that I should go away and leave everything to somebody who has the capability of making this boy accept the things he ought to accept and change the things he can change. Early next morning, I left saying with a though in myself that I did the right decision. There, both of us went our own separate lives.

Years later, looking back with what he went through, he was way too different. I saw him reap the fruits of his labour and reach even the peak of success. I believe that he is happy now and contented of what he has.

Years passed, a lot of people grew weary and kept on asking me who that boy was. I just told them that they’d know in time.

And as I turn my back away from them, I simply smile and reminisce – 'twas I all along.


to be continued...

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

thE cRadLe

Prologue

There are moments of grief when I see this house, moments of joy and longing for the times when these memories were made day by day so many years have passed in this small house in the woods.

They fondly call this house in the woods “The Cradle.”

Since they were a group of five guys, they used to gather here every summer. For three months, they would wake up early in the morning to pitch for firewood in the nearby woods while one would cook them their sumptuous breakfast of eggs and ham. Just then, by the strike of eight o’clock, they would start to pack their hunting bags and tarry along each other’s back to look for their prized trophy.

Down till afternoon, they would walk and walk and searching for a besetting supper of fowls or deer, or anything that would show up for a good shot. Sometimes, they would go fishing down the surging creek a mile away from their “Cradle.” At night, after their supper, they would gather around the light as they tell stories of what had happened to everyone, of the love and tragedy of years gone past. Sometimes, they would tell each other of how they dealt with life and telling them of their own story, the day they met, how they longed for each other’s company until a friend died one night on his way home from work. Then, when the owls start to hoot and wolves moan, they would take their lighted candles to their own rooms and sleep for another of memories.

Day in and day out at the “Cradle” – a place where everything begun.



PART 1 MITCH (The Psychotic and a Love Fool)

There was once a boy who lived in a world he thought was full of fantasy. He secluded himself and shaped a barrier from the undeniable world. He thought that happiness was found in all the material things that the realm has to give. It blinded him so much until he found himself longing for the love he never came to know before.

“Teet…teet…” the cell phone went.

“Where are you? Everybody’s looking for you in here!”

As I watched him from afar, he seemed to be so excited. His eyes were filled with glamour and agitation. But he never knew it’d change his life forever.

I found him standing at the door looking for his friends not knowing where to sit and to mingle. He seemed so confused as if every detail of it was painted on his face.

“Who’s he?” one asked.

“Oh, he’s the newest member of the group.”

I pity him in the sense that he never knew he was the one being talked about.

“He’s way too young to know what the world and existence is,” I said to myself. Perhaps it made me realize that I was just way too protective. Then, I heard him say, “So you’re the one who keeps on going and coming back from the group? Good thing you showed up!” He came into view as someone tactless and uneducated. As if it were he never had the sense of respect.

As I sat in one corner of that room, I observed every move, every gesture he made. Fear started to envelop my being for I know what’ll happen next.

“Can I have your number?”

to be continued...

Sunday, August 3, 2008

iT wOn'T dO YoU HaRm

This is a letter I wrote years ago. I was scheming through the pages of my old rotten diary when this struck me so much. It has been quite some time now, you see. But I am still clinging to it. I live. I love. I am me.


"Species do not change overnight, or even in the course of one lifetime. Rather, evolutionary change usually occurs in tiny, almost imperceptible increments over the course of thousands of generations—periods that range from decades to millions of years.

To study the evolutionary relationships among organisms, scientists must perform complex detective work, deriving indirect clues from the fossil record, patterns of animal distribution, comparative anatomy, molecular biology, and finally, direct observation in laboratories and the natural environment.

Like me, it might take a lifetime for me to totally change all the things I want changed. It may cost a lot for me to do as such but in the end, I know, eventually, it will be worth it.

Life is a constant world that has its never-ending changes - we have to face each circumstance with no BUTS, no WHAT IFS, no HOWS nor WHYS. We have to live life each day to the fullest and accept things as they come. Rushing things would just make all those confusions worse.

Our lives are entirely different . We came from different worlds. There may be things that I may not understand but that's sheer reality. We have nothing to do but live by it.

I am having all those wishful thinkings that fate would be good to me years from now. After all that had happened, I really don't know what and where and who to hang on to.

After all, my life doesn't have its sense of value to others anymore.

People would come and go then destroy your naiveness.

But i just cant blame them.

I wanted it all somehow."

My mom used to tell me that one has a miserable life because he chose to trudge on that path. It ends up to one's stubborness and one begins to hide and would prefer the things that are wrong.

It came to my realization that I too am a very miserable and frustrated person - because I chose to be one. Everybody has his own free will, you see. With whatever decisions you made, making or are about to make, listen from within, from the people around you.

It won't do you any harm. Just let your heart and ears be open to all the changes life and fate to has offer.