Risk Taker

I wanna fall in love deeply and I never wanna fall out of it.

Yes, that’s how strong I am and no matter what hurt me yesterday because I loved, I will never stop loving at all. I am willing to risk everything again and I am willing to be hurt again. Because that’s how you love, there are no reasons, no buts and you don’t give up.

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That Hurtful Place

I don’t know why it feels like it’s still haunting me but I don’t think I can ever go back to that place again. It gives me that feeling that I can’t even describe and that I am just sure that I don’t want it at all. But it’s weird that I have this longingness to go back.

I miss how I was when I was there. I miss the experience studying there. I miss the restless days and nights of practicing a dozen etudes and piece. I miss how it feels like when people around you overcriticize everything you play so intellectually and passionately. I miss how it feels to go on concerts on recital halls and auditoriums too boring enough for ordinary people. Mostly, I miss to have those kind of friends having the same passion and I miss that kind of someone who would always be there on a right timing.

But I can’t beause IT HURTS and it still does. Calling it (memories) a lie would be stupid enough for me to say just because I am hurt so won’t say it. But I am hurt. I can’t risk it. I don’t want that to happen again. I feel like there’s really a damage in me. A big part of me was broken in that place and I am just starting to fix myself again.

But I like those memories. I loved it and I miss it. But that’s what hurts most – the happiest and most precious time of my life. And I am starting to miss her again. I hate that I miss her (ex) again. I hate that I miss them (ex-friends and ex-bestfriends) again. I hate that I hate it.

To tell you frankly, I can’t even recall the details of what happened. I think my brain automatically deleted those parts because it’s just too painful for me too handle. I just know that I’m hurt and I don’t want to get hurt anymore.

Open Wound

I like being moved. I think I don’t have a reason for it but I like it. I like being moved by stories, scenes from movies and/or series, music, and people.

It’s funny because this started about 2 years ago when I think a lost a big part of me over and over. I felt my worst and there is a big hole in my chest too hard to cover up. I felt pain deeply and I was an open wound since then. I don’t cry watching movies but I started to. Every scene I watch, I felt what it felt like for the characters. It’s not on if-you’re-on-their-shoes kinda thing. It was effortless for me and I don’t need to imagine the past for me to feel the pain they felt. Like songs, not the usual of relating to the lyrics but the sometimes I feel the giggles and sometimes the sadness of the music. I was easily moved like my open wound slightly touched by air. It hurts even for a bit. Still, it hurts.

I’m not emo or anything. I’ve learned this the hard way and I’m pretty sure I didn’t take the the short cuts. But I’ve learned to live with pain because we don’t really have a choice somehow. We will encounter it dozens of times in our lives. We don’t need to skip the parts where it hurts. Because if we do, we are denying nature and its process. We won’t stop hurting if we can’t start learning. And we can’t do it on our own.

Feelings are a b*tch. We can’t be selfish enough to open our wounds to somebody else’. If we do, what is there to live for? I’ve learned pain and still doesn’t let me go. It gets lighter each day but it’s still there. I don’t know when will it stop but I know it will.

All of us hurt. Some hurt worse.

I was deeply moved by an episode on Vampire Diaries’ Season 4. A part where they are in the process of lettinh go of the past.

Damon: So what? For how long? A minute? A day? What difference does it make? Because in the end, when you lose somebody, every candle, every prayer is not going to make up for the fact that the only thing that you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be. And a rock. With a birthday carved into it that I’m pretty sure is wrong.

I was moved by the scene. He’s drunk and at the cemetery talking to his dead bestfriend. The pain that consumes him keeping too realistic enough not to grief. It’s hard and I know some had been in the process. I did cry.

I wasn’t a fan of the series and now I am one. Not fond of the hot guys there but the cinematography and most especially the story line. It made me reflect on pain.

Nobody Is Ever Worth Hurting

If I am not going to believe in myself and all the things I can do, who would?

I had this heart to heart conversation with my barkada (this is a tagalog word which means “circle of friends” or “one of your circle of friends). It’s about all my problems for the past 4 years and it’s with every aspect of my life – family, friends, lovelife, school, work and many more in between. My friend, Lia, asked me why am I too positive about all things and how come I am not breaking down at this point?

I never noticed it since our conversation but I reflected at that moment and answered her, if I’m not going to believe in myself, who would? If everyone else lost their faith in me and believed more in what other people would say, what’s the point of worrying about how they think about me? It’s useless and my body can’t handle anymore hurt in my life. Whatever happened, I just thought that  I can make a good out of it like for example, I made it as an inspiration to write poems and songs for my band. Other thoughts came in like a series of flashbacks of what happened but the biggest learning that I had is that I said to myself that I would never want to be like them. I would never ever do the things they did to me to other people… ever. Whatever it is, I believe in mercy and nobody is ever worth hurting.

The Silly Thinking Of Me

I suddenly have this urge to play the guitar again. I missed it. After 2 or 3 years of running away from it, I miss it and I miss it so bad. It’s like a drug that I haven’t gotten in a while and it’s right here in front of me. It’s just the feels – more like I am longing for it and I want to be one with it.

I was so afraid. I played the classical guitar when I was at the conservatory. I fell in love with it – so with the people around it. Life there was practice, practice, practice then perform… repeat all throughout the school year. But things changed and it suddenly became a bad memory.

I have this fear that I brought everywhere I go. I can’t even get my guitar out of my case, more so playing it. Cause when I do, flashbacks hit me like nuclear canons, bombs, guns, knives that strike directly to my heart… and I feel the pain all over again. It sounds so melodramatic. Well, don’t judge because it hit me big time.

Through my escape, I tried lots of different stuff. But to tell frankly, I can getaway far enough from music. So first, I composed (bad memories can be a great source for original compositions). Second, I found myself composing and singing with a band – which I didn’t have for a long time. Third, I indulged myself and tried ukulele but don’t get me wrong, I met a lot of great people in an awesome community but sometimes I look for something deeper. Lastly, I tried going back to theater. It did brought me joyous moments and gave me a fresh start – awesome new found friends and mentors. In between those steps, I keep handling and teaching our music school. Yes, that’s the moving on me.

But lately, I find myself longing for it. Playing and practicing for hours, days and restless nights. My fingers long for the numbness and hardness of the callouses on my left hand. On my rifght, the long finger nails that is carefully shapes by a sand paper. I miss the addictive way of analyzing pieces and overthinking how it should be played. I miss criticizing every tone I make.

I miss it so bad but I think I still can’t go back. It’s weird that what I do now is play and play the guitar. I keep on arranging songs and make it an instrumental – close enough that I can get to classical music.

Will I ever go back? Can I ever handle going back? Because once I do, I think I am risking myself to be screwed all over again and my heart says enough and my heart wants more of it. Half of a half? A quarter of a half? I don’t know who wins the battle against this silly thinking of me.