#68

Today, I woke up confused. While dreaming, moments before waking up, I was caught in between: this room inside my house. Last night, they met. Them together, it makes sense.

Here is home, there is home. I was wrong, there is an in between, after all.

#65

melissaboman

I'm guessing the view would be like this if we went to that high point somewhere in Berwick a little after dinner. I would have seen how the South East looked like at night, how it would feel surreal to look at a giant, live bokeh. I still remember that day, when you showed me around the place I wasn't sure I wanted to know. It was a beautiful place, the perfect place to clear my mind and you brought me there because you knew it would make me feel better. But we went there in the middle of winter, I wasn't wearing enough clothes, my hands were shaking and I was chilling. We decided to leave and the moment we settled in your car, you said "Oh Ate, this is also where kids do nasty things." We both laughed and I told you how you just took away my admiration of the place. That was when I knew you would make things bearable for me.

Thanks for helping me keep my sanity.

#61

it doesn't matter

if we keep it
a secret,
if no one
has a clue
that your room
knows me
more than
anyone else.

*only because I liked what I wrote some two years ago.

#57

I have recurring dreams of the ocean: of me swimming away then going back to the shore. I never get to the heart of the sea, but I keep trying.

Every day, I feel like I want to leave, that I don't belong here anymore (but this is home and nobody can't not belong in his own home), but I can't close my bags (and I can't book a flight). There is my ocean, here is my shore: there is no in between.

I'm afraid to swim because I don't know how to.

#46

There was nothing attractive about you: you were a mess. But you accepted all the ashes from all the gold sticks I’ve ever smoked while we were together. You never complained and you were always willing to keep me company when I was alone (or feeling lonely). For all these things and for keeping all my secrets (and prayers) - I miss you. I am yet to find another place like you.

#40

I started taking pictures of people and places I might miss. I started looking for clothes fit only for the weather somewhere else. I started making plans and I started talking to myself (about how we're going to do it this time).

I know I am going but I'm not sure when. I don't have a ticket, all I have is a visa; and a feeling. A feeling that prepares me to be more ready every day. 

I'm not leaving, I don't like that word. Next time I move to another place, I'll take home with me so I won't feel that I left anyone or anything behind. 

#33

Never mind that the heat tells me to stay away from this room - this place needs me the way I need it today. My desk is full of dust, I tried to write my name but it isn't dusty enough. The cork board looks bare, I try to post many thank you's but I can't seem to fill it up.

I miss my room like I miss the children's nook of the Pakenham library.

#32

It's the last day of the week, I should be happy. Or excited. Or relaxed. But I don't feel any of that. Four days into a complete cigarette break - I feel like lighting one right now.

Days like this, I just don't feel. I am here but at the same time, I know I'm somewhere else.

Tonight I'm on Platform 2, waiting for the city train.

#31

I don't like jeepney rides when I'm traveling alone. I'm (almost) 27 (lived in more dangerous places, sat in a train with drunkards on a Friday night) but jeepney hold-up/high jack stories still scare me like clowns and mascots still scare other adults.

The guy beside me looked like a typical goon in a movie - the type who wears leather or denim jackets with thick gold chains hanging on his neck; the goon who brings a knife or a gun with him and uses the same to scare the leading lady. He was scary the whole time, until he started singing (belting out) upon hearing a Michael Bolton song.

Mr. Goon, I think you're a softy like S♥nny B♥y.

*Sonny Boy is a tattooed (think scary and not cool) guy who sat beside me in a jeepney a few years back. He was scary until I saw hearts instead of o's in his name.

#28

I was sitting on the floor for almost two hours since my arrival - tired and hungry and bored (but not as bored as the two people waiting for me). The carousel is busted, I heard someone said. There were technical problems in the air bus, explained the officer.

Today, two years ago, I flew to Australia. Why? I'm not really sure. I used to say I did it to have a better life (read: better paying job) but sometimes I would say I moved there so I can take my family with me after a few years. My reasons were always changing, I guess I couldn't make up my mind that time. A year has passed since I decided to move back here and now I am certain: I just wanted to run away.

#25

I tried every switch but I couldn't get it right.

On. Off. On. Off.

I don't deserve to call that house my home.

#22

It was late November, and late at night. We were too addicted to this band, the greatest local band, and we did everything to see them perform live.

We didn't hold hands, but I held on to you - to your skinny, skinny arm. I rest my head on your shoulder because I had a major headache right after listening to them play from outside the bar. I knew you never liked clingy people, but that night, you just let me.

I am listening to the song we sang while we were walking back to the office. Of all songs that remind me not of you, but of us, this song is the hardest to detach from.

I know you'll meet someone better. Would you still think of me?

#19

I put on my reddest lipstick today. Anyone who saw me would have thought I were celebrating a special occasion or that I'd be meeting someone. Truth is, I only took my mom and my youngest brother to work - for their flu shots.

I miss dressing up and I miss putting extra effort to make myself beautiful. When I lived in the city, I could never go out without looking fine. There were always people to meet and too many beautiful strangers to pass by: looking dull and unattractive was never an option.

Things changed when I decided to settle here in the 'burbs. It's not that there aren't people to meet, it's just that those people seem to think that prettyfying yourself is overrated. I get stares instead of hey-you-are-pretty looks and that-is-annoying.

I put on my reddest lipstick today; and I put my hair in a bun. I didn't care what people thought of me. I wanted to be beautiful; my mother said I was.

(for 6/19/2010)

#16

I walked home from the church, alone, mom was late. The place is familiar, I could probably walk with my eyes closed and still get home. But what hit me was that every person I passed by was a stranger to me. Everyone, until I saw my mom walking towards me.

The key to happiness is acceptance. Before yesterday, I accepted the fact that I am going to spend the rest of my life alone. No, not alone, single. Single is the right word. Then you reminded me: we're marrying each other when we turn 35.

I don't like to live in a place full of strangers. I don't like the smell of brewing rain. But I like the idea of growing old with my best friend.

#13

We drove to the high lands, with empty wallets and starving tummies. We used to go there every week, first to pray and then to forget. A few years after, our visits became less and less. Once a month? Once a quarter? Twice a year? I can count in one hand. Does that mean we pray less, too? Does that mean we no longer want to forget?

#9

I got home past midnight. I had a few bites of the left over sausage and finished half of the cheap sugar-free bread. I could sense Mom wanted to talk - nothing serious - just talk. I didn't have the energy to tell stories, which are mostly depressing, and all I wanted at that moment was to be comforted by an old friend.

I know with each puff I was slowly killing myself. But with each exhale, I saw my worries fly out of my window. At today's first hour: me and my friend, we were cool.

And when I could no longer tolerate the silence in my room, I turned the telly on and saw a story of a man with lung cancer. I smoked some more.

#7

I watched as my fingernails turned purple. It's been a while since I felt this cold. I came to work unprepared: without anticipating the drop in temperature. The cold took me a year back, inside that Pakenham room where I spent most nights (and days) alone.

I opened the pack of instant coffee I was reserving for afternoon tea: temporary warmth for my freezing hands and my cold, cold heart.

Fake cold weather. Fake coffee. Real feelings.

I feel cheated.

#6

"Oi!" I heard someone say while I was contemplating whether to get a copy of Sputnik Sweetheart. It was you. I smiled and asked you how you were and told you I was with my mom. You looked okay. You looked the same.

I wonder if I'd be able to say a thing if this story were true. Are you okay? Do you look the same?

I don't like hanging around in that mall for long hours (except if it's Sunday). I'm afraid I'd bump into you.