Because, I have been pressured since people want to know what I would like…
I feel like a kid again. :DCharly No Limit Helmet (I lost my last helmet in a battle with a wall in a parking garage while on my longboard RIP)
Aldo McChain Sneakers for work! (Black)
Chuck Taylor Converse Sneakers (White)
Creative Recreation Sneakers for work!
The light in the hallway was all too familiar. There was a sudden sadness to the corridor, a pathetic sigh that seem to emanate from it as if it expected things to be wrong. I walked slowly down the hallway afraid of this change in atmosphere. My breaths seemed shallow as if my lungs wavered in…
It seems like I took a leap off a precipice a few weeks ago, where the rushing air felt nice on my face, but reuniting with gravity and the earth seemed so painful. There are times where I wondered what the day would have been if those few hadn’t shown up. The cold hard steel wrapped tightly around my wrists. The slow trip. The flashing lights. The cot. The silence. The friendly faces. The successful lives. Small in comparison to what lay beneath the facades of happiness. The hours ticking slowly as I awaited my fate. The kind face. The quiet words exchanged. The bitterness. The anger. The dismantling. The shame. The guilt. The rebuild. The destruction. The nights. The dreams. The trips. The prayers. The lost sense of where I am. If only I was never on that 5th floor above the city lights. Yet life should be lived without regrets.
I miss this. The breath from the city as it inhales drawing in life. The still air from rooftops that end with lingering conversations and stolen looks from others. The slow exhale of life as it slowly is lost within the fabric of time’s stories. There is something that draws me to realize there will always be a dream in a city of concrete and steel. That dream isn’t money, or fame, or anything material, for me, it’s just finding that my worth isn’t found in something here. It’s found in something much more.
There are times that I wish I never opened my mouth. But I find it hard not to say something. It isn’t because I want to abject with my opinion, but it’s because I always seem to care. It’s the side that makes children say what needs to be said even though everybody else is thinking it. It’s the side that’s brutally honest, but not blunt. It’s the side that I’ve always tried to hide from loved ones beneath curtains of sarcasm and indifference. Fear of being isolated from that particular bond is what represses it so well for past experiences have only left silence and bitter means. However, there are times when I know I must pry open those cold steel lips and utter the sounds that might make or break a relationship. It’s those same lips from which there are times that I clumsily apologize, or spit words of bitterness. They all come from the same place, they come from a place that I rarely reveal. A place that I try to conceal for my own as if it is my only place in the world that cannot be tainted by human desires and thoughts. It’s a place from which I was given breath, a desire to be strong, but at the same time, I could easily be stopped, and easily misled. This is the place where I find more than just compassion, patience, and understanding. This is the same place from which I find my voice despite the thundering chaos that lies in the silence. This is the murmur of my heart. This is a small figment of love.
A lot’s been cradling my heart. My thoughts circle around whether my compassion for people is really worth it. Some friends find it admirable. Some find it unique to me. To me, I find it hindering and tiring. I’ve bore the blunt from so many friends lately. I always seem to say the wrong things. To the people I care the most about it’s almost as if it’s a struggle with an endless tidal wave. I keep drowning in all the words that never meant to be hurtful, but just curious or insightful. To them it seems like I’m being rude, or I need to give it a rest. Perhaps I speak out of turn. I don’t understand anymore. I’ve always listened carefully, but it feels the more I listen, the more I’m being lied to. When I bring up things again, I always get responses of “that’s not what I meant” to “no, I meant this.” Why is there such a thing as meaning when we could have brought honesty forward to center stage instead of hiding it behind double meanings and emotional walls? I don’t have to listen, I don’t have to think, yet the thing that keeps me turning away from apathy’s embrace is understanding that I didn’t deserve another chance or a second thought from You and Your Son. Perhaps Your compassion and love, encompasses my naiveness and overshadows my fears of being shouted at or even ignored once again. Since high school, I’ve been the “friend” the “nice guy”, the “guy who listens really well”. I never gave much thought to pursuing girls, and I still find myself extremely “girl stupid”. That was until, I met you. You did change my life, and it holds the aftershocks that brought forth not only a better understanding of what I was looking for and the things I find admirable in my counterpart. However, I wouldn’t say it’s been easier like following a roadmap or listening to a guidance system. Ever since then, I’ve still been the same person that “nice guy” and hope seems to have lost its bitter-sweet taste. It’s almost as if it’s become rotten and the taste in my mouth is no longer just endearing, but just revolting. The thing is the more I ask You for help, the more I feel like I’m only drowning in my sorrows and my hopelessness. I don’t understand why I want to give up hope, yet a part of me is telling me to hold on, to just clench my teeth and bear it. A friend described to me today, in a rather interesting way: “You know those little salt shakers? Despite, how simple it might be, it seems to be true. These relationships aren’t what make me fit. It’s me that fits with that particular person. Now I’m not saying we’re perfectly crafted, but perhaps there are some relationships that will have a few chips and scrapes before they fit. Perhaps what people say is true, the nice guys always get stepped on, they finish last, etc. Life can be so disappointing sometimes. It’s been interesting to how my emotions are in a flux, from happy to sad. I’ve never felt this flustered in my life. It’s as if God personally made a trip down here, just to bring me down when I’m happy and to slowly lift me up when I’m sad. It’s as if You made a trip down here to step in and show me perhaps this isn’t what You want for me. Like the same friend said: “Even I know God isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t give you a situation that you couldn’t handle. You may struggle but you won’t end up free falling into a ditch without a rope.” After all of this, I still find it somewhat terrifying to be deemed the “nice guy”. It’s like an unsaid rule to never give this guy a chance. I wonder if anything, I’ll change from all of this. If I’ll become a different person. Perhaps though, the next and hopefully last, will just be somebody that doesn’t leave a small imprint or a deep wound. Perhaps she’ll be that red salt shaker, the one that fits my grooves and chips that have shown through years of usage and accidents. I have Hope, even thought it is a dim light in the darkness that wavers ever so slightly at the most gentlest of breezes. It’s interesting because some days will be a new Everest. A strong steady climb, with many precipices that bring about danger and struggles. Yet, it is all manageable. Despite how deep my heart has sunk into it’s protective cage, I keep pushing on, not in search of the apex, but in search of the horizon that brings about a new morning and a new beginning. I search for my Hope, and the true compassion of a significant another that reciprocates the quiet beat of my heart and its yearning for a cradle to rest in. “For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Ephesians 3:14-21
Like the ones that look like they’re hugging?
You are the red salt shaker, looking for the other salt shaker to complete you, to complete to mold
You keep running into other salt shakers that don’t fit to you exactly.
One day you’ll run into your other red salt shaker”
Lately, I’ve felt a deeper burden on my chest, not something that just hurts, but something that continues to tear away like a chronic disease. It’s suppressible, even bearable at times, but somehow, there are moments of the day where it tears vehemently at the flesh of my emotions.
Despite this, I somehow find some minimal hope to keep me striving to just cling to the edge of that precipice. I keep trying to understand why it is I who pays the price for caring so much for others regardless of the situation.
I would want to embrace that inner monster that I know lives within me; Selfish, Arrogant, Prideful would be such friends if Selfless, Honest, and Humble weren’t my peers that I grew up with in my family. There are times that I do daydream about what it would have been like if I had been the opposite of what I am now today. Would I have still felt like I was putting one in the chamber and spinning it around hoping each time that it wouldn’t be the one? Somehow I keep playing this game, as if I want that piece of metal to pierce what seems to be complete but in reality is already shattered to dust.
Despite all these small regrets, I do find some small words of encouragement as tiny lanterns in the night. Even though the slow glow from small words shed a little on what is to come, their presence and their demeanor can be comforting like the hug from an old friend.
Perhaps I won’t ever have to continue to play this game, where I put myself out there, hoping that I’ll never find that cold steel pushed up against my temple. Perhaps I won’t have to ever worry about pulling the trigger slowly wondering if this would be the last moment before I broke. Perhaps this hope that keeps me dangling from that precipice is there from true faith and belief.
Perhaps the hope that lies within my heart won’t be increased with false sincerities, but only amassed from complete compassion, honesty, patience, and love.
The day I got the news, I walked away from the messenger and slowly to the roof. Every one of those 26 steps seemed to take an eternity. I looked quietly down on the plaza below and I only thought of what was going to happen next. It was during the period of chaos of my high school life where most, like me, were concerned with girls, GPA, college, and getting high on life. It was strange to find myself standing upon a roof in full view of those around me, when I went up there for some solace and security. It felt as if I were closer to God standing at the top, yet my emotions didn’t feel the physical difference and continued to run unchecked and awry. If only, I were there like I always claimed to be, till that last moment.
Those bottles of simply water and ethanol meant more to the person who I cared for so much yet, I felt as if I couldn’t blame those inanimate killers. I only blamed myself. For the first time in my life, I lost my temper. A metal door that stood nearby withstood the seemingly overwhelming anger that grew in me like a wave of violence; however, my weak frail hands couldn’t withstand the force that lay within them. I licked my self-inflicted wounds with words of rationalization but nothing seemed to justify what happened. I asked myself why did it have to be him? What compelled him to finish the job that I wished so hard to go through with sometimes? I called him a hypocrite whenever he never left me back at the hotel to go out with the rest of our guy friends. He always hid me from the horrors of being alone in a city with no identity and the persona we could have created for ourselves. Alcohol was easily within my reach, however, he never let me even see a single drop. I hated him yet after seeing my friends the same night always realized that we were weak people. We always bragged about our latest achievements but there were things such as loose tongues, poor judgement, and emotions that seemed to pierce even the coldest of hearts. Even you. You changed completely and I understood. It was as if you never wanted to see the demon that lay within you or even within me beneath the frail flesh I called my body. You told me to cling on to everything I believed in no matter how much people called me “Innocent”, “infallible”, “pure”, or “high school kid who doesn’t know anything”, including the being that placed His life in place of my own. I stood still thinking more wondering what those last moments were like. Did the liquid courage seemingly contradict those life-saving pills? Or did something go terribly wrong? Did those tablets seemingly take the life with which instead they were intended for a miracle? Those tears I cried silently on that day, I thank you for. You taught me that. To continue with such strength. Perhaps that was my leap of faith.
I haven’t had time to myself today, but this is what I find soothing
Tonight I said good night to someone I cared about.
It wasn’t a regular good night like the simple ones we type out on Aim or Facebook chat. It was the type of “good night” that seemed to hold more meaning than just have a happy night. It was the type of “good night” that described the escapades of the evening and left room in that empty chapter of life.
Tonight after a quiet drive back to her house, we sat in the car in front of her doorstep, I was unconfident, uncertain, communicating my anger through my bitter silence which seemed to pierce the music that played quietly through the stereo. She hastily changed the song as the words “aren’t you happy now at what you’ve done?” cut through the hot summer air. My thoughts seemed to drop to the floor like useless pennies, but I knew, despite how much hurt I felt, she didn’t deserve this treatment of frustration. I opened my mouth, and looked directly into those eyes that seemed to hold irritation and confusion. Despite my fear of terrible apologies, I opened my clumsy mouth. As I talked it seemed like every word felt like a useless penny, but by the look on her face, it seemed to be words of complete regret as well as words that asked for retribution and absolution.
As we talked we moved quietly onto other things, and slowly and steadily, I caused tears. From a story that I will not mention for those are only what kissers and tellers do, I caused diamonds in her eyes which glistened in the night; they held such a price for which I paid: her disappointment and quiet sadness.
There’s one thing most that always holds me at a standstill. A single tear. Every tear I see in a person’s eyes reminds me of pearls or diamonds or something valuable that were never meant to be traded. Despite how much I wish I never told you, I realized it’s because I care that I said it: I wish I could have been the most eloquent of speakers that my words could have brought such solace for you. My heart hung on a string as I saw those tears. Even though you tried to hide it behind your hair and you turned away, I felt the quiet disappointment. Though I wish sometimes that tears were never paid for with sadness but with joy, the world doesn’t ever let things happen my way. As I board and I hastily type this, I typed this not for compliments or some sort of adoration or recognition, I typed this because I too have had my tears counted like pearls and I write one last note. That despite how silly you think crying is, I stood there, knowing how you felt, I knew about everything you experienced. It’s not silly. It’s not ridiculous. It’s what makes you special to me. I know what it feels like to have my heart shatter to unrecognizable shards of glass. I stand here now, quietly, feeling the tears in my eyes roll down my face like rosy pearls for I bear quiet burdens as well.
