I passed out. You remember that teleserye moment wherein the lead actress has her eyes fixed on some indistinct point across the window. It was how I exactly wanted, and needed to look like. As if you feigned the whole world from putting you onto an envelope. Then cue for Regina Spektor's Samson.
Thoughts started to inundate my vacated consciousness, as if the moment to trance a ghost was present. The mind presented categories and ideas when the conscious had none. As far as I remember, I came to think of the things that I dared not to question myself for (again, like for the nth time). There were what ifs: What if it won't make things better for me? What if this is the wrong choice? What if?...
What if I trust me, and believe that at last, that I can make one good decision for myself?
The apparent answer is that there will always be choices and choosing will always be hard. I would eventually need to put firm judgment on my instincts someday. It would make me a man, not of honor necessarily, but of clear vision. I need to know where I'm heading. I need to put off unnecessary baggage and attachments.
There is a hunter at large.
I tried to remain open-minded. "It will not hurt a poor creature like me." However, it is in a hunter's game that desperate times need desperate measures ergo nothing is too small or too feeble. The strong prevail and the weak succumb.
Saving yourself must be your paramount concern. You will find escape, should you determine which path to choose.
The other day, I was drinking fizzed butterbeer in some small coffee shop around Gil Puyat. I remembered how a great army was formed over a mug of butterbeer on a cozy bar. Maybe, I just miss going out with friends because I put too much stress on my professional career. I forgot that there's another world waiting for me. Well, worlds don't necessarily just bump into each other, someone has to reach out. I can't wait to lie low on one thing and bring back some balance. Friends are our best armies against the unspoken cruelty of this flipped universe.
In this failed attempt to writing again, I must say that I've learned something from myself. I cannot pretend to become someone that ain't me. Or someone that someone else wants me to be for that matter. I cannot be dimwitted because I think a lot to the point of extruding foolishness. Now I really don't care if no one understands me, for they do not live to feed me, or see me off. It's somehow a position of strength and I want it to remain that way. Once you became susceptible and gullible, there presents a turning point -- like nature's offering of balance -- you just need to grab it and make the most out of it (or, leave it). You just need to trust on the way you've handled the chance.
No one else will make these choices for you. You need to make it for yourself anyway.