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I made you up
pensive
For the love of poetry
I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but for the entire month of April, I featured a poem in celebration of National Poetry Month. For those who liked each work of art, thank you very much. Poetry is something that I feel very close to as it always seem to echo the sentiments of the soul. And it echoes each time with me.
You can relive the entire month here or click the icon on the right side bar.
Do not fear! Feels Friday is still on. For those interested to contribute, just email your work at ohcarlaloo@gmail.com and I’d be more than happy to create some space for you.
Please don’t ever ever ever stop surrounding yourself with the written word. I say this because it has changed my life so much, not only when it comes to expressing myself, but more so with understanding others better. I hope it has the same, if not better, effect on you.
Again, thank you! Till the next poetry month! <3
It was a while
It’s been a while since I last wrote about you. A long while actually. I think my mind is actively avoiding it because — let’s be honest — there’s no getting over you.
I always repeat it to myself. It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it. I say it to people who keep asking if we’re okay. It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it. I say it to friends that ask how Nanay is doing. It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it. I’ve said it so many times, they had stopped asking.
This is a crappy club. Two of my childhood friends belong to this club. This no getting over club. This forever taking a leave on your birthday club. This no walk down the aisle club. It’s a fucking crappy club. More and more milestones are coming, and this is an absolute worldsuck crappy club to be a part of.
It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.
I want to blame everything on you so bad. I really do. I remember the times when you are just so hard headed and refused to visit the doctor. I even threatened to not come home until you see a doctor; you countered you won’t see one until I came home.
I came home. You didn’t go anywhere.
And now, I have to marry the love of my life without you. I am attending weddings left and right, and I am pestered with everyone’s thank you speeches and father-daughter dances. They are all lined up, wall to wall, all the things that I am now missing because you didn’t visit the fucking doctor.
I so want to blame everything on you.
It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.
But was it really your fault? Or was it just time running out? I am so over blaming myself for not being there because in my head, I would not be required there if you didn’t bring yourself there. Or did you? Did you really bring this upon yourself or was it just your time to checkout?
I don’t fucking know.
I am so angry. I am livid. I can’t believe I am here again. It’s your birthday this Saturday and instead of going to a good buffet, we’ll have to set up camp on damp grass where a slab of stone bears your name and dine on takeout.
It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.
I don’t even know if the latter part of that statement is true.
Do I have to pray now to be more accepting? Do I have to will myself to be more open and embrace your fate as your fate, not a mere circumstance of decisions that were not made? Do I have to do all that just to get past this huge crap load of baggage?
I am marrying the love of my life, and my issues hound me at night. I can’t even sleep unless the lights are on. My dreams are sometimes dreams, often nightmares. My mind is hardly empty and my head is going 60 miles a minute.
I am so tired of finding reason and being angry. But right now, I’m just angry. No reason, no rhyme. I just want to be angry.
Because it doesn’t get any easier.
Because I have to get used to it.
The words we should live up to
The death of the legendary Robin Williams has taken the world by storm. It was close to being unimaginable that someone seemingly happy and content would have so many demons in his self.
I have always loved his work. Hook, Mrs. Doubtfire, Jack, What Dreams May Come. But of all his works, perhaps his role as John Keating in Dead Poets Society was the one that struck me. As a lover of artsy fartsies, I first saw this film in 1998 and I knew I was right in deciding that I should surround my life with book and ambiguities and vivid imaginings of every bit of every thing.
I wrote about one of my favorite quotes, and it still is today even though the relationship I referred that quote to has turned sour:
It was the power of his words, the genuine kindness and sincerity, candor and humor, all mixed in a ball that will make him most memorable to me. Because in my saddest days, I have turned to Mrs. Doubtfire for physical comedy, Aladdin for romance, Jack for more carpe diems. I will never forget the life he brings to the screen. It is just with great sadness that I didn’t get to see him perform live.
I caught a glimpse of his award-winning performance in Good Will Hunting and already I have a favorite scene. It has been commemorated by numerous fans, and now it is part of my list to see that bench in Boston Public Gardens.
I am in no position to speak about depression as I know very little about it. But there need not be another high profile death to the disease just so we can keep ourselves informed. Let us learn more about it, open up a safe space for dialogue, be there to provide comfort, because who knows? The words you say today may save someone’s life tomorrow.
Take care, Mrs. Doubtfire.
How long then?
How did you move on from him?
Complete total silence. In and out. It’s been over a year, you know.
No communication whatsoever?
None. But it was a choice that I made. We both made, I think.
Did he try to win you back?
For a moment, but then when I look back, though it appears to some that he tried, he never really said anything.
How long did you suffer the feeling of pain?
Long. A bit of it is still with me today.
Are you bitter towards him? Is that normal?
Yes, it’s normal and yes, I’m still bitter. It was a long time that went to nothing. It felt like my youth was wasted.
Do you still love him?
Yes. The sad kind. The one that when I feel it, I become resentful and morose.
I’m going through the same. I’m trying to be okay though.
Just give yourself a good period to be sad.
We don’t have closure. I think I need that to let things go. To hear him say he’s sorry. Did you feel that way?
For me, I was hurt too much too long. I did not want to need anything from him, so that made it easier to not look for closure, or anything else from him, for that matter.
Will this sad, bitter feeling go away?
Of course. Give it time. All you need to move forward is in you. Unless you realize that, you will always be stuck in that space. You will always need something that he will not or cannot give. And you don’t want to be the kind of person who needs something from someone else to move forward.
It’s been three months. I find it too long. I’ve never been this bitter.
It’s been 16 months for me. I’m not as angry. But I am still bitter.
…
Don’t rush it. You might miss steps, making it harder to recover.
Thank you.
Thank you.
the salt of your skin 