I can't listen to this anymore.

There I was, in the middle of the pond, dawdling with the fires of my senses. The waters near my feet were cold; ever since I stepped inside this conundrum, I felt unworthy. The frog jumped away from my trembling fingers, unable to commune to the fact that I am fascinated with such being. It felt like as if I could do nothing more--nothing less, maybe. I fear that maybe the mud underneath my knees harbored my faintest dreams, that maybe the shadow of the elm tree casted every dark cloud above my head. Maybe, I was too childish to be playing in this grave. I was, insurmountably, a dot in the sky--a dot so dark I could not even comprehend what I looked like from the earth. I was a dot and it was too late to recognize that fact.

Too bad.

I looked in front of the mirror and I said to myself, what the hell happened to me? This is not the entity I have always known, the person I believed that can change everything. Everything.

But now here I am, standing by the lamppost--the same lamppost where I promised to kiss my faithful one--but I am lacking. I am not sufficient myself; if I will talk once more, I might as well break down. I don't know what's happening anymore. I'm being lost in the forests of my thought, constantly striving not to see but to feel my way out. I am really afraid to let go of the vines that pointed my path; but, I am too depressed to reach out for another vine. My imagination clouds my intuition--I can't set my inspirations apart from my faith. I am strangled by the familiar scent of wildflowers that sprouts unevenly as I cross my road. I am too shattered to be radiant, too dull to be signaling, too broken to walk. I scrawl every tree I pass the name of the clouds I see up above; for now, I don't want them to leave my side. I wish for a flashlight but what I get is a tiny flask with a firefly within, dawdling lively and playing by the graces of the unknown.

I am keeping myself busy, shouting and yelling for help.

Do I get any help?

Do I even exist?

That's so funny, I even forgot to laugh. Sarcastically.

It has been, what, weeks since my last post in my blog. I really have no time doing all of this. I miscalculated at some parts, thinking that it the schedule is spacious statistically speaking, but, the downfall of expectations is that they are merely out of the fact.

Past schedules come next. Here are the goals, expectations and what-nots of the week and if they are met, partially met and incorrigibly forgotten:

1. I am should be watching Magnolia. Magnolia. Magnolia. But, even if I am already starting the browser, I close it, and I do not even know why. I guess the black backdrop is naturally hypnotic, even though the color has meaning for me.
2. What's with Fiesta? For at least 6 times I have been trying to update the game client, but, it seemed as if I doesn't want me to play. The farthest I was able to go was over 60%--then the bar that counts the percent and bytes per second magically and sarcastically disappeared. Such an annoying and continual coincidence (I am beginning to love alliterations).
3. I know there is something wrong with me. Even though I had a good time and I enjoyed the good company, I simply managed to sit quietly like a pulp on one corner. My mouth seemed to close by itself. Things are beginning to be redundant, but, I guess that's normal for special people.
4. I have to stop. The list must go on, but, someone was able to hit me with something on the head. Now all the ideas are spilled. I must wipe them off. I must.
   

There were too many. And I stood alone. Well, I thought I did.

I really didn't know why I took up this whole mess by myself. Nobody pursued me; in fact, it was all of my own choice that I took a step forward into the crevasse that was in front of me. But one statement of an inspiring mentor taught me how to get into my choice:

"I didn't like my choice the first time. But I fell in love with it."

It felt like as if a wisp of wisdom took my mind away. Yeah, she was right. It is not always a chance to love, but a choice to love. The desire to make a change in every single way enveloped my mind and transformed my narrow aura into a profound one. She made a strong point on that fact.

What the hell am I doing with myself, I thought. I have always been saying in my head that failure is not an option but a rather fine consequence is waiting in the end--I could choose something again and act as if nothing bad happened. But no, her words said, it is not always the result that depends on the common fact of choice; it is the rare reality of lies. You can never escape your wrongdoings and there are these "unforeseen circumstances" that may hold you neck and decapitate your choices.

The answer never lies, I told myself afterwards. It could be a superficially covered entity but inside, it is the whole damn truth.

Love the job. Love the choices.

Failure was never an option.

[...]

Somehow I feel that I have no worth in this world. Will anybody miss me enough if I let myself die? Will anybody remember my smile, my voice, my words? Inasmuch as I refrain from thinking about it, I just can't take my mind off it. This semester for me is uneventful; I am like a wisp of air, an unknown entity, a dark chasm in the midst of the star's embraces. I am asleep while my surrounding is bustling with energy, vigor, and utmost life. I am a simple plant enveloped by higher trees with leaves covering my sunlight; I am nothing. It is as if I never existed.

As if I wasn't here.

As if I am lost.

As if I am gone by a minute.

As if I am left over another tree.

As if I am hidden.

As if I am contained.

As if I don't amount to anything.

As if... As if I wasn't here.

Don't try to wake me up. It is useless.

Hmm...

I was reading some things on the net and I found this very good website about Personality and Multiple Intelligence Tests that can tell you exactly (well, at least for me) what you are. For the record, I do not believe in the objective presentation of the human mind, but, if it happens to shoot right through me, then let it be. Besides, there is no harm in doing these things. It only gets creepy when the results hit.

The test was precise--at the end you will not utter a word. I assure you. These are the results when I took the examination:

100% Verbal/Linguistic: This is where it hit the spot. You see, I am this person that you may call a corrector. Sorry for the lousy word, but, I prefer it that way. When somebody says something in English and I happen to hear it, no matter who that was, I would instantaneously correct his grammar. Most of the times, I whisper it to myself; some people told me it was offending to correct others' word usage especially when they are of a higher degree than me. They are scared that I will be mutilated, burned, boiled, pricked and poked by giants who do not even know what's the difference between "a" and "an." It is not intentional, it is innate. And things like this are incorrigible. I also love writing poems, short stories and journals (like this, haha). Since I am a to-be nurse, I am also willing to write Nursing Care Plans, Teaching Plans and Family Nursing Care Plans. Don't ask me what those three things are. Definitions in my field are hemorrhagic or, as my professor in Bioethics termed "epistaxis," a bloodshed.

85% Visual/Spatial: They say that those who are good at this field loves (underscoring applied) geometry. Yes, I love the squares, triangles, trapezoids, trapeziums and circles, but, I wasn't able to like it that much. Care to ask why? One word: Mathematics. I suck in this subject ever since I was able to sit on a class room. Yes, all of my other subjects are way over the top, but, my Mathematics grade just can't go any higher. My grade is gravitational; the higher I aspire, the lower it gets. No matter how depressing this matter is, all I could do was look closely to my teacher's eye--specifically the fibrous tunic--and contemplate if there were chances that I could see my reflection. Anyways, the thing that made me pass this part is drawing. I love drawing things. I love visualizing things and daydreaming (more like sleeping with eyes open when the teacher is talking in front). I love imagining things, but not to a point where I conclude that have an imaginary friend beside me. At least I am not crazy. Not yet.

85% Logical. This is a fact: I want things to be as rational as possible. I must not work with assumptions, simply because if I was questioned about my doings, I will never be able to answer. That is why I read a lot of stuff to objectify my claim (if I have any). Besides, in my field, facts are needed. What is not done cannot be written. What is not written is not done. Claims are inconclusive. Hearsays pain my ears. (P.S.: About mathematics being a part of this intelligence, it was just a joke. Don't believe everything you see.)

Haha. It hits me. I wish I took an evasive action.

My Rebirth Post

So...

I am alive again. Wooh. After that strenuous days of no sleep and euphoria of clashing schedules, I returned, standing and enjoying the fleeting breeze of the afternoon sun. I can not stop doing something. But, because something is anything, that is another story.

By the way, I have been bending every time I get into playing. Playing? Is that a better way for a nursing student of a prestigious school to learn? I guess maybe. I am trying to work my way through the crevasses and deep trenches of leveling up. That's that. Ayokong mabati ang character ko. Hehe.

So, that's that. Good afternoon. ü