Tuesday, September 8, 2009
First Thing's First!!!
An emotional review and a reminder of direction.
A few days ago I was reminded by a very close confidant of the fall that happened more than five years ago.
This fall resulted into making me a total oposite of who I was back then.
It began when our eyes met June 10, 2004 at NUVO Greenbelt 2. I was wearing a red shirt, 3/4 pants and Addidas sneakers while he was wearing his black collared shirt, slacks and leather shoes. From that point on, I can still remember every detail at the back of my head and masochistically savor every nightmare it gave me after he broke up with me months after.
I did things that I was shocked to do because I knew I'd never do them. I did it for him. For us. I would give him the world and more. For us.
But that's what I thought.
Fast forward 2 years after, it was a long battle within. It was epic as I thought I had given a ghostly close to it 2 years after but then it came that reality would intervene once more to reveal that his decision to leave me was not just because he couldn't go on with the distance, it was someone else and it was all summing up into the flames in my eyes as we were on a car chase in Roxas boulevard. A car chase that meant 'STOP!' when all that my already dying heart screamed 'GO!'
I remembered vividly. Like a dying animal being skinned for commerce, I lay there defeated, with my eyes open to see and remember my predators, and promising myself that the world I wanted to give him was less than the amount my heart needed for it to be whole once more.
Something about me didn't let me close my eyes. It made me stare and look at every detail that brought me the pain. Even the person who introduced the new guy to him is a target in my thoughts: someday, I'm going to drive something blunt and jagged, drenched in my own venomous blood, down his chest and let him feel a tiny fraction of the pain that has taken a life of its own in me. I see this person, still old, desperate, honeysuckled for his money and his drugs and incredibly still facially challenged. He'll die soon, and it'd be an utter disappointment if not by my hand.
All these are but tiny droplets of a cosmic molotov cocktail that is carefully sealed and saved for some special individuals. But as for now, I am recovering very well . Where my wrath knows no bounds, my body does not. I have incurred the virus as prize for dragging down countless hopefuls to the level of being bitter and jaded simply because the world was not enough for my pain.
Like I have pondered earlier, this virus is a double edged blade which I can use to protect and destroy. In the new chapter of my life, I have already thought of a lighter side wherein I will find those who need help and somehow give them the courage to face the truth and live with the virus-- to experience, first hand, the glory of survival. That's not far from now. However I've unfinished business. I have to give in return, to him and to those who are deserving, a slice of the abyssal endeavor that has reminded me of the necessity of wrath and the alternative use for fire. Him, five years ago and that God damned old faggot bastard who introduced the other.
And now, I stand somewhat on the road to recovery and I am reminded by a friend's dramatic, syrup laden slag of a heart ache and another friend's amusing plight into a choking tunnel of love, that's gotten him all wishy washy; these remind me of the principal root of all this Hell fire. Him. Them. They will all pay.
But while I'm fessing up for the creme de la creme a la coup de grace: kudos as my CD 4 count has gone up by 142 points from a scary 238 to a luscious 380! I'll have to put on this sweet little venetian mask that says: "I'm a peaceful little sheep of Little Bo Peep and I couldn't even hurt a fly if I try~".
I lo~ve working inconspicuously. It's so double o sevenly sexy!!!
Calling me deranged?
It's a hobby.
And the good news?
And the better news?
I'm going to deliver.
And the best news?
*giggle even more*
*SNAPS FOR EVERYONE* (except for those two dog shit pricks)~