walk.run.leap.fly

I started walking at 9 months. I have no memory of the sort for me to prove my parents claim. But they said so, better not question it. Hi up there in  heaven, Dad. And I haven't stopped walking since. What's immensely thrilling were the number of times I fell. Yes, I was a wiggly-wriggly-nosey-runabout type of babe back then and I have many scars to remind me. But no, I don't blame anybody. Not even my mom who fell asleep while breastfeeding me, only to find me on the floor when she woke up. Luckily, I wasn't abducted or kidnapped. None of those bullsh*t happened. I don't even blame my sister when I fell, head first, in my aunt's drainage system. I didn't find any gold or nickel. No luck at all. Just a bad slash on the forehead. Not as cool as Harry Potter's thunder scar though. Please don't take my humor for sour sarcasm. These memories are really funny when I reminisce. 

I used to think that I was one of the boys. My childhood neighbors' boy-girl ratio was, I think, approximately 7:4. So that explains it. I played "takyan" or what do we call it really? Was it "sipa"? Whatever. I'd go against 5 boys with that sort of game. And I won. Well, I'd like to think so. When they'd bully or should I say, more appropriately, TEASE me because adolescence was a b*tch and the word crush became a household phenomenon, I'd run after 'em. Yes, I run like a boy. Which came in handy when I worked for an airline. Made them question if I really was a boy trapped in a very maarte girl's body. If that's the case, my construction was undeniably impeccable. *wink wink*

What do you call those things athletes jump over during a marathon? Call me lazy. I have the internet connection but I won't bother researching. I am just amazed how speed and velocity can make you jump. Should I give credit to gravity, flexibility,strength or adrenaline? I hated physics back in college, so bite me. Here comes another quick stride on memory lane. Yes, before I was a flexi-bender, I was one of those who yearned to touch the sky. Yeah yeah, I hear ya, I look very mataray, but I'm really a wimp. Didn't had the guts to pass my papers and be a fly girl. I wished I was stronger than timid. So I worked on the ground for those who fly, flew and are flying. What made me change my mind? I'd tell you but then I'd kill you. NOT really. ;)

That introduction is a handful, I know. The only purpose of this literary ranting is to make myself feel good about this decision to take a leap again. This time, a big one. Thank you Mom for instilling in me the independence I shall ardently need. I have no idea what I ate for breakfast one morning, or what medications I took, what book I read (which I disgustingly confess, I haven't been doing lately) or what show I watched on TV, and there's absolutely no need to persecute social media... on why I'll be packing my bags, take an umbrella and do a Merry Poppins entrance to the Metro. I am a crybaby for crying out loud! I am clingy. I am the youngest. So why the f*ck will I be doing this? Simple. Not so simple. But close to non-complication, because I want to. Time to open these damn wings and soar. 

I have a particularly non-stressful environment in the Tuna Capital. No traffics. No shitty weather like Winterfell. No filthy stench like King's Landing. No hassles. No bustles. I must be out of my mind. Scattered wits all over the floor, I dare not sweep and piece them back together. I'm fine. Honestly, I have a wicked smile painted on my face as I write this. Its the taste of metal when your lips bleed and lick it over with your tongue. Its that sort of satisfaction. For now, it is. I'll make a new post after a few months and see if I have broken down or toughened up. Which is which, we shall find out. 

I started out late. Perhaps its the emotional attachment to the Mother Hen. or some other reason. A boy? Friends? The comfort? Fear? All of those and then some. You, dear reader, do you know that gut-wrenching feeling when you miss a step? Like your stomach falls a 50-foot drop and your heart skyrockets towards the cosmic heavens? That's how I feel. Two opposing directions pushing and pulling me on both ends. Sounds like the anatomical phenomenon of a Adho Mukha Svanasana (downward facing dog). 

Yoga won't come cheap! Holy cow! Now my heart is breaking. hahaha! Oh how will I ever survive. Self practice? What if I get too lazy? Dilemmas, dilemmas. 

But the city lights lure me like Icarus flying close to the sun. Everywhere I look, it's art in motion. The proper tagalog makes my ears bleed like hearing French for the first time. I'm in awe and I don't know why. It's intoxicating in the most euphoric way. And that sunset on the bay. *sigh*

Blah. Blah. Blah. 

To cut this short, Hello Independence. 

Please be good to me. 

Until I cry myself to sleep at night. 

xo

bipolar.

it is what it is. i made a perfect reality out of a single hallucination. i fed my brain well. it bought my own make believe stories. it got hungry for more. its persistence became my own weakness. serotonin and endorphins took each other the wrong way. 

i tried to separate the two. i told them not to mess with the other. but they freakin' did! they had a mind of their own. and alas i made my own bed. now i have to sleep in it. 

it wasn't really a stroke of bad luck. it was more of...wrong and poor decision making. 
if you were in my shoes? how many times could you possibly believe in the same promises? and no pure intentions of making these promises breathe, walk and talk?

we all made rules. rules for dating. rules of the heart. rules for relationships. rules for cooking spaghetti. but then, there's always the only exception. and that's the ultimate downfall. 

how do i overcome impending dooms of self-inflicted pain and fear? am i stupid because i overthink? some higher power tells me to slap myself and keep my shit together. i tried. it just aint happening. i need divine intervention perhaps?

i already lit several candle sticks. bent my knees. closed my eyes and prayed for inner peace. then again, prayers get rain-checked from time to time, don't they? i know! i am absolutely responsible for this entire thing. from overthinking, to having trust issues...the whole nine yards!

say i am a bird only learning to fly. i have no prior test flights. only theories from other birds to fill my bucket with false courage or high hopes that would eventually crash and burn. i expect nobody to break my fall. break my neck. and other fragile parts but my own. should i dust myself off and try again? or succumb to the sweet aroma of failure?  how intoxicating can it possibly be?

i'm sick of talking to myself in the mirror. i told you so has become mainstream. i do it over and over again anyway. so what's the point? moot. bleak. insensible even. its nobody's cup of tea, being a fool. the Lord gave you a brain for heaven's sake. why do i not have the audacity to use it purposely? 

if this were an ielts question. it would definitely warrant the answer, I HAVEN'T REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT. because i am not using the lobes of both my left and right cerebral hemispheres. frontal. temporal. occipital. parietal. i shut them all down. punk ass reasoning, i say!

imma cut the bullshit and decide on an effing verdict.  fight or flee?

if i fight. Ilyn Payne might behead me. flip side, you all get to say..again...I TOLD YOU SO. :)

if i flee. you are dumb ass woman! don't go complaining about all the what ifs you can come up with. 

ambivalence has a bitter taste in the mouth. it will take up residence in your entire being and without you knowing, Xanax is your new best friend. how apt. 

i have no plans of reaching that pedestal. 

so i'll keep my fingers crossed. 
if it won't work, i'll flip a coin.
 if the coin gets lost in the sewer, i'll consult the cards.
 if the cards lie, i'll burn them and look at the stars. 
if the night is dark, i'll make my own constellations.
if they choose to hide, i will close my eyes and pray.


i will try not to overdo my preconceived notions.
in the event that i wont be capable of doing so,
i said i will try. i didn't say i'd nail it right away.

right?

xoxo,

A.