Seventh Month

Here I go again, I promised myself I wouldn't think of you today

It's been seven months and counting

You've moved onI still feel exactly the same.

It's just the that everywhere I go

All the buildings know your name like...

Photographs and memories of love.

Steel and granite reminders

The city calls your name and I can't move on

092808

Beautiful Pain

This is a story of a girl... a beautiful girl. She is an epitome of beauty. Girls would always wanted to be like her, and guys think she is ideal. And for everyone.. she is the FANTASY.


But what is sad about her story is that...


People don't want to live in their fantasies. They bite whatever reality gives to them. So she is alone and lonely and remained unloved.

Adored, admired... but never loved.

She feels helpless with the situation for she can never control the minds of other people... nor convince them, actually.


So to everyone... she is the fantasy... so to speak.

Fantasy is a beautiful world...

But very painful... too.

www.041208.com

(MaRk DOT DaY)

“.. one day… someday is today.’


I was just thinking of something that could eventually happen soon… but I never thought that that “soon” would mean “NOW”.


And that’s when I realized that just when you thought you are prepared enough… when it is right there in front of your eyes… everything is different and most likely… you’ll mess up.

Well maybe I messed up that day… but I really have no regrets because even though that was a tragedy… at least I would never have to ask myself those bitter and painful words – “WHAT IF?”
… because that one day… someday… happened that day.
Mark Dot Day
www.041208.com
P.S. I had an interview with an atheist the other day and it ended up pretty ridiculous owing to his last sentence… “Who are you (referring to me)… God’s lawyer? Ok! God is acquitted this time but I will file another case.

Well it is my pleasure to be called a God’s lawyer if that’s what they think of me, though.

The Minty Story

The irony in me is that...

I am the early bird who never catches a worm.

I write about other people’s lives…

I know their stories…

But the sad part is…

I can’t even write my own story…

Cause I don’t even know mine…

And the worst… maybe I don’t really have one.

The Other Woman

Prologue:

This is NOT MY STORY… just in case you might want to ask who owns this story… well, it is NOT mine. Period.


So how did I get this whole story?...


It was in the early spring. The sun shines and sets in different horizon in a day but with the same crimson hue. The sky is a blue canvas with sketches of huge and tiny white clouds. The weather is warm, the day is bright. The leaves fall in orange and red hue and the flowers bloom in yellow.


It was a day in an early spring. It was my day-off. Off from the whole scenario of the hospital day-to-day routine where everyone lives and dies in your presence, in your sight, in your palms.


I woke up that day, headed my way to the shower, dressed up and went to the nearby coffee shop with a few bucks (just decent enough to pay food bills) and my handy pen and notebook. I was planning to write something about people who often hang out at coffee shops and have their petty conversations about their problems. How and why people actually trade their time for tea and sympathy when the truth is… they could simply stay in their bedrooms and access God for His guidance rather than trusting in the words of their fellows who could not even practice what they preach.



I started to sip on my mocha frap while my pen and my notebook was annoyingly waiting there on top of my table for me to write something.


Then a conspiracy from the universe happened here on earth.


A woman in her mid-20’s stood in front of me and asked if she could share with my table. I smiled and said – “Its okey.”


She was obviously faking her smile as she stirs her espresso. Then out of the blue, she asked me – “You know kid, what’s in my shoe?”.

I was surprised by her question; I giggled a little to release some tensions and said – ‘Nope! …So what’s in there?” .

She laughed and said – “Walk in my shoes…that is the only way to know what is in there. To know someone… you have to walk in his shoes… you have to walk with his shoes.”


I simply smiled.




Part I: Her Shoes

“You know kid, I may only be a little older than you but I know twice as much as you do. You believe in fairytales? Of the wicked witches? Then I tell you, in real life, there are what you call wicked bitches who will try to bewitch your prince until they are under her spell and no one knows exactly how to break the curse… you know what I mean?... No?!... You don’t?!... huh! You don’t understand my little one. I am one of those wicked bitches. But the only sin I’m guilty with is that I’ve fallen in love to a man who belonged to another princess. If loving is a sin, then… should I hate? I’m not so sure about what God is telling me. I’m over hearing His voice with my throbbing heart. A part of me wants to give him up because it is rationally and logically the right thing to do, but on the edges of my brain, something tells me – what if?... what if I fight for him for just a little bit more, what if… he’ll be mine. What if this is just a test from above to know just how much I’m willing to give up for him and how much my heart could endure in the losing battle. It is a dilemma between obeying what is right and being kind enough to hurt. To be honest to hurt or to lie for the most sincere reason. To fight in the midst of not knowing if the one you’re fighting for is at your side or worst… the one you’re fighting for is the one you’re fighting with. I see love in there… I might be the prophecy… I might be the tongue… I might be the knowledge… then I shall fail, I shall cease, I shall vanish away. Maybe my soul-purpose is to make them stronger for one another. Maybe I was destined to be the tester of faith… of their faithfulness for each other, and I know I could choose on what to do… but the truth is… I really don’t have a choice… I don’t have any options. Like Judas… did Judas really had a choice then when he kissed and betrayed Jesus? Oh! Come on! If he did not do that, the prophecy will fail. He just fulfilled his destiny. He should have gotten his reward for doing it good. Being the villain for the noblest reason. Then I guess I’m more of like that… People judge me because they think so rational and so logical. The simple truth here is that, people judge so superficial. They never dig in to your soul. They never try to wear your shoes and walk with it in the same soles with yours. They judge you when the truth is… they don’t even know your past, they don’t know you plans for the future, and they don’t know what’s going on in your life right now. They think they know everything… but they don’t have an idea. Most of the talks about you are just their imaginations, the character of who they want you to be inside their brain… like they have one. Huh! They don’t know that aside from some highlights of your grumpy road, you actually had a very pathetic life. And to add an insult to that “coincidental” injury, they’ll just pop-up on you way to add another highlight on you… but that won’t mean they’ll gonna put you on the spotlight… their motives are simply as dark and wicked as their souls… and that is to add another bitter shadow on you.”


Part II: Speechless


I was surprised by the sudden outburst of her emotions and filthy noble confession. The music suddenly blared around the coffee shop –

“And I don't want the world to see me…'Cause I don't think that they'd understand, when everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am…”


Part III: Souls & Soles


I smiled and said – “You don’t have to lend your shoes to other people anymore just for them to walk in it… to walk with it…”

She asked – “Why?”

I smiled and walked away carrying my pen and notebook.


Epilogue:

Quoted from the song “DESPERADO”

“Now it seems to me, some fine things have been laid upon your table but you only want the ones that you can't get…”



FIN.