tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25560048213932476042010-08-10T06:18:59.053-07:00FlipSwipPrimo Ricohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737369693920272253noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556004821393247604.post-87958931649370683832010-08-09T00:04:00.000-07:002010-08-10T00:58:03.348-07:002010-08-10T00:58:03.348-07:00the break up<div style="text-align: center;">"thanks... whoever you are"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">the last words I heard before she cried... I wanted to speak but I couldn't. I understand her pain... and I wanted to comfort her,,, but deep inside of me are just excuses I have for myself not to feel whatever I have in me. We never talked, we broke up over the phone,,, there were no closure to our 4 year relationship, just an empty waiting, and stagnant growing pain from moving forward... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"hi... it's me...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I stuttered as I push my lips to say something... I was starring at the leaves as the rain slowly fading away.... its almost 5 in the morning and I can hear the honky sound of the vendor selling puto and kuntyinta...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"bossing! you want? you want?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i slowly smiled at him and just signed him no... not today.. It taste bitter... the cold coffee i have been holding since she called. I never realized how bitter it is till now... I grew silence waiting for my lips to say something.. when i heard her voice...</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">"it was not easy for me... and i know its not easy for you to... but this is where we ends..."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i wanted to cry, the pain of her saying that is like a jagged knife.. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I love you despite of the pain, despite of the reality of being hurt and the insanity of us not being together... Ive learned to love you near me.. I learned to love you in a distance... despite of our fights, despite of my insecurities and your demands... I have loved every pieces of us...</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I have loved you more than I have loved anyone... I have feared our future more than the pain I have...</div><div style="text-align: center;">theres no easy way of letting ourselves go knowing the relationship isn't there anymore... but the pain of knowing we gaved everything but theres no more "us"on our love...</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not wishing for your happiness... cause Im not sure Im ready to see that. Im selfishly inlove with you,,, even when you already learned to let me go.... Im not wishing for your relationship to move... knowing your already chosen to be with someone else... I despise your words... I hated your promses. I cursed you let me hold on, when you already held on to someone else..."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There were no more us.. ...nothing but a past...<br />
<br />
I wanted to cry... I wanted to shout,,, I wanted to die. But as I opened the gate I heard her whispered with a sobbing voice...<br />
<br />
"I love him for everything, from the sorrow and happiness... What ever the pain I have is not enough for a reason for me to give up... I let him go because I want to find myself... I let him go because he needs to learn to love me less... we cant be together not because we love each other less than the others... Ill cherish everything about who we are,,, its my pain and my strength so I can be better,,,"<br />
<br />
The pain of letting go. and the pain of moving forward... its a cycle I couldnt understand... but the pain Im having isn't the pain of being hated, nor is it a feeling of being neglected or betrayed... a love that was real but lost is a memorry to remember, a pain that scars is a lesson i should learn to be better... I understand the pain Im having... It's the pain of having nothing but reality... the chase of being the best bf I can be to her is gone, the fear of being a husband to her is done, to progress in my career to serve her better...to dream to go to placess... everything that gaved meaning to what i was doing is nothing but a pst now... The pain im having isn't because of her... the pain i have is because i lost myself while holding on to hers...<br />
<br />
there's no break up in a relationship the lived and died because of love... i understand that now.<br />
<br />
as I said my last words to her, as i listen to her last cry, as the sun rise up I found something... not a friend, not a meaning to what was... not even a clue of how she fall out of love, not destiny... not a happy ending... not a tragic end either.. i haven't found myself yet... but i found a very important part of it... my reality.<br />
<br />
Im not hopeless, im not hopeful, im not empty.. im not discourage... i haven't found my happiness, nor do I have a reason for sadness,,, I'm not alone, but Im not with anyone either, my simplest reality<br />
<br />
<i> "I am free" </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556004821393247604-8795893164937068383?l=prmorco.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Primo Ricohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737369693920272253noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556004821393247604.post-6364643629895518242010-08-07T09:22:00.000-07:002010-08-10T00:59:36.999-07:002010-08-10T00:59:36.999-07:00The butter knife and the grass rake<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"I miss you too... I wish we could talk can I call you? -jeremy"</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I can't hear anything. the rain havent stopped... the clapping sounds of the birds flying out of the rain...the buzzing sound of my cellphone... .... I can see them moving... but I can't feel anything... not even hear them...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> "...."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> am I feeling fear?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I starred at the phone... Its her 5th call now... why?... she knows i'm not Jeremy... why is she calling me?...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<i>"Why?"</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> My hand started to move, I didn't have the energy to stop myself.. does my fear turned suddenly to curiosity? no... i dont think so... still nothing. even the fear I suddenly felt when I first saw my phone rang with her call...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>why?...</i> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I dont even who's this girl is... She doesn't even know who I am... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>why?... </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">why did I felt the sudden catch of breath... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"i miss you..."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Her voice led a tear in my eyes... Its been a long time since I heard someone with this voice.... was It been 2 years now?.... I can still rememeber her voice... the first time we broke up.... the first time I heard her cried.... the first time I felt a pain inside of me.. cutting my soul... ripping my own sanity,,,, </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I remember this pain.... </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>...I remember this clearly... </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>but its not the same ..</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>not with what I have been feeling lately.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Her voice... It's not like what I imagine... angelic... sweet... innocent. I starred blankly at the sky... there was stilll some stars even with the heavy rain... I fool around with rain drops in the leaves while I listen to her seak...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I never opened my lips... not even in a blink of an eye did I opened It... I shut myself silence as I listen to her love story... as she confess her love towards jeremy....</div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="UIStory_Message"> "I can live a life without you loving me back... but i cant live a life knowing someday i have to let you go... we are meant to love each other... but we are not meant to be together... "</span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><br />
"I wanted you to see me when your eyes look at me... not just a girl who gave everything to a boy she always loved... </span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="UIStory_Message">"I learned to love you more, but you thought me to love myself less..."</span></h3><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"> I stare at a distance, catching every confession she has... for the first time I wanted to speak to her... I wanted her to hear my voice... </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556004821393247604-636464362989551824?l=prmorco.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Primo Ricohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737369693920272253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556004821393247604.post-27237070202937820972010-08-05T00:18:00.000-07:002010-08-05T00:18:36.328-07:002010-08-05T00:18:36.328-07:00twin scarsThe breakfast was nice, another pandesal dunked in a coffee while I watch the rain...<br />
<br />
my headset is on. another song from the 90's... ...looks...fun...?<br />
<br />
I never txted back...<br />
<br />
I was staring at the number....<br />
<br />
It's not from her...<br />
<br />
I know.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"have I gone insane?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">....... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"I miss you"</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>......... </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I want to feel something..."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"please?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> "I feel so numb."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Why can't I feel anything?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"why? ... who are you? ...."</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">"....... "</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There's a deep silence In our house,,, just me around. . .I can hear the echo of my tapping, </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>tap... tap... tap...</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">my mind will go from blank... to depression, </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">then blank... </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">then silence...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">then..... nothing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!</b></i><i><b> </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My eyes stare silently at the phone... another txt... from an anonymous sender... I just stare at my phone as I play around with the heavy raindrops in my hand. I dont feel anything... nothing... but i dont feel empty... not with my cellphone kept ringing... buzzing... moving... I feel like...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have a stranger to accompany me with my confused feeling...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I took a stick in my hand, with my hand dripping wet from the rain i pushed read in my phone and blankly stared while it loads... </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>"Im sorry... I didnt mean to walk away from you... Jeremy? I miss you... I know We cant have what we had... I cant ask for us to be together again... "</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">silence... <i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">"...nice..." <i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"...I'm not jeremy."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"...nice."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don't want to be rude... but i cant helped but to crack a little laughter while i read the name "jeremy" .</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just my luck... another wrong sender. As I tried to think how can I say to her that she's txting a wrong person... another txt poped in my cell...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"I'm still inlove with you... But We are not meant to be... . you decided to be with your family... I need to decide to move along with my life... I didnt expect to miss you this much."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">From deep emptiness I felt a small rock of anger in my blood... I hated girls like this... I hated men for putting their family in risk just to satisfy their pleasure... But I hated women more when they decide to be with a married guy... </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know what I will txt... I know what I want...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I miss you too... I wish we could talk can I call you? -jeremy"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556004821393247604-2723707020293782097?l=prmorco.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Primo Ricohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737369693920272253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556004821393247604.post-38687225697765586802010-08-02T23:05:00.000-07:002010-08-03T01:21:31.265-07:002010-08-03T01:21:31.265-07:00The curious creature of habit:<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I never took interest in reading a full text book before, but as i walked along the aisle of one of the bookstore in the mall, I saw this black book that looked like a bible. I grabbed it, to return in the right category when I saw the title: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFexZCv_x5I/AAAAAAAAAEg/C7AcJlYi1xU/s1600/DSC00304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFexZCv_x5I/AAAAAAAAAEg/C7AcJlYi1xU/s400/DSC00304.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Idea Book</i><b> </b></div></div><b><br />
</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There was a sense of charisma on how this book was presented. And i just cant get my hands of it while reading it. 150 pages of wisdom by other people and 150 of your own. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">An actual sketch book of ideas that inspire you to think in a perspective mostly discussed as ignorance and unpractical. </div><br />
It is a collection of an informative story and quotes from famous Icon like:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFestqNC0yI/AAAAAAAAAEI/AztcqAnxMaE/s1600/albert_einstein_head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFestqNC0yI/AAAAAAAAAEI/AztcqAnxMaE/s320/albert_einstein_head.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b><i><span class="caption">"A question that sometimes drives me hazy am I or the others crazy"</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Albert Einstein</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFetN4IUGFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/v_8RtZpZQjw/s1600/Thomas+Edison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFetN4IUGFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/v_8RtZpZQjw/s320/Thomas+Edison.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> "<span class="caption">Many of life's failures are people who did not realize </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="caption">how close they were to success when they gave up"</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Thomas Edison</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFeuICLnvYI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Zg_tL79VZ0s/s1600/Sir+Winston+Churchill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFeuICLnvYI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Zg_tL79VZ0s/s320/Sir+Winston+Churchill.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often"</i><b><br />
</b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Sir Winston Churchill</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">We often sugar coat are ideas for it to be pleasing in the ears of a critic<b>, </b>hypocrisy sells a million lies but creativity invents an infinite possibilities. This book allows the reader to practice his wisdom against his practical abilities in the most simplest way, really for the creative people and perspective hungry artisan.</div><br />
<b> </b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFemZlUUwwI/AAAAAAAAAEA/oIkd2d7NWgI/s1600/DSC00303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFemZlUUwwI/AAAAAAAAAEA/oIkd2d7NWgI/s640/DSC00303.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<b>The Idea Book </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Author: Fredrik Härën</i><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><b>The Barometer and the house</b><br />
<br />
A teacher once set this as a test question: how can you measure the height of a house with a barometer? The teacher wanted the students to say that you measure the air pressure on the ground and then the air pressure at the top of the house. Then by using formula, you can work out the height. One student, however; thought that this was too simple, so he suggested the following:<br />
<br />
<i> "if I were to measure the height of a house, I would climb up onto the roof and lower the barometer tied to a pice of string until it reached the ground. I would then measure the length of the string"</i>. The teacher marked this answer wrong.<br />
<br />
But our friend, the obstinate, student, was not wrong. After all, he succeeded in measuring the height of the house with a barometer. The student did not give in: he asked the teacher to give him another chance to answer the question. This time, he wrote:<br />
<br />
<i> "If I were to measure the height of a house, I would climb up onto the roof and drop the barometer from there. I would time the process to see how long it takes for the barometer to reach the ground. From this, I could calculate the height of the house.</i>"<br />
<br />
Once again, the teacher gave him zero. This time, the student suggested:<br />
<br />
"<i>I would climb up the stairs in the house, and on the way up, I would take measurements against the wall. On reaching the top, I would multiply the number of times I used the barometer by it's length and then I could work out how tall the house is</i>"<br />
<br />
The student was told off again.<br />
<br />
"<i>Maybe the teacher is expecting a more mathematical answer</i>" he thought. His next idea was this:<br />
<br />
<i> "I would place the barometer next to the house and measure it's shadow. Then, I would measure the height of the barometer and the house's shadow in order to work out how the height of the house"</i><br />
<br />
The teacher did not this answer either!<br />
<br />
By now, the student was so fed up that he wrote:<br />
<br />
<i><b>"I would go to the house, knock on the door and say to the occupant, If you don't tell me how tall your house is. I'll beat you up to death with my barometer!"</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">--The Idea Book Pages 104-105</div><br />
<a href="http://astore.amazon.com/pencil07-20?_encoding=UTF8&node=4">The Idea Book: Products from amazon</a><br />
<a href="http://www.theideabook.org/">The Idea Book: Official Website</a><br />
<br />
<div class="zemanta-pixie" style="height: 15px; margin-top: 10px;"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=05e1af55-8c3a-4fc1-be0a-c41c7afd8581" style="border: medium none; float: right;" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556004821393247604-3868722569776558680?l=prmorco.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Primo Ricohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737369693920272253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556004821393247604.post-29533287800726843152010-08-01T20:32:00.000-07:002010-08-02T21:38:09.133-07:002010-08-02T21:38:09.133-07:00Smoking a bad habit<i>The silence of the midnight is a fearsome annotation of a past. </i><br />
<br />
Every time I'm awake I can freely move forward with my life, but whenever I fell asleep my foots kept crawling back to my dimmed past...<br />
<br />
same thoughts kept coming back....<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"<i>Is it enough?</i>"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFec9HdUTHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/4B0Ji7lJq84/s1600/DSC00161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Yyd_NArlFA4/TFec9HdUTHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/4B0Ji7lJq84/s400/DSC00161.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>....I want to close my eyes without you looking back at me, I cant remember being satisfied with our little habitual dance, but there was an uncanny happiness...an uneasy feeling of happiness.<br />
<br />
Its 3:30am in the morning when my body suddenly turned.<br />
<br />
Silence in the air,,,<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">a cold whisper of thoughts... "<i>I'm alone again...typical</i>..."</div><br />
I saw my cellphone vibrates under my sofa bed... "...shit" I silently whisper. a fear and excitement inside me are like knives cutting through my heart.<br />
<br />
<br />
Did you text me... after 3 weeks of no communication?<br />
<br />
after a month of waiting?<br />
<br />
after the last promise you gave me....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I bravely held the phone and pressed the small circle in the middle to see what you wanted to say.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b> "3:30am WAKE UP ASSHOLE! TIME TO JOG!!"</b></div><br />
<br />
It was just my alarm I made since the first time I held my new phone, I remember pointing out to you the "walk mate"program my new phone has, "<i>haha I wont be alone every morning i wake up to run</i>" you silently smile trying to look interested,,, I already have a concern about "us" since then.<br />
<br />
I never run. I wanted too... but my feet too heavy, my legs feels so numb. I just wanted to wake up every time my phone rung.<br />
<br />
that's all..<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"stupid."</div><br />
i told myself... for the last few weeks I kept tangling a web of hope of "us" to my needy soul... "<i>I need to delete that stupid alarm</i>" i silently scolded myself.<br />
<br />
<br />
My brain... and my heart does not work well together. I'm smarter than what I have become... I know it. but my heart.... my heart is betraying my very soul. With all the quotes, with all the perceptions and perspective I kept posting in my facebook... i thought... If i read what my mind is thinking.... my heart would understand what I wanted to do.<br />
<br />
"Emotero... Weirdo..."words that describes who I am now. I wish they know the feeling of pain...<br />
<br />
Its not the same as a knife cut to your flesh,<br />
<br />
its not the pain when a hot oil slowly spitted on your skin,,,<br />
<br />
its not the pain when a person betrays you,,,<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>I wish I knew what this pain is... and what it meant....</i> </div><br />
I silently opened the front door of my unit and walk through the small hallway pass through our carport... I held a fliptop in my hand , slowly opening it with my trmbling hand.... <i>ïts always cold in the morning</i>" i murmured. <br />
<br />
I silently smoked my thoughts of the past. If my brain dies so will my heart... as the chemicals in every puff kills the cells of my life....as i slowly enjoy the vague memorry slowly dissapearing....<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Im not killing myself...</i></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Im trying to set myself free from the shackles of my past.... </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
then my cellphone rung... "another alarm"? I asked myself while ignoring it... I love how it vibrates in my hands... like an alive creature slowly dying in my hand... like a heart i have.. slowly loosing hope.... then it will just stop.<br />
<br />
I turned the phone over to see what I listed for todays quest to live a lie of a fruitful life.... " <i>such a hypocrite</i>" I admitted.<br />
<br />
I saw the small envelope in my screen and a message appeared.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>"1 unread message"</b> </div><br />
I opened it and frozed....<br />
<br />
I dropped the cigarette and checked if I read the message wrong...<br />
<br />
It was a no name sender...<br />
<br />
I recognized the number...<br />
<br />
but It was not in my list...<br />
<br />
with my confused joy i read it with my lips and whispered the words...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>"I miss you..."</i></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556004821393247604-2953328780072684315?l=prmorco.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Primo Ricohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737369693920272253noreply@blogger.com0