On watching Her

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It’s one of the saddest movies we’ve watched together. We were constantly looking at each other the whole time, giving the other a funny smirk, because of the absurdity of the scenes and the lines. They were absurd not because they’re improbable but because they’re all too possible. We vowed not to live long enough to see that day coming. I am meant for the run-of-the-mill kind of romance.

But Her seems oh too real. It’s set in the future, but it’s a future that’s not very far away from now. With the collapse of the more visceral type relationships, it’s not not easy to imagine myself one day falling in love with that OS-controlled sonorous voice emanating from an earpiece who learns from my every input.

It’s chilling. Yes. But it’s at the same time dripping with melancholia.

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This world is lonely

This world is filled with so much loneliness. And the sad thing about loneliness is that everything that can be said about it has already been said and any attempt of anyone to come up with a unique articulation of it suffers the inevitable failure we familiarly call a cliche. And all cliches are detested.

Such is the sorry story of my dinner tonight that reminded me of humid nights spent alone in a room I rent in a staff house back in college.

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Such is the lonely image of my dinner that has to be filtered several times to create a tone, a tone of desolation to keep it in tune with the theme of today’s post.

Ha ha.

Sadness

I left UP in the afternoon after a grueling four-hour comprehensive exam. I was tired, drained, exhausted. This, together with all other life exercises, is deemed necessary in the life of a well functioning, sane individual in a sane society. Deemed necessary by whom? I cannot avoid the passive because I have no idea who deems it necessary.

At a certain point, when I was travelling home, I thought of escaping to the beach and watch the setting sun in the horizon turning yellow then orange to fiery red until nothing is left but a sad indigo hue.

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I gulp another mugful of dark coffee.

Suddenly I feel that unmistakable feeling of sadness. For a long time, I almost thought I’d never feel this again. But I do, right now. And the even sadder thing is that I have no one to share this with.

It’s a bummer to be alone.

How I hate it whenever I begin to sound like a whining college student.

Meanwhile

I received a number of emails from people who have been reading my blog, and I could not thank them more for the concern they have shown me. I am not a sucker for sympathy. Not a single post was written here with an object of eliciting pity from readers. They are for the sheer pleasure of the writer, for catharsis, they’d say. My previous posts might have inadvertently sent a wrong message. Like happiness, which is in a constant flux, sadness and misery, it appears, are just as so. I remain a man of twenty-something who is continually excited with what’s to come. Life in the meantime is bearable, sometimes even bordering to spectacularly beautiful. I have to keep reminding myself not to be too inebriated and perturbed with sudden turns of events and to keep my cool.

I am content, in love, happy most of the time (but with occasional feeling of lonesomeness, which is perfectly normal), surviving (living, however you call it), and moving forward.

Kalungkutan

Maglilipat-bahay na kami ng kapatid ko bukas. Ito na ang huling gabi ko na makikita ang ganitong tanawin mula sa aking bintana at maririnig ang mga walang kapagurang bus at sasakyan sa EDSA. Lilipat kami sa mas malapad na unit sa kabilang tower ng kasalukuyan kong condo, ‘yon nga lang ay inner unit siya. Okay na rin ‘to kesa manatili kami sa sobrang liit kong silid dati na kasyang-kasya sana kung ako lang mag-isa.

Di ko alam kung anong meron sa paglilipat-bahay ngunit sa tuwing gagawin ko ito ay parati na lamang akong nalulungkot. Di naman ako sadyang malungkuting tao, neutral lang kumbaga. Nitong mga nakaraang araw, kakatwa man, pero pakiramdam ko ay namanhid ako sa lahat ng uri ng sensasyon–walang lungkot, walang saya, walang pait, walang pagkabagot. ‘Yong swak lang. Pero alam kong hindi ako sakto o swak dahil wala ng mas sasawi pa sa taong hindi na nakararamdam.

Ngayong gabi, masaya ako dahil muli kong natuklasan na nakararamdam pa rin pala ako ng lungkot, ‘yong lungkot na nanunuot hanggang kaibuturan ng kaluluwa ko. ‘Yong lungkot na wala namang pinaghuhugutan, ‘yong lungkot na bigla na lamang magpaparamdaman sa ‘yo habang nakapangalumbaba ka, nakaupo sa harap ng bintana, at nakikinig sa Summer ni Antonio Vivaldi.

Ngayon lang siguro ako dinalaw ng lungkot dahil ngayon lang ako nagkapanahon. Ngayon lang ako nagka-oras na manahimik, maupo ng sandali, at makapag-isip tungkol sa mga bagay na nawala sa akin, kinakatakutan, o pinanabikan. Maraming bagay at tao sa buhay ko ang matagal nang umalis, lumisan, at kailanma’y di na babalik. Sila’y nagdudulot din ng kalungkutan sa akin. Subalit dahil alam kong wala na akong magagawa, sandali lang kung ako’y malungkot ‘pag naaalala ko sila.

Natural lamang ang ganitong emosyon.

Ang pinakamakirot na uri ng kalungkutan ay ‘yong batid mo sa kaibuturan ng iyong puso na malungkot ka ngunit di mo alam kung saan ito nagmumula. At ngayong gabi, habang ako’y nakadungaw sa labas at naririnig ng bahagya ang musika ni Vivaldi, nalaman ko, at naramdaman ko, nalulungkot pa rin pala ako… .

Itutulog ko na lang siguro muna ito.

(3:08 ng madaling araw.)

Sunday night self-destructive thoughts

It’s probably because moments ago it was Sunday. It must have been the fear I have of Monday. Or the report I have not even started because I love screwing myself by procrastination, which, feels so good all the time, only for these undone work to haunt me in the middle of the week. But the reason isn’t in any of those I mentioned.

I’ve been unfamiliar with this emotion that I thought I had ceased feeling sadness. But I hadn’t. It took a hiatus only to surprise me tonight. And I saw myself laid bare, unable to protect myself from it. I slept, for two hours, only to wake up still with a lingering feeling of that utter, unexplainable bleeding inside. I attempted in vain to comprehend where it’s coming from. Is it solitude? Idleness? Or an emptiness that sprung from a void I’ve never bothered filling in.

I texted my mother several times, but she seemed to be preoccupied with her own concerns. I didn’t want to bother my brother. And my sister was dating a high school fling. I tried looking outside my small window, trying to find the reason for what I felt from the unflickering lights of the huge metropolis, but I felt emptier all the more. I leafed some pages of a borrowed book but I gave up as soon as the words started dancing erratically before me.

I am indulging far too much. And it is easy to do a free fall in this infinite pit of self-destructive sadness.

I will never be able to resolve this article just like the rest, those that were recently written. Because even if I try to convince myself that I left scot-free that, that I moved on after that break up, I am as bruised, as hurt. I guess one can never say ‘I was hurt more’ because in the end, getting hurt is a shared experience, but unlike love, it is selfishly kept. Pain, sadness, they are far more complex than any emotions there is.

But while they hurt us like hell, we can’t deny that inside, we somehow enjoy them. We love being miserable.