Past

 "Past is past. It isn't even past."

—William Faulkner

    To tell you honestly, I cannot find the words to start this blog. Although my mind revolves in it, past finds it hard to provide me any words to describe what I feel at this moment. I know it has been hard for me to flee the past, especially since I can't restrain my hands from holding those times that I had been very delusional about things.

    Even the poetry, which has become my fortress when sadness seals everything in me, no longer knows how to emancipate me from this. I tried so many times, but words insinuate uselessness whenever I try to move the pen on the paper. I am not a person who is always attacked by sorrow and pain, but I am still a person vulnerable to assaults of life lapses. To describe what I feel right now is a very arduous task to complete. I am not a genius to elucidate anything even my own feelings. All I know is that I am almost cleaved and greatly burdened.

    This is it. I must confess I'd been so foolish, not literally, that I did soaking a poem in the water. This foolishness happened to last more than a year, and completely took its toll on me. Without care about the truth of pain and regret, I'd chosen to be blind and deaf. In the very first bloom of this insanity, I had since known that I would gain nothing from it. Time had passed and I had continued to live a hopeless dream. There were thoughts of turning from the said craziness, but they failed to cajole me to leave it. Indeed, there were pain and regret; yet again, there is pleasure as well. Guilty pleasure.

    I will not blame you if you'd like to call me dense, crazy, or the synonyms. I will not be angry if you'd like to call me any adjectives because I know how to describe myself. I know my weakness will invite your critic side to release words that are addressed to me. It's okay.

    To resume the interrupted story of mine, I had harbored this secret and lived a life full of clandestinity. It hadn't been that easy, but I'd made it so far. I confided my secret to no one because I am afraid to show anybody my weakness. Expect now that I will tell you that I didn't stop letting my severe foolishness take over my life. Yes, it's true. I was hurt many times, but they didn't seem to be lessons for me.

    In spite of the hurts, I still remained the same. I'd concede that I found happiness in it. There were moments when my attention-hunger was satiated. Nonetheless, sadness always intervened, and it succeeded.

    And now it is the last time I'm going to say "tama na!" I'd been foolish once, so I'm now on my way to changing myself. What else can I do but decide. Decide. Decide. Decide. Decide to bury the memories, sweet or bitter. Decide to forget the one. Decide to move on. Decide for the better. 

    Here comes the time when the decisions I have to make are the ones that are painful and unwanted, but I have to believe, with full faith and expectancy, that everything for me will somehow be okay at the end of the day. It won't matter how many rivers and ravines to cross because I know it's the most effective way.

   Looking back isn't always a way to reach the destination I have to go. It's the same as the fact that remembering the past isn't a safe road to emotional recovery. Hopefully, I have to forget the results of the folly of my emotional unpreparedness.

   As I walk with determined mind, I will not swerve nor pause. Even if tears are a part of it, I will someday completely have extricated myself from this. I will always keep my feelings on guard. Through this, I will be able to refute Mr. Faulkner...