i am being persecuted for having learned how to think in a critical way

I resent the way I am.
I no longer like myself.
I no longer like the person I turned out to be.
I take no pleasure in what I am doing simply because it entails me to think.
It demands that I know how to infer meaning from situations.
And I am being persecuted for knowing how to do it.

How I wish I was born without my senses.
Take away my sight that I should never get to read again.
Take away my hearing that I might not be able to listen to anything again.
Take away my ability to speak that I might not say what I have in mind.
…and maybe then he’ll love me more.

Let me be “unthinking.”
Let me be something different.
Mold me into a person that you will love deeply.
I feel so unhealthy writing this.
I feel so sad about myself.
I want to abandon myself.
Is it possible?

-cfaithlopez-
07042012
03:38am

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In The Storm

This morning the sky has not lighted.
All is dark but for the sudden light
of stray lightening.
Lowering clouds seem to dampen all
sound,
save for the rumbling of thunder,
as if the sky grew hungry
and looked down drooling on the
world below.

I wait as the lights go out, and watch
the sky attack the ground,
hiding myself behind fragile glass.
As clouds swirl and move,
blanketing the earth in a swirling
layer of black and gray.
I wonder if you too are seeing
a dark and wet assault from the sky,
one that sakes the ground
WE once stood on TOGETHER.

-cfaithlopez-
070312
3:03am

WARNING: Famine Ahead

I really wanted to write something substantial, but I can’t. For no apparent reason, I am beginning to loathe the world. Not that I am thankful for all the blessings I have been receiving but there are some unexplainable feeling of uncertainty and insecurity in the way that life unfolds itself.

I have been a scatter-brain lately. No inspiration. No organisation. Devastated… I am in drought. My land is beginning to crack in dryness and. If it will not rain soon, famine occurs.

To feed the soul is more difficult than responding to a hungry stomach for the nourishment it yearns for is too abstract. Too weird to figure out. You see, right now I am writing in metaphors. Why do I always have to hide in metaphors? My words are not huge enough to cover me in shadows.

Bazaar Happiness

Last night, I got so amused with the bazaar at Eastwood City, Libis. Well, just so you know, I went “head-o’er-heels” shopping for some cool finds. To add another pieces o’ tops in my closet, here are the things that I bought:

  • White sleeveless top with American flag- 200php
  • Grey comfy cardigan- 150php
  • Sheer tangerine cropped top with prints- 50php
  • Red sleeveless cropped top with tattered design- also for 50php
  • An American-indian inspired faux-feather earring- 100php
So… How much in total? P550.00 for all of these stuff which means I spent just a half of my total budget! 😀 Yayyyy!!!

*sorry for the pic quality. x.x  I just used my mobile cam for these.*

Insomniac

Darn… I can’t sleep. I had a few chats with my friends over BBM. Some sorta killin’ time.

Oh well,I’m thinkin if I’ll go to work tonight or not. I’m not motivated at all. I hate the people there, the environment, and a lot of stuff. So, I guess I’ll have to do Plan B, which is to apply to another company next week. 🙂

Stranded on a Stormy Episode — RUSTY

That is my perfect description of my writing skills now. How long had it been since I last sat down and express myself through something creative?

I missed this part of the process, when I am beginning to suck my thumb like a little girl again when it suddenly struck me that I am stranded at the exact same part of the story where I decided to stop a few years back.

Not that I never attempted to get back to it. But it just gets frustrating when I really thought I now have found a different perspective to get past this part of the story I am writing.

Apparently, I now find myself in the very same spot. Same punctuation point. Same freaking episode of a stormy day. I need to give an ending to this soon. But I am missing characters and scenes.

It feels as though there is something blocking my imagination, that if only I get to see through it then everything would flow out smoothly – the words and all…

I am feeling a rush. I need to get the rest of the story out of me.