There is serenity in waiting. How solitude lulls the passing of time, of feeling, of longing. It's not conceding, but rather accepting. That syzygy can happen, when we leave fate to do her weaving. That by releasing our wishes to the winds like a Zoroastrian effigy, we let go of the burden, and discomfort that deciding prescribes. Because certain things are intangible, inexact and ambiguous that to try to grasp it would be like holding sand in your palms.

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Exactly a month from now, I will be officially unemployed.

The repercussions are overwhelming at the moment, and my options are pretty much close to nil. The novel Things Fall Apart comes to mind. The firm that I am currently working for will most probably be folding, as no new projects are coming in. Which means, most of the staff here have been loitering and gossiping among themselves for the past couple of months. The projects that I'm currently handling are the last ones the firm has. Beyond this, when these projects are done, so is the firm.

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A single yes, is equivalent to a thousand no's.

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Bianca Oliganza
on Boys' Night Out, Magic 89.9

Image from here.

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Will you catch me?

Like frail confetti thrown to the wind,

blown into space, caught by your eyes?

Little fragments of a missing whole,

assembled into the nothingness,

a volume, a sentiment, amorphous and astute.

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You didn't see it in my smile. The confident way I held my cigarette, as I tipped my cocktail to take a generous sip. But it was there. It was brewing, bubbling, beaming through the hazed vision of my eyes.

It was fear.

I was afraid. Of you. Of what you are becoming, and what you have become so far. I wish now I that could take back the words I said. The theories I made to make sense of your situation. Because it was me, in my nature, to make sense of things. It was an inherent flaw. How being right felt so wrong. Because right now, I don't want to be right. Because you, who you are, is slowly becoming wrong.

I see it. Nuanced and subtle. The transformation that spells a change. A catalyst that leads to an evolution.

I don't blame you, though. You're young, and exploring this newfound confidence gives you impetus, and license, to create the man you wish to be. The man you feel you should be.

I'm afraid because I've seen it happen to others. And I too went through something similar, years back. When I had no precedent to contrast and compare with. When I had no mentors to keep me grounded. But I am not your mentor. I'm merely a classmate. A passenger in your journey, an occasional companion. Your sputnik in silence.

I'm a spectator.

So I kept silent. And observed.

“Ang sarap. Hindi ako makatulog pagkatapos.”

“Yun ba ang objective mo?”

“Hindi naman. Pero I had it in mind.”

“Kung nag-enjoy ka, tama na yung dahilan.”

“Parang yung sinabi mo dati.”

“Predator?”

"Oo." 

“Basta ingat lang. Alam mo naman kung hanggang saan ka.” 

“Yun ang hindi ko masagot ngayon.”

I smiled. Because, at some level, I was happy for you.

You smiled too. But it was a different smile. Everything about it was. Everything about you was.

How the glint of your eyes was luminescent with a different intensity. How your being glowed with a sensual awakening. How your smile no longer warmed, but inflamed. How every mannerism and gesture was now taut, bursting, owning. Because you may have the same shell, but the soul is different.

Maybe you knew it too. And was equally afraid.

That that future is now a heartbeat away.

But, I couldn't tell.

Image from here.

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending.

Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave.

And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy,

maybe it's you,

on your own,

picking up the pieces and starting over,

freeing yourself up for something better in the future.

Maybe the happy ending is just moving on.

Or maybe the happy ending is this,

knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment

you never gave up hope.

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Gigi Phillips

He's Just Not That Into You

2009 February New Line Cinema

Image from here.

Maybe you want it too, the same way I did. Maybe I had but only a chance to say it, and my own anxiety failed me. I could’ve claimed it, professed it. But I didn’t.

I’m weak. Much weaker than you could imagine. Much more human than what my words would illustrate. Now regrets blanket me, the sole warmth that spell a tale that never got played. Maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe I won’t be the same person, or you won’t be there to remind me of my own shortcomings.

But for all its worth, I really did want to.

Alintana ko ang lamig sa bawat hagupit ng kalangitan. Mumunting butil ng luhang pumapatak, kumakatok, sa lalim ng aking pagkatao. Nagsusumamo, isang paalala, na patalikod na hinuhugot ang lungkot na wari ko’y limot na. Ngunit, kapag ang langit ay dumadampi sa lamig ng aking pisngi, ay umaagos muli bilang bukal. Mahinahon at panatag, lumulublob, malinaw, umaagos. Nagbabago, paunti-unti at pataksil, bilang isang rumaragasang ilog. Walang pakundangan, mapusok at hindi mapigil.

Sa lilim ng mga tala, samu’t-saring nakaligtaang alaala ang bumabalot sa aking kaibuturan, bumabaon sa kalamnan. Ang pagbuhos ng ulan ang malungkot at mapagkutyang heleng yayakap sa akin. Paglatag ng aking pagod na katawan sa init ng higaang buong araw kong pinangarap, aagos ang dilim sa pagbuhos ng kanyang sandakot na biyaya.

Walang isang tao, o panahon, oras o lugar, walang natatanging alaala, ang bubuo at aamin. Ngunit hindi ko maitatanggi na kapag ang ulan ay nagbabadya, bumabalik sila, bawa’t isa, mapanglaw at marikit, mga alaalang hindi mahagilap, ayaw magkubli. At sa kanilang pagbisita, ako’y matutulala.

Unti-unti, ang mga patak ng ulan ay sasabay sa indayog ng mga alaalang lalandi, lulusong, lalantad, sa aking ulirat. Isang sayaw ng sumpa na sasanib, hanggang ako mismo ay magiging isa sa ulan. Sa alat ng luhang papatak mula sa aking mga mata. Aagos sa unang walang kibo, walang sagot, hahagkan ko sa paglatag ng araw.

Bukas, mamaya, titila din ang ulan.



Image by author.

The opposite of courage in our society is not cowardice, it is conformity.
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Rollo May

To come out is to claim it. To profess with little regard, and even with brash pride, the disagreement of our preference with the norm. But to do so would entail that the norm is absolute, or that to be normal is aspirational. The precept of free will is its inherent acceptance, albeit embracing, of individualism. It is no less human to be homosexual than it is to be heterosexual. In fact, both could be disruptive and impeding in certain circumstances. What is absolute is emotion, feeling, and attraction. The ability of one to feel for, and of, another. This makes him human. And whether that someone is of the same sex is inconsequential.

Gender is a conception. A method and a label. A mere tool to create order, and by thus making the idea of it easily comprehensible. But where labels fail is when society defines the semiotics of these labels. Thus leading to discrimination, and bigotry. To come out and claim this label is to subject oneself to the connotations it encloses. So to say that I am gay is conceding to a misnomer, and a misconception. To belie the fact that I am much more than the preference I consume. Much, much more. I'm not a heterosexual, true, but I am also not just a homosexual.

The facets of a gem do not define its brilliance.

I am not compelled to profess it. Is there a need to? But if asked, my honesty would be provided. But I refuse to be simplified into a word without dimension. I am a myriad of things, none by any far capacity can fully expound on my totality. I am a mind, and a heart, a psyche and a body, I am my beliefs, and passions, my talents and my actions. I am a man, who just happens to fancy other men.

In a perfect world, the capacity to love, or simply attraction, should be enough. But we do not inhabit a perfect world, and to long for a utopian reality is a fodder all human beings pine for, in the spectrum of both homosexual and heterosexual inclinations. Who is to say that our discrimination is any greater, or more absolute, than those of others? We are beings of thought, and to believe that perfection, total acceptance, is achievable in this lifetime is akin to saying that we can undo the wreckage of our race on the environment in the very same breathe. We can't.

But we can choose to live our lives with the decency of our own humanity.



Image from here.
In answer to Theorgy - Coming Out.