There are two ways to handle pain. One, you can dwell on it and bathe in the feeling. Get to know pain and channel it into something useful. Two, as much as you can, concentrate on whatever is left to enjoy. Even if it is hard and even if you are dying deep inside, at the very least, you tried overthrowing the misery by basking on optimistic joy. Either way, pain will never leave you probably until it is time or until you decide that it is.

Goodbyes, they say, are the hardest. It is in goodbyes that forever is nullified. We invest so much emotions in the promise of eternity, along with the memories that have become the foundations of these emotions and the people with whom we build them and who eventually become the pillars that remind us and empower us to hold on. However, things happen and eternity becomes an abstraction that lures us into false hopes and makeshift happiness. We find ourselves at the center of the scheme that is separation, wanting to stay and losing grip of the slightest opportunities to stay put. We say goodbye, and no matter how much we force ourselves to accept things, smile, and wave back, it is the pain in our hearts that wakes us late at night and makes us wonder of the possibilities that will never even happen. We say goodbye and endure until numbness creeps like crackling coldness. Goodbye, they say, is the toughest and the most painful, and it sucks to have to say it.

I have a lot to say but the words and emotions do not equate. Things like this, they happen, right? You look around you and you see how other people seem to get along, the very people with whom you wish to spend time and enjoy moments and build memories. You look around you and you see the people with whom you enjoy experiencing things only to find the need to say goodbye. You look around and you see the people with whom you would spend the days to come only to feel fear and intimidation and inferiority. You look around and you see people, get acquainted with them, enjoy the company, fall in love, and bid farewell. You see people and you repeat the cycles that only end in sadness and pain. You see people and you either look at them from afar and get hurt or approach them and get hurt. You see people and find handfuls of joy that slip away before you know it. You see people and you succumb to misery. You see people and words and emotions never equate. Things like this, they happen, right?

The Waiting Cycle

I was, I figured, still waiting. But the grander question was this: what am I waiting for?

The world is a spectrum. In fact, the world is anything that you think it is because the world is a cradle of everything: of the imaginable and the unimagined, the real and the make-believe, the beliefs that come true and the ideals that we reject. In this long widespread terrain that is the world that we live in along with everything that we get out of it no matter how abstract, what is it that we really wait for? Do we wait for the tangible and jump to the next when we have already consumed it, like a worker living from paycheck to paycheck, only from one concrete aspiration to the next? Do we wait for emotions, the taking shape of which always invisible to the visions of our hearts? Do we wait for things that will happen if we believe, or are we trapped in the limbo of waiting for things that will never come no matter how we try to believe?

I figured that the world is a sphere of constant waiting. We wait for another day, and when it comes, we wait again. Sometimes, we would bask in the sunlight of the happenstances in the now, but then again, we start looking for things and waiting for things the moment the now slips away. We are always like that. We are waiting. For whatever reason and for reasons that we don’t even understand, we wait.

People sometimes become impatient in the whole cycle of waiting. And it is somehow funny. Humans are made to wait, and yet, we tend to give up when, all our lives, we have been waiting and waiting already without us realizing this ironic grandeur in the scheme of life. Some waits are harder and longer and more painful than others, yes, but the dynamics are all the same. We wait. Things come. We wait again. We wait even more. Then all the coming stops. And yet, we wait still.

So, just like everybody else, I am waiting, waiting still. Probably, in the end, it is an individual challenge to make the wait worthwhile.

A few after-nondietary-dinner thoughts: 1) I was planning to finally work on my cobwebbed thesis files specifically by deconstructing the essential texts, but what happened was that the rain poured again, as if the tears shed days ago are not and will never be enough, and the coldness that it has brought created a transparent set of chains that strangled me to an all-day slumber. 2) Russia attacked the Malaysia Airlines flight without question, but aren’t most people like that? They badmouth, attack, and judge other people without knowing the whole story. 3) To wait is OK, but unless a promise has been made, the waiter has no right whatsoever to demand from the waitee. 4) We are all loved and we are all blessed. We just have to either keep looking or stop looking. 5) I know storms come in life literally and figuratively, but how I wish storms would not be that harsh! 6) I will wait.

It is OK to stay. After all, if there is nowhere else to go, it would not hurt to just stay a little longer, just so you can be sure that you would not miss anything, just so you can prepare yourself, just so you will no longer look back and get hurt the moment you leave. But to stay and hopelessly wait for what will not come is pretty much unhealthy. To stay and wait just so you can beg, to stay and continually expect for what is obviously not going to happen, to stay and stupidly see how everybody else enjoys waiting, to stay and stare at people who chose to leave, to stay and watch everybody else grow, to stay and confine yourself inside a shell of still hoping for the hopeless, to stay and watch that one person wait for someone else, to stay and suffer in despair, to stay and stop loving yourself: this is not staying is all about. 

Change can be really sad and fearful and confusing and uninviting. With change looming around, we would rather hide under the comforts of our little box, where corners and edges become the very limits of our potentials. But change is something to be embraced and faced head on. We’ll never know what we would miss and what could become of us if we wouldn’t try to step into the unknown. Thus, do not fear change; instead, try.

Do we use our freedom of expression to really just express, or do we sometimes end up using our words to show off? Unintended or not, there are times when people envelop in the words they call expression the underlying goal of saving face, presenting to the world self-proclaimed greatness, boasting about achievements, and slapping to others’ faces the good life that they have. If people write to pour down what they feel, the readers will feel it because words that are offsprings of emotions will forever have genuine feel, but if they write to brag, it will also show. This is not to ignore the fact that other people can be really bitter and envious that they misinterpret one’s intention, but in some occasions, people just write to brag no matter how they try to sugarcoat it.

iooare asked:
one must perform rigorous tasks involving thorough filtration and distillation processes in order to 'truly' escape into the internet. for example, there are extensions for tumblr (XKIT is a good one) that can blacklist certain tags that you do not want to appear on your dash. you simply don't go on a clicking spree and expect a harmless surge of data. after all, internet is just a digitized reflection of human scum.

My point nga po is that there is no escape. Even if you filter, did you escape really? Is salvation just about avoidance or should there be comfort and freedom in it? If you go private, you have escaped, but on what essence of escape are you heading, confinement to yet another asylum or escape to a better all-accepting place (which I think is unattainable nga)? Let me clear, while my opening statement sees Tumblr as a safe haven, I actually go against it. 


iooare asked:
tumblr is a diverse community of this kinds of people and that. accept the fact that when one posts publicly, one is also opening oneself to criticisms, valid or not. tumblr is not a safe haven, unless you start writing privately, which is much the same as thinking inwardly. while your piece provided a good point (i.e. the last sentence), it is as generic as any other political speech.

Maybe it wasn’t just for Tumblr but for the virtual space in general. Maybe that is the reason why the statement is general, because after all, it can be true to all, but I tried as much as I can to appropriate the message to Tumblr.

Forms of media have always been used as a form of escape. So that is my first point, that we try to escape only to find the things and issues we escape from in the Internet. Of course, there is diversity, but for me, I do not like it when people highlight how diverse a community we are, how our characteristics, i.e., those that make us different, are sensationalized and exoticized as tools for discrimination. We open ourselves to criticism, but how criticisms are thrown is what makes it difficult. And these harsh ways are also what we try to escape from in the real world and still find here, so that was again the point. 

Lastly, my major point was that exactly, that Tumblr is not a safe haven after all, and it is not in reference to just the site as a means of expression, an outlet, but also Tumblr as a community.


Tumblr is supposed to be our safe haven. We escape a dreadful society where politics thrive, but the thing is, Tumblr is no less than the society that created it. Then and now, no matter what the batch, it is all just the same. We go away from all the branding and segregation and prejudice and stereotyping only to be branded and segregated and prejudged and stereotyped in this virtual space. I commend every post that promotes equality and other forms of advocacy, but it is mostly just reblogged and never practiced. There still remains the glorification of the few and the Othering of the rest. Even what appears to be selfless initiatives and activities tend to be a sugarcoating of self-promotion. The influential fails to use their power responsibly and would use it to uplift themselves even more, and that pretty much is what happens in actual reality. The minority is underappreciated despite their potentials, if not altogether muted in a one-sided self-serving world of the powerful. We try to escape the pressures and labels and discrimination of the real world, only to be confronted with the same issues in our little virtual space of comfort, expression, and acceptance. Thus, there is no escape, really.

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