...friendship 102...

I have, just as of this evening, come to a conclusion that friendship is an obligatory relationship much like love. As being the product of chemical reactions in one’s brain a commonality between love and friendship, so is the fact that to consummate friendship, one must enter a reciprocated state, one being described as a “two-way street”. Thus, it is further defined that one party is entitled to demand the same level of attention and affection as is given the other party.

Friendship should be in the highest form of mutual understanding, with the unwritten consent of both parties for equal manifestations of compassion, concern and commitment. I cannot be a friend to you unless you agree that you will be a friend to me. For as long as I find reason for you to be a friend to me, I cannot resign being a friend to you. This is one option friendship simply does not allow me to do. Thus I will continue to provide you with the services a friend gives, with all expectation that you will continue to do the same.

But with the way things are going on between us lately, I just might be forced to abandon this concept.

...hate me...

i'm a sucker for good words in songs. as i am a lyricist by heart, sans the music, songs like this one never fail to catch my attention. and as i am a very generous person, i'd like to impart with you what this song wanted to say. should you find that you share my passion for intolerably sensitive and icky-ly mushy songs, well, this is one that'll tickle your lyrical palate. look for the mp3, or i can send it to you... hit me back.


HATE ME
Blue October

i have to block out thoughts of you so i won't lose my head
they crawl in like a cockroach, leaving babies in my bed
dropping little reels of tape to remind me that i'm alone
playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
there's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
an ounce of peace is all i want for you. will you never call again?
and will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?
and will you never try to reach me? it is i that wanted space

Hate Me Today
Hate Me Tomorrow
Hate Me For All The Things I Didn't Do For You
Hate Me In Ways
Yeah, Ways Hard To Swallow
Hate Me So You Can Finally See What's Good For You

i'm sober now for three whole months; it's one accomplishment that you help me with
the one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing i won't touch again
in a sick way i want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
while i was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
you never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
you made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
so i'll drive so fucking far away that i never cross your mind
and do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Hate Me Today
Hate Me Tomorrow
Hate Me For All The Things I Didn't Do For You
Hate Me In Ways
Yeah, Ways Hard To Swallow
Hate Me So You Can Finally See What's Good For You

and with a sad heart i say bye to you and wave
kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that i had made
and like a baby boy i never was a man
until i saw your blue eyes crying and i held your face in my hand
and then i fell down yelling, "make it go away!"
just make a smile come back and shine, just like it used to be
and then she whispered "how can you do this to me?"

Hate Me Today
Hate Me Tomorrow
Hate Me For All The Things I Didn't Do For You
Hate Me In Ways
Yeah, Ways Hard To Swallow
Hate Me So You Can Finally See What's Good For You

For You
For You
For You

...comfort zone...

How big a zone must I create to feel comfortable? And what shape must it take for it to function as it should? People I know almost always would tell me that they have already defined their comfort zone. It was only a matter of shyness on my part to ask if I was ever inside it. Not that I really cared. Nor did it really matter. I cannot really find use for some information I do not understand.

It’s a funny thing, this zone is. I imagine it to be an osmotic barrier, invisible though, but can only filter in one direction, with much difficulty at that. Things tend to pass through it by natural selection, and not by choice of those that created the barrier. It’s an emotional filter that brings the protected some level of security – emotional or otherwise – but at the same time provides immeasurable degrees of transparency. Friends come and go, not necessarily through that zone, but they do come and go. Family exhibits the same.

I asked a friend not long ago to shed light on her comfort zone for me, how big it is, what shape it has taken and who is in it. There was little convincing on her answer on what it was, or what’s inside it. However, it was definitely clear to me what was outside it. The absence of things gives more definition to their existence.

I do not know how big your comfort zone is, but it’s starting to feel like I’m outside of it. This chaos in my mind, this uncertainty in my feelings, this madness in my thoughts – all these make me think that I have gone at least an inch away from your borough. And being outside, we both have moments that are no longer ours, but separately yours and mine alone. Take me back in; let me bask in that comfort which you bring. If I must beg of you, then I will, if only to savor again the refuge I find with you next to me.

Or is it you who has gone outside of my comfort zone?


note: inspired by recent conversations with lysistrata (http://perfectlytarnished.blogspot.com)

...surrender...

There is numbing pain that’s enveloping my heart. It’s a silent monster that creeps slowly, masked by a deep longing for you. And then it finally broke free, and every vein in my body ceases to respond. The heart is next.

You patiently tell me bedtime stories about how your life had been without me. My hand is clasped into yours as you slowly, yet unknowingly, attempt to break the battle that is waging inside of me. Like kids’ in a quarrel over whose turn it is on the swing, you push me off it. And as I lay half soaked in mud, this seething pain in me begins to unravel.

Words do not make dents anymore. And helpless as though I am looking up to you on that swing from the soft ground that I had fallen, you still are the angel in my eyes.

And heaven takes me. Or hell.