confessions of a typewriter or are they?: November 2006

for abaddon

have you ever wondered how loving someone can actually cause other people pain? even if loving that someone else just actually means loving yourself more than the other person. come to think of it, loving yourself more or too much for that matter just simply means that, well, you're too engrossed with yourself. common enough and to state it frankly, quite a worthwhile endeavor but only up to a point. so when and where is too much marked in self-love calibration?

loving someone causes pain. to others. yes, maybe your/our life is a little bit more complicated than other peoples', yet, does that actually mean that you/we have all the right to trample on others feelings just because they ain't yours/ours? of course not, but hey once in a while we have to admit we do drag some unsuspecting victim into our entangled lives and when those people realize that they have been ensnared it's too late. for both of you/ both of us. one is asking for pardon and the other is asking for redemption.

it's much too common for people who walk side by side and who talk to each other everyday to think that they are invulnerable from each others' destructive forces however mild those forces seem to be. from personal experiences, I can say that this is a fatal flaw in our nature as children of the storm... to think not of the reeds swaying in their midsection. we are weak my brothers and sisters and we all fall down. eventually. and we fall hard. unexpextedly. lonely. empty. hearts aching. not been prepared for the gentle breeze nor the lonely soft whispers in our empty fields.

most times, we hope against all hope that dying passion can somehow be enticed and if need be coerced into renewed blaze. haha. if that has been accepted as probable however impossible, well, hope's are again set upon a last great flicker of light in the twilight of one’s romance - on something so momentous that perhaps it will stop the end of its own end, likened maybe to the last breath of a star; a super nova. let's not tell tall tales to ourselves to convince our hearts that a big shebang is to be romanticized and immortalized as a feat worthy of being in the category of those that are meronyms of the word hope. the starburst that people see in the, erh... farewell sex might just be a result the fantastic pressure endured while one's neck is bent betwixt a three tiered pillow support and the shaggy carpet covered floor. it's just another cosmic joke, just sky rockets in flight spurting inside whichever orifice the rockets were launched. kaboom. and yet again from my point i wander. okay, pain, in this kind of parting it can be really, really painful. physically, mentally, emotionally, especially if only one of the cojoined erstwhile couple saw the starburst and only one of the two was able make the rocket take flight. one gets whacked in the heart by the stealing of that hopeful delusion and the other gets whacked in the face. see. painful! blech.

1) contruction delayed indefinitely. or this might be it. incoherent. walang saysay. bitin.

2)and yes that, i have to confess, was just a deceptive title. to lure. to entice.
WHACK!

3)knowing but unsuspecting. i am abaddon.

4)for the three quarts of juice in my three month long parting of ways with the first cat sent into space. together with the cat then was my very well space-traveled mouse.

5)this is just a work of fiction. really. this is not my own confession after all, just the typewriter's

6)owed confession: I got lost thread of what I was writing. A lot of times. Trains of thought oh well.

confessions of a typewriter or are they?

20061110

i don't understand it either. i just do

20061106

loving: a masterpiece in progress