the trouble with getting a little from too much is hysteria. you pounce on something like a hungry animal because it was a commodity that has become a luxury. take for example, this little time i took off from work. in a span of minutes, my thoughts raced like my brain suddenly found its true utility. everything else seemed a little capricious.
and while it raced, it stopped on you. i thought i forgot. the thing is, i thought. so maybe i never did.
fire and water. you consume me and i extinguish you. all at the same time. they say fire and water do not go together. for sometime i thought they were wrong. but we were. coz we didn’t sustain our ambivalence.
we didn’t. but we could. but maybe not then. for now i’ll let you burn the flames, as you let me flow in my endless freedom. and when we tire, i know, i just know, i shall extinguish you and you shall consume me again.
fire and water go together. i knew they were wrong.
[pam chan]* 12.12.2008
i’m contemplating inside my temple again, reuniting with my religion that is MUSIC. i have been so distracted about less important stuff lately, like work (hehe), i almost forgot how it feels to be melancholic and be one with myself. okay. this drama almost got me to the brim. =p
tonight is the night. i’m back with my old fellows. silverchair. foo fighters. coldplay. some slipknot. we reconnected and so i thought they just spoke the words i’ve been meaning to say. like light that passes through a hundred thousand shards of crystal. random, strange, yet all so beautiful.
i feel so alive.
i await the day when something so good pushes me to write once more. when nothing else matters but me and my peace. forget the love, forget the hate. i’ll be basking under the glory of my endless thoughts, romancing with my former love — writing.
then i could die.
and even then, my soul would wander and tell you how i was created by science to worship art, every step of the way.
pam chan
[29.11.2008, midnight]
i indulge in guilty pleasures.
i am a mistress, the extraordinary version of the ordinary whore. i am the woman who wants more of you than what she needs. the one who delights in your bitterness and seeks comfort in your warmth. when i’m with you, i watch time pass like today is just going to be like tomorrow. blissful and never-ending, as this whole love limbo that we share.
they say i should stop seeing you, that i should drop by less often because the more that i do, the harder it would be for me to let go. but how can i when i was so used to wanting you all my life? when they couldn’t make me want anything else? yes there were times when you left me without sleep in the wee hours of the morning. there were times when you had me palpitating. but the mere fact that no one else does and did makes me all the more addicted to you. you are the drug that leaves no cure, my second love..
i am a mistress. the caffeine’s mistress. =)
pam chan [12.11.2008]
If you are dissatisfied with something –even a good thing that you would like to do, but have not been
able to — stop now. If things are not going well, there are only two explanations: either your perseverance is being tested, or you need to change direction. In order to discover which of those options is correct –since they are opposites — make use of silence and prayer. Little by little, things will become strangelyclear, until you have sufficient strength to choose. Once you have made your decision, forget completely the other possibility. And go forward, because God is the God of the Valiant.
Domingos Sabino said:
“Everything always turns out for the best. If things are not going well, it is because you have not yet
reached the end.”
she sits alone,
the pen bleeding in her hands.
her heart open, yet empty
what is left when all is gone?
silence,
the mischief of loneliness unheard
echoes in the truth that was her denial.
she forgot to remember to forget
again.
it all began when it ended
the night her tears conquered her words
silently, truthfully.
she mourned and slept,
only to wake to another dream.
she opened her eyes to find,
a love that destroyed to make her whole.
she never hated enough to love
she thought, he said.
and she thought of it again
but it never really mattered at all.
she sits alone,
the pen bleeding in her hands.
her heart in the open,
whole again.
There’s something about what you told me. Oh then maybe it was not all about what you told me, but what I realized beneath what you said. And now you got me thinking, and maybe I’ll never stop.
Do you? really?
But I’ll never really know when all I got is a handful of words and a handful more.
Of words. and of words. and of words.
You hurt me.
Maybe I did too.
And maybe I should have never let this start…
