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formspring.me
Friday, April 9, 2010



Dream Catcher
Saturday, February 20, 2010


I was flipping through the television channels when I heard a husky voice singing a melancholic song. He has a face of Zion and hair of sun rays at summer. He was wearing a pitch-dark turtleneck and a pair of silvery pants. I was looking at his whole feature but what strikes me the most was the tattoo on his left hand.
I was looking at the school ground when I first saw Hero. He has a silky ebony hair that sways with the gush of the wind. The girls envied his milky white skin that glows when a streak of light touch its surface. He was outstanding in a pool of young boys playing soccer. He always has his uniform tucked neatly and was always regarded as the model student in class.

I would always stay quiet when girls push themselves to Hero. He would always show his Noh smile and the girls would easily believe that it was for them. I grew frustrated as I started to know him more and more. It was in our school debate when Hero truly made me feel like a failure, I have lost to him. I used to be the school's representative for debate but now it would be him. After that day I stopped watching the boys play soccer. I stopped listening to the girls' gossips. I was on my way home when Hero walked beside me. He brushed his soft fingers onto my left arm which made me more irritated. Our house was two blocks away so I decided to just walk faster but he still followed me. I entered the house as fast as I could but he stopped the gate from closing. I slammed the door as hard as I could and after that a shout was heard. I looked at the gate once again to see only that it was still open. I closed it and ran to my room as fast as I could. The following days Hero was absent and after that encounter he never talked to me again. He was the top student in our batch from what I heard he will be attending university abroad and he really went abroad after our graduation.

I came back to watching television when I saw the man crying in front of the audience. He was holding back his shaky voice and he was trying to retain his composure. The cameraman focused more into his crying face while he was still singing. I could clearly see the tattoo from his left hand, it was already healed but there were still traces of red lines on his flawless skin. The audience were starting to cry as well as he burst into more tears. The song finished and he bowed politely and went off the stage. I turned off the television.

The next day I went to a magazine stall and I saw this man's face again. I bought the magazine and read his interview. He is the Hero I know from high school. It was stated there that he dropped out from university to continue his dream of being a singer. He also revealed that he designed the tattoo by himself. It is to cover the scar he got from high school. He stated that it was from the only person who saw his real color and due to that person he realized that he don't want to get other people's dream anymore. I closed the magazine. I smiled a little, I am sure I didn't see his real color.

I made this story for someone, who is after my dream. What is better than achieving other people's dream? To be loved by all people? To be the talk of the town?

I realize how much people could go out of their limits just to get what they really want. When people want something they don't really need other people. They just need themselves.

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Comeback
Saturday, February 13, 2010



The urge to write and read the prolific idea of other people stopped four years ago. I am back to blogging.  My sudden comeback is caused by my Creative Writing class. In the midst of the sun’s violent attack, I would sit outside of our class waiting for the dismissal of the previous class. I would wait outside trying to eavesdrop as discreetly as I can. I need to.  Writing is not as simple as A, B, C and could be as hard as Calculus. We could all write but not all are exemplary and I am one of the mediocre that is dreaming to be a professional writer someday. Every time we are forced to read a story and analyze it, I feel so insecure especially when it is a very good one. I have always wondered if I would be successful someday in life, I think not.
When the clock says 2:30, my absent mind snaps to reality. It will be another challenge for me. It will be my Creative Writing class already. Our professor will sit on her chair facing her laptop, she would occasionally glimpse at us to check our number. We never miss a day without an absent student. The students put gaps between their seats and we are all scattered inside the special classroom. I would take a deep breathe before we officially start the class.
I never knew how wonderful writing is and because of this class, I realize how bad my writing skills are.
I clicked my friend, Macie‘s blog, last time. I saw to her side bar that she still linked my old blog. I clicked it and read it once again. I admit that if my skills are bad now it is worse before. I thought of reviving it, but I decided not. I realize how childish my posts were, all my difficulties with life, love and studies were there. I am caught red-handed.  I even wrote in Tagalog-English, so pathetic.  But on the other hand, I felt happy for the fact that I know I’m not like that anymore.

You could read it. The link is on my side bar named Old Blog. Read it just for fun but it is not recommended.   





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