Sweetest Secrets

Hell as Death

2005-12-28T22:49:00.000-08:00

I almost Killed him.

I almost drowned him.

I almost...

just almost....

almost...

One day, I can kill him

with

No doubts

No Fear

But with love for flesh

Lust over blood

Just to see him bleed

Just like I did

But secretly

I am rescuing another feeling

As hell as Death

As I am dead

For whatsoever

Reasons that are never real

But just live in my head

Secretly killing me

Because I can't accept that it's just it

And it's just it

Just it.

No man could ever describe the feeling

I feel right now

Like no other

but still I know something

I almost killed him

ALmost

And secretly hides it

Under my bedsheets

To cover the tears

Of regret and of sin

Murder as Hell as Death

But secretly loves it.

That is my sin

It's no Surrender

It's not against the law

Not against the law of man.

No Concrete as flesh and blood

But I almost

Just almost

Did

Korean Invasion

2005-12-23T18:32:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a blast. I attended a Korean Party with my bandmate, Kevin, and performed 3 songs. I saw a lot of beautiful Gals and Gorgeous Guys! I'm turning crazy when they look at us (kevin and I) as if we're the foreigners. And honestly, I wanted to scream because their faces are good... beautiful. (Haysten's coming out of me) Okay, yeah right... He says, "Beautiful Girls right next to me is Great!) Apparently, we did good in performing spontaneously.

I did not really enjoy the night cause I'm not really used to energetic parties.... with all the lights and sounds. I don't have any other friends there except for Kevin so I didn't feel welcomed though I know they tried. Well, the musician in me came out and I'm very musically inclined at that moment.

Koreans, koreans....

Japanese.... I'm actually planning to to sing japanese songs. I want to study Niponggo and compose japanese songs too. Hahaha.. Love the language.

A Musician once again...

2005-12-09T22:12:00.000-08:00

Journal: Thursday, Dec 8, 2005

Yesterday, I felt the greatest feeling of fling. (fling, man!) I started to reminisce the graduation song contest. I sang my own arrangement of "Path of Tommorrow", composed by Lara Tuazon, with all my heart. But then, I wasn't satisfied. I made new chord patterns and sing blah, blah, blah. And in a snap, I spontaneously sang a good song:

Kisses are so good when you are gone
Pretending that your lips are all mine
Reminiscing all the day memories have passed
And all I'm wishing is to forgetThat you were GONE.

Hehehe.... I'm actually imagining the scenario of our last meeting in COMTAG. I'm going to miss good friends, good pool members, once an evil friend and a very charming admirer. (heya, believe me, okay? You are charming. Believe Saphrell).

And for Her...

We talked for a while. I felt frustrated and glad at the same time. I'm going to college! Yehey! But I'm going to miss a lot from her. Her chocolates, her smile, her letters and gifts. Even the times when she hides away from me. But hey... this isn't goodbye.At this moment, I remeber a song I dedicated to my bestfriend: No Farewell. I think that's a good song for "her".

No farewell, to friend I won't forget...
Ohh... This is not the end for the memories we had.

*smilingOkay... so I'm singing now.

Anyway, yesterday, Ms. Medina, my subject teaher in Music, commended my skills in guitar. She said I am advanced compared to others. Yehey!- again for me. Well, She asked me right after I Stood in front of my chair. I didn't utter a complete word since I wasn't ready for her Question which is, " Iha, were you the one with the guitar?" Woah! I nodded and she asked for my name. Unfortunately before I could answer, my classmates shouted my most embarrassing nick name that they themselves made for me: EBA PUGITA. SHIT!!! hehehe... anyway, Ms. Medina Laughed so I got no problems with that until they insisted of calling me names. God!!!! If only I had a Duck tape... (not sure of that kind of tape.. BUt I refer to the silver tape thingy), I had taped all their lips to shut them up. Geez.I think I have talents in music though I can't imagine myself to have it as my full source of living. I believe I can create good compostions latter in my life when I'm ready. But still, I hope I got time in college to show my talent in an extreme exposition like being a on TV and have loads of fans collecting CD's and all. I still ought to make a novel then. I got lots of plan for the future. hehehe.... But I'm satisfied with what I have as for now. I'm sure not to regret a single of it.

The DArk Secret of Morbid Frank

2005-12-04T03:12:00.000-08:00

The Dark Secret of Morbid Frank

It was a very dark night when all people went to sleep. I was only right there in the corner waiting for something that might change. I was shivering from the cold breeze of the night, wearing a very pale blue dress just as I step my feet on the end of it. I was thinking of mere words neither I, myself, could not say. Was there a secret? Was there a lie? I cannot keep my eyes set upon that silly sky. It was dull as if empty. Until I fell asleep keeping my arms tight covering my own self, it was so cold I barely felt my hands tightly hugging me. It was then a complete darkness.

It was just a dream I thought, as I open my eyes. I lie on a very whelming bed surrounded by soft pillows and a blanket covering me with warmth and strength. Though I always think that life could be so unfair, there’s no doubt I had almost everything a Kid would want. I was alone in my small yet pleasing room. It was delightful, colored in pale pink that would almost look white as it fades away. I love it though I wished it was all black or just dark. And when I’m alone…it is where I can by myself… a complete me, I guess.
A book caught my eyes. Ah… My favorite book is there on my study table. As I could remember I bought all five volumes of that book just to read it all and collect it as my obsession. I admire its author as I admire my being as a writer. But things changed in me. I do not know how to define the way I could be. To be the matter is completely weird for me. Was there a secret? Was there a lie?

My silence broke my motivation of writing. There is a curse since I was a child. And it is haunting me… slowly as it seems. I write a lot of things. From my head to my heart, I put every feeling in me… that I became worse than ever. I became EVIL. I became hideous, mysterious, and grown up to be a SHADOWMASTER. Was that a secret? Was that a lie?
As I slowly stretch my body to relax, I stood and faced the mirror.
Look at my face.
It was rough as if I’m very tired all night… or all day. I guess I’m being too tired of thinking… of playing.

I heard my mom call my name. And I know it would be a very busy day, as it should be. I do not understand them: my family, my brothers, and my friends. I’m too ISOLATED from them, through my thoughts and through my being. I descended to know what’s about to happen. And clearly, it was breakfast time… before I forget all about eating and keeping a healthy diet.
At the moment, I can describe my movement as sluggish and lazy as always: I walked slowly towards the table as if waiting for them to serve me. And they did. They offered all the food on the table asking me what I want to eat. I felt like a princess and I was happy. That way, I know I’m bad. I started chewing my food and thinking what to do next after I have eaten. I thought of playing my computer and just play games, or try to finish the fifth book of my favorite author. I have many plans for this day, I thought, as I eager wanted to know what will happen to the aspiring writer, Judy Abbot, which I always watch on TV. It was exciting. And I wanted to feel what she feels as a strange lady studying in a prestigious school. She’s lucky as I am but still different.

As I was having my last spoon of meal, I headed straight up to my room and opened my computer. From waiting it process the loading, I opened the case of my guitar and started to sing. I’m going to be a pop star someday. Though my priority is to study hard, I don’t want to miss a chance of being a singer. That’s one rare chance to be, I agree. I look at my clock- nearly
ten o’clock. I think I woke up late. My favorite show is a bout to start. Well, I started to think if I rather shutdown the computer (Well, I haven’t used it since I was waiting for it to finish the process) and then watch TV. It was easy to think of it so I readily turned it off and went down to the Television. As I expected, the show started.

As I was thinking of myself, how I wished I could have been her. I do not know what to be or what to have. But then it’s also weird not to have dreams of my own. Sometimes, I look at myself as a frustrated person. The one who always think things that should not be in thought. Obviously, I had a lot of things in mind, something strange as what others had said.
I grew up in a well-bred family. I’m proud of that. And the more that I think of it everyday, the more that it bothers me on how bad I’ve been since I became too proud of myself. True that I’m one good student, one determined and talented writer, a remarkable speaker, and one good Filipino who sticks with her principles. Yet, I find it hard to just think that I was normal, average. Not that I agree of something good about being abnormal or something but to think that I was TOO ISOLATED and being mysterious of what I really think. People judge me because of that. They thought I was like a weather who just change time to time. And my weirdness is completely over me. I say not so good things. I spew a lot of despicable and weird stuffs as if I really am too serious of being so EVIL. Too harsh, they thought. And as I linger every finger of mine on my forehead, I can feel so many aches. I wanted to be different. I want no change as it was, as I am so hideous and mysterious, that I’m too sluggish and proud, that I was too insane to feel so much special of one such gift, IMAGINATION AND REALITY.
Isn’t it so hard to know when things are just your imagination? Or is it just a part of reality? Words don’t come out of my mouth. It comes out of my hands and my ambitious triumph was to be famous of it. Nor the queerest thing I could ever think of was greatness, was it?

I can manage both thinking and watching. Amusing did I felt but to think a lot of it makes me too miserable for a child like me. It was too heavy and a burden. For me, there is no escape from my questions and verdicts. So as my decisions comes always to an end of confusion and hatred to myself. I do not know yet, where I am to stop being so what-I-am and that whatever I do I always fail to remind myself that I just have to be normal.

The show ended and there was I still sitting on the floor trying to find good channels that would probably amuse me for a short moment. Happiness does not stick on my mind nor every night do I enjoy every entertainment I do. Time has come that I feel a strange feeling of discreet and change. Was there a secret? Was there a lie? I watched the flashing screen and hear voices from them as all of those questions echoed in my head.

There is a slight of change on my mood now. I feel kind of relaxed. I turned off the television and as of in my list; I headed upstairs in my room and turned on my computer again. I was about to think, what is this place? Pale pinked room turning white that is fading so quickly, my room did not improve for many years ago. I did not remember my parents having a plan having it painted. It looks dull with the bright sun’s ray. I hate light colors as I hate the sun showing off his bright smile. Too bright, I guess. I spread the curtains. Now I felt comfortable in my room ever, as always: Dark.

It was finally ready. I started exploring my desktop expecting to see something I haven’t used before. Yet… found none, as I knew it would be. I went on to the game I’m addicted with. It was really fascinating yet rather boring afterwards. I find it very hallucinating, making me happier and amused. I find myself too trying hard to imagine I was the character that I was playing in the game. Funny indeed, and as my Sims work as a star, I imagine myself slowly reaching my dreams; nice cars, big house, and having a good reputation and being followed by obsessed fans. TOO SASSY, as I describe it. Was there a secret? Was there a lie? TOO unreal for me, I know.
My eyes started to ache. I think the radiation is on me… it hurts. I decided to turn off my computer and just lie on my bed. There it goes again. I feel the same feeling. As if I left a world and being in another world. Sometimes I don’t know what to feel. Am I crazy? Or am I just sleepy?

Starting with the concoction of dreams and aspiring motivations of art, my mind flew above until it reached its destination. And it was different. It’s my choice. It’s my world. It’s my life. Years of profound exploration contributed a lot to it. And it is remarkable. Feelings changed and a different story of my life begins.

History: Condemned Sinner

2005-12-03T01:23:00.000-08:00

History: Condemned Sinner

Journal May 30, 2005 11:36 pm
Life became a rolling stone to an edge of a mountain. I was ready for a swing. I am ready to kill my sources. My parents gladly have mistaken me for some cheap shit of reasons. I hate them… no… not really. I do hate my father but not my mom. I hate my dad that if he’ll just shut up, I’m ready to kill myself in front of him. But then I did not. I am planning at this moment. I wanted to kill this feeling of life. I do not belong here. I am not supposed to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be like them just like what they want me to be. Why won’t they just leave me alone? Why won’t they shut the hell out of their mouths and stop thinking of what other people would say? It drives me mad- a complete rebel. Why do they worry about their existence? This is my world now. Not theirs. And whatever my plan is, they’re just there to let God’s will to happen. Why think about the impression of other people about not having a very straight-A student as a child? Why worry about not having a child who’s more on punk music? What about the “baby talks shit”? They don’t know me at all. If ever I don’t show them my fulfilled abilities is that because they’re trying to keep an eye on everything. That’s why good things never happen. They think they’re good that’s why I have to be good. Can’t I have the choice of my own? I have just forgotten to bring back the glass down to the kitchen. Why does my mom has to say that I’m like my father’s relatives who are complete failures? We’re different- very different because I have a choice of my Own. I want to kick myself, hurt myself, and kill myself. Not because it will hurt them somehow but I want this shit to end. I want to stop this feeling of disappointment in life. If they think I have no future, so be it but till I die… They’re nothing compared to God. God never told me to pray, to do his will, and recognize his greatness. And yet, I do believe. I need no compromise. It is not needed for the Frankish leader. He is visibly alive. And I will find him to kill every human who killed my heart. And my relatives are not on the bottom line of my list. I hate them with all my being. We may have same bad habits but in contrast of different causes. I am living for battle- to kill for glory. And I shall kill to gain it.

Chapter One: Broken

2005-12-03T01:12:00.000-08:00

Chapter One: Broken

When my family flew away to Europe and left me here all alone but servants, I never thought there is much threat to my freedom. When there has been so much happiness, I gloomed thirty-six feet under to be the one left behind. It wasn’t that serious. The atmosphere of despondency and despair made me grew well as an independent person.

I turned sixteen with no one but servants. I turned seventeen then eighteen. Three years after my family left, I’m still the same abandoned child who walks along the family hall, looking for a memory that might contemplate the feeling of hope; I want to confirm my belief that they’ll be coming back, at least, for me. But then, a winter had passed, a spring, a summer, then came the autumn. Still, no one had bothered to call or visit me. I felt the pain. Where am I anyway?

I lived in a distant country house, a place for peaceful men to celebrate harvests and crops. I grew much of tending the soil while I, myself, have not tended my soul. I have waited for long. I started to long for college that when time comes, I’ll be the one to look for my family. I studied and worked in the fields. I’ve tried to be a man and elude myself from the thought that there is so much hope to feel. I am alone with no one but servants. Still, I’ve waited no matter how hard I’ve tried to free the pain. I turned nineteen; winter came; then spring and another summer; here comes autumn. I fall on my knees, still, waiting until my pain wasted every drop of sweat I’ve served to the fields. No one came to save me… until one night.

The sun sets its wings of brightness that cast the gold fields of my hard work to the end of my melancholy path. I looked down and stared my hands. They are dirty and calloused. I never complained. But here am I thinking, where am I? I called one of my servants to carry my load. I felt the exhaustion since I’ve stopped from walking. Perhaps, if I’ve continued walking until I’ve reached the house, I wouldn’t notice the weariness of a farmer. I was alone again. All I saw was a shadow that formed a diabolic figure that made me feel unwanted and disappointed. I ran as fast as I could, letting no tears drop the ground to point out heaven. Why have you forsaken me? I ran towards my barn and lied down the hay. I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, “How come I’m all alone?”

I’ve tried to stand up when I felt a pain on my hand. Blood came out the wound that had reminisced to my forgotten memory. I saw a rifle hidden from the tools cabinet. I grabbed it when I suddenly noticed the strange marks on the wall. I followed the marks but then I stopped. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t breathe. I, still holding the rifle, slowly walked down the basement. That moment revealed my misery as to why my family never came back. I finished the last step of the stairs, afterwards, I fainted; I was still holding the rifle tightly with my wet, guilty hands.

Recover the blood stains...

2005-11-29T02:06:00.000-08:00

Recover the blood stains...

Dear Mr. Fauvaukes,

A day will come, You'll see the truth.
Spare a blood- that's the thing we do.
There's a reason of how we came to sooth .
For years, all we have as a target is you.

Poetic...
Simple...
Vague...
All words that should be defined to form a wonderful story... That's how it is. But what is actually real? Can anybody just spew such poetic words to enchant a humanistic mystery?

Thing is...

"People are like stained glass windows; they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty revealed only if there is light within." -Elizabeth Kubler

Out of the shining bright armors, only few warriors sets free a kingdoms glory. And of those few warriors, there is only one who can inherit the immortal power. The stage of battles within ones fighting spirit recovers the bloody stains that drools over a wicked attempt. When you kill, you kill. Whatever intentions or circumstances cannot alter the definition of KILL. Same as for people. No matter how hard you try to redeem yourself, the past faults and failures are never gone in your heart and in mind. The sweetest favor of a stained identity is the balance the fault and indifference.

Put life in your heart and you'll always be lonely. Ironically speaking, the statement focuses a very insecured mind of what is life and what is not. Life can be referred as the life of humans- a taste of every sensational emotion whether it could kill you or not. Life is the birth of Death. If there is no life, then there is no death. This is only true when you always protect life without the sense of freedom. Freedom to accept the bloody stains of realism and humanism. Life grows. Life is responsibility which is only true when you care so much about many things. You have to keep an eye on yourself then. You could be watching all the time but then, losing an eye to protect what you value the most, essentially present in you. That way, you're starting to trip over a nice catch for failing you heart. Heart is not the center of life. Doesn't mean that losing the beat is not life. But actually this signifies your presence in putting up yourself as the center of your life. (Don't think of any religious- Centric for goodness sake!) Who fools, what fools you ahead.

Dear Mr. Fauvaukes,

Though lies prevail
Sometimes it pays
Unfortunately, you can't hide yourself
Because I'm everywhere you face

PS. Recover my Blood Stains