Maybe the reason why I'm so oddly fascinated by the existence of alternate universes is because they present so many chances with different outcomes. It comforts me that somewhere in the deep recesses of the universe, somehow, an alternate version of me actually took a leap of faith on something this universe "me" was just too afraid to take.

Untitled Blogspot Re-welcome Post

"I guess people are naturally in denial. Instead of completely acknowledging the flaws of something we thought was perfect, we often choose to look on the brighter side of it and dismiss the idea that things, indeed, are going to shit. We try to remain inside our comfort zones, dismissing the looming, overwhelming, and excruciating fact that the comfort we once experienced in it just isn't the same as before.

At the back of our minds, we know that things have enormously changed. However, we opt to dismiss the very thought and hold on to the false idea that everything is still perfectly in place.

I'm thinking maybe it's because we fear to accept that something so familiar, isn't anymore now. Or that maybe because this is not how we saw things to turn out in the end. We choose to deny the glaring enormity of the negative and concentrate on the positive, however infinitesimal, instead.

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What you just read above is something that I wrote back in September 28, 2014, back when I was fresh out of college. That is my nineteen-year-old self sprouting bullshit after bullshit, but hey - my twenty six-year-old self just cannot believe being able to write something like that. 

I don't exactly know what brought me back to this blog, but I think a sense of nostalgia plays a huge part of it. Maybe reading my past posts can magically reawaken that part of me that is so eager to write just about almost everything under the sun. You see, I have been stuck in a writing rut for God knows how long, and I thought maybe this old online haven of thoughts can give me a little headstart to finally try again.

So, hello again, Blogspot. You have been a comforting reprieve from the early parts of my post-college life. Now that I am almost nearing my thirties, I'm sincerely hoping to feel that again within your space.

The Dumbest Person

"No," she said. "You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with."

He only answered with a cocky grin and waited for her to continue.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and carefully chose her words. “You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with. You see, I fell in love with someone who could be the world’s dumbest person. He makes fun of the littlest things I do, he leaves me sulking on a corner when he sees something prettier than me, he only calls me when he needed help with his Algebra homework, he only talks to me when he couldn’t find anyone else to talk to, he only treats me as his last resort when he has ran out of options, and he never apologizes if he did something that broke my heart.”

She caught her breath, and continued. 

"You see, he did nothing but to treat me like trash, but I fell for him anyway. Because even though the world sees him as the dumbest person of all, I disregarded all his imperfections without even knowing it. He is perfectly imperfect, but all I see is how beautiful he is even in the minutest things he does. How he flashes his cocky grin, how he chuckles over the phone when he couldn’t get the Math equation I’m explaining, how he walks, how he utters my name in the cutest possible way, how he drums his hands on the table when he listens to his iPod, and how his forehead wrinkles in disgust when the teacher tells a green joke in class. He obliviously stole my heart like a thief, and up until now, he still has it. I didn’t plan to fall for him, I didn’t plan for it to happen. As much as I try to run away, I still find myself running back to him without even knowing why.

"That’s why no, you can’t choose the person you fall for. It just happens. And when it happens, there’s no easy way out of it."

He looked dazed by her sudden outburst. “And why, exactly are you telling me all these?”

She hesitated for a moment.

"Because you are the world’s dumbest person, that’s why." 

The Dress, Snakes and Ladders, The Thunder, The Puppy, and The Heartbreak

We first met when we were both six. I was this small, lonesome boy who buried his nose on books, who defined the word “fun” as seeing an actual metamorphosis, who daydreams practically all the time. My life was almost colorless before you came into our classroom that one Tuesday morning. You were wearing a blue dress with laces all over it, and your hair was pulled up in pigtails. And in the eyes of my six-year-old self, I knew right then that you were the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on.

I was surprised to find out that our new neighbors turned out to be your family. Mom invited you to dinner that same night. Moments later, you and I were already reading a book near the fireplace. Little did I know that my six-year-old self already met the girl I will love for the rest of my life. 

While we were in the midst of playing Snakes and Ladders when we were eight, you suddenly said, “I could play this game all day, as long as you’re the one I’ll play it with.” What you said was so simple, but to me, it already meant everything. 

When we were both ten, you asked me if you could hold my hand because you were so frightened by the deafening sound of thunder. I said yes. I silently wished for that very moment to last forever.

I was surprised one day when I found you crying on your bed. We were about thirteen that time. “My dog just died,” you whispered. I hated to see you cry, so I begged my mom to give me some money in exchange of every chore I do at home. When I saved enough, I bought you a new puppy. I could still remember how your face lit up when you slowly cradled it in your arms, admiring its fragility. You looked at me and flashed me the warmest of all smiles. “Thank you,” you said. You called the dog Darren, a combination of our names.

We were sixteen. The day after our prom, your mom called me and said that you have been crying nonstop since last night. I ran to your house. I knocked on, but you didn’t open your door. I just sat there outside your room, and waited for you to come out of it and talk to me. You were crying that time not because your puppy died; you were crying because a part of you died when he broke your heart. I wasn’t able to tell you that if you’ll just let me, I will try my very best to make you live again.

Eighteen. We were both going to college. Before we parted, you pulled me in a long embrace. You said nothing, I said nothing. We were just wrapped in each other’s arms, no words needed to be said. That simple gesture was all I ever needed to remind myself that though I will always be yours, you will never be mine.

You went back from college. We were twenty two. Your beauty had gone from simplistic to unconventional. The way you radiated the room with warmth and joy with your presence was still there with you. Your eyes scanned through the sea of people who were so delighted to see you, and when you finally saw me, you grinned vastly and ran into me and hugged me so tight I nearly couldn’t breathe. “I missed you!” you shrilled, “I’ve got so much to tell you!” I secretly hoped that what you’d tell me was something I have been dying to hear from you all these years.

We were both twenty seven. I was standing near the altar, looking at you walking down the aisle. You were wearing the most beautiful wedding gown you designed yourself, your eyes were glistening with tears of joy. The mere sight of you flooded my memory of that lacy blue dress, our games of Snakes and Ladders, your irrational fear of thunder, the death of your puppy, and your first real heartbreak.

You stopped in front of me. You smiled, held my hand as you mouthed the words, “thank you.” I stepped aside while you made your way towards the man you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.

As I watched you exchange your vows and “I do’s,” I thought that maybe we were never really meant to be together from the very beginning. We never were, and never would. However, I would still be that six-year-old boy who learned the perfect definition of beauty when he saw you. I would still be that eight-year-old boy who will always be willing to play Snakes and Ladders with you every day of my life. I would still be that ten-year-old boy who'll untiringly comfort and hold your hand when the thunder starts to strike. I would still be that thirteen-year-old boy who'll do whatever it takes just to see you smile. I would still be that sixteen-year-old boy who will, no matter how painful it is, just let you cry your eyes out until it hurts no more. I would still be the old me just for you. I would still do everything for you.

Because I love you.

I will always be yours, though you'll never be mine. You just came into my life to make me realize all the things I am willing to do and not to do for love.

And I want to thank you for that.

Three Words, Eight Letters

I love you.”

The effect of these three simple words is just … unbelievable. It seems like every person has this hidden switch inside that can only be turned on once these three letters come out of somebody else’s lips 

“I love you.”

Just three words, eight letters long, but once heard and once said, everything changes in a blink of an eye.

“I love you.

Just three simple words, but it pushes you forth towards believing in countless possibilities and insurmountable chances.

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but it relentlessly changes every bit of you. 

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but the difficulty of ever saying it is undeniable. 

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but it impels you to do things you did not initially think of ever doing.

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but once heard, you’re completely different.

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but the euphoria that comes with it is almost too good to be true.

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but the desolation, once unreciprocated, is beyond imaginable.

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but often taken for granted.

“I love you.”

Just three simple words, but often left unspoken.

 ”I love you.”

Just three simple words.

Three simple words, but the effect is extraordinary.

Love Isn't Always Enough

“Tell me,” he said, “what went wrong?”

“Everything,” she said, trying to avoid the sad and piercing look on the eyes that once gazed at her with such love and affection, “You. Me. Us.”

He was speechless for a moment. As much as he tried to shake his head for the reasons why it was happening, nothing came out of it.

“But I love you,” he helplessly muttered. That was all he could ever come up with. Lame, he told himself.

He knew she heard him, but she just turned her back away, and slowly reached the doorknob to finally escape the predicament of explaining things to him.

She could already feel the coldness of the knob pressed against her palm. That was it, the moment she had been dying to happen for a very long time. She just needed to turn the knob to the right, and she could finally taste freedom welcoming her from the outside.

But she failed. She couldn’t move on her place at all. She could strongly feel the presence of the man who once meant the world to her behind her, patiently waiting for her to change her mind, patiently waiting for her to turn around and figure things out once and for all. She had been with him for years, and walking away from him was something she found so difficult to do, but it was also something that she should have done a long time ago. No matter how much she hated to admit it, her feelings for him were still there, lingering in every inch of her being.

“Please stay,” his voice failed to suppress the tears that were on the verge of falling. He needed her more than anything, he needed her more than life itself. He was so used to being with her that the life he had lived before her was nothing but more than an ambiguous memory, an oddly unfamiliar phase. His life began when she came along. He couldn’t just let her slip away from him. No way, God, no way.

Her hand was still around the knob. She couldn’t take it anymore that she trembled. She needed to go. She needed to walk out of the door before the strength she mustered completely wane. She sighed and opened the door.

Freedom. It was all that she wanted.

But before she walked out of the door and continue living without the presence of him in her life at all, she faced him again. She was certain that that was the last time she’ll be seeing his face, and the thought gave her a sudden surge of sadness, longing, and despair.

She immediately brushed the feeling off and started to speak, “I loved you, and you loved me. There’s no doubt about that,” she hesitated for a moment, “But that was it. That was what we ever had. But the thing here is . . . love isn’t enough. Love isn’t the only component a relationship needs for it to work. There’s a lot more to it than love itself. And that’s what we lacked from the very beginning – the will and the drive to actually make this work, to make us work after all. We’ve held on to each other for so long because none of us was brave enough to acknowledge the fact that something was wrong. But now, it’s about the right time. We must accept that this is where our relationship ends. We’ve both reached our finish line. This is all we could ever be.”

“I . . .” he couldn’t find the right words to say, because something inside him said that what she just said was true after all. He couldn’t disagree, but he couldn’t bring himself to agree either.

She smiled a sad smile, and his heart fluttered at the mere sight of it, just like the very first time.

“I have to go. Take care of yourself, and always remember that I will never love someone again the way I loved you,” that’s it, and she was out of his room, out of his world, out of his grasp, and ultimately, out of his life.

He was surprised to realize that that was the only thing he needed to know. He slumped down on his chair as the tears finally consumed him, believing that there’s no way he’ll ever stop thinking about her. He knew that he’ll still love her from afar, no matter how difficult it is done.

Hello, Blogspot. We met again.

I decided to make a new blog aside from this one because I realized that it's actually pretty good to have a haven for my thoughts (hence the title of this very blog) online. Since my other blog only consists of my book reviews (since I happen to be one of today's biggest bookworms), posting something personal in it feels so . . . irrelevant, if you even get what I'm saying here.

Therefore, my "abrupt" decision to establish a new blog.

This isn't my very first time here in Blogspot, though. Way back when I was in high school, when I was just starting to discover my unconditional love for written words, I made an account here, but then completely forgot all about it since my fifteen-year-old mind then wasn't probably really up to documenting her thoughts regularly.

But bleh, everything's changed now.

I just recently graduated from college, if you even give a shit about that, thank you very much. Now, I have all the time in the world to do more writing, especially now that my mind is incessantly running, always filled with thoughts stuggling to break free through written words. My imagination is constantly overflowing with ideas, pushing me to let it out through my writing.

And that's what I'll be doing here.

This blog is is solely dedicated for the products of my unstoppable thinking and imagination; my short stories, my realizations in my futile little existence, you know, basically everything that needs to be poured out.

Hello, Blogspot. I'm Camille. It's nice to finally have you.