Conformist?

Eat. Drink. Be happy. Don't try to fathom how you live, what is important is that you feel happy. And of course, never be alone. You are afraid if there is nobody is on your side, preferably under you.

Another is image. Image, image, image. It's all that matters to you. If changing yourself could help people accept you, even if you would have to do things that could cause you embarrassment and be branded a selfish traitor, (which you are) it's ok because you feel that somehow a part of the void of your despair is somehow filled. You must do everything to make yourself as much as like your friends and as pleasurable to others, to the point that you will just be known as her friend or more accurately, her pet.

Also, destroy what brain cells you have left because showing even a potential that you have a above average experiential mental capacity as this will result in your being branded different to the people around you as they have knowledge on it ergo, it does not exist. This applies to these people whose attention span is destroyed by cheap entertainment and pointless advertising. An attempt to demonstrate your skills will make you a social outcast.

This has been observed in people with intellectual superiority like Einstein, Van Gogh and Jean Cocteau. They have been observed to have difficulty in relating to others and communicating with some people. Why? Because they are superior, fools.

Conformity basically means laws. Laws that should be obeyed, unspoken agreements to be made and it was spawned by one demon: Money. It's all about enticing people to like you by superficiality, which is continually being reinforced by advertising. It sets a kind of standard that should be obeyed, products to be used, to be ingested in order for one to proclaim that "I am now beautiful!". Never mind the mind, all that matters is that you are satisfied.

And the most annoying part of all: INDECISIVENESS. The inability to make your own decisions which are fuelled only by the desire to be the same with others, to not do anything that will upset them for you fell a deep fear in your soul: desolation. You fear the feeling because you do not know the most serene feeling of tranquility the soul feels when it communes with thyself when it stops and takes in the world in a single glance. One needs to recognize the most Sublime and Divine presence that can be felt. All is fleeting but eternal. Sub specie aeternitatis, so to speak.

Never let others become your priority while letting yourself be an option.

Sorry for the delay.

For those who were bugging me for me to post my short story here, this is it. Again, sorry for the delay.

The Passage Of Emptiness

'I was walking down 1743 Rosewood road 10:00 PM at March 7, 1986 in the town of Port Augusta, making my usual rounds when I heard a terrible scream. Being a police officer, I decided to investigate the house where I heard the sound. I got my gun out and entered the house. I slowly made my way to the kitchen and there I found Victoria who had slit wrists and Pierce holding her in his arms. They were stained by Victoria's blood and they were both crying. I laid my gun on the floor and sat beside them and called an ambulance. I asked what happened but they didn't pay attention. Victoria was dying and she was talking to Pierce, probably saying her last goodbyes. When Victoria stopped talking, I knew that she had expired, due to the heavy bleeding from her slit wrists. Pierce was quiet for a moment and suddenly, he snatched my gun and shot himself in the head. The ambulance arrived a moment later. That was what has happened, your honor.' The witness said, with a sad look at his face.

'Mr. Paul Hunter, did you see a knife or some other sharp object held by the suspect which could be used to slit the wrists of the victim?' the prosecuting lawyer asked. 'The autopsy performed suggests that a knife was used to kill the Victoria. Also, her blood shows amounts of Valium, a painkiller which if used improperly, numbs the body. So the suspect probably drugged Victoria and slit her wrists. The suspect wanted to escape the blame by making it look like Victoria committed suicide. He/she even inserted a suicide note at Victoria's pocket. Unfortunately, there were no prints found on the note and the handwriting could not be tested owing to the fact that it was made on a typewriter which could not be found.'

'No' answered the witness. 'I didn't see any sharp object held be the suspect at the time I arrived there. One thing I noticed is that when I arrived, the back door of the kitchen is open, probably the killer escaped through it and I heard sounds of struggle so Pierce probably encountered the killer.'

'The defendant, please occupy the stage.' said the prosecutor.
I came forward, feeling all the eyes of the people on the room on me. Someone from the audience hissed angrily. I ignored him.

'So, you are Pierce Losstarot, 26 years old, a resident of 1526 Mehan, town of Whyalla? The prosecutor asked me.

'Yes I am.' I replied

'How are you related to the victim?' demanded the prosecutor

'We are engaged and we were planning to get married this coming July.' I answered.

'I understand that the parents of Ms. Victoria Merlose didn't want you two to be married? Why did you persist? Did you force her to come with you and when she didn't, did you kill her?'
The words stabbed me like a knife but I fought to keep my voice level when I answered him. 'No, I did not kill Victoria! I did not force her to come with me! She always said that there were many times that she had been forced to make choices that she didn't like because of her father. Because of her authoritarian father, she had no freedom and for once, by loving me, she said that this time, her father would not choose for her. She was to have an arranged marriage to forge an alliance between her father's business and a business rival. We kept our relationship secret and planned to escape and marry in secret. She said that loving me was a decision she made by herself and for herself and starting from that moment on, she would make her own decisions and break away from her family.' I recalled these words with bitterness in my heart. I could feel the tears in my eyes but I forced them back. I glanced at the father and he returned my stare with pure hatred in his eyes.

'Your earlier testimony said that you forgot the events that happened from the moment you entered the door. Is that true?'

'Yes, I can't remember anything from the moment I entered the door.' I replied.
My lawyer added 'His doctor has already confirmed that his amnesia is indeed true. It is because some fragments of his skull and the bullet penetrated the three membranes surrounding the brain and had to be taken out by surgery. Fortunately, his hand was shaking so badly that the bullet hit his head at a bad angle, preventing further damage to his brain. Also, he has taken a polygraph test which shows that his testimony is true. I think that the evidence presented is sufficient for this case, your Honor.'

'Why then, did you go to the house of the victim in the first place?' asked the prosecuting lawyer.
'She called me earlier that day to tell me that she wanted to talk to me about our plans involving our escape from her parents, specifically her father. She wanted to move the date of our marriage and said that we must meet at the port and flee to another place. I went to the port at 5:00 PM and waited for her. Four hours have passed but there was still no Victoria in sight or calls from her so I decided to check their house in Rosewood. And you know what happened next.' I said while wiping away my tears.

'Is that all the evidence that you plan to present?' inquired the judge.

'Yes, your Honor' answered my lawyer.

The judge paused for a while and said in a loud voice 'Because of the lack of evidence against the accused, I proclaim him not guilty'

These words from the judge gave a great feeling of relief that I have not felt for many days. I looked at him with a thankful smile on my face and he returned my smile.

There was commotion in the court when the father ran toward me, shouting about injustice and attempted to punch me but fortunately, my police escorts held him down. As I exited the courtroom and went outside, I looked at the sky and noticed that it was cloudy.

*

I decided to go to France to forget the tragedy that happened in Australia. My life now have been split into two, my life before the death of Victoria which was filled with happiness and contentment and when I decided to move to France after her death.

Fifteen years have passed but the past still troubles me for all my dreams concern Victoria. Sometimes, I dream of her standing with me on the port, for it was her favorite place. There are times that I dream of her singing sweetly to me, singing songs that she wrote for me. But there are times when I could recollect the moment when she was talking to me as she lay bleeding to death in my arms. She would say to me in a voice that I still remember 'Move on be brave, don't weep at my grave forever when I'm no longer here with you. Have the courage to move on with your life. But please, please don't let your memory of me disappear.'

I really wanted to know what happened that fateful night but my dreams always starts with Victoria already having blood all around her. I don't know if I dream what I wanted to dream or if these dreams actually happened so I went to my doctor. He said that dreams have a basis in reality and it could be possible that this really happened. He also said that going back to Australia might help me recover my memories. But he said that there was a chance that these were just dreams. So I decided to go back to Australia.

*

The first place I visited was the port where we first met each other. We were just 19 years old then. I was visiting a relative of mine when I saw her, just sitting there. I felt intrigued of her carefree demeanor and asked where I can buy flowers for my aunt who I was staying with. She said that it was just two blocks from here and she can accompany me if I wanted. When we got to the store, I bought a nice bouquet for my aunt and bought her a rose. I can still remember the way she smiled at me and laughed when I asked for her name. 'Victoria' she said 'And yours?' she asked me. 'Pierce' I replied. From that moment on, we became best friends and eventually, on her 24th birthday, we became lovers. I then kept reminiscing on the moments we've shared while I walked around town, visiting places that had great significance to us.

I decided to visit Victoria's house and see if it would trigger the release of my memories. But it would mean a confrontation between me and Victoria's family. That is a confrontation I have to make, having delayed it for 15 years.

I nervously approached the door and knocked. Victoria's mother, Marguerite, opened the door. She looked surprised to see me but she let me in. In the living room, I saw Harrison, Victoria's father, sitting at the couch with a bewildered look in his face. His face had changed so much since I saw him at the courtroom. He looked like he had lived for hundreds of years because of the lines in his forehead, unlike the 61 year old man he is. I sat in front of him and said 'Please, I came here to say I'm sorry. I know that I should have said these words fifteen years ago. I loved your daughter and I would never do anything to hurt her. It was not me who killed her, I can assure you that.'
'It's okay, we have already forgiven you' said Harrison. 'I know how much Victoria loved you and we were mistaken when we decided to force her to marry someone she doesn't love. If only we have done the right thing, she should have been very happy with you.'

These words from him brought tears to my eyes. The dread I have been feeling on what his reaction would be suddenly disappeared and replaced by warmth. I felt at peace with Harrison at last.

'But would you, by any chance, have recalled who the killer is? Harrison asked, with a strange look on his face.

'I'm sorry, but I really can't remember.' I said with bitterness in my voice.
After talking to him about where I had been all those fifteen years, I looked around the house, looking at pictures of Victoria and trying to remember what happened 15 years ago. When I arrived at the kitchen which was locked away because of the memories it brought to Mrs. Marguerite, I was expecting a great revelation, some kind of event that will remind me what happened. I just stared at the floor where she had died. Nothing happened.

After thanking them again for forgiving me, I went back to my apartment. However, while walking down the road, I saw a group of men drinking liquor at a local bar. I recognized my friend among the men and he gestured to me that I sit down with them for a few drinks so I sat down with them.
I must have been really happy that night because I drank a lot. I enjoyed their stories and learned about their lives now. They were all married and they advised me to find a girl and settle down. Past is past, they said but I retorted 'All that we have been is what we are now; the past is what shapes our identity. I have lost my past and by coming back here, I intend to find it. My friend looked at me with admiration and said 'I hope you find what you are looking for.' After drinking, I somehow passed out, probably because of the alcohol I've consumed.

When I woke up in the early hours of the morning, I found myself at my friend's home. He probably brought me here when I blacked out. A terrible vision woke me up. I have finally recalled the moment after I entered the house of Victoria. I remembered that I saw Harrison bent over Victoria, who was unconscious, and slit her wrists. I felt horrified as I remembered that I have attempted to stop him as he escaped through the back door. I didn't think that he could do that. Just yesterday, I was talking to him and it didn't cross my mind that he would be the one to do it. He loved his daughter so much that he controlled her life so that she would be happy. But I remembered the way he looked at me as he asked if I recall who the killer is. I would confront him later, I said to myself.
Later that day, I went back to Harrison's house to tell him I know who killed her daughter. I knocked on the door and Harrison opened it. I asked him where his wife was and he said that she visited her friends on Sydney and wouldn't be coming back until next week.

I asked if we could talk in private and he led me to the living room where he sat down and waited me to speak. When I said that I know who murdered her daughter, he asked me who it is.

'It's you. You killed your own daughter.' I said with deep hatred in my voice.

He looked at me and cried. 'I lived the last 15 years in hell for doing that. I can't stand to look at my wife and listen to her run over the possible suspects and ask my opinion on them. But I endured it, clinging to the delusion that what I did was for her own good. I wanted only the best for her so if she couldn't get the best then it would be better that no one get her at all. But all my hopes have already died with Victoria. This is the time for me to feel the sweet sorrow of finally seeing her again in heaven from the bottom.' With those words, he escaped through the back door the second time, the last being the night when he killed my beloved Victoria. I immediately called the police and reported Harrison's confession of the crime and hoped that he would be found before he would kill himself.

Four days have passed when news about Harrison arrived. He was seen the other day by a policeman and chased him across Denver Street in Adelaide. There was commotion in the market as Harrison got a knife from a butcher's shop and took it with him. The policeman didn't catch up with him and lost him in the crowd. Later that day, a cadaver was discovered at a street corner. It was Harrison and he committed suicide the same way he killed his daughter. He slit his wrists and in his pocket a suicide letter exactly like Victoria's letter was found and written in it was his own confession of the crime.

It was such a pain to tell her wife all of this but I had to. When I told her what had happened, Marguerite just looked at me and cried. I comforted her and offered to drive her to her friends in which she could share her sorrow. She accepted the offer and we went to Sydney. I told her that I plan to go back to France. She asked me what I will do there but I couldn't answer her. After one final hug from her, I thanked her for understanding me and I finally bid her goodbye. She said to me

'Remember, Victoria wouldn't want to see you sad. Try to find a new love and start a family. It's not too late for you.'

I smiled at her and hailed a taxi to take me to the airport. I looked at the sky. It was the depressing color of gray.

*

My days in France were filled with depression. I thought that when I find the answers to my questions, all would be fine and I would have the drive to start again, finding what was lost in my life.

One particularly miserable day, I decided that it was time to let go, to surrender to the tides of time that have ravaged me, leaving me in a hopeless state. I climbed to the top of a 10 storey building. I climbed to the ledge and as I was looking down at the people below, I pondered the meaning of human life. There are so many people in this world and it would be insignificant if I would die or suddenly vanish into nothingness. I can't find the inspiration to live anymore nor find contentment in the things that used to fill me with joy. I asked why these people work so hard only to fail but yet they try and try with patience that borders stupidity. I feel like Sisyphus, who in Greek mythology was condemned to roll a boulder up a steep hill which always rolled down back again.

But I remembered what Marguerite said to me. I realized that suicide was the idiot's way out, a shortcut. It was an exit for the fainthearted, those who can't stand the enormous pressure of the world pressing down on them.

I would live; I would scream and pound at the thick walls of the indifference of life and fight the obstacles it would throw in my way. I would live for Victoria. I would live and move on. I have been very disregardful of the ones who love me here in France. I would live to find my reason here in life.

I finally feel free of the fear and pain. Through these experiences, I would find my own meaning in my life.

I stepped down from the ledge. I looked up to the sky and smiled. It was the clear and peaceful color of blue.

***

Kumawala nanaman sa mabangis na cirkulo

Your body is a temple, worship it before it dies-Jessica Zafra

Masarap mabuhay.

Parang hindi ako ang nagsasalita ngunit sa mga ganitong mga pagkakataon eh nararamdaman ko talaga ang kasiyahan. Ngayon, narealize ko kasi na makakaramdam ka lamang ng tunay na saya kapag nararamdaman mo ito mula sa ibang tao. Nakipaginom kasi ako kanina sa kebigan ko.Masaya kasi bumili kami ng beer sa me supermarket ng Festival saka ininom namin sa parking lot. Wala kaming spot kaya nagimprovise kami - sa me mezzanine overlooking the whole parking lot! Kami lang ang tao dun pero walang hiyaan tol, lasheng naman kami eh. Maganda ang view at nagkuwentuhan kami tungkol sa buhay, sa Diyos at pooota sa pagibig!

At muli nanamang lumabas ang kagaguhan sa aking bibig.

Nakapagpayo ako ng kung anoano sa kanya at nalupitan siya dito. Sabi ko sa kanya, sabihin mo na! Kapag ganyan ang sitwasyon mo at may karibal ka na malapit na niyang sagutin yung loko, aminin mo na! Sa bagay alam na rin naman niya ata yun, hinihintay nya na lang sabihin mo sa kanya sa personal. Wag mo nang isipin kung ano ang sasabihin niya! Better to try than NOT AT ALL!

At muli nanaman siyang tumitig sakin at binanggit ang pinakamagandang papuri na narinig ko, "Iba ka talaga tol!" at ako ay natuwa. Sabay tira ng DJ mix apol at beer.
At noong natapos na, nagcr kami tol, nagkamali siyang pasok! sa ladies pumasok si lasheng!

At natawa pa ang babae sabi pa nga nya, pssssssh! Haha! Para kaming hayskul muli, noong araw na sira pa ang ulo ko at di pa ko naghahanap ng pag-ibig. "Para sa tunay na Pagibig!" ang toast namin sa isa't isa, let's drink to that pare! Oo, isa to sa mga madalang na panahon sa buhay ko na naranasan ko ang saya ng buhay at nilasap ko ang bawat minuto at segundo nito.