“Where do I begin,” (that famous line from a familiar song) to tell a story where I’ve been. Been somewhere, anywhere, nope, truthfully nowhere.
Now I don’t know how to start. They say time heals all wounds, and if missing something is a wound, and starting all over again is a form of healing then let me have a thousand scars for although I’m not a masochist, I welcome the pain of waiting. And if somehow one can’t understand what I’m conveying, it’s okay not to be understood once in a while. Why would I expect others to understand if I, myself don’t understand where I’ve been, eventhough I always claimed I know where I’m heading.
Subject verb agreement, punctuation errors and a lot of grammatical lapses. I am not an English writer and it does not pain me when I tender my resignation letter and realized that he’s not reading my letter. Yes, he is not hearing me, he is looking at my letter telling me how in the world can I write a resignation letter with misspelled words and grammatical lapses. That deceitful feeling of finally getting even by giving him a hard time deciphering what I meant when I said I’m leaving. Or is it just the real me when I blabber with incongruent statements because truthfully I am a weird eccentric person who is not good in saying goodbye.
So I closed the door and walked away…. But in no time I’m back in his arms, restartng what could have been, what might have been, what should have been and all those in betweens.
Been There. Done That. How I wish I could truthfully say that. 🙂
My friend ask me if i’ll be joining a halloween party. She says “I’ll be little red riding hood, what’s your costume?”
Scary thoughts suddenly creep. Do i really need to wear a costume? Am i not wearing this halloween mask all these years?
– Those moments i smile when deep inside i’m crying
– Those times i pretend i’m brave enough when my soul is scared
So numerous moments when i pretend to be someone i’m not. And no one notices because everyone is wearing their own masks.
And when the masquerade ball is inviting me to join and dance in its party, i welcome it unwittingly. And after leaving the masquerade ball, i’m no longer cautious if the mask will fall.
No matter how much one hold on to something, soon the mask will be falling. And sometimes when you look at the mirror, you don’t see the mask. You see what’s inside you. But still you question in horror why a different face welcomes you every morning when you knew all along you’re alone after the party.
Still you dust if off and learn to move on. Looking forward to the next masquerade ball.
Since it’s almost halloween in some parts of the globe and almost all soul’s day in my country the Philippines, i’m giving my readers an option to show their kind soul by clicking / tapping the photos of my halloween posts, reading the musing/poetry of the corresponding image.
Although i hate sounding like i’m campaigning and surely i’m not pandering to your taste, rest assured that reading them can give you a smile and if these posts didn’t make you smile, let me know through your comments, so we can make halloween great again. 🙂