2000

07_jul_2003_3
October 12, 2000/ Thursday night

I find myself alone in these streets of darkness - with no friend but myself. Would I get used to being on my own again, when I thought that would be the last of my worries. Man oh man! Call me pathetic in mourning, wising up myself to survive, can’t wait when the morning sun is out again. Can’t wait to feel the warmth once more. I doubt the sun but I must try. I doubt the warmth but I must feel! I hear love songs and some music playing but it's not mine, familiar but forgotten, so hurt... pretending not to know. Alone in the dark cold night of Baguio - no one cares, no one sees... No one. Till when? I want to belong but this is not my place. This sadness I must leave.







Booth

October 16, 2000 Monday

The music of the "Village People's - YMCA" played in the radio announcer's booth where I work. I look at the empty page of this notebook, and my mind stops to think. For a moment I feel the sadness hit me. Then I force myself to be numb.

And so, I just throw all my cares - and have like a corpse become lifeless, looking out the grilled windows, a prisoner in the cold dark night.

I don’t want to think. If I think , I start to feel. So I scribble nothing but emptiness into this page. The music changed, and so have I. My spirit broken. This is living dead. Will the wounds and the pains ever heal? This I wonder.