I advance in the darkness
I advance in the gloom.
For reasons I do not know,
And for things I cannot do.
Whether it’s the sound of crying
Or simply the sight of despair,
I’d respond to their calls
With no intention of repair.
The night time would have been proud
As I cast a shadow on the world in a hurl.
Enlightened by moonlight, empowered by rage,
No peace in sight, not even the face of a baby girl.
I advance in the darkness
I advance in the gloom.
On my own volition
And my own heartbreak too.
The gods would have been pleased with me
As I unleashed Pandora’s box
Engulfed in pain and sorrow,
The world was put in shock.
Is that the Earth I see crying?
What a sight to behold!
As she struggled to fix herself
Not to die as she was told.
Where would I fit in?
Would I have to die too?
But you see, a deal was made with the shadows,
Now I am to be used as its tool.
There I will stand.
Pensive,
Masochistic,
Solemn and sarcastic,
I advance in the darkness,
I advance in the gloom.
The world outside will be vexed,
And my very own be in bloom.
-J
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
When Nature Calls. Seriously?
So one day, my friend says to me, "I need to go poo."
Seriously? What's up with that? I mean yeah, we all need to spend some quiet time doing our thing, but since when was it okay to just publicly announce it? It's everywhere lately, even facebook.
Anonymous friend no. 1: After i take a dump, I'm going on a date.
Anonymous friend no. 2: I need to go pupu first.
Okay, if I have to be perfectly honest, I find the word "pupu" really hilarious. But still. Come on people, we have limts, it's like:
A: Oh hey, what's up with you these days?
B: Could you hold that thought? Because i can't hold my--
A: Yeah, okay, just go.
See, i'd honestly feel better if everyone would just try to pretend that everyone isn't basically a sack of dung. Dung-carriers. Do you see the image in your head? Because I freaking do.
So what are the other various names for nature's children. The top 100 off the top of my head:
#1: Nature's Children
#2: Doodie
#3: Pupu
#4: Crap
#5: The "S" Word
#6: Shit
#7: Business
#8: Poo
#9: Dung
#10: Human gold
Seriously, not to even mention the fact that in the airport, my sister kept reading "Duty Free" as "Doody Free" and then added the tagline "That's why they call it business!"
It's like we're all in this new era where we all feel this need to break out and explore new boundaries, and we all feel like we've cemented this position in the world where we set the standards.
The problem is, nobody really has the same set of standards. So the next time you see someone rallying at the food court, telling you that you have to strip yourself of your clothes in order to free yourself, walk away. Or then again, try something new. Let me know how that turns out.
So in class, this guy was asking people if they had tissue, and one guy actually had the gull to ask why.
What do you MEAN why?
Weirder still, the guy asking for tissue said "Because I need to go to the toilet to shit."
Ironic that it was biology lesson.
I was feeling adventurour that day, so I tried to get into the wohle "It's okay to talk about anything" fad.
My friend went to the washroom, and my other friend goes "Where's he going?" and I nonchalantly go like "Oh yeah no he went to go and crap."
It was weird.
After about two minutes, the guy comes back from the washroom. I lean over and say to my friend, "Well, look at that, he's done crapping."
I still didn't get the gist of all this, so I stopped. Maybe it's just me, or maybe other people feel the same way, but sometimes I like to believe that secrets you makes with the toilet are kept between you and the toilet, kinda thing kinda thing.
-J
Seriously? What's up with that? I mean yeah, we all need to spend some quiet time doing our thing, but since when was it okay to just publicly announce it? It's everywhere lately, even facebook.
Anonymous friend no. 1: After i take a dump, I'm going on a date.
Anonymous friend no. 2: I need to go pupu first.
Okay, if I have to be perfectly honest, I find the word "pupu" really hilarious. But still. Come on people, we have limts, it's like:
A: Oh hey, what's up with you these days?
B: Could you hold that thought? Because i can't hold my--
A: Yeah, okay, just go.
See, i'd honestly feel better if everyone would just try to pretend that everyone isn't basically a sack of dung. Dung-carriers. Do you see the image in your head? Because I freaking do.
So what are the other various names for nature's children. The top 100 off the top of my head:
#1: Nature's Children
#2: Doodie
#3: Pupu
#4: Crap
#5: The "S" Word
#6: Shit
#7: Business
#8: Poo
#9: Dung
#10: Human gold
Seriously, not to even mention the fact that in the airport, my sister kept reading "Duty Free" as "Doody Free" and then added the tagline "That's why they call it business!"
It's like we're all in this new era where we all feel this need to break out and explore new boundaries, and we all feel like we've cemented this position in the world where we set the standards.
The problem is, nobody really has the same set of standards. So the next time you see someone rallying at the food court, telling you that you have to strip yourself of your clothes in order to free yourself, walk away. Or then again, try something new. Let me know how that turns out.
So in class, this guy was asking people if they had tissue, and one guy actually had the gull to ask why.
What do you MEAN why?
Weirder still, the guy asking for tissue said "Because I need to go to the toilet to shit."
Ironic that it was biology lesson.
I was feeling adventurour that day, so I tried to get into the wohle "It's okay to talk about anything" fad.
My friend went to the washroom, and my other friend goes "Where's he going?" and I nonchalantly go like "Oh yeah no he went to go and crap."
It was weird.
After about two minutes, the guy comes back from the washroom. I lean over and say to my friend, "Well, look at that, he's done crapping."
I still didn't get the gist of all this, so I stopped. Maybe it's just me, or maybe other people feel the same way, but sometimes I like to believe that secrets you makes with the toilet are kept between you and the toilet, kinda thing kinda thing.
-J
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Beauty of A Facial
A lot of people have the misconception that a facial is a relaxing spa treatment that one can sleep through.
Anyone who’s had a facial knows that pain is beauty.
When I went to the Philippines, I was to get a facial. If you’ve ever heard of people having a facial, you’d imagine it was a relaxing experience for cleansing the face. However, do you actually know the process of having a facial? To answer that question, I go to Pinoy Spa to find out.
What is the idea behind facials?
In fact, facials are needed to remove whiteheads. Whiteheads are hardened globs of oil that are stuck in the pores of one’s face.
Mariselle, a facialist at Pinoy Spa, says, “A lot of people are open-pored. When exposed to dust, it enters the pores and becomes trapped there, also resulting in whiteheads.”
What are the procedures of having a facial?
“The procedure is simple,” says Mariselle. “First comes the facial scrub for cleansing the face of dirt. Then, we need to open the pores by steaming the face. That takes about fifteen minutes.”
Mariselle takes me to one of many spaces closed off by curtains. There is a bed, and a very dim light. She asks me to lie on my back and begins to apply a sort of cream onto my face. She then wipes it off and does it again. She then wipes that off, again.
She applies another sort of cream onto my face, which I can tell because it feels heavier than the first one. She then turns a steamer to my face and it gets a bit difficult to breathe through my nose, so I do so through my mouth. About fifteen minutes later, Mariselle switches the steamer off, switches a huge lamp on and shines it at my face, and begins to wipe off the cream.
When they wipe the cream off your face, they use a smooth sponge, like what women use to put make up on. It is NOT comfortable. My face was feeling really weird and I badly wanted to touch it but I couldn’t, right? I felt like there was something blocking my whole face, but I couldn’t reach up and touch it.
“The next part,” says Mariselle, “is a really painful part. This is where we begin to remove whiteheads, using a small scraper. The whiteheads sometimes stick to the skin, so we need to dig hard to scrape it out. Plus, we have to do this all over the face, so you can imagine how long and painful it will be. Sometimes when it really doesn’t want to come off, we use this small hook to try to prick it.”
While Mariselle was busy working on my head, I was in excruciating agony. It’s like having injections on your forehead, in a straight line, in and out, in and out, and then when one line’s done, continuing on to the next line. Yup, that’s right. It’s exactly like getting botox. When she was working on my forehead, I wanted her to work on something else. I guess she noticed my nose, because she started pricking everything there. Now THAT was definitely excruciating. She begins to work in the areas surrounding my eye. A tear trickled involuntarily, because she kind of jolted my nerves.
“It’s ok to cry,” Mariselle says. “A lot of people cry during facials.”
A while later, Mariselle notices my struggling and assures that this is really just how it goes, for first-timers.
“The whiteheads really stick in the pores and the face is not accustomed to pricking,” she says.
To stop from thinking about the pain, I ask her what are the next things that will happen.
“The last thing to do is we have to close the pores,” she says. “This can be done by putting on another cream and wait, or have it vacuumed shut.”
Note that the vacuum is specifically for the closing of pores in the face.
She notes that there are a lot of very small whiteheads all over my face. She puts down her scraper. She decides to use a scrubber to see if that would work. I was relieved. At least she wasn’t pricking my face anymore. After the scrubbing proved unsuccessful, she was back to scraping. The memories that suddenly seemed so long ago came back, and this time, I couldn’t help but say I wanted out.
It was good to know that there was an option of stopping that part of the procedure.
Mariselle laughs. “A lot of people say that they never want to come back here again because it’s too painful. First-timers are what we call ‘facial virgins’.”
She applies another wave of cream on my face and leaves me here for about ten to fifteen minutes. She then wipes the cream off my face.
“You are not advised to wash your face until tomorrow morning,” says Mariselle.
After taking a few minutes to take in all that has happened, Mariselle answers a few of my last minute questions.
“People are actually required to have facials once or twice every month,” she says. “Or else, their faces will become clogged and dirty again. It’s painful for first timers, but if you come frequently, it won’t be hard to take out the whiteheads, as there won’t be a lot on your face since the last time you had a facial.”
So. Don’t forget to stop by a facial centre and try it out for yourself.
-J
Anyone who’s had a facial knows that pain is beauty.
When I went to the Philippines, I was to get a facial. If you’ve ever heard of people having a facial, you’d imagine it was a relaxing experience for cleansing the face. However, do you actually know the process of having a facial? To answer that question, I go to Pinoy Spa to find out.
What is the idea behind facials?
In fact, facials are needed to remove whiteheads. Whiteheads are hardened globs of oil that are stuck in the pores of one’s face.
Mariselle, a facialist at Pinoy Spa, says, “A lot of people are open-pored. When exposed to dust, it enters the pores and becomes trapped there, also resulting in whiteheads.”
What are the procedures of having a facial?
“The procedure is simple,” says Mariselle. “First comes the facial scrub for cleansing the face of dirt. Then, we need to open the pores by steaming the face. That takes about fifteen minutes.”
Mariselle takes me to one of many spaces closed off by curtains. There is a bed, and a very dim light. She asks me to lie on my back and begins to apply a sort of cream onto my face. She then wipes it off and does it again. She then wipes that off, again.
She applies another sort of cream onto my face, which I can tell because it feels heavier than the first one. She then turns a steamer to my face and it gets a bit difficult to breathe through my nose, so I do so through my mouth. About fifteen minutes later, Mariselle switches the steamer off, switches a huge lamp on and shines it at my face, and begins to wipe off the cream.
When they wipe the cream off your face, they use a smooth sponge, like what women use to put make up on. It is NOT comfortable. My face was feeling really weird and I badly wanted to touch it but I couldn’t, right? I felt like there was something blocking my whole face, but I couldn’t reach up and touch it.
“The next part,” says Mariselle, “is a really painful part. This is where we begin to remove whiteheads, using a small scraper. The whiteheads sometimes stick to the skin, so we need to dig hard to scrape it out. Plus, we have to do this all over the face, so you can imagine how long and painful it will be. Sometimes when it really doesn’t want to come off, we use this small hook to try to prick it.”
While Mariselle was busy working on my head, I was in excruciating agony. It’s like having injections on your forehead, in a straight line, in and out, in and out, and then when one line’s done, continuing on to the next line. Yup, that’s right. It’s exactly like getting botox. When she was working on my forehead, I wanted her to work on something else. I guess she noticed my nose, because she started pricking everything there. Now THAT was definitely excruciating. She begins to work in the areas surrounding my eye. A tear trickled involuntarily, because she kind of jolted my nerves.
“It’s ok to cry,” Mariselle says. “A lot of people cry during facials.”
A while later, Mariselle notices my struggling and assures that this is really just how it goes, for first-timers.
“The whiteheads really stick in the pores and the face is not accustomed to pricking,” she says.
To stop from thinking about the pain, I ask her what are the next things that will happen.
“The last thing to do is we have to close the pores,” she says. “This can be done by putting on another cream and wait, or have it vacuumed shut.”
Note that the vacuum is specifically for the closing of pores in the face.
She notes that there are a lot of very small whiteheads all over my face. She puts down her scraper. She decides to use a scrubber to see if that would work. I was relieved. At least she wasn’t pricking my face anymore. After the scrubbing proved unsuccessful, she was back to scraping. The memories that suddenly seemed so long ago came back, and this time, I couldn’t help but say I wanted out.
It was good to know that there was an option of stopping that part of the procedure.
Mariselle laughs. “A lot of people say that they never want to come back here again because it’s too painful. First-timers are what we call ‘facial virgins’.”
She applies another wave of cream on my face and leaves me here for about ten to fifteen minutes. She then wipes the cream off my face.
“You are not advised to wash your face until tomorrow morning,” says Mariselle.
After taking a few minutes to take in all that has happened, Mariselle answers a few of my last minute questions.
“People are actually required to have facials once or twice every month,” she says. “Or else, their faces will become clogged and dirty again. It’s painful for first timers, but if you come frequently, it won’t be hard to take out the whiteheads, as there won’t be a lot on your face since the last time you had a facial.”
So. Don’t forget to stop by a facial centre and try it out for yourself.
-J
Monday, September 6, 2010
Let's Conspire to Reignite (All the souls that would die just to feel alive)
I am easily inspired by people. I had a friend who was in the same class as me in Delia. His name is William. He entered my class in Primary 2, and left in Primary 5. All that I remember of him when I think about our time together in primary school was that he always looked so angry, and so depressed. At that time, I never really knew what it meant to be angry, and depressed, all I was was that boy that always laughed at anything. But William, he and I were close friends, but he was never that good in his academics. I lost contact him when he moved away to Canada. But after I discovered facebook about 3 years ago, I found and reconnected with him. We chat online. But after that first week, we became stagnant.
On the day that my friend Nicky told me that he got into this school, I was kind of in a state of shock. It was sad that Nicky was leaving, and it was also sad that he was leaving to this school. But on that very day, William started talking to me online. Now, I believe in signs, and I wondered whether this could be a sign. William was so different. He always stood out to me because at that time he was the most motivated person I’ve ever seen. He was different in the sense that, he found release and he found a way to be happy in his life. I was inspired by him, really. I remember he would always repeat a few phrases. “Never give up.” “Practice.” “Nothing is impossible.” “If you want something, go for it.”
Every topic that we were on, he would always find a way to interject these few phrases. And it was really inspiring because even though I knew these phrases by heart, it had so much more meaning when he said it. I continued to believe this was a sign, a sign that I should never give up on what I wanted.
After chatting with him for the first two hours, I began to wonder why he had so much time to gain all the abilities he had. He could dance, he could play card tricks and he tried a lot of different martial arts. I asked him how school was, and he told me something that kind of shocked me, but I also kind of knew it was coming. He told me that he was a rebel, and that he did not believe in the school system of today. He firmly believed that in summer school, which is a month long, we learn everything there is to learn in a year. Why do we have to go to school for so long? “Live your life,” he said. “Don’t hold back, we can always settle down later on in life, but we’re only young for so long.”
It was at that moment I realized that here we were, two people who coincidentally knew each other from a chance encounter, at the same school, in the same class, who were now talking about the same things, but actually wanted something completely different from each other. He was running away from the modern schooling, because he believed it was right, and it was made him happy. I wanted to get into the best school in Hong Kong, because I believed it is what would make me happy.
William was so wrong. It’s obviously untrue that what we learn in school can be learnt in a matter of a month. Aside from the fact that it would be extremely difficult to be able to learn and apply the different theories of each subject in one month, there is something else that we learn in school that can only be learned with patience, and time. This is the ability to socialize with your peers, as well as to be able to develop and grow into someone better, a better person. School is not just about learning chemistry or biology, it’s also about getting experience being able to observe how much in life there is to be done, to be able to gain experience on your own, not to have it crammed down your throat. School is one big life lesson, to expose your mistakes to everyone around you so that you know how to correct them, to prepare yourself for the unjust world outside.
Then again, he was so right. He told me not to hold back. He told me to go for what I wanted. He told me that I should do what I can to get what makes me happy. I believed him, and I was so inspired by him. I told him he was absolutely right, and that I should definitely go after my dreams. Dreams were made not just so they make life easier, as a getaway when life isn’t so great, but they were made to be gone after.
I am perfectly convinced that that conversation I had with William was a sign. I have to find a way to motivate myself in any way possible, but the good thing is, people inspire me. And there are just so many people out there (I mean we’re even facing overpopulation) that it’s just so impossible for me not to be inspired by someone. Everyone is different. Everyone has their stories to tell. It’s important to be able to express yourself, because when you’re gone, your thoughts die with you. To express yourself, it is so easy, by going for what you believe in, you show who you are, because it’s about your decisions that show who you are, even simply by writing them down, people know who you are, and I believe that is one of the most important things to be able to do in this day and age.
-J
On the day that my friend Nicky told me that he got into this school, I was kind of in a state of shock. It was sad that Nicky was leaving, and it was also sad that he was leaving to this school. But on that very day, William started talking to me online. Now, I believe in signs, and I wondered whether this could be a sign. William was so different. He always stood out to me because at that time he was the most motivated person I’ve ever seen. He was different in the sense that, he found release and he found a way to be happy in his life. I was inspired by him, really. I remember he would always repeat a few phrases. “Never give up.” “Practice.” “Nothing is impossible.” “If you want something, go for it.”
Every topic that we were on, he would always find a way to interject these few phrases. And it was really inspiring because even though I knew these phrases by heart, it had so much more meaning when he said it. I continued to believe this was a sign, a sign that I should never give up on what I wanted.
After chatting with him for the first two hours, I began to wonder why he had so much time to gain all the abilities he had. He could dance, he could play card tricks and he tried a lot of different martial arts. I asked him how school was, and he told me something that kind of shocked me, but I also kind of knew it was coming. He told me that he was a rebel, and that he did not believe in the school system of today. He firmly believed that in summer school, which is a month long, we learn everything there is to learn in a year. Why do we have to go to school for so long? “Live your life,” he said. “Don’t hold back, we can always settle down later on in life, but we’re only young for so long.”
It was at that moment I realized that here we were, two people who coincidentally knew each other from a chance encounter, at the same school, in the same class, who were now talking about the same things, but actually wanted something completely different from each other. He was running away from the modern schooling, because he believed it was right, and it was made him happy. I wanted to get into the best school in Hong Kong, because I believed it is what would make me happy.
William was so wrong. It’s obviously untrue that what we learn in school can be learnt in a matter of a month. Aside from the fact that it would be extremely difficult to be able to learn and apply the different theories of each subject in one month, there is something else that we learn in school that can only be learned with patience, and time. This is the ability to socialize with your peers, as well as to be able to develop and grow into someone better, a better person. School is not just about learning chemistry or biology, it’s also about getting experience being able to observe how much in life there is to be done, to be able to gain experience on your own, not to have it crammed down your throat. School is one big life lesson, to expose your mistakes to everyone around you so that you know how to correct them, to prepare yourself for the unjust world outside.
Then again, he was so right. He told me not to hold back. He told me to go for what I wanted. He told me that I should do what I can to get what makes me happy. I believed him, and I was so inspired by him. I told him he was absolutely right, and that I should definitely go after my dreams. Dreams were made not just so they make life easier, as a getaway when life isn’t so great, but they were made to be gone after.
I am perfectly convinced that that conversation I had with William was a sign. I have to find a way to motivate myself in any way possible, but the good thing is, people inspire me. And there are just so many people out there (I mean we’re even facing overpopulation) that it’s just so impossible for me not to be inspired by someone. Everyone is different. Everyone has their stories to tell. It’s important to be able to express yourself, because when you’re gone, your thoughts die with you. To express yourself, it is so easy, by going for what you believe in, you show who you are, because it’s about your decisions that show who you are, even simply by writing them down, people know who you are, and I believe that is one of the most important things to be able to do in this day and age.
-J
Sunday, September 5, 2010
A Small Note
(This site's been closed for like two months.)
Yeah um, summer's finally ended, so I'm back to my blog :D It was kinda closed for maintenance but it's all good now.
Oh, and I'd like to wish good luck to my friends who are entering university right now. You guys are the pioneers, and one of you may even be a pinoyer, and yeahh I totally wish you guys luck because it's going to be really scary, but it's a make or break situation, but I know it will definitely make you, make you into "something more". Get it? Get it? :)
-Chaaaysuun
Yeah um, summer's finally ended, so I'm back to my blog :D It was kinda closed for maintenance but it's all good now.
Oh, and I'd like to wish good luck to my friends who are entering university right now. You guys are the pioneers, and one of you may even be a pinoyer, and yeahh I totally wish you guys luck because it's going to be really scary, but it's a make or break situation, but I know it will definitely make you, make you into "something more". Get it? Get it? :)
-Chaaaysuun
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Three
I thought I loved what you taught.
All year long, I’d listen to you when no one else would.
I loved it when I found out that the septum separated the heart into two,
and when commensalism meant benefits for two parties.
When exams came along, I thought I’d be ok.
I thought I understood, I only needed the passion for the subject.
I mean, all year long, I had listened to you when no one else would.
It was the subject that brought everything together.
Every chapter made sense in the next topic learned.
It was then that I died in exams.
How the hell was I supposed to know what Dark Reactions were?
It was like some kind of fucking Star Wars extract or something.
This subject was a mess to me.
The numbers were Arabic, the lectures in Chinese.
There was a simple goal that I needed to achieve.
Don’t fail your ass, or you’re not getting back in next year.
And I listened to you with open ears, which closed for a while, a few times back.
And unfortunately, that’s where the cracks began to appear.
To apply what you differentiate, yes I knew there were rules.
Like that silly chain rule, who would have thought it could be all that tricky.
And on top of that, factorials were a bitch.
I tried my best to differentiate the problems.
What was it that I needed to understand?
Two for the road, and yet again, I died.
My final explosion was due the week after.
It was like a silent attack, like the ones they give to stop your breathing in your sleep.
I was stressing out, wondering why I needed to take this exam,
But I was also wondering why Jack was becoming so annoying on Lost.
Yeah, I was slipping away, giving up on the concepts of Mole.
I wasn’t going to be finding out “Percentage Purities” anytime soon.
Hell, I didn’t even know what a Hydrogen Fuel Cell is.
And that was a nine mark essay question.
What I was so fixated on, was why it was so hard to gain understanding.
Why this subject just wasn’t my element.
But for the whole “redox” thing, I guess I was ok.
But still, I think I died anyway.
-J
All year long, I’d listen to you when no one else would.
I loved it when I found out that the septum separated the heart into two,
and when commensalism meant benefits for two parties.
When exams came along, I thought I’d be ok.
I thought I understood, I only needed the passion for the subject.
I mean, all year long, I had listened to you when no one else would.
It was the subject that brought everything together.
Every chapter made sense in the next topic learned.
It was then that I died in exams.
How the hell was I supposed to know what Dark Reactions were?
It was like some kind of fucking Star Wars extract or something.
This subject was a mess to me.
The numbers were Arabic, the lectures in Chinese.
There was a simple goal that I needed to achieve.
Don’t fail your ass, or you’re not getting back in next year.
And I listened to you with open ears, which closed for a while, a few times back.
And unfortunately, that’s where the cracks began to appear.
To apply what you differentiate, yes I knew there were rules.
Like that silly chain rule, who would have thought it could be all that tricky.
And on top of that, factorials were a bitch.
I tried my best to differentiate the problems.
What was it that I needed to understand?
Two for the road, and yet again, I died.
My final explosion was due the week after.
It was like a silent attack, like the ones they give to stop your breathing in your sleep.
I was stressing out, wondering why I needed to take this exam,
But I was also wondering why Jack was becoming so annoying on Lost.
Yeah, I was slipping away, giving up on the concepts of Mole.
I wasn’t going to be finding out “Percentage Purities” anytime soon.
Hell, I didn’t even know what a Hydrogen Fuel Cell is.
And that was a nine mark essay question.
What I was so fixated on, was why it was so hard to gain understanding.
Why this subject just wasn’t my element.
But for the whole “redox” thing, I guess I was ok.
But still, I think I died anyway.
-J
Friday, May 14, 2010
I heard and I saw and I imagined and I re- imagined
I cannot explain the reasons that brought me to succumb to fear, for the very first time. I do not know why I begin to sweat, at the very sound of what isn’t, even after all this time, and after everything I’ve read, watched or listen to. I do not want to know whether these things exist or not, but I used to know what was real and what isn’t. I used to know.
I woke up.
I realized that what I thought I was seeing was just part of my dream. The more that I adjusted to my room setting, the more I forgot about my dream. My room had this antique-esque theme to it. There were wooden masks here and there, and wooden bowls for my little things. There was a sepia painting of Paris on the top left corner of my room, and outside my window were trees. About a few hundred meters away was a highway.
His eyes begin to adjust to his surroundings.
What was I dreaming about? It didn’t matter. I checked the clock. It was 2:45 in the morning. I fell asleep a few hours ago, when I wasn’t supposed to. I left a small light just about my headboard on. The whole room was bathed in a small eerie yellow glow. I’ve been doing that for a while now. Drifting off to sleep, I mean. Since it was a Friday night, I was kind of hoping that I could relax and fix my guitar, which needed restringing. Then I thought I’d watch a movie or something. Tough luck.
Jayson begins to stare at the ceiling and let his mind drift off.
I narrate my life. I’ve been so accustomed to reading, that I do the same for my life. It’s also a good exercise to practice writing in my head. It’s really helped me a lot. I want to be known as a writer because it’s my passion, and I want to say I’m good at it. And it’s never happened that I read a book and the narrator says something and the character doesn’t follow what he’s supposed to do. It’s like the narrator dictates every move, and it is followed to the end. Of course, I control my own body, my life, and so I narrate it. Or so I thought.
The night had a big impact on me. Everyone knows what three in the morning means. Jesus died at three o’ clock in the afternoon. Of course, there’ve been lots of discussions about what that means, and now the inverse of that is supposedly the hour of which the supernatural is strongest.
I was just daydreaming in bed when I actually realized what time it was. It was fifteen minutes to three. I realized that I was beginning to feel nervous about it. Which also kind of surprised me, since that’s never happened to me before. I decided to just close my eyes and go back to sleep.
Now here’s the problem. I couldn’t go back to sleep. First off, I wasn’t all that sleepy anymore. Second, my mind just started coming to life. Things were just finding their way into my mind.
And suddenly Jayson felt a presence in the room.
I felt a chill run down my spine. What? Where did that come from? No, I didn’t. No, I didn’t. No, I didn’t.
The air changed, became heavier. It was like something was watching Jayson. Like there was something evil out there.
No, there wasn’t. I couldn’t stop myself. Words just kept forming in my mind. I closed my eyes. I was scared that what I was saying was actually going to happen, even when logic opposed it. But what was logic? Was it really just paranoia working on my abilities? And what if there was a presence in the room? What would logic do? What would the greatest men of power, who put their minds to good use, do?
And I realized that closing my eyes was a big mistake.
Jayson was afraid that once he opened his eyes, he’d see something right in front of him.
My mind took me to a hotel room a few months ago, where I had vacation. The place was not important. What was important was what happened one night.
That night, my transition from my dream to reality was very smooth. I didn’t suddenly open my eyes. I remember my mind going from a dream to saying “Oh hey, you’re awake but you haven’t opened your eyes yet.” Right before I opened my eyes, I was able to see a faint outline of a weirdly deformed, smiling face. I told myself that I was letting my imagination run wild, and my mind deemed it “A face of a demon”. I rolled my eyes behind shut eyelids. And then I opened them. I was staring at a blank wall, about thirty centimeters away from me. And the face was still there.
What Jayson wrote off as part of his imagination was still lingering there.
I frowned. I reached out to try to disperse it. My hand went right through the translucent shimmer of lines. It was still smiling.
Huh.
I immediately closed my eyes, and thank God, I went right back to sleep.
I came back to my room. My eyes were still closed. I held my breath. I was scared of leaving them closed now.
Open your eyes, disperse your thoughts, or else.
I opened my eyes. I could have sworn a second earlier, I would have seen something reaching out to me.
There was nothing there. Or was there?
I ignored my thoughts. I got out of bed and I planned to get my cat. The light cast disconcerting shadows all over my walls.
And suddenly, Jayson saw a shadow that didn’t belong to any of his belongings.
No, I didn’t. Did I?
I opened my door. It opened with a creak. Now that just sucked. I rolled my eyes.
Remember how the skeptic always goes first?
I frowned. Again.
You don’t believe me?
I was made to recall countless movies that were true to that statement. I knew they’d all come back to bite me someday.
I ran out and I looked down the long hallway. I was scared that something was going to just come flying at me. I recalled a few other movies with that scene. I looked away. Coward. I forced myself to walk down the hallway. I found my cat asleep on the floor on one side of the living room. I started to make my way back to my room.
And Jayson saw something sitting on his bed.
I wasn’t scared of that.
I entered my room. There was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t. I put my cat at the foot of my bed, and then I jumped back into it. I waited to settle into my beddings. Then the loud silence became quieter as I began to search for something to listen to.
Static.
It became louder and louder. It was this semi-high frequency that just appeared out of nowhere.
Jayson caught sight of something by his window.
I forced myself not to look in that direction. And that was when my head started to play tricks with me. I had visions of some guy and his son waving at me from the highway. I didn’t want to see them.
I could hear little moans from the street and the faint traffic. And then silence. I felt like the sound of the faint cars would make me go deaf. It just felt so loud to me.
Silence. Car screech. Silence. Silence. Motorcycle. Silence. More silence.
I remembered stories of highway accidents and things you’re not sure you see while on the highway late at night. Death beckoned me to join them.
Then I remembered stories about how people would close their eyes and pray to drive away bad thoughts, but then when they opened them again, their bad thoughts just materialized and started praying along with them. The story would usually end there for the reader to imagine the ending.
I didn’t want to live those stories.
My mind took me back a few days ago, when I went to confession. I told the priest that lately since I’d been falling asleep without noticing, I hadn’t been praying at night. I told him that I felt a little more distant to God. I didn’t want that, but I couldn’t help myself with the whole falling asleep thing.
Jayson began to see something materialize in front of his eyes.
I didn’t know what to do. If I left my eyes open, I was scared something would come out. If I closed them, I was scared I’d see something else.
You can already hear it, breathing slowly.
My mind replayed sounds from the movies, and it was so real. It was so real. I could hear them as if it were really there. Was it really there? No, I knew it wasn't. But it was so, very real.
I checked the clock. It was 2: 55. Five minutes away. I closed my eyes. I told myself to sleep.
But I couldn’t. I waited for sleep to come, but it didn’t. The static became heard again, and this time it became louder and higher pitched.
With my feet, I reached out to touch the fur of my cat.
And slowly, Jayson realized that it wasn’t his cat.
That particular sentence, I ignored. I just ignored it. Did three o’ clock pass already? Was it already a minute past? I didn’t want to know what the time was. I wanted to wait till I was sure it was past three.
And that’s when the clock outside began ringing. It rang three times.
Damn. I was now certain it was three.
I breathed slowly, and I closed my eyes. For the next few minutes, I just waited there. I felt myself falling, as I closed my eyes, even though I knew I was not moving. I tried distracting myself with the usual daily matters, but all that seemed a distant memory as…
as you struggled to remain sane?
As I struggled to remain sane? Was that it? No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be as dramatic as that. I realized that a while must have passed, as the bell struck once, indicating it was half past. I open my eyes, and I see my cat staring at me. He stares. I stare.
“What are you looking at?” he says.
He wasn’t talking. I could see that his mouth made no movement. Then again, cats can’t speak.
“I’ll kill you,” he threatened.
NO, HE’S NOT. It was just my imagination. It was just my imagination.
I looked at my cat some more. I forced myself not to give in. Unfortunately, like everyone else, I gave in. I looked at the ceiling. I cannot take this anymore.
People say I bite off more than I can chew. They say sometimes the things I research may end up consuming me.
The truth is a fact,
And now you’re the fool for believing.
Static is the sound of silence. It’s there when nothing else is. Or has it always been there? Is it some part of your imagination that you later re-imagine countless times? The static was almost guiding me, through the long minutes as I struggle to fall asleep.
I lie in wait.
For sleep,
For death,
And I waited most of all for time to eventually go quicker. Sometimes you hear the static when you try listening to it. Because static is the sound of silence. It’s there when nothing else is. It marks the time when the mind comes alive, and when things begin to happen.
And as Jayson was busy thinking of these things, footsteps can be heard outside the door.
It wasn’t something that I wanted to hear. But of course, I heard it anyway. I closed my eyes.
The inexplicable entity entered the room without making a sound. The air changed again.
I was determined not to let my mind beat me. Now I know what millions of people see at night, or rather, feel. I know what makes them look back in an unsure road, to make sure nothing is there. Now I know that if you just fight it, you’ll realize that there is nothing there.
Better safe than sorry.
Well, I’m sure I’m safe now.
Then what is this heavy feeling you have in your heart, at the back of your mind, and more importantly, on your chest?
I didn’t know. But I had to fight it.
Things began to move in the room.
No, they’re not.
The force was getting closer and closer.
There was nothing there.
Better safe than sorry, it’s coming closer. Hurry! Open your eyes! Dispel the evil!
There was nothing there.
Closer. It’s almost here.
There was nothing there. And just when I thought I had won, I finally realized. The truth. Whatever it was that was out there, it touched me.
I told you so.
I cannot explain the reasons that brought me to succumb to fear, for the very first time. I do not know why I begin to sweat, at the very sound of what isn’t, even after all this time, and after everything I’ve read, watched or listen to. I do not want to know whether these things exist or not, but I used to know what was real and what isn’t. I used to know. I used to know that man is afraid of one thing. Fear itself. Never challenge what you don’t know. After all, what proof do you have that it really isn’t there? Am I dead? Or have I finally proven, after so much time spent battling... myself? The darkness? Had I really won?
Static. I opened my eyes.
-J
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