Unwanted

Did you ever felt unwanted in your own home? Well, I do. I have never felt unwanted and that’s even under the supposed-to-be loving arms of the people you call family.

Since my parents are separated and since my dad had a stroke of bad luck, financially, my siblings and I are currently living with my mom, under the roof of my grandparents’ house. The family of my mom can be complicated most of times. They can be best of friends and yet they can be the worst of enemies as well. They tend to have this closely knitted family ties but then all of them are complicatedly attached.

I had my fair share of misconduct that could have lead to why they are talking behind my back as to the kind of person I am. My mom is not speaking to me for almost 2 weeks now and me and my cousin have this rift that began with my dogs. I find the cause behind so trivial and the once mole hills are now mountains.

I have apologize for the error of my ways and even after that, the rift is still the same. Am I asking too much if I said that its all better for us that we should just kiss-and-make up? Where is this family that we so fondly call? Where is this called mother that children lean upon to? With all of these, I find the sense of being ‘us’ called a family a false pretense. A pseudo family aiming to please friends and other relatives. It sickens me sometimes and yet what more can I do, blood is thicker than water.

For 11 years, I have been telling myself that I will not follow the footsteps of my mom. I will be a different person especially towards motherhood. Sometimes it scares me that I start to reason like her. Is that bad? I am as we say forever traumatize for what she has done to us.

I can only pretend not to care but then I can’t deny that I do.

A creative rush for my lost mojo

I am once again having another writer’s block. I really need to get my ‘mojo’ back stat.

Hoping to find my forgotten mojo, I have created this sort-of canvas of self expression. This is an effort of visualizing the phenomena of love and the intense longing of another soul. Butterflies have always been divinely delicate creatures to me. They are imprints of burning romance and romance lost.

As much as I would like to interpret my my so-called artwork, it’s no more or less than a sudden urge and my undeclared love for the shade of pink. It’s my artistic heave looking for my muse.

Musings on Maurisyo

“Maurisyo” is how my friends and I fondly call my dearest, James. Now an architect and soon-to-be lawyer, he is one of those people, I know, who strongly pledges to achieve his goals in life. A very driven person with an intense passion for learning. At 24, his nomadic existence spanned the four corners of the globe in pursuit of love (glad he found me *wink*) and meaning. He was, I supposed, a pseudo-rock band singer in another lifetime singing “Love hurts” and “Knife” with a twist. A frustrated “macho dancer” with so many lap dances to give and a high-praised “birds-and-bees” guru. His utterly cute and uncanny ways of putting a smile on my face never fail to send me urges to kiss him. He is the Maurisyo that I have gotten to know and love.

 

“Have you tried smiling and frowning at the same time? It’s not that easy, I tell you” ~ James

This is how they had fun after the countless hours of studying for the board exam. Finding newspaper clippings and then creatively insert their face, you know what I mean.