7/08/2006
The right words at the right time

The way Katia put it perfectly describes what I'm going through recently. Mood swing.

It's happened to me so many times already, whenever somebody comes in and explains, in one phrase or two, things I'm not aware are happening, or I'm not at a grasp to describe. Probably it's why I've somehow learned to rely partly, if not entirely, on other people to somehow come and save me, so to speak. I've been leaning too much on people, for possibly every purpose, from reassurances to my very sanity. Now, though, I think I'm just getting used to walking out doors on wobbly steps. I think I'm just starting to learn to walk.

I'm somehow adamant recently to tell everyone that this mood swing isn't a result of some discovery, of some revelation. I know, people commit mistakes, but now I'd like to attribute everything to stress, to drowsiness, to having no connection whatsoever to anything that currently matters. I somehow think I'm living inside some soap bubble that's been made extra strong so that it wouldn't break, which means the things that used to affect me a lot just doesn't.

Or, it affects me in further exaggerated proportions.

I was hinting about this to Ariane last night. That girl's been awake for twenty-one (or more) hours straight, probably some feat I wouldn't survive without blurting out deeply-hidden secrets. Just to bluntly prove something, I told her this wasn't related in any way with Kizia. (She bites her tongue again and attributes it to somebody else. What really, now?) Her simple reply, along with a laugh: "good!"

Although it's been always when I've been speechless, especially when I realize our conversation subjects have jumped everywhere, this time it's been somewhat bothering me. Everybody knows I'm an opinionated person - that's how Les just described me earlier when I was fixing up my profile, until I settled for Energizer bunny - and I'm somehow supposed to have a say on everything, even if it's equivalent to butting in. Now, though, it's either I stick with my guns and not launch it, or I diffuse things and make amazing segues. I'm just not used to it.

Rewind to high school, and I was (not literally, of course) crying out about not being good enough to everybody else, to the people that have more things to speak for themselves. I practically looked at myself as the baby of the class, and it seemed my classmates were ready to pounce on me, influence me with something, and I react differently. This time around, adjustment came quickly, and even if I sometimes resort to unwelcome hugs to make my presence known - I could be sent to the Discipline Office already, you know - it's all good, somehow, somewhere.

Maybe I'm just not getting used to it. Time has caught up with me, and I'm still sticking with my old image of myself.

When the school year came, I fairly realized that I wasn't what I was when I entered the university to taske my entrance exam.

I was reading the current copy of the Malate Literary Folio, and chanced on a story written by Sir Torralba - he wasn't my teacher, but I know some who do, so I better call him that or else - about growing up. Well, the two protagonists never kissed, but people put associations into everything, and end up contradicting themselves. I thought I was the type of guy who barely cared about things unless if it mattered to me, or if it gained my sympathy. Probably things like renewable energy or Ariane not getting enough sleep - you know, things that don't always ring a bell but goes with enough splashes to make a wave. In my world people have always wanted me to change, as if I wasn't good enough for them. I never was, probably.

I've always believed change comes naturally, and I guess I've believed them for too long to face change openly.

That's exactly the reason why I didn't believe myself when I typed that side note on the message window last night. If I really need to say this - "hindi Kizia-related to" or something like it - was something I decided to toss out of the window, but maybe I've grown to challenge myself a bit, to prove to myself that I'll never stay stuck thinking of her, whatever else happens. And I know some of you could be reading this with disbelief, that maybe tomorrow when something happens I'll take back everything I say and publicly announce my bitterness. I couldn't do anything about it. It's only recently when I realized it is all normal, that it happend to everybody - and I'm one of the few who publicly announce it.

Selfishness. I can sense it in my atmosphere.

I'm not exactly bent into proving to everyone that two paragraphs ago is correct. Or maybe I'm partly bent, but again, everybody suddenly respects my decisions the way I find myself doing the same.

"Look at the brighter side, di mo na masasabing inexperienced ka."

Ale said that two weeks ago and it striked me. She was right, after all. Somebody else this time came in and said everything correctly.

I don't know if I'm subconsciously sitting down, waiting for somebody to fill my little world, but as everybody wants to deny the need for inspiration in a bleakly-colored world, I go against the flow. Maybe that speaker from Thursday was right, that we are all immature, and if I could bounce from it, we never will be. Maybe that's why we all need each other. Maybe that's why people say that no man is an island.

People used to think - and maybe some still do - that after that Wednesday afternoon, when a random act of holding hands made me spin into bitterness, I'm still stuck in some form of deep depression. Then some came and say that there are a lot more people around me. I'm not consciously looking for someone to admire again, though. I think everybody's company is enough - who would've thought knowing a hundred people is possible?

Then again, I couldn't help but ask myself once in a while. Who will be next to come with the right words at the right time?

And your responses...

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