Yours truly

The funny thing with "yours truly" is you can never be somebody else's. It's just a weird claim people make. Write someone a letter, and end it with that line. Who gives a toss about whether they have you or not?

Issa's answer was a fairly blunt one. "Date a nice girl na kasi," she kicked in on one of those days when I had nothing to whine about but a need to have someone. At least the thought of it comforts me, because - what else could be better than knowing someone out there waiting for you? I made a euphemism out of it and called it a cuddle. A mere cuddle. A mere cuddle is apparently all I need, and I still find that fact funny.

I finally finished Cinema Paradiso today, and I was actually successful at holding back the tears. Sure, I watched two films and a film montage today, and eventually it all piles up. We were talking about making the actors feel at ease while shooting scenes - maintaining emotional connections - and looking back, how they moved me to the brink of shedding tears still amazes me. Where do they get all that power? Salvatore di Vita felt alone in the thirty years since he left Giancaldo for Rome, and probably that's where I end soon. I guess I was moved because I saw myself in him - one who just cannot seem to let go.

A million twists in the gut later, I still stand here, not possibly caring about anything. The idea of "yours truly" being a big lie is still making the rounds in my head, because it's been used for so many reasons, in so many ways, in many disparate occasions. I'm yours, really, you insist. At least temporarily. Maybe when somebody else needs me, that's when I don't become yours alone. But "yours alone" is an entirely different story, and yet "truly" somehow means the same way. How come? Is it an appeasement?

I never heard that phrase in anybody's lips, except probably when they're dictating a letter. It doesn't pass. It all happens.

Isn't it an obvious fact? I don't exactly like someone at this point, and that's the crazy part. Today's when I admitted everything to so many people, mistaking everything for a joke. And yet they're half-meant. And mine's fully-meant, although half-seriously (and confusingly so). And maybe that's why I cannot decide on what to write today. It all seems to find me on the losing end, right?

Issa asked why I wanted it so badly. I guess I'm just tired of jumping between pretending to be happy, pretending to be lonely, and not knowing what really there is. Am I really too old to join the game? Am I too late?

What I have for myself are mere images. They persist to flash in my head, insist to make me feel the surroundings again, and move me till it's all over. And they say that's way better, but if that's all made up, then you definitely have issues. I do have issues. Am I just that desperate, or do I need a love song to appease my feelings and let it all die down?

Niko quotes from Kelly. There is a place in my head. An empty embrace. I embrace my dreams instead.

And your responses...

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