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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Sunday, September 06, 2009

entry arrow6:08 PM | More Than This...

[a piece of rambling fiction, or whatever it is you call my life]

Sometimes when you least expect it -- say, in the middle of a perfect and slow Sunday afternoon while you're having coffee by your lonesome, staring out a bay window to the blue sea in the quiet distance -- you get a small quickening in the back of your head that jolts you. Today, it is this thought: why do we sometimes insist on looking for diamonds in a sty?

Or this: I have learned not to ask for much of anything, knowing full well the answer will be "no" -- but you seem to have perfected the art of making me feel like a piece of lint you can easily throw away. It's needless cruelty, something I don't think I deserve. Am I a lint? (And in my saddest days, I do think that maybe I am.)

I am better than this, I keep telling myself. And yet I do nothing about it. And yet I settle for less. And lesser. And lesser. I have lived on the short-lived bouts of happiness I get whenever you're around -- and for the most part, that is enough for me. It is what I asked for, anyway. And yet...

It comes down to this: it's heartbreaking to know the makeup of your own tragedy, and let it just come to you anyway.

I am better than this.

Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that maybe you will learn to appreciate what I am in your life. But that's foolish talk. Nobody really learns anything.

I am better than this.

Sometimes I convince myself that you will learn that the closet you hide in is still transparent. But that's foolish talk. You will still find the denial a comfort.

I am better than this.

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