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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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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

entry arrow5:56 PM | Happy.

I don’t remember the last time I have felt this kind of sadness for this x number of days. It has been bothering me lately, because [1] none of the usual tricks are working, and [2] there seems to be no definite reason why I should go around my days masked in a frown.

I lie.

I do know why I’m sad. And it infuriates me that something so unworthy, so despicably insignificant could be the reason for this melancholy.

I lie again.

It is something worthy. And I should just stop lying that a thing could be so powerful it could move the very geography of my mental state. It causes utter madness, and I find myself perched on the precipice of so much want, of so much despair, and find that there is an urge to jump into that welcoming black hollow. How could a thing consume this much?

There goes another lie.

It is not a thing. It is a face. A beautiful face. And in my dreams, it is next to me. It sees only me, and gazes with the bright observation of a beloved. But dreams are not real. Reality is harsh and sharp like shards of exploded glass, and scrapes its jagged edges on my skin, writing in the ink of my own blood its fierce judgment of how broken I am, and how accepting I am of that shattered state.

That one is not a lie.

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