Nineteen - Atomic Bombs

(Current Time: 1:00, 4th blk)

(Current Sounds: "Monday Morning" - Simon and Milo)

"Missing you is something that I never wanted to do.

You were always there, I was there for you too....

Don't wanna wake up monday morning..."

(For the backstory, please go to my profile and find my other blog, Melodious Nocturnes. Please read Atmosphere 15, for the euology I gave on October 31st.)

Two days ago, I had my birthday,

That same day, I attended a funeral to my late grandfather, Valente Penaranda,

He wasn't even my real grandfather. He was just this man who vowed to my mom that he'd take care of me and my sis and bro.

He was such an caring, funny, gentle man.

And now he's gone.

Have you ever gotten the strange feeling, as you watch a coffin being brought down, six feet under, that you wanted to join them in that same, cold darkness?

He wouldn't have wanted that.

But why then? 

Why did he send his birthday card so early, to raise this feeling of deep regret and resent for myself, for not realizing?

Why did he grip on to his life so hard, so stubborn not to let go?

Why leave me and the rest of his family with this excruciating pain?

I should bring myself together. It happened a week ago--I should pull myself together. Get real. Resume back the usual norm.

But how cruel would it be if I thought of those past thoughts?

He loved me enough--hell, maybe he still does--to send all his love in that pink birthday card two weeks before it happened.

He loved us enough to tell us that he was a fighter. He never gave in, even till death.

He loved his family enough to bring them together and pray for the best of his soul--and for them to be even more bonded than before.

He brought so many people together. He was a man who selflessly gave his heart out of kindness.

I... really miss him. I want to move on.

A good friend today told me that would be--excuse me here--BULLSHIT, if I let go so easily.

He's in my memories, in my thoughts. In my very heart and soul.

He never would've left me if he stamped his life's seal to be part of my life if he was there.

He loved me.

I still love him.

Forgive this post. But this is how I'm feeling... and to be quite honest, I really want some support. I'm cruel and selfish in saying this. But...

I honestly want someone to tell me its okay. To hug me and reassure me that I'm alive and that I can be who I want to be.

Like what he would've told me.

If you've made it reading this so far... thank you. That's just all I need.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Sixteen - Little More than Assertive

(Current Time: 9:47 Am, 2nd Blk)

(Current Sounds: 'Storm' by Yoshida Brothers)

Musings and Some Writing:

In these last two days, I cleaned up my room.

*insert silence here*

... okay, let me start again.

In these last two days, I cleaned up a STORM of a room (hence the sound I'm currrently listening to. Damn you, Yoshida Brothers.)

My room was typically the remnants of some dusty desert civilization, that I recall, was something I thought at the time was a good place to sleep and stay.

.... until I saw the number of dust mites and cobwebs Mom and me vacumned up. OH GOOD GOD. I COULD'VE MADE A MINI EIFFEL OF PARIS WITH ALL THAT DUST.

Typically, I shouldn't note down what disgusting things I found both behind, under and around my bed (its even too explicit for me to describe at the moment). But instead, I'll make a list poem about what I discovered in the room I THOUGHT was clean...

~~

Erasables

Old drawings, some I figured should've been scrapped, some that I knew were the inspiration I wanted and craved that time.

Hair elastics, multicolored and monochrome mixed, all of which won't even go around my thin bob of hair.

Japanimation posters, one man of the sea, one with two warrior men I lost interest with a long time ago, and one who's lost soul I should try to watch again later.

Sunglasses, scattered in their lilac, scarlet and sunrise hues, instead they find a home in one of my shoeboxes.

Encyclopedias, the hard bound mahogany covers that were so outdated I could've sworn even my mom and dad weren't born before this series was written.

Bracelets, one I bought at that California dollar store, one I picked up at a lone harbor, and one I swear I was given by a boy who doesn't remember me anymore.

One Japanese-written poster, inscribed with a message about peaceful resolutions. I should hang it when the room is done so I could be welcomed by its gentle presence. 

Notebooks, these two hold what I was three years ago--and I flip them in order to truly know I've moved on from what I didn't want to be before.

A case of sais, double weapons I received last year from a mentor I might not see because of burnt bridges.

Two lip glosses, one tasting of dead whipped cream, the other still fresh of strawberry shortcake

Miniature cars, orange, white and blue, holding a childhood of tomboyish desires and forgotten beliefs.

A teddy bear who's name was Hiryu, who I accidentally dropped underneath my bed and got my heart all a-strung for two nights until I realized I could've just cleaned my room to save my red-scarfed friend.

-kiwi