Saturday, April 24, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
WHEN HEART STARTS YO PLAY..
It has always been a game with no assurance of winning. Many cried, rolled in the aisles, grinned, and doubted. And it does not only end with a past tense. Yes, it knows no time or age limit. It isn’t a doll or a robot played only by youngsters nor cockfight or lotto exercised mostly by elders. So long as your heart beats, you can get your own play. It is just so cynical that after you get lost a hundred times, you still want to grab the claim “I’ll play again”. No doubt, even if it may not be among the most commonly used words, it surely remains the most commonly abused.
For many people, it is a noun. Yet for those people like Jane who doesn’t have ample will to get on it, it remains a pronoun. An almost two years of leaving her feelings unspoken had inauspiciously brought such dilemma to Jane. She might have been bursting out into covert insanity but she never had opened her mouth and let her tongue speak in behalf of her heart. Love is not only blind, mute likewise. She kept her words for so long, but she was so careful she wasn’t able to swallow them. Months passed and yet revelation seemed to be unsuitable. She used to see the boy whom she thought felt the same way. If she could only have confessed her love, she could have known if her mind made the right forethought. But it may seem odd, she believed. The boy and she had an eight-year gap. Perhaps, she was already writing her home-reading report when the boy was still being taught on how to do the strokes of the English alphabet. Age doesn’t matter, she asserted. But it couldn’t be that way. It still matters at the end of the day. She couldn’t coerce him to stop playing ‘pellet gun’ nor convince him to hang out in a bar late at night. That’s his life. Let him act his age. Hence, she did not let anyone know her tackiness, for if she did, she might have felt ashamed of her being a lady. Yes, a lady who was tied up with the strands of affectionate regard wherein her single hope was to come out of her closet. For a guy? Young boy, she corrected. And her days submerged into befuddlement.
All of a sudden she realized: We are unparalleled. Obviously right. At any rate, was it her fault to choose a chick over a rooster? Jane didn’t have a choice either. The fact that it unknowingly grew within her heart and hallucinated her mind, she was ambushed. The boy also seemed irrational who would always end up with a hanging thought. The fact that he maybe fell in love with her despite their age breach and was also apprehensive to speak up— that’s what she didn’t know. She only thought. At the outset, actions were always giving them a clue. They were too close to be true, perchance. They would always converse about anything their minds would tell them, yet their hearts tended to pump more blood in order to catch up with their uneasiness when their eyes happened to meet at a single speck, by accident. He was one of her featured friends, she too in his. Thanks to Friendster it served as a tool. Cell phone as well did. Every bit of move would mean something their brain cells could hardly process. Every day would pass leaving questions unanswered. It was indeed love that she could have felt for a guy of her generation but she knew there was no pretense in what she sensed.
Due to her status in life, Jane rapidly became busy. That made her live up with a thought of arrogance that she must serve her priorities. At one point, she wanted to show that she should not love the young boy anymore because he would only be a hitch in doing her purposes. Inhuman, that is. But after several attempts, she still couldn’t get away from him. Blame it on their distance because they felt like they were only inches away from each other. Constant dealing imprisoned her. She must move on as she always screamed out. But it seemed like she was kept alone to hear her grappling voice. She hoped as her tears fall down from her blunt eyes the feeling would come down with them. She wished it could be that easy. Nevertheless, her heart could only let blood out, not tears. Days went on. She also went on despairingly waiting.
Time was so kind. Unnoticeably, she passed off it. Finally. Whether she got tired of waiting or was able to get over her affection, she didn’t know. Perhaps, she must leave it all there for it also started without giving a signal ‘GO’. They remained friends, and still do. The young boy never had spoken about anything. Should there be something to speak up? He alone knew it. He must have known that the game’s finally over. Jane declared it. The mere lesson she learned was that it does not take time to realize; one needs to realize that it takes time. It helps much. At the back of her mind, she recollected: Love and Game both contain same number of letters, are similarly monosyllabic. But one must have to know, she continued, that the former is more than just a game of fun where the only prize is experience.
It has always been a game with no assurance of winning. Many cried, rolled in the aisles, grinned, and doubted. And it does not only end with a past tense. Yes, it knows no time or age limit. It isn’t a doll or a robot played only by youngsters nor cockfight or lotto exercised mostly by elders. So long as your heart beats, you can get your own play. It is just so cynical that after you get lost a hundred times, you still want to grab the claim “I’ll play again”. No doubt, even if it may not be among the most commonly used words, it surely remains the most commonly abused.
For many people, it is a noun. Yet for those people like Jane who doesn’t have ample will to get on it, it remains a pronoun. An almost two years of leaving her feelings unspoken had inauspiciously brought such dilemma to Jane. She might have been bursting out into covert insanity but she never had opened her mouth and let her tongue speak in behalf of her heart. Love is not only blind, mute likewise. She kept her words for so long, but she was so careful she wasn’t able to swallow them. Months passed and yet revelation seemed to be unsuitable. She used to see the boy whom she thought felt the same way. If she could only have confessed her love, she could have known if her mind made the right forethought. But it may seem odd, she believed. The boy and she had an eight-year gap. Perhaps, she was already writing her home-reading report when the boy was still being taught on how to do the strokes of the English alphabet. Age doesn’t matter, she asserted. But it couldn’t be that way. It still matters at the end of the day. She couldn’t coerce him to stop playing ‘pellet gun’ nor convince him to hang out in a bar late at night. That’s his life. Let him act his age. Hence, she did not let anyone know her tackiness, for if she did, she might have felt ashamed of her being a lady. Yes, a lady who was tied up with the strands of affectionate regard wherein her single hope was to come out of her closet. For a guy? Young boy, she corrected. And her days submerged into befuddlement.
All of a sudden she realized: We are unparalleled. Obviously right. At any rate, was it her fault to choose a chick over a rooster? Jane didn’t have a choice either. The fact that it unknowingly grew within her heart and hallucinated her mind, she was ambushed. The boy also seemed irrational who would always end up with a hanging thought. The fact that he maybe fell in love with her despite their age breach and was also apprehensive to speak up— that’s what she didn’t know. She only thought. At the outset, actions were always giving them a clue. They were too close to be true, perchance. They would always converse about anything their minds would tell them, yet their hearts tended to pump more blood in order to catch up with their uneasiness when their eyes happened to meet at a single speck, by accident. He was one of her featured friends, she too in his. Thanks to Friendster it served as a tool. Cell phone as well did. Every bit of move would mean something their brain cells could hardly process. Every day would pass leaving questions unanswered. It was indeed love that she could have felt for a guy of her generation but she knew there was no pretense in what she sensed.
Due to her status in life, Jane rapidly became busy. That made her live up with a thought of arrogance that she must serve her priorities. At one point, she wanted to show that she should not love the young boy anymore because he would only be a hitch in doing her purposes. Inhuman, that is. But after several attempts, she still couldn’t get away from him. Blame it on their distance because they felt like they were only inches away from each other. Constant dealing imprisoned her. She must move on as she always screamed out. But it seemed like she was kept alone to hear her grappling voice. She hoped as her tears fall down from her blunt eyes the feeling would come down with them. She wished it could be that easy. Nevertheless, her heart could only let blood out, not tears. Days went on. She also went on despairingly waiting.
Time was so kind. Unnoticeably, she passed off it. Finally. Whether she got tired of waiting or was able to get over her affection, she didn’t know. Perhaps, she must leave it all there for it also started without giving a signal ‘GO’. They remained friends, and still do. The young boy never had spoken about anything. Should there be something to speak up? He alone knew it. He must have known that the game’s finally over. Jane declared it. The mere lesson she learned was that it does not take time to realize; one needs to realize that it takes time. It helps much. At the back of her mind, she recollected: Love and Game both contain same number of letters, are similarly monosyllabic. But one must have to know, she continued, that the former is more than just a game of fun where the only prize is experience.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
