By random twitch of circumstance we experience the fierce side of life. Today, I was rushed to the hospital because of a dislocated jaw. It was just because of a simple yawn and I thought I wasn’t going to survive the day. I tried to stay calm and successfully managed not to drool too much because at my condition I was still thinking about keeping my cool and trying not to look too unglamorous. I was about to pass out and the doctors in the emergency room just passed me by and I could really say that the interns were curious about what happened to me. My brother told me I was really pale, and I try as much as I can, not to look at myself in the mirror.

Despite the pain and my hopeless gasp for air, I stayed calm. I entertained myself with happy thoughts while I wait for doctors to finally do something about my condition. I patiently and quietly waited because I know that somebody else in the emergency room needs immediate care, much more than I do. There’s this guy who had this 3 day old open wound that needs to be stitched up. I saw the attending doctor insert the syringe needle, not on the surface of the skin but right through the wound itself! I could see his eyes twitch and his legs stretch in pain. And on the right side of the room was an old lady who had a head injury. In the next room I could hear another lady scream in pain. Whatever the cause may be, I didn’t want to know.

All I ever knew about the emergency room is that, it’s a room full of sick people, or helpless victims of stupidity but now I understand. That behind those swinging doors, there’s pain. But it’s more than just a torture room. It’s also a home for heroes. Heroes that wear white robes and kind faces. They’d come to your rescue. They came to my rescue, and thus the day ends. I took a deep breath and know…I’ve survived. And what helped me survive is the realization that whatever pain there is that you had to go through, there’s always a person out there suffering a greater pain. And even so, there’s a hero who’s going to come to your rescue.

It's been years since I've seen her. And the memory of her face is like that dying flame at the tip of a wick after the fire has been blown away from the candle. It's blurry, fuzzy...I could barely remember. But everyday since she went away, there's this one moment that just occurs in the middle of the day that she comes in to my thoughts. And I see her smile. She's given the word perfect a whole different meaning. And even though the years may pass, and If I ever marry a woman that's not her, and I may have children that's not hers. There's still that momen during my day that I'd stop and think about her...and see her smile.

I can't help but blame myself. And think of myself as the worst person in the entire universe. She never failed to make me smile. With her pretty little ways...being unintentionally funny...being outrageously smart and tons of unpredictability that make each day seem like a huge, nicely wrapped gift that has some big surprise inside. And yet, I let her walk away with a frown on her face. I know I'd never be half as sorry as I should. And I know that I don't deserve her. But I can only hope that someday, we'll meet on a two way street and we'd stop, even when the light is green. And when that day comes...I'll make sure that she'll never loose that smile again, and I'll make sure that I'll never let go of her hand...

Storms have come to sway my branches,
and too, splinters in the air have done me scratches,
but none too deep as those that were made today.
"Cursed!", is one one I have to say!

It comes to a point in a man's life that he begins to realize that he is weary. Of people deciding on how one should behave and live one's life, of time that makes one's blood's rush seem so slow, of routines that make life seem so sequential.

We meet strangers, eventually we gain their trust and know their name. And when we utter their names, the phrase from which it resides ends with the word "friend". But then, they remain strangers. Nothing but a mere passers-by on a one way street. They flee...And when they do, we hold on to their memory. And when they do, we value them more. And when their memories begin to inspire us to live, that's when they become more than just a stranger. They become part of our soul.

When we look about us at night, we see the stars. But why can't we stop at just being amazed at their brilliance? Sometimes we can't help but wish "upon that one big star." Perhaps we're just hopefulls. If there's such a word. Or perhaps more appropriately called "hopefools". Believers of a world that exist beyond those stars. If there is none...I would not hesitate to believe. Still believe...even if it means that I'd have to be called a fool. At the very least, I'd live. At the very least, I'd stay sane.

But still today...I'd say, I am weary. But tommorow...might just be another day. Might just be a better one...for me at least. Or perhaps...a wonderful one. :-)

Let me begin by asking, Are we really free? You see, this question came about during our Philiosophy class discussion. And it led me to thinking about the imperfections of man and of life. How can we be free when life is so imperfect? It's like everything non-living in the universe is so perfect...everything is symetrical and yet life is the exact opposite. What I mean by this is that we make choices...by which we exercise our "so-called" freedom but then after the decision making comes a consequence. Sometimes the consequence that comes forth are those that we did not expect nor want. The anticipation of these consequences prevent us from making the decision. Which means that we're not free after all.

I came to a conclusion. Perfection and Freedom...they're directly proportional.