Please Hear What I’m not Saying (Author Unknown)

Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask,
I wear a thousand masks.
Masks that I’m afraid to take off,
and none of them are me.

Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,
but don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water’s calm and I’m in command,
and that I need no one.
But don’t believe me… Please.

My surface may seem smooth,
but my surface is my mask,
my every-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complaceny.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion,
in fear, in aloneness.
But I can hide this.

I don’t want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of
my weakness and fear being exposed.
That’s why I frantically create
a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant, sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend, to shield me
from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely
my salvation. And I know it.

That is,
if it’s followed by acceptance.
It’s the only think that can
liberate me, from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers that
I so painstakingly erect.
It’s the only thing that will assure me
of what I can’t assure myself,
that I’m really worth something.

But I don’t tell you this,
I’m afraid your glance will not
be followed by acceptance and love.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of me,
that you’ll laugh.
and your laugh would wound me.
I’m afraid that deep-down
I’m not much and you will see this
and reject me.
So I play my game, my pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without,
and a trembling child within.
And so begins the parade of masks,
the glittering but empty parade of masks.
And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk,
I tell you everything that’s really nothin,
and nothing of what’s everything,
of what’s crying within me.

So when I’m going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I’m saying/
Please listen carefully and try
to hear what I’m not saying…
what I’d like to be able tosay,
but can’t.

Who am I? you may wonder,
I am someone you know very well,
For I am every man you meet
and every woman you meet.

Wrath of the Storm II

Continued from: Wrath of the Storm I 

From the start I knew that it was the worst typhoon I’ve experienced n my six-year stay in the country’s capital. During college, I’ve often been soaked in the rain going to and from my classes between buildings, especially during the wet season. But although this time I stayed indoors, I couldn’t help but feel that I was glad that I cancelled all my appointments for that day.

Friday came and I could no longer put off getting my TOR and certification from the Ateneo Registrar’s Office. Gloomily, I went to Katipunan, witnessing the storm’s devastation of Metro Manila on the way there. Trees, billboards, lamp posts, electric wires and even houses were uprooted, severed, toppled, blown off, etc. Everywhere I looked the streets were littered with debri and damaged properties. The newspapers are estimating billions of pesos worth of damaged property, losses and even injuries and deaths.

But the most obvious devastation Typhoon Milenyo has wrought to the country is the loss of power. Power went down starting on Thursday morning. At first, it would seem, I thought, that it was only for a few hours. Towards midday I changed my mind and decided that it must be until after the storm’s passed. Surely, Meralco cut down the power on purpose to minimize accidents while the storm was raging outside. I hoped in vain. Thursday night came – no more storm, yet no power either.

Three days of darkness… no power, no telephone service, Globe and Smart had trouble servicing all of their respective areas due to the loss of power. I have Starbucks to thank for because I managed to survive boredom, heat exhaustion and plain annoyance during those three grueling days.

to be continued…