They Cannot Take It

Note: This entry may be is largely biased, because of Lauren Oliver's beautiful book, Delirium.

They cannot take it from us. They never can, never will.

We will continue to love, whatever they say or do. It is our nature, the human nature, to love and be loved. It is our way of life, our way of living. We will never stop loving, never.

If they prevent us from loving, we will restrain. If they prevent us from restraining, we will escape. If they prevent us from escaping, we will die. No one can live without love.

"They cannot take it."

Second Point of View

You walk into the building, avoiding the glances of others. You understand completely what they want and you don’t want to get caught up in their problems. You’ve mingled with them once, and you were completely disappointed in them.

Money. Power. Money.

These go on in your head and you understand that having one, earns the other.

You walk within the crowd. You don’t want to leave, even though you know that these kind of people can destroy you within a snap of their manicured little fingers. You know that they can, but you also know that they won’t, for they are cowards and wouldn’t attack on someone, until they have completely gotten them under their control.

You continue walking, noticing how many people were in the building. You decide to blend in and eavesdrop on some strangers’ conversations, because you know that there is always a good story when large masses of people get together.

You press your weight on the wall and laugh inwardly at the fact that a group of high-class civilians happen to have no intention of concealing their conversation. You notice that they not speaking in full sentences.

One of them is named Histrey and you take joy that there is someone in the world that is cursed with such a name as that. Another one is named Fram and he appears to be the father of the one they were talking about. You take note that Fram doesn’t seem to care for his son very well.

You take your leave just as the father says “Not anymore” and proceed to find another theater to amuse you. You walk slowly, for you know that you may pick up something realistically ludicrous that it may be enough to sell.

You hear a rumor about a witch in the neighboring town and you laugh at them inwardly. You ask yourself how simply shallow people can be when they are trying to snag lots of attention.  You know that this rumor might have been just a hypothesis a few minutes ago, about a young girl with black hair, black eyes and a queer mysterious attitude.

You smile and you know that you will be richer once again.

You walk out of the building, not bothering to look back, knowing that you have gotten what you want and won’t be coming back for a long, long time.

Good Bye.

--

First Point of View

Spontaneous

Sometimes, I suddenly wake up in the morning, grab the yellow pad beside my bed and start writing about the dream I just had. Usually, I would go back to sleep and when I wake up, I will find the once-brilliant idea so ridiculous.

First Point of View

I walk into the building, not bothering to look at the other guests. I know that they will have their fake smiles and their well-practiced, phony expressions on their faces. I haven’t been living under a cave for the last sixteen years of my life and I know quite well the extent people stretch to get what they want.

Money. Power. Money.

I don’t get why people strive to get both at the same time, for you get the other automatically when you get one. When you have money, you get power. When you have power, you get money.

Still, I walk within the crowd. I have no intention of leaving, despite knowing the fact that any of these frauds could destroy my well-maintained reputation in one petty little second. Yes they could, but they wouldn’t.

And so, I continue walking, engulfed by the masses of people inside the building. Blending in, I decide to eavesdrop, for it is always good to know something only a select number of people know.

I lean against the wall, listening as a group of apparently high class dukes and duchesses mutter discreetly to each other. Unbeknownst to them, I could hear them loud and clear.

“Unacceptable!” One of them says, articulating each syllable with obvious bitterness.

“Histrey!” Another scolds him, “He’s still a relative.” Apparently ‘Histrey’ is a name.

A man speaks up, “The disown him, I say! Nothing’s worse than an ungrateful—“

“Fram, he’s your son!” I can sense the obvious disgust on Histrey’s voice as he cut Fram off.

“Not anymore, he’s not!”

I get tired of the heated conversation and walk again. I decide to walk very slowly, in case I hear an interesting exchange of words amidst the whispers and murmurs around the room. I didn’t find anything I was interested in, but I overheard some rumors about a witch in the village. Obviously, it isn’t real and was just made up by some middle-class civilian, yearning for some attention from the higher classes, but she was quite a good storyteller.

I smile. This would make for a very good article.

I walk out of the building, not bothering to look back. I know that I have succeeded in accomplishing my mission and I feel pretty contented. I have been living among these people for almost two decades and it still amazes me how they are very legitimate rumor-starters.
--
First Point of View.

This is part of an exercise wherein I am supposed to write a single piece in numerous points of view. 

Second Point of View

Fifteen Words

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

They spoke not, but they understood perfectly.

Looking For

Everyone has a purpose in life.

Whether it is to be a well-known doctor or an introvert hermit, each person has a purpose, a job, an objective to accomplish. Some don't accomplish it, while some do; it comes as a choice.

This purpose is not independent and inconsistent to other purposed, not parallel, not never-meeting. Some purposes affect others and still some hinder other purposes from being accomplished. This is why interaction is essential to accomplish your certain purpose. But whether you are affected or hindered, you must strive to do your best and move on, because standing on the same spot won't get you up the mountain.

Purposes can come at various times of one's life, randomly even. For example, one's purpose can come as early as his elementary years, while another's materializes in her late forty's. It depends on the certain indicidual and there is no--and there will never be--a statistic for this.

You may have found yours already, but you're still unaware of it.

No Time

"I'm so sorry. I'm busy tomorrow. Can we go next time?"

Without even waiting for an answer, you turned away from me and started skipping to wherever you had to go. You think that I won't mind you canceling another one of our movie nights. You think that everyone would consider just for you and that everything will go your way always. I hated that about you.

Friends are people who you can trust, who you can expect to be there for you. At least, that's what we believed in before you changed. What happened?

We used to be so happy together, talking on the phone almost every night and going to each other's houses until our mothers complained that we were spending more time with each other than our family.

But suddenly, something happened. You changed. You started having absolutely no time for me anymore. You started making up excuses that we both knew were ridiculous. Why? Have you gotten tired of me? Am I not enough for you anymore?

Honestly, I'm hurt, but I will no longer chase after you. I've had enough. As of today, you are but a faded shadow in my memory.

Goodbye.

--

Why do I keep writing about goodbye's? I guess it's a mystery to me too. :)

Almost Losing Someone

I was so frustrated. I tried my best to keep her safe, yet she was gone. I kept blaming myself, knowing that there were things I could have done to prevent her from being gone. Thoughts of 'If Only' filled my heart and my conscience started getting guiltier and guiltier. I felt like I was disgusting. How could I have done this to her? I felt like I had betrayed her after all she's done for me.

I couldn't stop thinking about how things would have turned out differently if I had been more careful, more cautious. I couldn't stop blaming myself for this happening, my mind filled with thoughts of how horrible a person I am for letting this happen to her.

And that was the first time in a long time that I cried.

But the story doesn't end there.

Why I Love You

I love you, because you smile at me before talking, giving me time to collect my thoughts into a coherent response.

Breaking

The feeling of his soft fingers against my face still lingered and as I bring myself to remember how he looked and how he smiled that heartwarming smile I loved so much, my heart skips a beat.

The Need to Belong

We experience it at one time or another, the moment when everyone is talking about something you don't know, when the world seemed to despise you and Fate suddenly decided to make fun of you by leaving you out.

Waking Up

My alarm clock ringing in the background. Footsteps of my mother, busying herself while contemplating whether to disrupt my blissful sleep or not. My sister turning beside me, shaken by the sounds.

And then I wake up.

I Give Up

I was not the extremely studious student people believed me to be. I loved doing things out of the norm, but until that point in life, I tried to keep my desire for something different--something no one would ever expect me to do--inside my mind and confined behind the bars of my imagination.