The author hereby states that all perceived similarities between characters and people living or dead are either purely coincidental or a skewered nerve in your guilty conscience.

--Ilustrado, Miguel Syjuco

Friday, November 23, 2012

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."

Saturday, November 3, 2012

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.

--