Sobering Up

This is my last entry in my mBlog journal. I'm quite proud of it, and I'm happy that I kept a copy of it in my hard disk. So here I go... reposting it.

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Two of the definitions of sober is "lacking brightness or colour; lifeless; dull" and "to become more realistic". Considering these two definitions, becoming sober is actually a great contradiction. Does becoming more realitistic automatically condone you to a life of boredom? To become dull?

Its funny that sober is commonly related to alocoholism; alcohol, in a way, is one of the world's legal drugs. Binging in alcolohic drinks causes one to become drunk, to be temporarily detached from the real world. Tipplers basically remove themselves from reality and at least, for a short time, feel good. Now sobering up more or less implies destroying that alternate reality that alcohol has created and well, reattach ones self to the normal world.

Is being normal actually being sober? Does normal = lifeless, dull?

Let's face it: reality bites. In case you haven't noticed, life isn't fair. Life is only good when you're on top of the world, when you have enough resources to feed your needs and wants. Life is good when you've got that Colgate smile and money in your pocket. Life is good only when life is fair to you.

Watch the news and you'll see how bleak life actually is. 70% of the news involve heinous crimes, holdups, kidnappings, rape, murder. The 30% you can distribute over economic failing, oil prices rising, and the latest happening in primetime soaps.

Alcoholics and drug addicts at some level, have got it right. They are able to see the world the way they want to see it: one with no problems. Personally the only threat they pose to mankind is addiction (murders, etc.), but that's another story. Can't we just lock them up somewhere and give them their daily dose of non-reality? If ever there was a place, sign me up.

At some point, I'm jealous of them. Acting normal dictates me to go to school everyday, to try and finish this thesis. Acting normal dictates me to function on a schedule: Wake up at 8AM, go to school, sit in front of the computer, and go home and sleep at 10PM. Acting normal is actually pushing me nearer and nearer to the brink of insanity.

God granted us humans with a great mind, one that has a potential to discover a lot of things. One that allows us to understand the world at a whole new level. One that makes us see the ugly patterns of society, to see the how unfair the world is. I'm thankful to Generation X because they were the ones who saw how bleak the current status quo was. But if we're capable of so many things, and if we've seen the problem that lies in front of us, why can't we bring ourselves to solve it?

Take modeling for example. Its common knowledge that only selected, anorexic people are blessed with a size 0 body. We all know that buyers will range from a size 4-16. Why aren't we getting models from that range? *SIGH*

Majority of artists are insane. And I think I know why. They're the only ones who really understand the world for what it is. And when they try to make a difference, normal people just hear. They don't listen. Try to make a difference in this world and you'll get criticized for it. Make a difference in this world and it gets homogenized, repackaged, and sold off piece by piece.

If sobering up means becoming of those people who follow the straight and narrow road to success, I think I'd rather be drunk for the rest of my life.

For He Who Is Unnamed

It's raining, and I'm here curled up in the driver's seat, far away from home. I just wasted a couple of liters of gas from wandering around EDSA trying to get to my destination. I've been driving at 80kmph in the pouring rain, low visibility, scared silly of the cars and trucks breezing by. A senile old lady just hit my car with her door. I have just probably gone through one of the worst days of my life, and yet, here I am, thinking of you, not giving a damn for the world around me.

Is that not ample measure as to how much I like you?

No matter how bad things turn out for me, I find myself wishing you were there to laugh with me through it. If things were good, I'd look for you, hoping we could share that small moment of bliss. Every waking moment I find myself looking forward to seeing you again.

This is it. I'm moving past denial. All those months of telling myself that my feelings for you were sheer fantasy and were unreal are coming to an end. I realize now that I really do care for you. And in realizing the truth, I have no other choice but to be angry at myself.

I am angry because I am weak. I succumbed to my emotions; I did not heed the STOP sign in front of me. And now, here I am, deciding if I should severe ties, force myself back into denial, or act numb and wait until the feeling goes away. I have eliminated indulgence as an option because that would just be digging my own grave.

I hate myself. And I need to learn how to hate you. For more than two years of my life I've managed to avoid getting hurt, and I will not allow you the gratification of being able to make me cry. I will not bring myself to love you. Remember that.