working on my personal legend

jerardeusebio:

He tried to remember everything Gary told him. For a minute, he seriously considered backing out. Yes, he has cancer. Yes, he was going to die, but not for a few months. It didn’t feel like it at first when he was writing his list, but jumping of a plane now seems like taking a shortcut to death and he still had a couple of things on his bucket list.

“Nervous? Don’t be. Just remember what I told you and leave the rest to me. I promise everything will be fine!” Gary held him by his shoulders and shook him a little bit. It helped.

The jet of wind was deafening and he could hardly hear Gary’s last-minute reminders as he was being strapped to him. His mind barely recognized that Gary was already counting down when they took the jump. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he was already flying.

He screamed as loud as he could, pleasantly trapped in his own utopia.

Gary heard Adam’s screaming and to him, his voice didn’t register as coming from someone who’s dying; rather from someone who has chose to live his life, however fleeting it may seem to be. 

jerardeusebio:

He smiled, she smiled. He asked for her number and then bought her a drink. She giggled, she laughed, but every bit of delight she displayed was not because of him, but because of another him. In her head, all of this was a daydream—a fusion of subconscious desires that keeps her heart hoping, trusting and anticipating. She simply shrugged off every little detail she didn’t like about him and replaced it with an imaginary outstanding quality, something the other him surely possessed.

The night went on and the crowd thinned. He asked her to come over, but she said no. The clock has struck midnight and her reverie has ended. She left him there, disappointed and wondering. She didn’t even ask for his name, which is good, she supposed, because she wouldn’t need it. She exited knowing her locked heart was searching for something more.

He smiled, she fled.

jerardeusebio:

She wasn’t at all excited that prom night came too soon. Katie walked back and forth in her room trying to ignore the sparkly dress her mom chose for her which was now lying on her bed. She knew she shouldn’t have procrastinated preparations by burying her face in lessons and readings for requirements which weren’t due for another two weeks. She was excellent in every academic endeavour, but she never did like to expose herself in revelries, much less prepare for them. She was anti-social, yes. Socially awkward, yes. Out of place, yes. Unattractive, hell yes. And if it wasn’t for her parents she wouldn’t even consider going.

It was beyond her how she got prepared. She had on her a face at least a hint of make-up. Does it enhance my face value? Well, I’d probably find out tonight. She found repose in the fact that her perfume wasn’t that nauseating. Her dress was pretty decent though her shoes were ridiculously painful.

Her mom and dad drove her to the venue, and her stomach felt like it had disappeared as their car approached the place. Her failed attempt at looking pretty would be unveiled the moment she stepped out of the car and onto the carpet where she will be well lit. The photographers would be delighted to immortalize such a travesty of beauty.

She slowly stepped out of the car and waved at her parents. She smiled and tried to ignore the stares. She saw ahead through the entrance how spectacular the lighting inside was. It was enchanting. The decorations committee must have worked all week for that. She sped up a little and just as when she thought she was glad she came, bang! She hit the glass wall face first. She fell on the floor with a thud.

She lay there on the carpet staring at the ceiling which quickly turned to a haze of cameras flashing. She exhaled, realizing that this just might be the longest night of her life. Great.

***

One last stroke of blush and she was good to go. There. She fluttered her perfectly curled eyelashes in front of her mirror, pouted her lips and then, as if it were the most inevitable thing in the world, she capped her picture perfect look with a smile. She has been waiting for this night for what seemed like forever and if it weren’t for her tight gown which did everything to emphasize her naturally good physique, she would have burst into joyous squeals. Karen slowly ascended down their staircase like how she practiced it all her life as camera flashes illumined her every step.

Her date was waiting for her downstairs and she felt a spark when she saw him. He was definitely a Prom King material. They were a perfect match. Everything will be as I predicted.

The black limo waited outside and despite the darkness, it shined and sparkled. They hopped in and after what felt like the shortest ride, they were there. She couldn’t wait to show everyone how much of a masterpiece she had become, convincing them that the crown was sure to be hers by the end of the night.

Every bit of detail. Perfect. Every picture. Every smile.  Perfect. Wherever she went she had a bubble of glamour surrounding her. Mesmerizing and almost celestial. She pitied every girl who even dared to compete with her.

She faked a face of surprise when she was called on stage to be crowned. With finesse and elegance, she went up to the stage and when the golden confetti rained on her, she basked in the magnitude of her victory, wishing this—the longest night of her life—would never end. Never.

jerardeusebio:

The days I had were colored by the smiles we exchanged. I had to get it inside my head that those were ephemeral and they didn’t mean the same to you as they did to me. I have been repeatedly hearing this truth for months.

 Having you as a friend has proved to be a joy and a load at the same time; I was coerced to constantly over-analyze things and every time, hurt myself. Hurt myself, if not by the truth, by thinking too much. In retrospect, maybe I do have a choice; a choice to look past that hair, that smile and those eyes that fence me in my vulnerability. That’s what I’ll be doing now.

 I feel ashamed to admit that I almost gave up, that I almost let you go and that I almost said goodbye. I never had a friend in you, not until the day God whispered things about you. Even though it may be only an ounce of what seems like a ton of you, that was enough. I cast my gaze upon you and I see a child that has been captured by the austerity of society. Gravity is pinning you down, the same force that has kept me low. People are people. They tried to drown me in a pool of despair, rejection and hopelessness, but like a caterpillar, I endured and now have stretched my wings to fly. I didn’t escape, I passed through.

 You may think otherwise, but I have come to find that the world is not cruel, that the world is not a better place without them, and that the world is what it is. People are placed where they are for a purpose. We are placed where we are right now for a reason and we can only ask why. There is and will always be a why.

 I hearten thee to endure. Not for anybody else, but for yourself.

jerardeusebio:

I’ve been told that life is fleeting. Life is short. It is a truth that can be dreadful and comforting at the same time. Dreadful for those who want to live forever, to conquer nations, people and time, but comforting for those who await eagerly and with undying fervor the afterlife. But no matter which emotion we feel or however we view life’s shortness, it will always remain to be transitory, like wind passing through a prairie, making the sunflowers dance and the trees prance their greeneries.

For what use would the wind be if it were to just pass vacantly? What use does it have if not to sway the tall grasses or cool the farmer’s sun-burnt nape? What role would it have if not to make children’s kites soar or push a sailboat closer to home? And what mark would it leave—something that would prove it once existed—if it doesn’t touch anything?

We must realize the value of our lives and the amount of goodness and love we can share to everyone we pass by. We have to make it count, our passing. After all, aren’t our lives just like a prairie wind?

jerardeusebio:

He watched as the steam rose and dissipated into the air. The bells on the door jingled, someone has just come in. He quickly turned his head around and felt a pang of disappointment as he recognized that the person who entered wasn’t the one he was waiting for. It has been like that for over an hour and with his fourth cup of coffee, he realized he’s probably more hopeless than he thought.

It was in this same place that he had a wonderful conversation, where he repeatedly bit his lips to conceal a smitten smile, where he felt butterflies in his stomach when their eyes met, and where he wished that the hours would extend, even up to forever.

He decided that he was going to leave his cup of coffee there, untouched. He was fixing his things when the door bells jingled again. Again, he was faced with another blow of disappointment. He hurriedly got off his seat with his bag on his shoulder.

He tasted the cool January breeze outside and he put his hands into his pocket. He took a last look inside and saw his empty seat and the cup he left on the table. It was no longer steaming.

So he came to realize that falling in love in a coffee shop wasn’t so exciting after all, in fact it has been like tasting coffee—bitter and sweet, but mostly bitter.

jerardeusebio:

I don’t like getting myself involved with those who are already involved with other people because I know how it feels for every party. In fact, I’ve lived with the part for some time. So, I very well know how deep it could hurt—a feeling I don’t want others to ever feel, especially not from or because of me.

What other people may say about me doesn’t really concern me because in the end, what I think about myself is what’s more important.

jerardeusebio:

A soft wind wafted in and the noise from the outside quickly followed as the car window went down. The slightly nauseating scent drifted in, saturating the atmosphere. The gasoline station was fairly deserted at this time of day and the heat the concrete pavement gave was almost hypnotizing. A dirty dump truck cruised slowly beside his car and the faint smell of dried mud was dragged along with it. He carefully studied the side of the truck and wondered how the mud on its side seemed almost like it was painted there. Water was dripping on its corners and he wondered how long it’s been travelling. He took a glance at the driver and saw that a cigarette was nestled on his ears; placed securely in the little gap between his ear and his skull.

The cigarette was oblivious to the fact that it was unwelcome in such a place.

A picture of a lighted cigarette came into his head. Keep away, the signage says. He tried to imagine what kind of havoc lighting that single cigarette could induce. In a flash, his existence could be consumed in flames. In one explosive episode, everything could be turned to ashes; to dust that would just be blown away, scattered into oblivion.

If only the cigarette knew.