<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:58:37.610+13:00</updated><title type='text'>neverawriter</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-8144196634104155316</id><published>2010-06-20T22:16:00.002+12:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T22:29:43.326+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Oblivion</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;I am here but you can’t see&lt;br /&gt;What my heart is pleading thee&lt;br /&gt;My hope..my bliss... my love had flee&lt;br /&gt;To err is human but not to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel my chest exploding&lt;br /&gt;The pain...the hurt... and it’s not ceasing&lt;br /&gt;It left me numb and almost lifeless&lt;br /&gt;A merciful death is an act of kindness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The darkest nights has been my ally&lt;br /&gt;The sound of weeping became my melody&lt;br /&gt;My heart was crashed before my eyes&lt;br /&gt;The moment you left without saying goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-8144196634104155316?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/8144196634104155316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/06/oblivion.html#comment-form' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/8144196634104155316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/8144196634104155316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/06/oblivion.html' title='Oblivion'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-8840650571189527155</id><published>2010-05-12T00:35:00.003+12:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T18:04:21.743+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Payback Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;How far can you go for the one you love? It has always been a wonder to me the extent of one can do in the name of love. Even thinking about it gave me the creeps for, in all honesty, I was not really a believer but rather on the cavalier side of this thing called love. For me, it was fun until it lasts. It never occurred to me that there should be giving. The only giving I’ve ever done was to give them away when I got tired or bored of them. Probably that was the reason why I was not familiar with this thing called jealousy. I never came to a point where I am attached to a person enough to make me feel scared or threatened. I was so confident and full of myself that it really didn’t bother me if I hurt someone else’s feeling or made somebody miserable. My only concern was what I was taking. I got what I wanted and used it for as long as it suited me. End of story. But time really does wonder. As years went by, the eccentricity of my youth, deliberately or otherwise, was replaced by some sort of magic powers or some form of acumen that even my good judgment cannot grasp. Some called it insanity. I was expecting some higher knowledge or maturity or even greater wisdom that usually come with age to help me cope with the never-ending spinning world of uncertainties. Uncertainties. I never gamble in my life. I don’t play with odds. I cannot express how I despise losing. I never compete unless I am sure I will win. Regardless. Even in the game of love. However, the table can take a nasty turn. Did it even cross my mind that I will drop everything in my hands just to hear him call my name? Did it occur even in my wildest imagination that I will stop the world from revolving just to be with him? Have I prepared myself to embrace the dagger of pain in the knowledge that I am not and never will be the first priority and will remain as the alternate? Was I ready for continuous rejection when I keep offering my now unconditional love and pride-less self in an attempt to bring us back to how we used to be? And ultimately, did I even think I was capable of trading my soul to the dark side just to spend a little time with him, to have him even for just a moment? No. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;But that’s what I did. My mind was over-ruled by my heart that I was a prisoner of my own emotions. However my mind dictates to do the right thing, my body responded to the adversary. I gambled with my heart and had been losing for a long time without me knowing it. The more I tried to gain what I used to hold in my hand, the more I lose. I can’t let go. And the pain grew at a tremendous rate every day. It felt like it was ripping me apart every time I see him and couldn’t see the love that we used to share. How many times have I tried leaving but only to find my steps going back to him? How far can I go for the one I love? As far as life can take me...even if I am the only one loving...as long as I am breathing, I cannot and will not stop loving him. This is my curse.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-8840650571189527155?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/8840650571189527155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/05/payback-time.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/8840650571189527155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/8840650571189527155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/05/payback-time.html' title='Payback Time'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-1306907937953368837</id><published>2010-02-22T01:35:00.003+13:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T23:41:22.750+13:00</updated><title type='text'>The Art of Letting Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It’s another break of day&lt;br /&gt;And I can’t put my head to lay&lt;br /&gt;Sleep has long abandoned me&lt;br /&gt;And sorrow is my only company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can think of is letting go&lt;br /&gt;But my heart says no, that, I can’t do&lt;br /&gt;I can’t bear to lose a friend&lt;br /&gt;But I cannot control the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m trying so hard to push you away&lt;br /&gt;But in my silence, I whispered, “Please stay.”&lt;br /&gt;Tears rolled down each night and day&lt;br /&gt;Please read through me, that’s all I pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not supposed to feel this way&lt;br /&gt;And just ignored what others say&lt;br /&gt;Cause when I looked into your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I know I’m taken to paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen you believe in me&lt;br /&gt;You set my soul and spirit free&lt;br /&gt;You woke me up and made me see&lt;br /&gt;That I can be what I want to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But reality came and took its place&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming ends, I’m lost in space&lt;br /&gt;I told myself that I’ll be fine&lt;br /&gt;That’s pure madness, you can’t be mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It breaks my heart to say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;And see those eyes are about to cry.&lt;br /&gt;But no matter how I hold the past&lt;br /&gt;I know some good things just never last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-1306907937953368837?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1306907937953368837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/art-of-letting-go.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1306907937953368837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1306907937953368837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/art-of-letting-go.html' title='The Art of Letting Go'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-2247126336432778205</id><published>2010-02-12T02:58:00.002+13:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T00:04:29.330+13:00</updated><title type='text'>The Road To Insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know when something is wrong with me. Well, it’s pretty often but at least I know when there’s genuinely wrong or it’s just my normal self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today is genuinely strange. First, I have an intense craving to listen to depressing Christmas songs which I satisfied by playing seven disheartening Christmas tunes for four hours. Not only that. As if I wanted to torture myself with more misery by alternatively listening to Susan Boyle’s I Dreamed a Dream for another five hours. Not the album, but the one song repeatedly...over and over and over for three hundred minutes. And like a madman, I feel a different sensation when the song comes to this part, “...but there are dreams that cannot be and there are storms we cannot weather. I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I’m living. So different now from what it seemed. Now life has killed the dream I dream.” Alarming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn’t be wasting my time staring at oblivion. I have more pressing matters that need immediate attention instead of brooding into something that will get me nowhere. But instead, I preferred to micro-analyze why I’m treading the path to insanity. And here’s what I found out. I am not in control of anything! The manipulating, scheming, control-freak me don’t have any power over everything that is important. That’s why my egotistic, egocentric, selfish me cannot cope with the idea and it is voluntarily shutting down. Man, I cannot even control myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been bumping at so many dead ends vis-à-vis a way out of my “more pressing” matters that I know my resilience is depleting. The more I tried to gain authority over the quandary, the more I am convinced I can only do so much at the moment and I am at the mercy of time and fate. But the predicament is sullenly compounding. My brilliant idea of addressing the circumstances engendered another setback. It was not so brilliant after all. Now, I was asked to turn a blind eye to anything I am about to see and will witness in the days to come as a consequence. I see no evil, I hear no evil. I was obliged to make a pact that I will not be emotionally affected and under no circumstances will I show any sign of emotional impact, distress or upset in the event I was made aware of alleged philandering. Preposterous! And what’s more absurd? I agreed! How stupid can I be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s no such thing as “no choice”. Of course I do. But it was the lesser evil and the most convenient option at that time when I thought of that solution. But like signing a contract without reading the terms and conditions, it was too late to dispute the stipulations. I can’t dislodge the thought that my dire need for help was taken advantaged. I really hope not because just thinking about it was infuriating and exasperating enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is an established fact that I am very territorial and selfish to some extent. There are clear boundaries that I strictly prohibit others to even think of crossing. There are certain possessions that I, by no means, share with anyone. I never felt threatened because I am always in control and confident that my territory is secured. If I started to feel otherwise, no qualms, I give up my turf rather than share. Because at the back of my mind, I don’t have to fight for it. I am confident that sooner or later, they will come back. And they do. Accepting them is another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this one is different. I have a horrible feeling that I’m betting on the wrong horse. I am almost always outmanoeuvred and managed to get the better of me. I can’t believe I can’t put my foot down. Or maybe, I don’t want to put my foot down because I am uncertain of the repercussions and I am afraid I may be pushed to make a decision to save my pride just in case I was wrong. So, to keep the status quo, I embraced the horror of trusting blindly, no logic and beyond reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s an emotional suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been contemplating if it’s worth it. I’m honestly scared because I haven’t been in a similar situation or have known anyone so stupid to even agree to participate in a harebrained arrangement such as this. And because I am not familiar with this kind of covenant, I have no idea how I will react or if I can restrain my rage which can easily turn into a full-blown wrath. Funny but I managed to put myself into another mishap again. I wonder if I am subconsciously seeking for adventure to pump up my already screwed up life that I always end up entwined with disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glimpse of hope? According to Sir Winston Churchill, “if you’re going through hell, keep going.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-2247126336432778205?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2247126336432778205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/road-to-insanity.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/2247126336432778205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/2247126336432778205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/road-to-insanity.html' title='The Road To Insanity'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-5862286960969991451</id><published>2010-02-09T01:26:00.004+13:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T01:34:29.720+13:00</updated><title type='text'>My Clueless Angels       ( For Derek, Bear and Tihina )</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I’m on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m still as twisted and awry as yesterday but the turn of events today somewhat elated me in a way that unlocked my sight to see the glimmering beacon in my very long and winding tunnel. There must be really someone watching over me, though I’m quite sure I don’t deserve that. He must have really loved me because I didn’t ask for help but still, it came. Or rather, they came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once read that angels are true and they are always with us. They usually don’t have wings and we call them friends. My angels are quite unique and bizarre, so to speak. They came from different parts of the world and speak diverse languages. In the midst of the pain and self-indulgence I allowed myself to sulk into the past few days, I overlooked and failed to notice the warmth and care hidden in every word they said however eccentric and peculiar, in every pat in the back, in every hug, in every smile, in every second they procrastinated watching me cry my eyes out until I looked like a crumpled newspaper, in every fuel they wasted just to come to support and listen to my senseless litany of misfortunes that goes around in circles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today, while writing this, I can’t help but utter a sincere gratitude to my father in heaven for not only sending me friends but providing me with class ‘A’ angels. They reminded me that I am never alone...that I need help sometimes...and this help was given unconditionally and out of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m on fire. I’m blazing with the radiance that’s emanating from within. I found luminosity that will carry me through my long and meandering tunnel. I am the beacon. Although I haven’t catch a glimpse of the end of it yet, I know the oil that keeps me burning will never run out because my father made sure I have angels to see me through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun may shine at night or hell may freeze over but my angels are here to stay because God will never abandon me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-5862286960969991451?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5862286960969991451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-clueles-angels.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/5862286960969991451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/5862286960969991451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-clueles-angels.html' title='My Clueless Angels       ( For Derek, Bear and Tihina )'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-4598187593993204569</id><published>2010-02-08T01:06:00.002+13:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T01:11:40.737+13:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightmare</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hate is the one word I seldom use, if never at all. I am not just scared of this word’s intensity and strength, I’m petrified. It’s like a curse that can bring about holocaust or catastrophe. It’s similitude to poison is immense that once you even entertain the thought, it will consume your essence little by little until you are overpowered by its supremacy and might and its venom starts to rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muddled up vehemence is gradually taking control over my once inhibited wits that an odd feeling of profound resentment seemed bunged in my arteries and like a whimsical explosive, I am volatile and dangerous. I tried to tell myself that it was just a butterfly in a wheel and made myself believe that it was nothing major. Until my idiosyncrasies amplify my premeditated blind spots and chose to ignore the palpable truth that I’m constructively dismissing the only person who has been with me through thick and thin for more than a decade. I can’t believe I can single-handedly extricate a sacred vow without saying a word or lifting a finger. I practically did nothing yet I am looking straight at a relationship lethargically going down the drain. What happened to those couple fifteen years ago who defied all odds to craft their own destiny? Did they succumbed to their contemporary world that advertised liberty, freedom and independence to speak their minds and do what they want to do, forgetting the core values that they carried and believed in for so many years? Why is it so easy to go with the flow, magnify the flaws as well as the imperfections and disregard the sanctity of the bond? Trust lost its meaning, love is quickly fading and lies started their own coup d’état. I chose to be a silent bystander despite the fact that I am aware of its butterfly effect. What a moron!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel the venom running through my veins. The toxin is spreading in my system and malevolence will reap its fruit sooner or later unless I actually willfully do something about it. Otherwise, the poison integrated in my soul will guzzle and devour whatever is left of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate is the one word I never used. Until today. Because truly, I hate the selfish, self-centred, egotistical, self-seeking me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-4598187593993204569?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4598187593993204569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/nightmare.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4598187593993204569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4598187593993204569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/nightmare.html' title='Nightmare'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-6497502059656997742</id><published>2010-02-06T02:45:00.001+13:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T02:46:42.752+13:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333300;"&gt; have a horrible headache killing me at the moment. While the rest of the world is celebrating Friday night, I gawk at the ceiling in the privacy of my room as if I’m gazing at the afterlife. Motionless...speechless...frozen.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know if it’s from all the chaotic paradoxes hammering all at the same time inside my brains or the many truths that were thrown in my face which I deliberately or unknowingly deflect for a very long time. It took me a while to finally see what has been there all along. Or more appropriately, it took me a while to finally make sense of what my friend has been trying to explain boldly, unceasingly and unselfishly over and over and over. Though the approach was unorthodox and rather harsh, it made its way to the nub of my wits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always believed that I’m a people person. I do everything in my power to avoid hurting other people’s feelings. It takes all my energy not to offend whether by words or action. It’s a conscious effort. I always thought that I may not be able to please everyone but if I can make as many people as I can to genuinely smile and feel at ease in my presence, I have done a good job. If I can make a difference in someone else’s life, I feel gratified. But dealing with friends and loved ones is another level. I can’t afford to miff them. I can’t even bear the thought. If there’s one thing I hate the most, it’s the feeling that I made them upset. Even if it means denying myself of the truth and succumbed to delusion or sacrifice my own happiness to keep the status quo. Avoid conflict as much as possible. Create joy however temporary. And stay miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, to what extent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A whirlpool of thoughts now overwhelmed my already troubled mind. Now, I’m starting to doubt my already self-proclaimed accepted wisdom of being a natural people person. Am I really? Or just a pathetic people pleaser? Not quite. The more I gave it a thought, the clearer it became. I became a butterfly effect to my own self-centred world that what I thought was trivial and miniscule engendered a complex course of events that was too complicated now to untangle. The cause had been identified but the paradigm of getting to the bottom of it was a swirling vortex of dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some people, the choice was obvious and very easy. But for some, it was like taking a quantum leap to the past to redo the future. It’s not that simple. The emotional parameters were not well defined that eliciting the desired upshot may or may not be achieved. My anxiety rested on devastating the very people I love. That’s the last thing I want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally figured out what my heart truly desires and what my head is screaming for. Unfortunately, not all desires are meant to be fulfilled. Or not yet. I’m just hoping against hope that one day, however twisted is my today, I can still form my own kaleidoscope and create my own fairy tale.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-6497502059656997742?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6497502059656997742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/mirage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/6497502059656997742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/6497502059656997742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/02/mirage.html' title='Mirage'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-1942607258489960491</id><published>2010-01-27T20:50:00.000+13:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T20:53:53.824+13:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep It Simple</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;I should have seen it coming&lt;br /&gt;Sooner rather than later&lt;br /&gt;Whatever we had isn’t worth saving&lt;br /&gt;Tried to deny that it’s over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving someone you love&lt;br /&gt;Is enough to drive you crazy&lt;br /&gt;Even time cannot erase&lt;br /&gt;The pain, the hurt, the agony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I know I’ll crush and crumble&lt;br /&gt;And my world will surely cave in&lt;br /&gt;I have to keep it simple&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye is the kindest thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-1942607258489960491?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1942607258489960491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/01/keep-it-simple.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1942607258489960491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1942607258489960491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/01/keep-it-simple.html' title='Keep It Simple'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-6921954029232371788</id><published>2010-01-27T20:37:00.000+13:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T20:43:40.937+13:00</updated><title type='text'>Kaleidoscope</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Soft breeze ……..&lt;br /&gt;    Green grass…….&lt;br /&gt;         Fields of flower…….&lt;br /&gt;            Laughter…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunrise…sunset&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaves fall…….&lt;br /&gt;     Flowers wither……..&lt;br /&gt;         colorless…….&lt;br /&gt;Silence…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seasons change….&lt;br /&gt;People change….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strangers turn to friends….&lt;br /&gt;And friends are now at odds…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vortex…&lt;br /&gt;Oblivion…&lt;br /&gt;Silence…..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-6921954029232371788?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6921954029232371788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/01/kaleidoscope.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/6921954029232371788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/6921954029232371788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2010/01/kaleidoscope.html' title='Kaleidoscope'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-4805733890767378381</id><published>2009-10-23T02:16:00.001+13:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T02:17:39.468+13:00</updated><title type='text'>If</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;If you miss me once in a while&lt;br /&gt;Would you stop and smile?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you dream of me like I dream of you&lt;br /&gt;Would you let me know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I promise to be true&lt;br /&gt;Would you lead me back to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I say it’s with you I want to be&lt;br /&gt;Would you hold a place in your heart for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I tell you I love you&lt;br /&gt;Would you say you love me too?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-4805733890767378381?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4805733890767378381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/if.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4805733890767378381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4805733890767378381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/if.html' title='If'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-7861162316547743527</id><published>2009-10-23T00:57:00.005+13:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T01:56:10.562+13:00</updated><title type='text'>Shot at Destiny</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I had an unusual invitation recently… a wedding invitation. Not so much about the wedding but why they are getting married…at age 75? It’s not a renewal of vow; it’s actually their first marriage with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love story begun back on a remote area where they were neighbors and friends during their younger days. Guy was in love, girl felt the same but neither told anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until one day, girl moved out of town, rather far away, settled there, married after several years and had kids. On the other hand, guy went overseas, married after that then went back to hometown to settle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paths crossed again one Christmas, aged 45. After the hi’s and hello’s, equipped with wisdom and maturity, talked about the past, did a little catching up… lo and behold, only to discover, old flame never died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They parted ways on that same day, rather in despair, since both were not free. Thought that’s the end of it. Only one shot at destiny and they both missed it! If only one was brave enough to tell. But that’s of no use now, it doesn’t matter anymore and it wouldn’t help to live in regrets and the “what if’s”. Life has to move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirty years later, fate crossed…again. Both widowed, wrinkled face, salt and pepper hair…evidently youth has passed by many years ago but their eyes spoke the same language as loud as half a century ago…love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were given another shot at destiny and they took it. Regardless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people laughed about it. Some showed admiration while a few expressed disgust. I was trying to identify a different kind of emotion when I first heard of it. At the back of my mind, I was asking “really?”, a smile on my face but with eyebrows raised. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So, it is possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I’ve heard that love moves in mysterious ways. But I never really comprehended that love can wait that long. I thought that absence makes the heart forget. I thought that there should be something tangible to keep the love alive. I thought that time and distance are enough to kill any emotion residing in our hearts. I thought there are no second chances at destiny, once you missed it, too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I was proven wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that if something is dormant doesn’t necessarily mean it is dead. I think the heart cannot really forget, it’s a dictate of the mind. But if we leave things as it is, we will be surprised that it just stays there. Life moves on, years passed by and true enough, time nor distance cannot destroy something deep as love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lastly. I think, we make our own destiny. We call the shots because we have the choice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-7861162316547743527?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/7861162316547743527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/shot-at-destiny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/7861162316547743527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/7861162316547743527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/shot-at-destiny.html' title='Shot at Destiny'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-6160691944421105080</id><published>2009-10-09T21:45:00.004+13:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T01:46:21.894+13:00</updated><title type='text'>The Long Wait</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Faces after faces. The airport is a portal overflowing with all kinds of emotions. Happy reunion...sad departing...exciting new life ahead...confused about tomorrow. Sitting in a corner watching these faces passed me by made me wonder, what emotion am I giving out to these people? If someone is watching me now, what do they see? Will they find out what's deep within?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I flew from the other side of the world to bury a ghost from the past, to reconcile with what seems to be forgotten but surprisingly, I rediscovered myself instead. And like a bird, I had freedom to soar and spread my wings...however temporary.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The last few days amazed me. I laughed as if I've never laughed before...so hard it hurt and it felt good. My spirit was dancing at the sound of the rain in the middle of the forest surrounded by beasts and predators. I felt safe. And most importantly, I had friends who actually listened to what I was saying and not just hearing. I can be as imperfect as I am and they don't care. I laughed at the silliest jokes and cried for the crapiest reasons without thinking of being measured. I felt whole again. I felt alive and not just living. I found myself and actually liked it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Then it strikes me. I can't lie to rest the phantom that I thought was haunting me. That same ghost is the only one left to remind me of me. Burying the specter is burying me. Denying his existence is forgetting who I am. I can't do that. He's too precious to me now more than ever. I can't afford to lose an endangered friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Looking back at the last ten days of my life, I found warmth in an unfamiliar place. From a distance, I liked what I saw. A familiar face has moved on and I'm convinced he's happy. On the other hand, I was able to express...bring out in the open what I desired to say for a very long time. Though a part of me was screaming not to. I need to before I lose the will and the strength to do so....again. Saying I love you is the hardest thing to do, especially if there's nothing beyond that. But I did. And I do. And that's about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;As the plane pushed back, I know I'm not just leaving the place but the hurts of the past as well. I know I lost the fight but gained a friend. I know that I always have someone watching my back. I know that sometimes, saying nothing is saying everything. I know that whatever happens, regardless of time and distance, some things never change. I don't have to think. I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-6160691944421105080?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6160691944421105080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/faces-after-faces.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/6160691944421105080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/6160691944421105080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/faces-after-faces.html' title='The Long Wait'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-1468211230596992393</id><published>2009-09-03T00:29:00.001+12:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T00:34:23.090+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Of A Chicken</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Most of the time, people were baptized chicken when they were not able to satisfy a dare or was not able to do something due to fear, apprehension or unease. Why chicken?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy as it is, I can’t see the parallelism. When a guy cannot express his love to a girl, chicken! When you keep your thoughts to yourself, chicken! Or if you refuse to eat that red hot chili Indian curry or play with a live cobra, chicken!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This fowl is one of the bravest if not the bravest living thing ever created. Had anyone seen a chicken gather her young chicks, tuck them inside her wings and face the mighty eagle who wanted to devour them for lunch? Had anyone forgotten how many endless days and nights a chicken has to endure sitting on her shelled babies for the love of her young ones? Yes, they tend to run when chased by someone with a knife in their back pocket a.k.a. death. Who wouldn’t?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, people shy away from circumstances for different reasons. A guy admiring a girl from a distance might mean self preservation. Maybe, he had been hurt before…so deeply that he can’t risk it again that he was just protecting himself. Maybe, the damsel is already attached to someone else. That's respect. Maybe, the feeling is just superficial that he still needs some time to think if it’s worth plummeting in. Logic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being bold and daring has its own time and place. The gush of thoughts and ideas in one’s mind can be an ally or an adversary. Maybe, if that miniscule of thought was brought out, it might open a can of worms and hurt other people’s feelings. Sensitivity. Maybe, if that thought slip your mouth might open Pandora’s box and cause a whole new holocaust. Consideration. Maybe, if that idea was spoken, it might mean losing someone you love. Sacrifice. Or love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running away doesn’t necessarily mean cowardice. Turning your back and walking away is not always a gutless feat. Sometimes, it’s for the best interest of everyone and the best option at that stage. Who are we to know what’s going on inside their minds and what they are feeling in their hearts? Who are we to judge these so-called chickens? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;If self-preservation and protecting one’s self from certain pain and hurt is a chicken act, if exhibiting respect, sensitivity and consideration is chicken and showing respect and self-sacrifice is chicken, if being a chicken means becoming more human capable of loving than being hypocritical robots in this charlatan world, no second thoughts, I’d rather be a chicken. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-1468211230596992393?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1468211230596992393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-of-chicken.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1468211230596992393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1468211230596992393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-of-chicken.html' title='Life Of A Chicken'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-457617066692601594</id><published>2009-08-26T00:00:00.005+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T17:12:14.003+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Closure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ever heard of the cliché that love is like a bird in your hand...open your palm, it will fly...tighten the grip, it will die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can it be understood that after more than a decade, a ghost from the past suddenly appeared to haunt you…to awaken the dragon of emotions that you tried very hard to bury? How can it be understood that after the pain you went through all these years, the paradigm shifted that emotions overpower control? How can it be understood that after all the agony and anguish, after all the time that elapsed, you can still recognize the bitter sweet torment. You searched deep within and wonder why you are extremely affected? Why the very sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine? Why all of sudden, you frantically wanted to turn back time and be the same person he used to love? Why the more you tried, the more you fall into the abyss of mishaps of turning yourself into someone you’re not? Someone so insecure, forlorn and pathetic. Why the more you attempt to get near, the more he seems to be driven on the other side. Tightening the grip really will kill whatever is left. You start to ponder and realized that you still appallingly wanted to find out the “what if”? That you desperately, terribly wanted to keep him to yourself… at least for the moment…even as an illusion...even if you’re not sure if you still know him. Out of curiosity? You don't know! You are so afraid to feel the pain of losing him again but scared to let him know because he will never understand. You felt helpless and hopeless seeing him so confused and perplexed. You wanted to explain but there’s no point. He will never understand. How can you explain something that you yourself cannot undestand? It doesn’t matter now…supposedly. So you opted to switch on to pretending-mode...the only way to keep the friendship. Act as if you’re a tower of strength, and reciprocate his being cavalier but when he’s gone, longing creeps in and you’re weak. How can it be understood why you are going through this vortex of emotion when reality is as bright as broad daylight that neither your hearts are free nor both hands are tied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s difficult to understand. And it’s all about you. It’s all about how you feel. It’s all about your failure to tame the dragon. It’s all about the lies you told yourself and actually believed. And it’s time to end it all. You deserve to be free from the shadows of the past….one day…someday…when the time is right…you'd rather not go there..but you will...soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When you love someone, set him free...whether he comes back or not, it doesn’t matter…because it’s never meant to be”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-457617066692601594?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/457617066692601594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/closure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/457617066692601594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/457617066692601594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/closure.html' title='Closure'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-4734160529055036780</id><published>2009-08-24T18:46:00.006+12:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T03:50:22.562+13:00</updated><title type='text'>Aurelio "Gob" Talabis de Castro</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He’s probably the person who showed me what selflessness and going out of one’s way means. The most patient person ever to endure my friendship. He never gets tired of my senselessness, my dramas and my insensitiveness. He was petnamed "Gob", short for Governor because he had a problem saying no, even to strangers. Even lent his last money to anyone who needs it. At an early age, he’s been my confidant, best friend, supporter, and ally since 6th grade. Remember riding the bike together during week-ends with either home-made sandwiches or bought burgers from fast food joint near the school to keep us full. Hours spent in their home copying his assignment, or he’s literally sweating blood and water while doing my science (and math) project while I’m busy eating and keeping him entertained with my endless talks. I remember he always agreed to pretend as my boyfriend every time I need to get rid of undesirable suitors. He stood by me by taking me to the prom when I run out of options. I’m always a “threat” to his girlfriends, simply because I always win over them. He must have been really annoyed when he needed to choose between me and his girlfriend, cause in reality, he doesn’t really have a choice…it will be me…… He knew how to turn my crap day into a wonder with simple, little things like a Goya lollipop, a peanut butter sandwich bought from the side streets, softdrinks in cellophane with straw or just by telling me what happened to him that day while we’re sitting in the sidewalks. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever seen when he fought cancer with a smile. I can't remember he ever complained about the pain or fear of dying. Never forgot any special occasion of my life. Even planned something for my birthday but was taken by the Lord 5 days before we can celebrate my 19th. He’s always there 24/7 356 days for me. I really hope I’ve been a good friend to him. We have been inseparable since grade school until he passed away in 1992. I still terribly miss him. Especially now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-4734160529055036780?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4734160529055036780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/aurelio-gob-talabis-de-castro.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4734160529055036780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4734160529055036780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/aurelio-gob-talabis-de-castro.html' title='Aurelio &quot;Gob&quot; Talabis de Castro'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-4243556908555524105</id><published>2009-08-24T18:26:00.002+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T18:31:47.539+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Hindi Ako Manunulat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hindi ako manunulat…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ako’y isang mangmang sa larangan ng panitikan&lt;br /&gt;Ang tanging nais ko ay kanyang malaman&lt;br /&gt;Ang laman ng aking puso at aking isipan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ako manunulat…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nais ko lang ilabas aking nararamdaman&lt;br /&gt;Mga araw na nagdaan na hindi malimutan&lt;br /&gt;Wari’y isang bangungot na walang katapusan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa lalim ng gabi wari’y isang baliw&lt;br /&gt;Nakatitig sa kawalan…&lt;br /&gt;Nakikinig sa orasan…&lt;br /&gt;Mga katanungang walang kasagutan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ako manunulat….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang nais ko lang ay bigyan ng daan&lt;br /&gt;Ang isang damdaming walang nakaalam&lt;br /&gt;Ngunit hanggang ngayon ay lubhang nabalam&lt;br /&gt;Pagkat sya’y lumisan ng walang paalam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pilit tinatago sa likod ng ngiti&lt;br /&gt;Ang dala ng pusong puno ng pighati&lt;br /&gt;Puso’y mapagod ang tanging pag asa&lt;br /&gt;Upang wakasan ang pagdurusa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ako manunulat….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subalit sa tindi ng pagmamahal&lt;br /&gt;Lumbay at sakit wari'y magtatagal&lt;br /&gt;Ang tanging hiling sya ay lumigaya&lt;br /&gt;At ako’y manatili sa kanyang alaala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nais kong sabihin at kanyang malaman&lt;br /&gt;Na siya ay akin pa ring kaibigan&lt;br /&gt;Dapatwat ang landas ay maagang nagwakas&lt;br /&gt;Lumingon at ako’y nasa kanyang bakas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngunit sa ngayon mananatiling lihim&lt;br /&gt;Ang katotohanan at saloobin&lt;br /&gt;Hihintayin ang araw maglakas loob sabihin&lt;br /&gt;Ang laman ng puso at aking damdamin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dahil sa ngayon ay walang paraan&lt;br /&gt;Upang ipahatid ang nararamdaman…&lt;br /&gt;Nais isatitik, balang araw’y mabuklat&lt;br /&gt;Subalit ako’y hindi manunulat! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-4243556908555524105?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4243556908555524105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/hindi-ako-manunulat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4243556908555524105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/4243556908555524105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/hindi-ako-manunulat.html' title='Hindi Ako Manunulat'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-3730773355438591480</id><published>2009-08-24T18:12:00.003+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T18:24:06.631+12:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Birds chirping…………..&lt;br /&gt;Air freezing………..&lt;br /&gt;Children laughing………&lt;br /&gt;Yet I see nothing!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind is jammed….&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts unclear…&lt;br /&gt;The pain I fear…&lt;br /&gt;My heart can’t bear!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Unending why’s had haunt my sleep&lt;br /&gt;And now the hurt has been so deep..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I opted to believe in an illusion&lt;br /&gt;But nothing's real, just imagination.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-3730773355438591480?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3730773355438591480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/rock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3730773355438591480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3730773355438591480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/rock.html' title='The Rock'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-1730223936577035642</id><published>2009-08-20T19:57:00.001+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T20:10:14.153+12:00</updated><title type='text'>On Life and Death</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Death is the only inevitable truth that is most feared by men. There are a lot of reasons as to why passing away is dreaded by most of us. From religious grounds to the most preposterous reason known to man. Some say they are not ready. Others say they can’t bear the thought of leaving the people so dear to them or the things they toiled for all their life. Few are on trepidation about life after death, heaven and hell. But there are few who has the equanimity to face the end any time. These are the people who either enjoyed the vortex of their existence or trite of the abyss they subsist in a long while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, death is just one side of the coin. When one is leaving, there must be someone left behind, known or otherwise. That person has to endure the bereavement of losing someone very special. Day after day, strength is required to move on without the other with only memories to hold on to. To bear the sorrow of living life with emptiness which no one knows if it will ever be complete again. The anguish of eternal separation is like falling into a never ending gulch that makes the pit of your stomach flip over. To put up with life after the demise of a loved one is a forlorn journey as inevitable as death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death is the final show. That’s it. The end of the line. Finish. However, to survive and continue living in this world is another cruel story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death is easy…life is harder.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-1730223936577035642?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1730223936577035642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/on-life-and-death.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1730223936577035642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/1730223936577035642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/on-life-and-death.html' title='On Life and Death'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-2424140749990647046</id><published>2009-08-18T20:43:00.006+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T00:38:19.133+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey's End</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;There are times in our lives that we experience different kinds of emotions….all at the same time. It’s kind of dumb and embarrassing sometimes but I am having these weird experiences lately and I can’t decipher why. Maybe my soup diet is really killing my brain cells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it stress related? Is it mid-life crisis? Is it hormonal imbalance? I actually don’t know. Maybe my friend is right, I’m losing it. Or people around me are starting to act strange that there are only two ways to it, I’m evolving against my surrounding or they’re changing opposite my direction. To maintain the equilibrium of life, there must be a symmetry existing between one’s self and one’s milieu. But who’s going to give in? What’s at stake? Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day, it’s like a race. Competing against time…against life…for fame…glory…pride. The applause is deafening and the reward is overwhelming. Every lap is a challenge to get better..to get ahead…way, way ahead. Sometimes exceeding expectations. As the prize gets better, blood is pumping double time and adrenalin is doing a somersault. It’s addictive. It’s like the smell of a human blood to a shark. It’s almost impossible to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then looking back, no one’s behind. You’re by yourself. Congratulations, you’re indeed way ahead. You look around. Solitude. No one to share the grandeur of it all. You realized you’ve continuously racing that you lost track of the people you love, lifelong friendships and worst, you lost yourself along the way.&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Then reality strikes. Conflicting emotions? Self-dispute!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop. True, every second counts…it counts if it's spent loving people dear to you, laughing with friends. The glory is just a façade if it means losing yourself. The race is ridiculous if you’re on your own. Stand still. Wait for the others. Rediscover yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finish line is still a long way. Life is too short and too precious to be procrastinated. You’ve been there and done that so, what’s there to lose? Nothing. Now, it’s time to take back all that you’ve lost while winning the race. The journey is as important as the destination. You might as well enjoy it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-2424140749990647046?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2424140749990647046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/journeys-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/2424140749990647046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/2424140749990647046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/journeys-end.html' title='Journey&apos;s End'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-126377494687876557</id><published>2009-08-17T20:18:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T20:19:31.762+12:00</updated><title type='text'>IRONY</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Like a monster at night, it will haunt you&lt;br /&gt;When it will strike, you will never know&lt;br /&gt;But this monster, you’ll never let go&lt;br /&gt;It’s really insane and yet it’s true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like prohibited drugs, it will make you high&lt;br /&gt;But when it’s gone, you will surely cry&lt;br /&gt;Will make you stare on blank walls and sigh&lt;br /&gt;And begin to ask yourself “why?”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why on earth are we dealing with it?&lt;br /&gt;Why are we not spared from it?&lt;br /&gt;Why take the risk and stop our heart beat?&lt;br /&gt;Love is horrible yet we can’t resist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-126377494687876557?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/126377494687876557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/irony.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/126377494687876557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/126377494687876557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/irony.html' title='IRONY'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-3051634282398324029</id><published>2009-08-16T03:17:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T03:21:57.066+12:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sound of Silence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I often wonder how bizarre it could be to find yourself standing in the middle of nowhere without knowing how you get there. There are a lot of questions left unanswered and no matter how you tried to understand, it seemed beyond comprehension why in a blink of an eye, everything can change. You can see your world falling apart right before your very eyes and devoid of strength, you can’t do anything about it. All you feel is the pain of being stripped off your heart from the crux of your chest. You wanted to scream and cry for help but the only person who can help is the same person who crashed your heart. It’s true then that the only person who can truly hurt you is the same person you truly love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But was there really love? Maybe..maybe not. There’s no way to find out. And it doesn’t really matter now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was too long ago that memories seem so vague that a glimpse in the past is almost hopeless. But the profound beating of the heart strikes a chord that there must be too much fervor that even time cannot erase. It was buried deep inside that somewhere along the way, it was thought to vanish and forever be forgotten. Or so you thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is a very powerful verb. Love can forgive blindly. Love endures all pain. Love understands. Love can make a fool out of you but what the heck, it’s okay. It was said that loving someone is never an assurance that that someone will love you back. Never expect love to grow on that person but be thankful that it grew on you. Never expect forever since forever is out of your hand. But never regret the decision to love no matter how wrong or untimely or unreal it might be because the pleasure of loving and being loved might not come your way again.***** &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-3051634282398324029?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3051634282398324029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/sound-of-silence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3051634282398324029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3051634282398324029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/sound-of-silence.html' title='The Sound of Silence'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-255390832013726644</id><published>2009-08-16T01:46:00.001+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T03:17:29.958+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Roller Coaster Ride</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I know from the start it’s going nowhere&lt;br /&gt;But the feeling’s so good when we’re together&lt;br /&gt;Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter&lt;br /&gt;Just wishing the moment would last forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But reality and truth are hard to handle&lt;br /&gt;It will consume you like a burning candle&lt;br /&gt;And question after question, time after time&lt;br /&gt;Why can’t you stay and forever be mine??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ticking of the clock, I hear as I weep&lt;br /&gt;Finding the strength that you I can’t keep&lt;br /&gt;Why you are so cavalier while I’m dying inside&lt;br /&gt;What part of universe, a place I can hide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting over you, I need some time alone&lt;br /&gt;To bring back the pieces of my life on my own&lt;br /&gt;I’ll never forget this hard-earned lesson&lt;br /&gt;That taught me to stand in the midst of the storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to say we can still be friends&lt;br /&gt;But by doing so, the pain will not end&lt;br /&gt;So goodbye and thank you for being part of me&lt;br /&gt;And I know this is the way it has to be!                                    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-255390832013726644?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/255390832013726644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/roller-coaster-ride.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/255390832013726644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/255390832013726644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/roller-coaster-ride.html' title='Roller Coaster Ride'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-3883091561693522736</id><published>2009-08-16T01:46:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T01:48:49.837+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Guest-Host Theory</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have dedicated almost two decades of my life to learning….starting from primary education to post-graduate studies and I have encountered countless theories…some, I still remember to this day but the rest, I simply cannot recall. Theories are beliefs and philosophies of people who were believed to have great minds and exceptionally high intelligence that their suppositions were most of the time, regarded as the truth because somehow, they have a way to prove its precision and make it appear as beyond doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a great deal of admiration for these geniuses. Not that I believe in their ideas nor I am an advocate but I am terribly amazed on how their minds operate. Whether they are proclaiming the truth or otherwise are beside the point. The mere fact that such an idea even crossed their minds is a wonder. Take Darwin’s Theory as a classic example. Imagine how charming Mr. Darwin was in conceiving the thought that humans came from monkeys! Envisaging oneself rooting from these banana-eating mammals is just amazing! Again, it’s not whether there’s truth to it or none but Mr. Darwin deserves all the astonishments. I wonder if it’s a genius at work or just a mad man. There’s only a thin line that separates a genius from a wacko!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why I am suddenly struck by these geniuses’ knack on ideas is due to recent encounter with another Charles Darwin-in-the-making, who, with all conviction presented his Guest-Host Theory that really drove my senses away and almost made the grounds under my feet tremble. “Men are the guests and women are the hosts“. A quick look at it, it sounded rational and sensible but as the thought was brought out in the open and comprehending it little by little, it’s terrifying! Like a phantom in broad daylight! The premise is based on the idea that guests stay with a host for a period of time….because it’s the absolute definition of a guest! Guests come and go. The period of stay can be measured…it’s time bounded…and the relationship is superficial because there’s a definite epoch when the guest and the host should and would part ways. When and how are the only painful questions that the host dread to know. Why is there a need for good-byes? Why leave someone special just because one is either afraid to experience love at its fullest or just too selfish and self-centered to satisfy his manly instincts? Is there really no chance for love to grow? Or is there really love at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True enough that man and woman are so different….different in perspectives, behavior, reactions and expectations. However different, that diversity is the mystery that boils within…the flame that keeps the soul burning…burning with passion, love and fervor. But such a waste when such magnificence is tinged with fallacy such as a relationship with boundaries…affinity with conditions….love is treated like a common commodity that can be trashed or thrown away. Love is nothing but a word and not a vow. It’s pathetic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every human being is designed to bestow love to everybody. But such is almost always misunderstood and abused…used as an excuse. I still cannot understand why someone should be confined to only one mate for a lifetime. I still cannot understand why out of a billion people on earth, one should remain faithful to his beloved. I still cannot understand why one’s eyes should only be focused on one person when there are other opportunities that can be explored…why confine our sight with a rose when you live in a garden?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it is not for us to understand…because love is beyond understanding! It is far and above human intellect. Truth as it is that we are capable of loving more than one soul at the same time but the intensity and depth is always not the same.  We are destined to that special someone created just for us. We just have to look and search real hard that when we finally find that person we know that our one and only heart belongs to thee. When that happens, we will know that every beat of our heart, every reason of our being, and the very essence of our spirit is prepared for that someone.  After all, there lies the beauty of it…the mystery of searching. We don’t need to understand, we just need to feel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-3883091561693522736?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3883091561693522736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/guest-host-theory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3883091561693522736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3883091561693522736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/guest-host-theory.html' title='Guest-Host Theory'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-3477069622518525045</id><published>2009-08-16T01:40:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T01:43:07.895+12:00</updated><title type='text'>An Open Confusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;When do you really draw a line between friends and special friends? What’s really the difference? It’s been puzzling me since I’ve heard people use these terms distinctively. Same puzzlement occurs when they differentiate girlfriend/boyfriend from “partners” and draw a line between partners and lovers. Is a special friend a cross over from friendship where both persons are open to the possibility of a relationship more than friends? That kind of relationship where they can hold, touch or even kiss each other? A kind of step-up? Graduation? And what about this partnership? Sounds like a business transaction to me. I asked a friend what it was and it’s kind of funny because accordingly, partners are unmarried couple who decided to live together to see if they click like a key to a lock. Another step-up from that so-called special friendship? Then, what makes lovers different from partners? Again, accordingly, lovers just go and jump to bed together just for the act, no feelings, no love, no whatsoever. Just a natural instinct to answer the call of sexuality. This is hilarious! And I’m absolutely horrified!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day, as I learn more things about my new surroundings, I try to grasp the beauty of it. The people, culture, belief…..they are all different and the difference just created a sort of harmony and chemistry that when put together, it’s a wonder! Like when sunlight touches the rain waters on the ground and created a rainbow. But on the other hand, this same beauty can create a nightmare for someone unprepared! And ignorant! Ignorant of the crossovers! It’s like a sheep in a lion’s den. What a pity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been listening to people and I wonder why they come up with profound ideas like these. They play on people’s emotions as if it’s some kind of toy, an amusement where there’s a beginning and an end, where purity of intentions is questionable. The sacredness of love and friendship is nothing more than skin deep….just a feeling…..fleeting feeling in fact and not a commitment. It’s scary! An ignoramus is vulnerable to attacks unimaginable. Attacks on your very core…..on your very being…on your soul, thinking that what appears to be pure and special would, if scratched from the surface, is just but fool’s gold. And what’s upsetting is that like in a three-dimensional art piece, the beauty is on the first glance where colors and shapes complement each other though most of the time it doesn’t make sense but as you stare and see the real picture, it’s mind-boggling and life turning. The beauty of the surrounding is just a mere façade, a mimic of what’s supposed to be real. And you wake up on the realization that nothing around you is real…..even the people you thought were real. You will now have that agony of distrust and begin to question the world you live in. It pains you. The pain would either come from the feeling of being fooled, or just by being duped, or by simply being naïve or stupid. The ache will not cease until you finally accept the fact that this world you are living in is far beyond the fairy tale you force yourself  to believe when you were a child…..a fairy tale world where a prince will always save a princess from the witch or wicked step-mother and they will live happily ever after. NO!! The real world is cruel. Not only there are wicked step-mothers and witches but also inhabited with self-centered, selfish, cunning, insensitive monsters living amongst us, just waiting for the right time and the right victim to devour. Their number is overwhelming that it complicates your own ideals and belief and worse, you start to doubt yourself! Is it I who’s wrong? Or should I just join the band-wagon? How about my morals? My values? What legacy will I leave my children? Or my children’s children? Is “When in Rome, do what the Romans do’ applies here? Can I simply be myself without being hurt, without compromising my total essence even if I’m in Rome and I’m not a Roman? I don’t know. But one thing is clear to me, this place is turning people into something they are not! As force of nature or act of defeat, I don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am forever an advocate of sacred friendship. That’s the reason why I can only handle two friends…..three at most. Because I seriously do what’s in the job description. And I deliver quality friendship. If I have a lot in my pool, quality will suffer and I cannot call myself a true friend anymore. Insane as it is but the best offer I can give a friend is my life and I only have one to spare (first come first serve basis so to speak). That’s the kind of relationship my friends and I share, a relationship rooted on love…..pure in intentions.. sacred in nature. There are rare occasions of deception, where the bottom line and main goal is one of the basic instincts of a human person and words cannot describe how I despise people such as these. But during these rare times, the weight of my blame is on myself for being unaware and hasn’t seen the glaring warning signs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that’s life. It’s a gamble. You just have to know how to calculate risk and know what’s at stake. Using your mind will not hurt. The best defense on most cases is wisdom and the skills on how to use it. Control of emotions and annihilation of vulnerability is a windfall. Never let your guard down. Otherwise, you will either crack up or be eaten alive, piece by piece and no one can see your tears in the floodgates of your being nor hear your screams in the recesses of your soul because it’s too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-3477069622518525045?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3477069622518525045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/open-confusion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3477069622518525045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3477069622518525045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/open-confusion.html' title='An Open Confusion'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5620617200782736264.post-3114344625757224676</id><published>2009-08-16T01:34:00.002+12:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T12:16:29.703+12:00</updated><title type='text'>Real and True</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;I am almost always regarded as a people person…I can talk, relate and understand other people…their inner thoughts, unspoken feelings, language of their eyes, twinge of their lips even the pain in their hearts. I can decipher almost anything of a human person. In a way, I am transported to their worlds. In a way, I become them. In that way, the connection became so evident that I am almost certain that I can tell the difference between the real from their true self. And from that dissection, it is prevalent that most people are suffering and hurting deep within from the cage of their own being. And there’s a deep, deep longing for rescue. Rescue from what? I am uncertain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real life of a person always begins in the morning…start of the day…to face the world who claims to know and understand. From the moment the sun rises, he is bound to follow certain norms and standards expected of him. Unspoken agreement concocted by the world that set the rules on how one should carry one’s self. And all depends on a lot of things like one’s culture, belief, spirituality, and environment. The more factors to consider, the harder it gets. It’s like crossing a wire above flaming lava. The minute one opens his eyes to face a new day, the one thought that immediately comes to mind is the expectation of the world. Otherwise, you’ll be considered an outcast…like a person suffering from leprosy. And you are condemned beyond imagination. Needless to say, most people choose to be confined in their real worlds…in their real self to get away from judging eyes and cruel arbitrators of the real world. Thank God when night is falling, it’s time to rest…shelf the masks and tomorrow is another battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are occasions where, however restrained, the true self will surface. These are rare times when one enjoys oneself without the real world interfering. It’s like a bird out of its cage…freedom from what the world dictates…freedom from restrictions and boundaries. Unlike the real self, it has no beginning or end. It’s what you are inside…it’s your definition…it’s who you are! Almost always, nobody really knows one’s true self except the bearer. Even those who are regarded as friends, they might know bits and pieces but not the totality. Probably, its one defense mechanism or self preservation against rejection and judgment so, why bother? Taking a chance is a high risk and could not be calculated most of the time. And the fear of losing your loved ones…dear to the heart is one possibility that could result from self definition that nobody I know really dared declare to the world their true being. And I can only sympathize and feel their agony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody has a real and true self. Everybody has this “if only’s” in their minds. The sad fact is that the true self cannot live hand in hand with the real world with set principles without being judged and injured. It takes a whole lot of courage to be free and to fly. Liberty is just a word…freedom doesn’t really exist when it comes to liberty to be what and who you are. It is always a dilemma. There is always silent harassment and hushed discrimination. The prison bar grows harder and higher every day until you come to your cross roads…real or true? The road for the latter is almost always not taken for reasons we already know. And it might take a lifetime to realize and find the courage to take it. Or we might not have the chance to take it at all….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5620617200782736264-3114344625757224676?l=neverawriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3114344625757224676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/real-and-true.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3114344625757224676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5620617200782736264/posts/default/3114344625757224676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neverawriter.blogspot.com/2009/08/real-and-true.html' title='Real and True'/><author><name>nyckknox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07715432391815219084</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mMki7tOnhaU/S2FDvyvSGLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/mTCMDl-pmuU/S220/21865_287520654534_766444534_4718465_7504747_n%5B1%5D.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
