The Terrible Writings of Quentin Montejo
Serial experiments on a fallen archangel who only wanted to regain just one wing back
Free of the World. Rain worshipper. Hermit. Tormented mind. Caged spirit. Defiant and eternal enemy of Destiny and Fate. Poet. Scientist. Artist. Daydreamer. He who laughs. Slacker. Sleeper. Romancer of wings and clouds. Fiercely independent. He who is ponderous. Games and anime junkie. Four eyes. Caveman. Nature-lover. He who doesn't think that hard. Non-smoker. Music-junkie. Counter of blessings. Guitar-hugger. He who simply wants what everybody else would like to be in this world and the next -- to be happy.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
The Incredible Nothingness of Everything
I'll be sorry.
Because I went home to Cavite with a tattered self. The usual cheerfulness when I go home is not there. Worse, amidst all the people there, I felt withdrawn and silly. Back home you see, I'm treated like a prince. My cousins from both sides of the family never fail to treat me like some sort of celebrity. My older kuyas would give me a pat on the shoulder whenever they pass by me. My female cousins would always have that beloved lilt whenever they mention my nickname. But I am too inside myself.
Yesterday was fiesta in our little barrio.
I'm a bit surprised that there's an eat-all-you-can buffet right at the patio. Complete with a uniformed attendant even o_O I ate what I can and ignored all of it, including the noise of the bands outside and the dancing people. I went straight to my bed with an open window to the vast coffee plantation view at the back.
This morning I ate breakfast beside mom and dad on a chilly, beautiful morning on the patio. Yet I said nothing, because I usually am the one who's noisy about everything, telling a joke or anecdote about my life. Mom broke the silence by telling me news about my brother, that he passed the civil service exams.
I felt indifferent.
I finished my chocolate drink. And went to this computer to blog about everything. At least I'm thankful that my mind is just one right now. I want to talk to my best friend. But she's so far away and as much as I am too manly proud to admit it, I miss her a lot.
Right now I've fired up the mp3 player and is playing every file given to me on my flash disk. Direct rips from the CDs it seems. The speaker is not cooperating though, as it has to be in a volume level that does not spoil the sound.
I used to dream I was far away with people who don't know me when I'm this way. Sometimes I'd like to just cry it out, as pathetic as it may sound. It's difficult to do so however, because my tear glands won't work for having been unused for the last ten years or so. Funny, because I was originally a cry baby. I'd cry at any instant anything felt painful -- which is a lot. Tequila changed everything though, hehe.
Why entitle this "The Incredible Nothingness of Everything"?
For the first time in a very long while, everything felt meaningless. I thought I've already answered the why's of my life. Now they come back in all capitals as if the answers I've given before weren't enough to begin with.
I feel no excitement for my work. The games I love playing feel stale. The animes I've been watching don't entertain me. The friends I have right now I feel like pushing away. Alcohol feel like a pretty stupid way to give me respite. If I was a person other than myself, I would've done something really stupid by now.
Looks like I'm too tough to bring down but weak enough to be made immobile. I feel like the inside of my skull has grown callouses. As well as the inside of my rib cage.
Let it go.
Those three words are the most difficult to achieve with my kind of personality -- which is a brooding type. I've read in the wisdom of eastern religions, that the cause of man's misery is his desires for himself.
Let it go. Desire less, have more.
In my case, it's magnified by the fact that I have not desired anything much in this world -- anything but one. And it's because it's my only desire, everything revolved around it.
What's next for me? I'll have to let nature run its course. Tomorrow is good for something I'm sure. At least I know I have hope tattooed on my forehead.
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