Wednesday, July 6, 2011


...bathing in clarity that, after all, I am human

I don't care if it's attractive/cool at all to put my heart on my sleeve at this age and I figured if I want to be a writer, putting my heart on my sleeve ought to be the least of my worries. Since I've been pretty much in a mood for weeks now, I looked through my diary out of habit and realized that I've felt this way before. This odd, kind of existentialist mode you slip into. It's not something you prepare for, also not something you condition yourself to dive into...It's normal. It's not like you plan it and go "Oh one day, I'll go all Camus on myself so it'd sound good and beat Paulo Coehlo out of his famous paperbacks..." It's not like that. (I wish it was like that at least you have some solid reason to be in this mood, right? hahaha)
It just happens. If this hasn't happened to you yet, it's bound to. Mid-life crisis, I believe feels like this. Or when you're sad. Or sometimes when you just couldn't make sense of things, even when you're incredibly happy... Basically, when you're vulnerable.

So anyway, I read this again and about three sentences into it I just realized that I had to put this up on my blog. The reason why is because I think this is an ageless concern...Everyone goes through it. And this is my way of saying that you're not alone in it...I mean, things have been written about this before me anyway, but all I'm saying is that, it helps to put it out there. Besides, that's what language is for anyway? Right? So go read it up, it'll be really rare for anybody to see a diary entry I've made (ahahha) and, hopefully, it'd shed some light on some of your troubles. (It did mine, but I'm still having my bouts, so...)

FYI, I'm no faith healer, no inspirational speaker...I'm just, you know, a model-obsessed person who happens to have something more to say than just who's beautiful and who's handsome. (That's cause my blog's been too light and pretty lately that I forget what Salt's purpose is anyway)

There is the faintest memory of yesterday you cling to. You're so sure of it, that while today you're near-sighted, almost lost somewhere, hours ago you were bright and limitless. You're body aches and you blame it on your imagination. You're head swims in fragments of things you set out to do, but for some reason they're pointless now. You remember telling yourself that you have a name to build, a crusade to lead, a battle to win, someone to give your heart to and your soul as well, but suddenly, today, plans, ambitions, beliefs, fate are just things you've forgotten. Where are you? What have you done to yourself? What were you fighting for? 

This isn't a choice you consciously make, it's just there, waiting for the  best time to suit you in something new, never exciting, but definitely important. You're human after all, susceptible to suffering, sadness, doubt, fear, defeat... But you're still so sure of yesterday when what your vision told you was possible, you were already traveling. And you're still pretty much the same flesh, bone and blood. But there's something different...Something's changed. 

Maybe what's worth planning and reaching the stars for weren't always the ones you could do. You're human after all. Maybe what you so bravely waged war against wasn't worth fighting for anyway. You're human after all. Maybe who you think you're supposed to be, is just a glimpse of somebody else you believed you are...You're human...Maybe what and where and who you breathe your soul to isn't always the best thing, place and person for it...

Where are you? What have you done to yourself? Where are you going?

Here I am now. The existentialist, finding-for-the-purpose time of life, when you're falling off youth and looking down (or up) a blue sea of age and wisdom and truth and love. I'm about to fall and suddenly everything I placed my faith into, except God, are such blurred figures far off into the end. It's not that I've lost sight of them, for people who lose sight of their dreams are less, but it's a shifting of focus, a change of perspective... And I'm not even sure if where I'm falling into is where I should fall . It's a journey, the say, all straight and up as they'd love to see it, but this journey isn't. I am not gifted with vision that reaches over the borders, I am not limitless as I used to think I am and I am not fighting anything anymore. Here I am now, in the in between where behind me is all things once real, once fantastic, now all empty and right ahead is only what and where my eyes could reach. On the walk ahead, what I'm searching for, looking for, fighting for, falling for, dreaming for, loving for, fearing for is but a return to the self. I'm human after all.

You will reach this, this in between when everything seems so dismal and dim and you swear you've never been so down, stuck and frozen before and realize that while you're here, in this in between, it's all just a journey back to the self. Back to the human. You've definitely ascended before, descended too but hasn't it bothered you that on your journey, you've rarely visited yourself?

Here I am now, in the in between where things aren't dismal or bright, hopeless or promising, sad or happy, painful or euphoric...But simply somewhere, sometime where I'm all alone with myself, changing perspective, shifting focus and most definitely, bathing in clarity that, after all, I am human...

- Gerard

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