Have you ever felt like you had no purpose? I’ve always believed that I am a transient speck of dust that gracefully moved with the wind and bowed to its powerful will. Today however, everything felt different. I felt like the wind ceased to blow, refusing to move me and forcing me to a stale. Recently, I’ve decided to rekindle my passion for art as a means to make myself believe that I am not living my life in shades of pale grays; to make myself believe that my existence isn’t bland and feckless.
Today I was aimlessly wandering around the city that I called home for 18 years of my life and I couldn’t help but feel a little void inside of me. The place seemed to love me less; as if it’s brutally reproaching me for letting the world wait around me while I continue to falter and lose ground; while I allowed myself to be overweening. The neon lights didn’t glow as lively as before, the monotonous drone of the street resounded irritatingly hollow in my ears and the populace seemed generally dejected.
I wish I could take flight and make the sun punctuate the day in wonderful splendor; I wish I could paint sky’s canvas to be beautiful again. I wish I could find my little niche in the former paradise that grew tired of me. I wish I could find my purpose.
I woke up today with the pleasant rays of the sun caressing my face. It’s summer time here in Manila as I write this entry but the past few days have been cloudy- As if the weather’s deliberately trying to reflect my mood. I’m very much thankful for the fact that at least I have one commiserating friend in the form of the weather and I feel like I need to express my gratitude and reciprocate by feeling a little “sunny” myself today…and I have very good reason to be.
When I woke up I came to the realization that being depressed and dispirited is a very unproductive way to spend the fleeting days of my summer. I have received a lot of pep-talk from friends whom I refused to listen to-nobody ever listens to pep talk when they’re depressed; it’s just a formality and a gesture of sympathy…feigned or otherwise, that I just can’t appreciate. Although I cannot say that the emotional injuries that I sustained (which I realized just now, were self-inflicted) are now totally healed, I can say that I’ve started to recuperate.
Mike "Fucking" Villar
"a Manila-based blogger made famous by his Atrocities of Friendster series, a regular feature he publishes on his blog where he mercilessly criticizes and mocks pictures of ugly people he stumbles upon on popular social networking site, Friendster. Although a lot of people are offended by what he writes, long-time readers of his blog regard him as a brilliant satire writer."
-Taken from my WikiBios page
