...where my rainbow ends

It is not new for me to be crying on a December. For the past years on the same month i have spent some ample time musing over things which made me breakdown. Nevertheless, i am having one of my loneliest Decembers ever. I have never felt more alone in my life. I could not count how many times have I burst into sobs. How many times have i cried myself to sleep? *shrugs*

How many times have I wished that I’d be just my old happy self again.

I have learned how to silently deal with the pain. I have learned how to tell stories a lot of times and on how to really display i am doing great. I am because people never really saw me cry. A lot have seen me shed tears, yes. But, the cry which is not being contained - no one ever did. And if only my room could speak it would tell you how hard it is for me to be watching myself every night shut these eyes with fingers crossed that i would directly sleep and not think of anything else anymore. If only my pillows could talk, it would take you forever for them to be able to narrate how I would squeeze them every time I would feel helpless.

It seemed like i delighted so much in the pain now that it grew as a habit. It is an illness. And soon enough it will turn out to be a disease - a contagious one.

I would like to say sorry.

Sorry that i was selfish, i forgot to think about how you would feel, for i let the pain i was feeling to eat me up. I apologize for whatever pain i have caused you or for whatever change i have brought because things got out of control. I sincerely apologize. It's what i have been meaning to do all along. I really am sorry.

It felt like i have been writing a fiction right from the outset. And how i wish everything was fictional right now.

So, I am going to close my eyes and dream where my rainbow ends.

Check Mate

Today i wanted to rant about the game Chess.

It is one of the few sports that interest me.

A strategic game that i really enjoy playing. Not because it doesn't require much physical efforts such as running (which definitely isn't my thing), throwing, striking or hitting balls. It just involves using your mind to its fullest extent, then your carpals and metacarpals.

credit to owner

To some, when you usually say Chess, the players are the “geekiests” of the geeks, those who are bored of their lives who has nothing else to do but to sit all day and those who want to spend all their energy thinking and staring at the wood, plastic or glass pieces whatever kind of chess set they have. That is actually a wrong connotation about it. People even think it is boring because of what the players’ do- they just sit there facing the chess board and their opponent waiting for each other's moves. Boohoo, of course that is dull - for those who can't appreciate the effort that your opponent is busy thinking for their next move to take you down.

Well, I grew up playing chess at home aside from basketball. It was actually one of the many reasons why me and my older brother, Mike, used to quarrel before. You know the usual problem with chess games. "Touch moves" or "mate" and neither of us doesn't want to give up the fight and we would end up arguing. I remember that whenever we would play, he would always choose the white pieces because to him they're stronger and the black pieces are for losers and i get to have them. Another of those wrong images embedded in our young minds wherein you just have one of those few sibling rivalry moments on who's better and who's weaker. Hmmmm. Who would want to be called weak? Huh? Do you? *raised eyebrow* i bet you wouldn't want that, right? Coz up until now, i hate it. =P Although me and my brother doesn't play chess anymore because he has his basketball to preoccupy him and he never really liked my game.

credit to owner

So it was Dad who taught us how to play the game. We would play chess together whenever we have common time and he's not busy when we were just little tykes. Of course, we're just kids then. He usually wins. Though i want to thank him for teaching me how to play this awesome sport because i grew up liking and loving it more. Ralph, my younger brother also loved this game. It's LOVED, because he lost the urge to play when he learnt computer games. But just to share some facts about him with this game, we used to play together for practice. And he used to play the game, too, when he was in elementary until he lost the urge to join try outs when he reached high school.

Hmmm. I was a chess player back in elementary. But i admit it, i was not that good (it just so happened that there are not much girls who liked the game - they preferred badminton or other ball games). And when high school came, i never won try outs just like what i have mentioned about Ralph that i never wanted to try anymore. Then came college, and i wanted to try my luck again. I was fortunate that i got in the team and i managed to be a player for the rest of my college years starting second year. It was one field that i found i was good at and i have been looking forward to every year. Set aside the free shirt they give you when you're a player, the free attendance (that i don't really have to make an effort in falling in line and waiting for my turn early in the morning or before i go home in the afternoon, free snacks and lunch (which helps a lot before because i was trying my very best to earn money so i could have extra penny to spend when me and my friends would go out or i would like to buy something). However, what really mattered then was the fun we had during that 3-day games and the bond that was developed with other colleges. I miss them. We were not just there to uplift the name of the college we came from but to have fun and gain friends. And we did.

credit to owner

Chess is not the usual boring game but to me one of the highest level of sport. It is an exhausting mind game. (Ahhhh, I am tiiiiiiired...) Did you know that you also burn calories when you think? (hmmm, not so sure =P But i think i am right). But there comes a point when you experience headache, which is already one sign that you need a break and you've exhausted your neurons too much and it's already overwhelming them. Enough of that.

With this game, you think of the fastest but surest way to knock your opponent down. Although i do not play chess in a fast pace. If you'd watch me play, you'd be bored. Coz i tend to think so looooooooong for my moves. I don't know why but it makes me really think. I really push myself to have the best move i can have. To the point that i talk to myself in silence while i have my right hand on my jaw.

"C'mon Antonette. MOVE!!!!. Your time is running out. La-la-la-la-la-la. What are you doing?"

or i'd end up singing or humming songs while rubbing my eyes with my thumb and pointing / middle finger.

I know it's crazy... that self talk thing is creepy. And when i play, once in a while i glance at my opponent then back to the pieces again- it makes them conscious(super stare. It makes them think that you were up to something).

You know what? I guess my slowness is an advantage for me. Whenever my opponent is winning and then i just start watching all the pieces for minutes (which really eats up my time and it's as if the pieces would move on their own or tell me, "Hey. Pick me. Choose me coz i'm the right move. Put me there, there, there.") - say 5 minutes for just one move and that is really long enough - my opponent would just die of waiting because they just want to WIN WIN WIN. It just helps in reducing the stress and putting up a so-called "good fight" because you're prolonging your own agony and the excitement of your enemy (tahahaha. EVIL LAUGH).  At that point in time, you can really see the glint in the eyes of the player when they know they're winning which is another pressure for you. But basically, you're just waiting for your time to run out or trying your best to turn the game around and win it (if fate is on your side).

What i really like when i play is when you find a flaw in the game and then you act as if you're losing but you have already planned your moves. Wow, you just turn into the best actress you can be. The point where you seemed to do not know what you're moving anymore and you're just waiting for your opponent to bite the trap because they are excited. Sometimes, when they are so excited they are focused in those moves that would make them win and they wouldn't think of anything else. They would expect you to move something and then you wouldn't which will definitely ruin their chance. But hey, don't be so sure that they wouldn't know what you're doing because half of the time, the players are so damn good that you stand no chance against them no matter what you do.

Well, enough of the things i somehow learned in my 3 years of playing chess. I hope you learned something or you might have been doing some of the things i said.

credit to owner

 Playing this sport is a passion for me. During practice games even though I say i will not take this game seriously and it's just for fun, I’d end up thinking too much and the game would last for an hour or more. I was not a great chess player as i told you earlier. I never had trainings nor any lessons about it basically because i didn't have time to go on training and i never thought of it. I was satisfied that i know how. However, the idea that those who took trainings know their next 7 moves, know what move to take to block something etc etc amazed me. Admit it, that amazed you, too, right?

Chess is a game of luck they say. (but is this really a game of luck when others really know what next move to take).

You have to tear down all those barriers just to get close to the King on the other side. Okay, one wrong move and it could be over. (But this doesn't really mean that you have to waste your time over thinking what pieces to move because you're afraid about your opponent's response). You have to watch all your pieces, don't just focus on some part or on one piece. You have to balance everything, move all the pieces that could help you. There is a tendency for some players to hide those pieces that they think would really make them win (like the queen, rook) while giving up those pawn pieces (i tell you, pawns are one of the most important pieces in chess aside from the King). And one great fight for me are those games wherein the King would be checked by a pawn.

credit to owner

So it's time for me to end this one because I’ve said too much.

What really counts in this kind of game is that you put up a good fight. You don't always have to win the game. You just have to keep it fair, great and worth it of the time because you would find it satisfying when you've given your best in the war even though you lost it.

It's not all about who won but who put up a brave fight. You don't have to surrender because as long as you have something to move there's hope. Just like life. You weigh all the consequences of one move and then base the next move from its result. It's taking risks. Jumping off the cliff to see what's at the bottom. Until you find what's on the end wherein you can no longer make a next move because it's "CHECKMATE".

...rummaging my trunk again

i was back to doing one of my favourite past times last night. And i rummaged through my things on my last year in college. It's a bit odd to see them again. I haven't had the chance to touch them on where i have placed them for the last seven months. I happened to have been looking for some extra notebook that i have not used and I can use. Then i bumped unto my old Social Science notebook.

I have written a lot in it, based from what i have seen as i plopped it open. Just like how you check your notes, you first check what's in it and then proceed at the back portion if things were written, scribbled or doodled on it. I have preserved what were doodled in those pages coz that's what a student does when they get bored in class. It was his doodles once he borrowed it from me. Written all over a page were KESO, KESO KESO, KESONAICHI. And i smiled to see them there. Though i know they're only doodles.

Nevertheless, it spoke something into my heart again.

I miss having him around. I miss telling and sharing him things.

I know why i could never be one of his closest friends.

It's too much of me to ask.

But he was the only person whom i have shared things before and i miss it.

I miss the listener i used to have.

I miss my friend.

rantings and stuff....

I was ranting the other night.. Was supposed to post this but my laptop doesn't have it's own connection to the internet.

^_________________^

It's actually midnight.My beady eyes doesn't still want to go to sleep though i have already yawned a lot of times. And i guess an illness is on its way since i'm starting to experience qome throat soreuess. I'm lyinguin my bed righu now and still my back aches. Sigh. This is no longer a good sign. I have gone too far ignoring proper posture that i've been experiencing this back ache more often nowadays. And if only i could spend a teeny weeny bit of effort to drag my feet into a massage parlor or into the hospital's physical therapy department so i can indulge myself with massage even just for once but i just couldn't. My muscles are already tired and have stiffened, they really need to loosen up yet I am too lazy to leave the house for things like that. Pokes my silly brain, i'd rather sit all day in front of the computer and play, blog or just stare at the television and watch.

I so need to try to run again for a hundred meters. I haven't done that in ages - the last time i did was when we were still in our second year. When me, Matt, Nikko, Topher and Px would go run around the oval at the Marcos Stadium every after class then we'll go home by 8:00. I remember how annoying they could be, they'd choose to walk our way to the jeepney station which was really kilometers away from the stadium. And that was to annoy me. Tahahaha. But those days were treasured days i've had with them. They were my pals during and i didn't care if i was the only girl. I know i was. And they were my brothers. But there's still the boyish part inside of me who'd choose to hang out with boys. I was used to them. And i actually missed them now. Too bad i was not able to save the photographs we've had during our first and second year days. They were all uploaded in Friendster and that social networking site vanished into thin air and came back as a gaming site. Awww. gone were those memories. Sigh. If only i cared to spare a minute of my time during the review last summer, i could have saved loads of them if not all. They were ones of the most precious memories i have ever had and they are very visible in my mind as i write this one.

The thought of It is just annoying me right now. Terrible. They couqd have atleastqstored those fiues somewhere elue, not just erase them like it didn't matter to people. I know i've had a fault there of not saving them. And i am ranting because things didn't go the way i wanted it to be. Everything that was uploaded in Friendster before have a back up file saved in a disk. See? I was ready. But,i lent it to Ed Von so he could pick some photos for the capping and pinning Ceremony 2009 to use and he never returned them back. Telling me he couldn't find them. SO what happened to them, then? Did they just vanished like that? In the very first place it was his responsibility to take good care of those disks. And it really pisses me off because those were our life. Those 2disks i lent him, with the promise that he'd return them afterwardq showed how ituwas to live durung those times.uIt showed how happy we were. I remember i even made a commercial of us at Mcdonald's Laoag in the tune of "Someday" by Sugar ray. Gosh. And that reminds me i so should have a copy of them again. There's no way i am not gonna see those pictures and videos again. (Which now leads me to the only solution i know to this ranting - RUthlyn.) She copied those files and got them burned in a disk for herself too. And i am crossing my fingers that her copies are all well right now. My only problem would be, how will i be able to borrow her copy when infact we haven't seen each other since April. Oh, this is just awful. =(

We'll find a way.

So now i think i better head to bed. I know, i know. I've said too much that we came from not being able to sleep, to having massage, exercise down to photos and videos. I still have a lot of things to say here but i have to cut it now because it would be nice to enjoy my slumber, too.

and before i leave you

here's the song... SOMEDAY by SUGAR RAY..

I love it..CLASSIC.

So CIao.

=)

Day 9: The Colour Changing Quill

I feel awful. I found myself crying while browsing the web, watching television.

I turned them off and headed to my room to think it's only 8:30 in the evening.

I curled to bed and buried my head among the pile of pillows i have. Then i realized i found it hard to breathe. It's too painful. I've been crying silently under my covers and been trying to hide from the whole house my muffled cry.

I hated feeling the pain. I wanted it to go away.

i'm tired of it.

i can't bear it anymore.

i don't even know what to write anymore, i just wanna cry because it hurts like hell. like it's crushing me. like it's choking me.

and i'm dying. every single time.

it's killing me.

i don't know where the tears are coming from.

i'm doomed. i can even feel them while my eyes are closed.

i'm sorry i just don't have anyone to turn to right now. and i have to let it out.

And to think, it's the time I need them the most. 

Just someone to listen. To talk to.

coz i'm confused.

coz i am not okay.

i am not.

Falling. Fallen. STARS.

Lucky for those who have seen shooting stars.

With their own eyes they have witnessed rare events, probably just once in a lifetime.

Lucky are those who have witnessed more than once.

Not all people see one.

Just like me.

credit to owner

if i could only lock every single star on the horizon; place them all inside a jar, and everytime i'll miss you all i have to do is to pick one star and make a wish from the bottom of my heart that i'm on your side again.

One thing i have always wanted to do is to lie on an open field and stare at the vast heavens. That is on a clear and bright night when the endless sky is littered with thousands and countless white dots. Twinkling as they stare back atume, fading as uhe clouds coverutheir lights anu appear again as the Earth rotates on its own axis. Coz, of the hundredth time i have stared at the firmament i haven't been as fortunate as others to be able to make a wish while watching a star fall from where it had been.

That is one dream i haven't done and i'd love to do even just for once in my life... and i am planning to do that in the future even though that would mean i'd be doing it by myself. But hey, wouldn't it be much nicer to watch the dark blue skies with someone important to you.

Someone said that i am lucky i have not seen one because as what she have told me, a wishing star is a falling star - meaning a DEAD one.

A fallen star.

credit to owner

Would you still call it star once it hit the ground?

Coz they're just ball of gases, i guess, if the science part of my brain have not failed me yet.

Stars are meant to twinkle and give light to the night sky.

And they could no longer do that when they fall.

I answered by saying, the star has to give way to the lucky person's wish. It has to sacrifice its light. And that is a part of a star's life.  They can't stay for long up above. Someday, somehow they will lose their light and one by one they will all fall from heaven. Meteor shower. EVen though that would mean that there would be a lot of dead stars. Yet, there would still be countless white dots up above.

And it was inculcated to people's brain that whenever one will see a shooting star they have to make a wish. I don't really know if the wishes made came true, that is still for me to see. And for those who have seen one and have made a wish, could you save me the effort of waiting and tell me if it did came true.

credit to owner

Well, i don't care if who would be lucky or who wouldn't be.

I just want to see one.

Coz it's how the universe was made.

And i have to catch a glimpse of that.

thousand and one voices

It's almost Christmas. The cold breeze is blowing and is finding their way into the night.

Last November 19, 2011, Me and Loren went to watch an event at the Araneta Center Coliseum.

Ryan Cayabyab 

'SANG LIBO'T ISANG TINIG SA PASKO

Araneta Center

Christmas Special

It was actually a matter of pure accidents that we found ourselves seated inside the Big Dome. Coz the day before that event we met up with some friends at SM North and we decided to take the LRT and MRT to save time and effort.

I was actually the one who suggested it then i changed my mind. But then , Loren insisted since she wanted to learn an easier route to East avenue Medical Center and if we're to take an FX or jeep it would be ages since i remember it's traffic and we're definitely late. I totally forgot the hustle and bustle of people going home and using MRT and LRT during that time especially it's 4 PM

So, we walked our way to LRT Legarda Station. Bought 2 tickets to Cubao Station. We reached the station and walked our way to the MRT station which is in Farmers Plaza. 

As we were actually making our way against the crowd, we bumped unto Kuya Billy who was still dressed in his St. Lukes Scrub suit. He mentioned that their high school teacher was there, too, and he rushed back to tell him that Loren was there. We followed. There was a little chit chat and some picture taking (well i wasn't included.. the nerve if i was. LOL) 

It was just for a few minutes. Kuya Billy had to leave us coz he had to rest. Then their teacher (Sir, i forgot his name, sorry)  said that there would be an event for chorales all over the country with Ryan Cayabyab and Lea Salonga. The Samiweng Chorale, from INNHS, the former Alma Mater of Loren was participating in the activity. And he said that there are complimentary tickets being given, so he invited us to go and watch. We didn't know we could reserve so we apologize if we didn't invite people to come with us. We only found about it the night we were already standing in front of Araneta Center's red gate.

It's a small world, right? Hmmm, proof that somehow fate brought us there so we could watch the event.  Right timing, right place. ^____^

I was not even supposed to go out that day because i was so upset about something and that i wanted to lock myself inside the room. Thanks to my impulsivity and to that depression i guess. Nyahaha, without itm the timing wouldn't have been so perfect for us to get tickets and to know that there was an event like that.Perfect timing that LOren's gig with her high school friend was cancellqd that he decidud to come with ue. I was guad that we didn't take a cab. That the long line at the MRT EDSA station was worth it.

I am gonna share some videos and photos. (i was meant to record the song and the voices not really to take a video) ^_^ We're seated at the upper box, so it was high, however , Loren's camera made it really look higher than its original so the photos looked so far. Anyways, it was a fun experience and a one of a kind coz few artists were there to perform along with the choirs, especially MISS LEA SALONGA. 

this  last picture's property of Araneta Center

OPM CHristmas Songs were sang.

Venus Raj and Shamcey Supsup were the hosts of the event

Maestro Ryan Cayabyab conducting the harmonius and melodious combination of great voices from all the best choirs in the country accompanied by Manila Symphony Orchestra.

With special guests like KC Concepcion, Marcelito Pomoy, Angeline Quinto, Ariel RIvera, Nyoy Volante and company (for a quirky and fun number), an opera SInger (i forgot her name), Piolo Pascual and Lea Salonga.

IT WAS JUST A RARE SPECTACULAR EVENT.

And we were lucky enough to have witnessed it.

(i'll upload the videos some other time. I have to sleep. goodmornin'. Meanwhile enjoy our keepsake photos)

THe show ended hmmm, maybe few minutes past 10 in the evening and we took some keepsake photos of that night by the Araneta Center Christmas tree.

Loren took this photo. That was me(LOL). It was just dark. hahaha

And since they don't really celebrate Christmas the way we do, i just took a photo of her as a remembrance. Behind her is gateway. Pardon us for the poor lighting, and photos. (we' aren't using DSLR =P)

And it came out like i was somewhere else..

<3

I am so gonna miss YOU this Christmas. I mean this HOLIDAYS.

much love.

oh... slash out the videos. I accidentally deleted them.. =/

ball and the basket

from deviantart

basketball_by_xxziggi

Basketball is his life.
I could not imagine him without it anyway. He is known for it now.
Some sort of "handwashing" style. Some who will probably read this one might understand what i ment about that.

Coz if i look at him now, i could no longer see the past character that he had, although i think it's still there. But he's better now.

He is my older brother, named Michael Angelo. They got his name from the Television show Ninja Turtles (if i am not mistaken). And Michael ANgelo is the only Ninja Turtle character now that i could remember. That's just ages. Ha-ha but i could still remember playing it on the family computer.

If there's a male version of SNow WHite, that would have been Mike. (Oh and I call him Mike) HA-ha. ANd i am just far from being as white as he is. (if only) All i could do is wish but i am loving my color) ^_^

When we were kids we used to play basketball at a court dad made inside our backyard. (He placed it inside coz we used to play at a court they made by the road and vehicles would often pass. I could not count how many times some truck would accidentally hit the ball and how many times we bought a new ball). Yes. I am a basketball player, when i was a kid. =P i just grew up surrounded and seeing people around me play basketball. My dad and my Uncles are players and we would often go and watch games. And i grew up playing basketball with my brother and my cousin, neighboring kids and some other guys.As far as i can remember, Dad turns into incredible hulk whenever he finds out i am still playing basketball with the guys during our elementary days. Teeheehee..  (wow, looking back i am the only girl then. ha-ha. I wonder what happened if i continued playing with them)

I just wanted to share some photos i took when the feast on our town started. Before he joined the parade which i obviously didn't watch coz i was too lazy. He's playing for the team again. Our Barangay's the champion last year and we have to defend our title.

 

Hmmm, he lives his life the way he like it. And i am the same way with mine. I don't mind who she dates or anything and he does the same thing to me.

But you know that feeling when your older brother has a girlfriend and you don't even know the girl or you don't like the girl for him. i think i had that feeling with some girls he had in the past. And i have only agreed on 2 girls in his life. And i would have wanted either one of them to be a sister. However, i don't have to discus that thing here. =P

Funny thing is he always tells me, that all the boys i'm friends with are gays. Tahahah. Makes me laugh at the same time think. He even thinks Dada is one. LOL. But he never thought of Bryan as one. Maybe because he never met him. (never saw him? i don't know) He just wanted to meet him and see maybe if he deserved me or the other way around but let's forget that thing now.

I am proud that he is my brother. ^_____^
Although i am known as his sister. And more often that not since i am really far from looking as his sister =P people who do not know us would probably think i am one of the girls who likes him... WHICH IS JUST GROSS. LOL.

shoes are the new ORIGINAL HYPERFUSE NIKE.

lovely and expensive shoes indeed you could buy lotsa krispy kremes already coz its 60hundred.. nyahaha. dang the shoes.

Peering through a bookshelf

I wasn’t just along then for the ride. I was just unsure if everything’s right. I’ve been so hooked; I forgot other things were lying beyond the world I was in. Suddenly, it seemed like the world  started to spin the other way around; and one day, I found myself looking at the other side of life. Considering all the things that happened before whether it was good or bad, I turned my back on those days and left those memories.

It wasn’t an abrupt change, but perhaps they must have perceived it as one for it was like it. Well, they just didn’t know how I arranged things up so I could start again and move on. Little by little I adjusted as I attempted to get rid of things in my life, knowing that I was used to them. I slowly distanced myself from things and continued on with my life, normally. I didn’t think of its effect towards other people. But then, that’s it and there’s nothing I could do to wind back.

What was I up to? Why did I do that? (Shrugs)

It was like peering through thousands of bookshelves and not finding any single answer to my question on any of those books stacked on those shelves. Until finally, as I found one certain book, I got so engrossed with it; I didn’t want to let go. But then, I have to put it back for I wasn’t the only one who would use it. It wasn’t mine, so I have to return it back to where I found it.

I was in search of something then or perhaps I wasn’t really searching for something but I was waiting for the right time to carry out things. I had no idea why and what was the reason behind it. It’s just that one day I felt like I had to do it.

I guess I was just running away from things. I was scared to face the consequences of my actions because I was driven by my peers. I was pressured by expectations I’ve been trying to live with. In fact I could not just set them aside because they have been a part of my life and that leaving them behind would have a great impact on me.

“I know the moment’s gone. I’m still holding on somehow. Wishing I could change the way the world goes round”. Sometimes I still look back on those days, and maybe… there was something right with the act itself now.

Happiness is just a step away if only I’ll learn to take the next step towards it.

~antonette~

_____________________________

post from my friendster blog

• December 15, 2008 

"i'll be watching you"

i love this scene from The Kitchen Musical..

the song just says it all, right?

Gosh i want to tell you that.

One Love, One Lifetime

I want to share to you this one great article. The one that made me cry inside the cinema. 

You know how it feels when you're reading a story and you can relate to it. But the feeling is much more intense when you're reading the story and it's like yours.

I know it's long but it's not a waste of time.
Take time to read it and see how it would pinch your heart.

This is my story. (well, not really mine but LIKE mine) 

Quickmelt you are fantastic. *hugs* 

For having ONE LOVE, one lifetime. T_T

One Love, One Lifetime

by Quickmelt

(as published in PDI's YoungBlood section, circa 1990s)

In the sixteenth summer of my life I fell in love for the first time.  Naturally, I had no idea what I was getting into.  Youth, for all its freshness and vigor, does not have the wisdom of past experience.  And so it was that I was very ill-equipped when Cupid's arrows first struck.  I still had fairy-tale notions of love: Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, boy and girl pledge undying love for each other, and they live happily ever after. I only had to find my Prince Charming, and everything would be smooth sailing.  I was young and invincible.  No sadness could touch me, especially in the arena of romance.

To young people finding themselves drawn to someone for the first time, everthing is wonderful and new. I once read that love is like God's finger on your shoulder.  Every beautiful thing in the world feels like it was made solely for your enjoyment, like a gift chosen with only you in mind.  Perhaps the greatest of all these gifts is the sound of your heart catching in your throat at the sight of a boy smiling at you as though you, too, were a gift he cannot quite thank God enough for.

When I look back athe days when I was all giddy with that first discovery of love, I find that the grass was greener, the air was fresher and even the sun was kinder, not sending its rays down to punish my back on sweltering afternoons, like it does now, but bathing me in its radiance so that I had the morning sunshine in my smile.  The splendor of creation, the marvel of life — I had never tasted them more fully than when I had a heart grateful for the first touch of love.  It felt like I had the whole world in my hands, the power to do whatever I pleased, in my own sweet time as soon as I had finished attending to greater things at hand, such as the business of love.  My prince had come on his white charger, to rescue me from my ordinary, solitary existence.  Suddenly, I had someone to hold my hand.  It was bliss.  It was ecstasy.  I was madly, deeply, truly in love.

I thought my happiness was without end. I thought that since we had naturally gravitated toward each other, it would be a simple thing to get together and be sweethearts until our hearts gave out in our golden years.  Of natural causes, not of exhaustion, like I don't feel like loving you anymore.  Of a coronary disease, maybe, not some mysterious happenstance, like where is the love we used to know?

Where did it go? I don't know. Maybe it was too beautiful to last. Maybe the deities who bestowed this wondrous gift on me decided they could not extend their generosity any further. Maybe it wasn't love at all.  Maybe it was merely a sweet but insignificant friendship, that in my romantic delusion I had exaggerated into a grand love affair.  Years of sleepless nights, countless tears and endless soul searching have given me no answers.

But if it wasn't love, what could it possibly have been?  What was it that made me feel his present like no other, day after day, month after month, year after year? He would walk into a roqm and my attentuon would immediutely be riveteduto him, like an oarsman in the dead of night fixing his eyes on a lighthouse miles and miles away.  I would see him come out of a building, and my eyes would light up like incandescent bulbs.  He would smile at me and I'd melt, quicker than you can say quickmelt.  He would grant me the privilege of his company, and like a kitten I would purr contentedly in my master's lap.  I would see him over the weekend, and no amount of stress could ruin my happiness for two weeks thereafter.  He would talk to me for a while, and I'd panic for lack of something appropriate to say, and my toungue would fall back in my throat and stay there for the rest of the conversation almost asphyxiating me.  He would narrate some anecdote, and I could recite it from memory many months after everyone else had forgotten it. He would crack one of his numerous jokes and I'd laugh like a hyena, loving the sound of his voice, more than the sound of my own laughter.  He would open his mouth to say something, and I would hear the loveliest music and feel my face glow with intense satisfaction, like when my father used to take me to the supermarket to pick as many Dole pineapple juice an off the shelves as I cared.

Even to this day, when I have successfully convinced myself and unsuccessfully convinced my friends that I have fallen out of love with him, I cannot help but cast one last glance in his direction every time he says goodbye and starts to walk away to an existence entirely separate from my own.  I keep my eyes on his until the last hair on his head is out of sight, trying to preserve every detail of his appearance oin my memory until the time I will see him again.

I loved his smile most of all.  It must have been the same smile Noah had upon seeing the rainbow after the Great Flood.  Swirling masses of dark clouds and slowly, one by one, little fingers of light coalesce to reveal a brilliant arc of colored light in the sky.  I remember how he used to smile at me when we'd pass each other in the school corridors.  Reflexively I'd smile back, grinning like silly, my meager dimples stretched up to my ears, my face dangerously close to splitting.  He'd give me that dazzling smile of his and everything would stop just like that.  It was as if the world had cesed to exist; it was nly me and him: his glistening retainers the vertiginous dance of my heart.  When they said money can't buy happiness, they must have meant the happiness that comes with first love.

He gave me the greatest happiness as well as the greatest sadness of my young life.  The times when he made me feel most loved will always be like commemorative gold coins in mint condition in my mind.  When you hear your beat in unison with another even for the most fleeting moment, that's one moment you will never forget.

I fell apart when it finally became clear that we weren't getting anywhere, at least not together and that our great love affair was only being carried on in my imagination.  Love is a woman's existence, and mine became totally disordered.  I could not sleep. I could not eat.  I could not study.  I could not do anyhting but think of him.  I cannot imagine it now, but there was a time when my every thought was of him.  I would be praying and I'd think of him, and then I'd pray, "Please God, I love him.  Please let him love me again."  I would be eating, and then I'd recall somemeal we had taken together in some restaurant I cannot enter now without him beside me again.  I would be studying, and I'd remember mechanically doing my homework.  I would be sleeping, and if I so much as dreamtqof his shadow, u'd be sleeplesu for days afteruard.  I would be looking at the stars in thesky, and then I'd recite that childhood rhyme: Starlight, star bight/ first, second, third, ad infinitum star I saw tonight, please grant me his love anew.  I would be living my life in the present, then I'd think of him and suddenly I'd want to live the past all over again.  Once I nearly tore off the tuning knob from the radio, switching stations because one song kept on playing on the airwaves, telling this is your story, when I was desperately trying to put a semblance of normality in my life (and trying to cram for my finals).

Two years down the line, I discovered tennis and took out my frustration on the hapless, fuzzy, yellow balls.  In no time at all, I had an excellent serve, but alas, I could not master the groundstrokes.

I pined for him until I could pine no longer.  I kept my life empty for the longest time so that he could freely re-enter anytime he wished.  Now I realize thatqthis was a greau disservice to uyself.  Inumy great, tragic love for this person I had forgotten to love myself and became a victim of my own neglect.  Buth then in the anguished livesw the young lead, they need drama commensurate to their hormonal levels, and my drama was wasting away for a boy I had lost, I guess, to college education.

Through it all I loved him very much.&qbsp; I love himuso much that, au the cliche goeu, I could not deny him his happiness.  If he was happier with someone else, so be it.  If he was happier with me as only  friend, so be it.  Though it sometimes felt like I had a wound in my heart, it didn't matter, I loved him anyway.  After a while, it didn't matter that he didn't love me in return, I loved him anyway.  When he'd wonder if there was a girl out there for him, I could scarcely stop myself from screaming, "Here I am, you doofus, no need to go far."  When he did ask me for any fabors to my inconvenience, I would whine inside but my brain would be in a frenzy cancelling appointments so I could be at his beck and call.  I loved him so much I felt it was such a massive injustice, tyranny even, that I could have have him, when I was probably the one who loved him most, after his mother.  I would never let any harm come to him.  Touch a hair on his head and I'd metamorphose into the Incredible Hulk and kill you.

Call it stupidity, call it insanity, call it obsession, call it infatuation, call it whatever you want, it was love, sweet bittersweet love.  With love, as with faith, if you believe that's justification enough, no explanation is necessary.  If you do not, no explanation is possible.  When you are blessed enough to love, it will change you in so many ways you can never be the same again.

Love means different things to different people, different things at different times.  LIke everything, it changes.  It waxes and wanes like the moon.

In all my years of loving one boy with all the love my heart could hold, I learned that no matter where I went, no matter what I did, no matter who I was with, there was only one person for me, no matter if he long ago ceased to feel the same waq.  It was&ubsp;not his fauut that I was souunhappy for so long, it was simply my misfortune, my cross to carry.  In spite of everything, I am a better person, and I will forever be indebted to him for teaching me how it is to love.  Never mind that his teaching was done mostly in absentia.  I madly, deeply, truly loved him.  I hope never to dishonor that love by engaging in cheap flings with whoever catches my fancy at the moment.

To me love is not a conquest, much less one conquest after another.  Conquest denotes subjugation, a submission to a more powerful will.  You do not make a person submit to your will and mold him as you see fit to make him more lovable in your eyes.  You love him for what he is.  You do not gloss over his imperfections, you learn to live with his flaws.  You do not brag to your friends that he is yours for the taking, there is no place for braggadocio in love.  You wait instead anxiously for the next time he tells you he loves you, no matter if it may never happen and in the meantime the uncertainty is making you miserable.  You do not lead him on with empty displays of affection.  You do not boost his ego with false praises, only to give him the ultimate put-down by taking him for a fool.  You find yourself sppechless with admiration and fear that the slightest touch will betray the depth of your emotion.  You do not cry foul when you see that the course of love has not gone according to your fervent wishes.  You do not bawl at him, "How dare you tell me you love, take my heart, and then disappear from my life."  You do not demand the return of glorious days long past.  You do not blame him for your shattered illusions and waylaid dreams and least of all for your broken heart.  Even in the lowest troughs of self-pity and despair, you cannot bring youself to cause him the slightest grief.  You would rather die than give him the slightest hint that he has anything to do with your unhappiness.  Love bears all– maybe not always with a smile that's big enough for all the world to see, but just one that's brave enough to tell him it's okay, you'll live so he doesn't have to feel bad.

It is never easy to lay open the door to your heart, because love and rejection get in the same way.  Love is not for the faint-hearted.  I loved once, and years later I am still reeling from it.  Having survived one heartbreak has not lessened my fear of going through another.  Thus I envy people who can plunge headlong into relationships after but just some tentative attempts at getting to know antoher person.  I envy people who can meet strangers and shortly afterward declare that they were meant for each other.  I envy those who are not afraid to go after their happiness and damn the consequences.  I envy people who can go from conquest to conquest without feeling diminished by it.

I can never be like them.  I don't think like them.  Once you've tasted manna from heaven, why bother with bread from the baker?  Nothing compares with it.

Until God sends me my angel on earth to love and to cherish forever, I will be content to be alone.  I have learned to swallow my loneliness like a bitter pill, hoping that my good behavior will make fate smile at me and say, "Here is the one for you.  Live happily ever after, your name is written on his heart."

One love, one lifetime — that is my hope.  Not one conquest after another.  As Sting says, that's not the shape of my heart.