The conversation (may 31, 2010)

I would like to write this in pen and paper to engrave the feelings Im into. Half an hour ago I spoke to someone, perhaps, a person whom I haven't had any conversation about personal matters of my life; not even for an instance. She was very decent and soft of the words she has uttered, like she had forgotten about the  hurt i brought her . We had a long conversation, about fifteen minutes I guess. Within those minutes of talking and explaining, I felt relieved. There were certain realizations I never imagined I'd come to know. There were feelings I understood and somehow, was invisible not until I heard her say their resemblance.

"Tell me how you are feeling right now?", she quietly asked.
Then, I answered, "At this time? I think I failed. To me, what other people do and say is very important. Sometimes I feel fulfilled yet empty inside, I just can't figure it out why. Others may show appreciation of my sacrifices, but I still find it hard to be happy for myself."
"It's good that I asked you because I knew it's how you would feel. I want you to change that perception because it would keep you from being happy. You've been living with expectations and you even put some of your desires on hold so as not to fail other people," she explained.

YES, I am living with expectations coming not from my parents, not from my friends and colleagues, nor from anybody else, but from MYSELF alone. We all have the right to make bad decisions, and even make simple things complicated, but mine was too much. I made some of the worst ones. Too often, I accept responsibilities that I conceal the truth of a certain possibility that it may end up undone. Sometimes, I make my life topsy-turvy, and apparently, Im beginning to loose everything little by little. I feel like Im inside a cage, trapped for so long, and can't hardly breathe. The only person who could help me escape is the person who made me enter it. MYSELF. Action may not always bring happiness and what we become is the craft of who  we are, who we were, and who we would be in the long run.

"I've read your poem and it says something that's within you, I suppose?".
Yes, it is all about who I am. I decided to take out my notebook and ran through the words of my poem for the first time since I had it printed on our manuscript. I reflected and reflected. It was truly another version of me, something that I've been hiding on my shelf and just waited to be unlocked.
Now, as I recall that simple yet heartfelt conversation, I begin to criticize my own compartment as a person and hoping that one day, I would find myself happy and contented. Contented not because I did my work for the so-called "expectation" nor for the means of pleasing other people, but contented for making things possible with happiness for myself.

*credits to Jacob for the photo.