My eyes are particular

What is with a name that you would be so attached to?

Rather queer of me to bear so much of an aversion towards a particular name, and rather coincidental of him to bear that particularly aversed name. I would have never thought, for all the world, that it would be his last name. One which I promised not to be doing anything with, not even having it spoken, or seen. You must think me lunatic for rendering such an opinion of a perfectly innocent thing.

I just sometimes, dislike things without even knowing why. Like people calling me `baby’, see, I personally do not like being called that. Most particularly in an amorous way. Its okay though, if I am the one who says it. But if its other people, it will just make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t have any qualms with other endearments, only this one. Don’t ask why, I would not be able to give you an accurate answer. Anyways, back to the name.

Now that I have known this tiny delicate fact about him, it might affect the friendship I have with him. I know it is perfectly silly of me, but there are just certain things in this life that I am not ready to change. The only thing that bothers me, is how perfectly adorable he is. Adorable as to which would almost make me want to reconcile my opinion of him. How self-righteous could I get, eh?

- - - -

1 Perfect day to go before my flight back… “home” as some would call it. I am both anxious and excited at once. My mom, I bet is just as anxious and excited… and probably worrisome too, of the expense of the vacation I mean. They’d already set up plans to go to several beautiful places (which I’d love to go to someday) in the Philippines, and do stuff while we’re there. Cramp up all those activities in 2 full weeks. Sadly, by 16th I would be going back to school again, so I cant be with them. Almost 7 months, if I can remember it correctly, of school break for me. It paid off I guess, my once almost blind disinterest on education has been replaced by this overwhelming, might even be voracious need to learn and do school stuff, stay up late at night to finish a homework, conduct projects, mingle and interact with both school and class mates, feel that frightening pressure, the inexorable drive that stems from fear of an impending exam, and most favorably so... meet the terror professor that would make my remaining college years a more admirable experience. I terribly missed all of that, and I am proud to admit it. For I am a reformed slacker. Yes I am!*lol* I sure do hope so, for I like to think that.

I want to write something for and concerning my mom. Because she has been such a most wonderful company, counselor and mother first of all. She is simply… the greatest woman I have ever known. I don’t tell her, but I know that she is aware of this, that she is my hero… the one I look up to and try to emulate. And I am too embarrassed to actually say those things to her, but I will find a way somehow. Alright, enough with the mushy stuff. Here is something I wrote… hope you like it. And as always, it’s the art of all of it that I want to etch upon you.

- - - -

Have you ever looked at someone and know what they are thinking about?

… Curious… Interested… Quizzical… What could be behind those dark sad eyes of hers… those two cold heartless eyes looking back at you…

They say the eyes are the windows of the soul.
They say you’d know a person by staring into their eyes.
They say all this,
But they do not know…
They will never know,
Never understand…
Ever.

She always stares blankly into empty space… adrift into her deep ponderous thoughts… to a place only she knows and would never let anybody else know about. Each time I come across her, it always impresses a sense of idiosyncrasy. If I could only buy her thoughts for a penny, or a dime perhaps, for it is all I can afford for now, I would.

It has become rather frequent.
These broodings of hers.

Her eyes, remind me of the sweet gentle spring. It is what you notice first when you see her. Those beautiful eyes of hers. Quite a lot of people have paid due flattery on them. I haven’t said mine to hers yet, but she knows how much I admire them. Those eyes of hers are indeed a thing to behold, like the sunshine… or flowers, or anything vaguely beatific. Especially when she broods,

But I wonder though;
Why do they look sad, if they make people happy?

… Curious… Interested… Quizzical…
One time I came up to her and reluctantly queried;
For I wanted to know,
“Are you… unhappy?”
She was in one of her brooding moments that time, when I came up to her… she just stared back at me with those beautiful eyes of hers that had me speechless for a minute, but she did not answer.
I held myself together and asked another question;
For I needed to know,
“Is this all a… pretense?”
She smiled at me… then, I saw her slowly close those eyes for a fleeting moment, and then opened them up again for me to see. This time, they looked strangely… pleased.

The room suddenly went dark… as dark as her pleased mocking little eyes that we’re both fixed at me. The warmth of the room was somehow turned into a chilly cold almost heartless space. Everything around me just seemed too lifeless.

… Curious… Interested… Quizzical…
I did not notice her stand up and walk forth me, when I did she already was beside me. All I could see of her were her two glaring dark eyes never wavering…

“Everything is a lie. Everything is just a version of a truth. Fabrications of our own fallible minds to make up for what we lack, for we all are so deficient. You see me, I am a lie. A big big lie without a purpose and without an origination. Other people only see me as they wish to, if they see me any other way they would be repulsed and look at something else. So I let them see whatever delights them most. I let them see me as they want, and that becomes what I need them to see in me. For the truth might be too jarring for both my audience and me; for they would not ever want to set their naïve eyes on me if they saw the true version of my truth. What you see in my eyes only reflects a part of the truth in me that I could not help but let everyone see. But it would not matter for it is only a tiny part… and cannot be inferred upon. That is what makes it so beautiful.”

She says to me.

`Why then are you so afraid of the truth?’

“Did I say I was afraid of it?”

Then she moved to the curtains behind me… and peered into the magnificent world outside with her beautiful, sad sad eyes.

… Curious… Interested… Quizzical… Puzzled.

`What a pity that with all that beauty lays so much criminality.

--oOo--