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People write diaries. Their diaries describe their personality. I write on my blog. It describes me way too well. :D
My writing takes me places my mind never wanted to go
Everyone writes. From the ink of their thoughts, by the pen of their mind on the page of their face. Everyone writes.I love to write. It is a passion; a compulsion; something that gives me an avenue to express myself. I write when I am happy; when I am sad or when an issue touches my heart. I find inspiration to write in every aspect of life.
This blog is dedicated to anything and everything that fills my thoughts and occupies cranial space

Saturday, August 23, 2014

It Still Pinches

It's amazing how "anniversaries" can hold so much meaning in our minds and hearts.
In truth, an "anniversary" is nothing more than a date... an annual reminder of the specific day that a certain event occurred, in some previous year.

Therefore, the anniversary date itself... holds no power.
Really, it's just another day of the year.
And yet, we give certain dates so much power over us... (for obvious reasons.)
That's because... on that day... however long ago... something happened... and our lives changed forever.

Sometimes... for better.
Sometimes... for worse.

"Happy" anniversaries provide us with the chance to celebrate, to come together, to reminisce. These are the dates that give us something to look forward to, something to smile about, something to be proud of.
Those "good" anniversaries... have their way of making everything else... seem worthwhile.
But then... there are the "other" anniversaries. The tragic anniversaries.
The anniversaries that simply exist... as painful reminders... of the days we'd like to forget.

Often, in our minds, the devastating anniversaries seem to hold even more power than the positive ones. 
Because those particular dates have their way...
of bringing the pain of our past...
into our present.

The anniversary of a tragic life event can take us right back to that day... to the very moment it happened.
And no matter how much time has passed...
No matter how hard we've tried to let go...
No matter how much we've worked to move forward...

Each year, on that anniversary date, we're right back there... re-living the worst day of our lives.

We don't want to go back to the pain.
We don't want to remember the loss.
We don't want to accept our reality.

Regardless... that anniversary date says: You have to. It's real. It's time.

Even still... anniversaries are only able to do these things to us, because we allow them to do so...
We give that specific date... so much power over us.
And yet, we just can't help ourselves.
We still wish it wasn't true.
We still hope we'll just wake up.
We still... miss them.

That's why I'm writing today.

August 23rd is here...

On August 23, 2013, I experienced the sudden, unexpected, devastating loss of my dog, Bruzo. A year later, I still mourn his death.

When Bruzo came to my life, he was a puppy of a month only. We both grew up together. I still remember the day when I argued with my father to have a puppy. Then dad bought Bruzo.
Even still... God had other plans...

On August 23, 2013, Bruzo died from a long illness. I always thought he would live a long time and I would be with him when he pass and I'm so sorry that I wasn't.
I never got to say goodbye.
It was the fateful, tragic day... that changed all the days after.
As I sit here today, with yet-another August 23rd is here
I just wish I could hit Rewind.
Or maybe even Stop.
Or at the very least... Pause.

Unfortunately... life just doesn't work that way. He's really gone... forever.
He's never coming back.
For me, it's the day that somehow makes his death... even-more official.
The day that makes it... real... all over again.
The day that seems to represent the undeniable truths... of the reality I so desperately wish to deny.

And... worst of all...
It's the day when I have to acknowledge...
that I'm so much farther away...
from the last time I held my dog.

For 1 year now, I've been desperately clinging to every possible memory of that little boy. And yet... each day, I can feel him slipping further away from me.

Today, certain things are a little harder to recall.
Certain memories have become a little foggy.
Certain moments with him... have almost left me altogether.

While these realizations break my heart to pieces... I guess that's just how the mind moves on.
As much as we wish to retrieve every moment, every detail, and every encounter in the past...
We simply can't remember everything.
Because if we held onto every past memory, then there'd be no room for all the present 

Thus, our current reality... would cease to exist.
Which means... no matter how much we try to hold on...
At some point... the past begins to slip away from us...

Regardless, my love for Bruzo will never change and will never leave me. I'll never stop wishing he was here. While our time on Earth with our pets is never long enough... most people are blessed to spend many, many years with their beloved dogs.

And even though I was beyond blessed to experience Bruzo's presence... if even for just one second of my life... I can't help but feel like I was cheated... and like he was cheated, out of all those future years we deserved to have together.

He deserved that.
I deserved that.

There was no chance to say goodbye.
It's just insanely unfair
*Dear Bruzo,
Its more than a year... since I last saw your face.
Every day since... I've longed for you.. I've wished for you... I've hoped for you.
For me, those feelings will never, ever go away. No matter how long I live... no matter how much time passes, there will never be a day when I don't need you anymore.
While there will never be another YOU on this Earth...
I'll always live... through you.
And you'll always live... through me.
I'll be there soon
I can't wait to see you again.

Sunday, August 03, 2014

A Two-Sided Love Story

She’s lying in bed with sad songs playing in her
The door is locked and her curtains are drawn,
On the TV screen is The Notebook,
An empty tub of her favorite ice-cream lies on the
Smudged with make-up, she doesn’t care how she
looks now..Her fingertips are strained from wiping her mascara,
Her face is occupied with eye liner stained tears..
Their last conversation plays in her head..
She thinks to herself that she’ll never get him

He’s on the edge of the bed and the door locked..

His room is pitch black from the absence of lights.
Black ops is in its box and controller on the floor..
There’s a hole in the wall where he punched earlier..
His headphones are about to burst from the loud music..
No one can hear his sobs or see what mess he is now..
Running his fingers through his scrambled hair..
Lost in his deep thinking with eyes puffy from endless tears..
He’s replaying their last conversation in his head
thinking she would never take him back...