Easter Sunday.....

In the last two hours of Easter Sunday, I remember the past week. I renewed my Baptismal promises; I recalled my promise with a friend.

Easter. The day of the Lord's resurrection. Tho it seems like any dull weekend to me. Yes, I detest weekends. Because I can't get rest even after months of sleep deprivation. To the point that I don't even feel tired anymore. To the point that I cant get 2 hours in a day before experiencing a recurring headache. Any yet I can't stop. I have to walk. For the sake of those who believe in me. For the sake of those who I cherish, and there is none I don't.

The few of you who read this, you are my witnesses. A make a clear statement here; I can count all those who I can call 'true friends' on my two hands, all the 20 years of my life. I never knew how to make friends, but I hid a part of me within all that I tried to reach out to, hoping that one day, one fine day, they will find it and return it to me. Many have, but few are those who put it into my hands.

I don't want people to see me only for what I am. I want them to see me also for what I can be. The day the light is revealed to my world. The times God has stood beside me in the form of an average Joe (or Jane), who does not hide his/ her weaknesses, but gives me strength to make up for my own.

I have shown by my now worn and fatigued hands, how many times I have created, destroyed and fixed. Even though my veins now are so engorged they distort these hands, that though hard in action and harsh in dealing, that I DO have a heart. I am still a man, am I not?

And yet, I see no end to the hailstorm. Since my life depends on my hands,  destroy them, and I'm a dead man, right? Exactly. And that means, I'm half dead. I'm exhausted by all that I do, and no1 would even offer me a band-aid. Scars on the inside, old injuries haunt me. And how this 'LOSER' keeps on enduring every hit and yet can't land a blow.

I have shown, yes, but till now, I doubt many know what I do. Every1 wants to see the superstar but forgets the stage worker.

Just like today, Just like every festival. I send greeting after greeting, some composed by myself. And yet, I still find my inbox empty except for replies.

I hear them say: 'These people has stayed up all night doing this, doing that'. Then I don't know why I stay up all night, doing something I'm not paid for, for a deadline I set myself, for a simple piece of craft that would be thrown away the next day. Then I don't know why I can't tell others my troubles. I mean, they won't even hear my ideas, what more if I were to complain.

So, dear reader, If you do read this, You will have known by now that I can't turn back now. I'm not allowed to, anyway.

Hear me, hear me, all of you out there. I have worked for change in myself, yet I still find that I can never really change. Easter draws to a close, and I slink back into the darkness, into a place where few have gone, and few enter willingly.

For my friends: I still recall every single moment, every second. I can wake up every morning because of you. Let me apologize here to you, my most dear friends, should this man fail to achieve what you have seen in me, all the trust and faith you had in me. After all many men lived the longest day, and many failed to see the dawn. I may be just another one of them, I do not know. But if I can help another to see the daylight, and be sure that the chain will not die, I would live in darkness for the price of one glimpse of the sun. Let me fall. I never rose. I just kept crawling, thats all.


I can't live forever. But memories do. legacies do. Above all, love and friendship remains. In my life, I've loved you all. And as long as I live, I will still. Lest my sanity flee from me, I ask of you,

Remember me, not for what I was, nor for what I am. But for what I strived to be.


Drownrat