I hate you, C

I hate you, C.

I hate you. Not because you are a grown man now. But because your maturity tends to stretch the gap between us farther still.

I hate you. Not because you’ve got yourself somebody to love. But because the manifestation of your love for that person overshadows that brotherly love that barely gets shown.

I hate you. Not because the songs that you love listening to and playing on your guitar are playing in my pc. But because they remind me of the younger C who takes time to perfect playing a song for the passion of the art called music.

I hate you. Not because you spend less and less time with me (you never were the one to spend much time with the boring and boorish me). But because the few times that you do, you make me feel you are still with someone else.

I hate you. Not because you are on your way to doing adult, mature stuff at your young age. But because the steps you take in doing so brings you farther from me.

I hate you. Not because hating is one thing that I do best. But because loving the only brother I have makes me feel hateful at times.

I hate you. For growing old, for leaving that youthfulness that I've been so fond of, for choosing to do things that I am no longer a part of.

But most of all, I hate you because I will never stop caring for and loving you. No matter what path you take, no matter what choice you make. You will always be my Cy. Damn it.

I have loved, was heartbroken, was made whole and then broken again.
I have arrived, left and returned to that place everybody yearns to go to.
I have lived as I wanted only to find myself wondering if it is a life that I really wanted.
I have known people, forgotten some and placed others in special corners of my heart.

It wasn’t always easy to be good and generous and good-natured.
It wasn’t always easy to be bad and unmannerly either.
There has to be a balance of the yin and yan in a person’s being.
It is making that balance that sometimes renders me spent, confused and angry.
It is the effort in taking things lightly, in living life in stride that I find not so difficult.
And so I remain as complacent as I possibly could, carefree and oftentimes careless with the trivial decisions I need to make.
It is in living a life or a semi-life that has made me stay in this place and do what I’ve been doing for several years now.
It is the apathy, the enjoyment or the lack of genuine joy that I stayed.

This is a crossroad, a stop. I need to make a decision soon enough. To stay for good or leave for someplace I can find another part of myself. As I’ve turned to a million pieces once, I’ve started to be whole and there are other pieces I have yet to find again.

It is a journey not worth a dent in the cyberspace. Yet I choose to vent, to talk, to impose. It is a piece of thought, a piece of my mind, a preoccupation at a time when better things are left undone in its place. So it has to be worth a minute. It has to be out there, right here.