Suffer

All my life, I've learned to suffer in silence...

Source: Witch of Portobello by Paolo Coelho

Reflection:
Let me say it, "All my life, I've learned to suffer in silence" . This has been the only way I knew best to keep friendships, relationships and acquaintances. Every time I am at rage, I keep it deep down my recesses of emotional seas... It created typhoons within, huriccanes of mixed emotions. It lambasted the serenity of my undisturbed waters. Although this turbulence shakes my identity, virtues rose from the blue waters of my melancholy. After the adversities I was beset, calmness settles in--the sun is once again visible, animals in hibernation went out their hide-outs, celebrating the beauty of nature's placidity. At the end of the day, I am still seeing my friends' delightful countenance, they still call me by name and I kept my bonds of my personal lines of events.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

She Proves the Inconsistency of the Desires and Criticism of Men Who Accuse Women of What They Themselves Cause

Foolish men who accuse women unreasonably, you blame yet never see you cause what you abuse. You crawl before her, sad begging for a quick cure; why ask her to be pure when you have made her bad? In one heroic breath your reason fails, like a wild bogeyman made up by a child who then is scared to death. With idiotic pride you hope to find her prize: a regal whore like Thais and Lucretia for a bride. Has anyone ever seen a stranger moral fervor: you who dirty the mirror regret it is not clean? You treat favor and disdain with the same shallow mock- ing voice: love you and you squawk, demur and you complain. No answer at her door will be a proper par: say no--she has no heart, say yes--and she's a whore. Two levels to your game in which you are the fool: one you blame as cruel, one who yields, you shame. How can one not be bad the way your love pretends to be? Say no and she offends. Consent and you are mad. With all the fury and pain your whims cause her, it's good for her who h
Read more

Kung Ibig Mo Akong Makilala by Ruth Elynia S. Mabanglo

Kung ibig mo akong makilala, lampasan mo ang guhit ng mahugis na balat, ang titig kong dagat– yumayapos nang mahigpit sa bawat saglit ng kahapon ko’t bukas. Kung ibig mo akong makilala sunduin mo ako sa himlayang dilim at sa madlang pagsukol ng inunang hilahil, ibangon ako at saka palayain. Isang pag-ibig na lipos ng lingap, tahanang malaya sa pangamba at sumbat may suhay ng tuwa’t ang kaluwalhati’y walang takda–ialay mo lahat ito sa akin kung mahal mo ako’t ibig kilalanin. Kung ibig mo akong kilalanin, sisirin mo ako hanggang buto, liparin mo ako hanggang utak, umilanlang ka hanggang kaluluwa– hubad ako roon: mula ulo hanggang paa.
Read more

Love Does Not Know Secrets

Love knows no secrets, when it is hidden it will be discovered Love has no choice; when it seizes a man, he will confess everything, everything that was not done. Love has no pity, even an old man may be put to shame, love does not return to a Thing it desires. When it pursues, he turns mad. Love humbles a man his body becomes emaciated; when a friend of ours is humiliated it is not fair to laugh at him. A man does not have the stamina to put love aside. Love never agrees to share (a man's attention) with anything; If you irritate love, you melt away at once. Love is a disease, a malignant incurable disease. -Swahili Love Poetry translated by Ali Ahmed Jahadhmy
Read more