I've just ended what can more or less be dubbed as a stalker's activity. And it has brought about some sad but mellow consequences. I have realized how different I am as opposed to the people I've idenitified myself with. That idea makes me feel lonely. It's 2:14 am here in Cebu City, Philippines. In the past couple of days, my celphone has been bombarded by text messages and missed calls of people whom I know and whom I do not know and yet I feel a sense of isolation in my part. Maybe this time of my life is the great manifestation of an old self-fulfilling prophecy, that is, to be alone. It is truly and deeply a melancholy idea. I feel that I am moved, slowly pushed into the shadows of Rilke's solitude and silence. However, this question echoes in my head as well as in my heart, shall I remain silent and solitary? Will I? The fact of wether it is a question of will or destiny remains vague.
What I did minutes ago taught me some serious implications abour my identity and my evolution, I have but relegated myself into this inquiry of sorts. I do not know if that makes sense but that is what is coming out of my head's mouth.
Or maybe the lateness of the hour has seeped into my mind and I've begun to loosely revolve about reality.
I am an artist. I believe so, that I still believe firmly...tonight..at this hour.
That is the only thing that is not in question tonight. I feel for a lot of things and a lot of people but the approximate essence of my existence, most of it is somewhere else floating in oblivion waiting to be catched by hands of passion, truth, and thought. Or maybe even love.
