2008 and 2009 had been one of the worst years of my life, if not the worst.

The truth is: I am not looking forward to anything at all as of the moment.

I remember a girl named Anna, I think I know too many Anna's in my life. I wonder why there are people who have a lot in their lives but they can not seem to be contented with what they have that they invent the sordid details of their lives.
( lj-cut entry inside )

Sometimes I think I need some help, but maybe that was just me being too maarte.

If only last.fm allows for retrieving of old data I would have erased that as well. My lack of a spine has only caused me to temporarily delete my twitter and facebook (again).

It has been about month since I saw you last. I would like for you to know I still cry in bus rides when I think of you. I sleep less at night, I toss and turn and wonder what things will be like if you are around. I imagine you in the next room, limping and turning and making requests for water, chocolates and taho. I am being selfish I know every time I wish for you to be here. I can not help it though because you have been a big part of us.

Today marks the 1st month of my mom's passing away.

I have one of the coolest mothers in the world.

Anyone who has been there in her funeral march, or has witnessed it first hand, would wonder why a black vehicle blaring out Bryan Adams' "Summer of '69" has a dozen or so people crying behind it. Oh, look it is a hearse.

I did not know that song to be so heartbreaking.

There was an undeniable stark contrast: a rock song with a dozen funeral mourners crying with it blaring in the background. Maybe perhaps it was to tell the world she is, now, content.

I am proud of my mother. For being one of character, strength, wit and brilliance. I would never have anyone in the world to be my mother but her.

To you who downloaded the song for my mother's funeral, thank you. My gratitude is beyond words.

This is a tall order. One which requires more than the usual will and summoning of strength.

Sleep is hard to come by. You count more than a hundred sheep. Breathe deeper and deeper. Feign sleep for some twenty minutes and realize that you are only fooling yourself with all this lying down. But you lie down, because your body deserves it.

When you do get sleep, waking up is the hardest part. Yes, you are awake. You stare longer. You breathe shallow. Yet you have no desire to move or be alive.

This morning my desire came from the fact that I wanted to wash my pillows. And the fact that a stranger rang my number by mistake, thinking I was someone else. That was it. At this rate, I think I need a wake-up call every morning until real life come backs to my body.

On the good side, I am glad she is happy now. She can have all the cake, the coffee, the ice cream, and the coke zeros she likes. That in itself is enough.

This morning, I was looking for my favorite white dress. The one I wore last year on my birthday.

This is a difficult act. One which entails being strong and knowing that this act of letting go of my favorite dress is something perpetual.

My mom is dying. At this very moment. She is 54.

Not one of those one-tear-down-your-cheek because a heart string was pulled, but an honest to goodness cry. There was a puddle on my cubicle desk the size of my palm, because I was too shy to showcase my emotional agitation so I was face down on the desk.

I was listening to Dave Matthew's Oh, the only song which can make me cry spoonfuls of tears at any random moment. It was because I miss my mom, my old mom.

I hear you still talk to me
As if you're sitting in that dusty chair

The other day I came home to a glass of sugar water in the sink. This is frustrating as my mother is a stroke-patient diabetic. She can not move her left hand and can barely maneuver her left leg. A glass of sugar water is a death wish. Months of all this had deadened me, had this happened a year ago I would have been stark enraged. That night, I had simply let out a sigh and poured the contents of the glass down the kitchen sink.

It's cold and darkness falls
It's as if you're in the next room so alive
I could swear I hear you singing to me

Prior to her stroke, my mother is a lawyer. She braves long bus rides to provide to her four children-all by herself. She took beating after beating from my abusive father. I believe this had only made her more loving and protective. She is what strong should be. Looking at the four of us, I can sincerely say that we did not turn out so bad, however we are just subjected to the luck of the draw--or the severe lack of good luck in it.

I love you oh so well
Like a kid loves candy and fresh snow
I love you oh so well
Enough to fill up heaven overflow and fill hell

This entry is for my mother, because she makes me cry on an almost daily basis. Despite all the neurosis, suicide attempts before and after her stroke, shouting matches, and defiance, I love her oh so well.