There’s so much more about this smile. You just don’t know. This is the web portal of a fifteen-year-old feline who grew whiskers and paws. As much as she loves dwelling in her solemn, gloomy little own world – she is also thought to be a nonsensical and ill-mannered child who eats anything but food.
Yo. It’s Rachee.
Rachelle Angeli B. Marañon for short. HAHA. I love purple. I accept friends and comments. I laugh, I love, I shop, I cry. I do everything I want; I’m still young, wild and free. I know my boundaries, mistakes and flaws. I spill secrets. I’m bubbly. I’m not aiming for the perfect me but the better me. I do what’s right or maybe wrong, but I still make of it. I laugh at myself if I did something silly. I can control my temper and everything that should be controlled. Everyone knows that life is crazy but wonderful. It can be unfair, but not at all times. I can be your worst enemy or best friend. I am weird, but not that simple. I have realized something that I should have been realizing earlier, still seeking for true friends and for my knight in shining armour. Patiently waiting and I wish they’ll come sooner or later. I don’t believe at love at first sight, nor at times even at true love. Everyone has an individual ability to make a person happy, and I can make you happy, but sometimes I can make you cry. Some people hate me but I don’t mind them because they’re insecure. I take many pictures. I had swollen my pride; my past memories are still treasured. You are welcome in my heart and I swore I won’t forget you. Keep that curve on your face; keep smiling!
So this time, I’m going to be the one walking away. Seriously, I’ve given a lot of people unlimited gate passes to my life. They can drive by whenever, and I’d still welcome them with open arms. But now, things have changed. I’ve decided to change. I can’t be the back up plan anymore. I am really being careful. I’m taking care of myself. And if I need to build walls around my heart, I will. I don’t think that I can handle another heartbreak. So if a certain person wants to be in my life, he or she will make an effort for it. Believe me, it’s worth it. I’m worth all that. Not to think so highly or anything, but you know, you just have to take care of yourself. And I love my friends. My friendship goes beyond the Atlantic Ocean. Hahahaha.
Here’s to having a life less complicated, and for keeping the people who really want to be kept. Salute!
We wrap our hearts with cloth, folding the fabric twice over, cautious and scared. Always scared. We were told that the heart is a fragile thing; something to be carried with both hands cupped. We lock it, carry it in our pockets, build cities and fortresses around it, safe. Always safe.
But safe also means hidden, kept from, concealed. Safe means buried in a place that the sunlight cannot reach. And these hearts of ours — these precious, beating things — were meant, more than anything, to be given away to the world.
There is a reason why the heart is flesh and raw and tender. There is a reason why it is soft and easily bruised. There is a reason why the poets ardently ask that you wear it on your sleeve.
I am learning that only the vulnerable heart can love rightly.
The vulnerable heart lays its crown aside, removes all defenses and absorbs the impact. And it is only until you are willing to get crushed and rejected, until you are willing to play the part of the fool, until you are willing to be humiliated and broken and scarred, that you will understand the virtue of love.
..because love is not the feeling that they told us about.
Love is fierce and love is fearless. Love is not afraid to take risks. It does not count the cost, holds no measuring stick against the finite. It does not compromise. It is relentless and passionate and big. Love does not hesitate because love is not self-entitled. It does not stop to think about what it deserves because love lays down all its rights. It will concede to the possibility of getting trampled on but, even then, it will persist. Love refuses to be tied down by fear.
And I guess, at some point, we must all begin the impossible task of taking our hearts out of the secret places we’ve kept them hidden. Out of jars and vaults and basements and closets; out of coffins and treasure chests and citadels made of indestructible steel.
And when the unhedged heart is free to dance and love, when it is unencumbered by the shadows we’ve clothed it in — yes, even after it has been sucker-punched in the gut by heartbreak — we will find that the true danger of the world is staying safe in the first place.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” —C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves)
That when God made me, He said: “Rachelle, you will go through life with a crutch by your side and a stitch in your heart. You will actually feel a bit cheated, a bit weighed down, but I will give you words. Words that will sing to a nation and start a fire and break a heart. Words that will dance with love and hope and keep people awake, alive, afloat. Words that people will fold tenderly and place within the pockets of their hearts. You will have words and they will be your freedom and they will be enough.”
Two.
People will say that I am strange or wrong or, much worse, even a litte bit misguided, but I think the only way to go through life is with an open heart. And that might mean the occasional (seasonal) bruise or, perhaps, the scar that won’t heal but it will also mean smacking into the blessing you would have never come across, had you decided to take the journey with your fists shut tight.
Three.
There is a love that is true and right and it is here and it is now but it is also kept hidden in a box marked: later.
And pay no mind to what the consensus says. It is okay to wait. In fact, it is brave to wait. Destiny is a fruit that only falls when it is ripe and, most of the time, the hero is the only person left standing under the tree.
Four.
That the only long-term relationship I am guaranteed in this lifetime is the one I have with myself. And so the invisible question that perpetually hangs in the air is: will you?
And my answer to myself, at 16, after many years of struggling, is a big resounding yes.
Dear Me:
I will take you with stretch marks and on bad hair days; in quiet solitude, with the makeup off; when your mood is explosive and unstoppable; through love handles and more love handles; even on the days that you feel like all you want to do is hide from the world; at the point of your absolute worst and at the height of your absolute best; as we journey towards better days and as we stop to mourn on worser ones. Know that the answer, from here on out, will always be yes. I will love you.
Five.
Life hurts. Life really hurts.
But if you’re lucky, you will find (or be found by) a few amazing people. And it is my greatest hope that you will never, for the life of you, understand why they don’t give up on you. I hope their love is so big, it barely even makes sense.
They won’t just give you the strength to start over. They will shove the clean slate straight in your face and demand that you charge into the beautiful life that awaits you with your head held high. They will see you through every new chapter, perpetually promising that each will be better than the last. (And they will be right. For the most part.)
And if you’re really, really lucky, they will also be the same people who live with you, who share the blood in your veins, a last name, a history but, most excitingly: a future.
Six.
When I was younger, I met a person with a severely wounded heart. And I thought to myself that if I just loved that person long enough or hard enough, I’d somehow be able to cover all the cracks.
And so I poured out all the love I could muster. But even in highly potent doses, it did not stop the walls from coming up or the self-destruction from winning. I came to the sad realization that, though I truly wanted to, I could not save someone who didn’t believe they were drowning.
Seven.
On the day that two bad men broke into our villa and held my brother and I at knifepoint, the only thing that held me together was hope. A part of me needed to believe that things were going to be okay even if the circumstances said otherwise. Hope was that crazy, inextinguishable voice that quietly asked me to believe the best in these men. Hope told me to offer them a glass of water. (Hope can be kind of ridiculous sometimes!) Hope encouraged me to teach them how to unlock my cellphone. Hope let me let them steal it. Hope stopped me from breaking down. Hope made me brave; hope kept me safe.
And that same hope thrives, even today.
My hope is the Rock that is higher than I. My hope sees the dead dream and dares me to dream bigger. My hope compels me to believe that there is always something beautiful just waiting around the corner.
That strange and scary day in Bali was the day I realized how important it is to anchor myself to something indestructible. It’s true what they say: hope floats.
Eight.
My threshold for emotional pain is pretty high but what breaks my heart is when a person decides to do the same hurtful thing again and again. It makes me feel stupid and it makes me want to knock their head into a wall.
But real love is devastatingly kind.
And that means that it forgives, even after it has been sucker punched in the gut. Real love breaks. And afterwards, it quietly binds the wound and moves on. I’ve learned that keeping score only steals one’s joy.
Let your joy be incorruptible. Let it be a song, let it be the morning light, let the grudge go. See how far you travel after that. The heart is a glass house. Keep it pure.
Nine.
I used to be such a cynic. It’s never a good sign to be young and suspicious of life’s good things. I had myself thoroughly convinced that miracles were an illusion and that optimism was for fools.
Doubt was cool. Doubt was predictable. It broke my heart a lot less. But over time, that changed and I realized that all doubt really did was stifle truth. I am always grateful for that.
There are big things out there for each of us. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is just believe.
“Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the farthest thing from it. Because cynics don’t learn anything. Because cynicism is a self-imposed blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt us or disappoint us.”
Cynicism is not to be celebrated, patronized or glamorized. Cynicism is the locked door that closes off that magical thing we call awe. And awe is what keeps the world new.
You were meant for nothing less.
Never ever be jaded.
Ten.
That when God made me, He said: “Isabel, you are loved. Completely and utterly. It is the greatest truth you will ever know and also the greatest doubt you will ever face. But take it. Own it. Let it change your life. Let that love soar through you and in you and let it flow deeply in everyone who meets you. Let that love be your mouthpiece. Do amazing things with it until you finally make your way back Home. It is going to be an amazing life. Have fun.”
There is no such thing as immunity to heartbreaks, or invulnerability or numbness, for that matter. Every heartbreak is felt- no matter how often it happens to a person, or how seldom, no matter how mild or how serious. When someone breaks your heart for a million times, you would perhaps say, “I have become insensitive to pain”, but actually you haven’t. You know in yourself that it’s not the number of times that you have been hurt that matters, it’s the cause for that heartbreak that actually really does, and that’s what makes every part of your heart hurt. It’s the assumption, the trust, the belief that the person will never hurt you ever again, but eventually still does. That’s what makes it hurt even more. You know in yourself that even if you go on each day facing heartbreak after heartbreak, you would still not be able to get away from it. You could and will perhaps learn to handle pain and let go of it as early, but you can never run away from it unless you accept to yourself that you have been hurt again but that things will be fine and you are ready to move on.
You know what your problem is? You get attached, fast. And once you’re attached to someone, you do everything you can to please them and make them happy. It’s never been about what you want; it’s always everyone’s needs before your own. You give out too many chances to people, who quite frankly, do not deserve them. They take advantage of you, and you become a pushover. But you’re okay with that, because they’re in your life and that’s all you ever really wanted. And even if they screw you over, you’ll still be there for them. Once you get attached to someone, they capture your heart and they always have a place there. And that is why it’s so hard for you to let him go.
Remove yourself, physically. Change time zones and continents or lock yourself away in your bedroom or do anything that will limit your contact with the person you usually pass hours, days, and weeks with. Do it because you have to, because today you need to see something new or today you need to see no one. Isolate yourself until you’re lonely and not just alone, until you can’t stand to stay away any longer, until you begin to wonder why you holed up in this jail cell in the first place. Everything, everywhere will feel like a jail cell.
Or remove yourself, mentally. Challenge the distance between your two minds; pick an empty argument so that its frayed resolution can loom in the void you’ve created. Harp on the memory of particular days, days that seem ancient now, days you spent together like that Indian summer when you took an hours-long drive and the people and things inside of the car glowed like trophies trapped in a permanent golden hour. Remember the things you said to each other on that car ride, remember the night that followed it and miss that person. Where did that person go?
Take inventory of your life and note what’s gone missing. The easy company. The long talks. The unblinking, all-knowing eye contact. These are things you now know exist but had never taken special notice of before. Now they’re showing up to take you to task, to make you acknowledge how rare it is to find them in someone else. Here they are, these objects of joy, obvious as ever now that they’re out of reach, now that they’re being withheld.
Try to regain what you’ve lost but have trouble expressing yourself. Choose all the wrong words; speak your own limited language. You’ll mean to say, “I’m keeping busy,“ or “How was your day?” or “I’ve been reading this fantastic book you’d like; you should borrow it,” but all of the sentiments just spill out of your mouth as “I miss you.” Every gap in conversation caulked with “I miss you.” You’ll momentarily question where all of your other thoughts went, you had them five minutes ago but these three words are all you can manage to articulate.
Miss someone until they come back, or until you come back, until their absence in your life becomes something to be avoided at all costs. Miss them until you don’t have to anymore, until you’re reunited in your favorite booth in your favorite restaurant ordering your favorite meal, miss them until it feels like you never left. Or miss them until you can’t anymore, until the things you miss are identified and cataloged as things and not a person, until you figure out that easy company and long talks and unblinking, all-knowing eye contact will find you again the way they found you the first time. Miss someone until you don’t.
Here’s to waking up, and not missing you anymore. Best feeling in the world.
See, every time you have to make an incredibly important decision in your life, your future gets split into a series of forked roads, each one of them leading into a distant blurry end a long, long way down. And when you take the first step down a particular path, the rest of them disintegrate, leaving you with no other choice but to continue on and move movemove because there is no more room for looking back.
Today, though, somehow made all the roads shimmer back into sight again, and even though I have gone so far down this path that I cannot possibly turn back, for just a moment it felt like I living all the other lives I could have had if I had made some very different choices: if I had refused to leave if I had saidyesto some people instead of no.
But then again there is no point looking back or wondering because despite everything despite how a little part of me felt like I was home again I am not that girl anymore.
Perhaps, sometimes, choosing to stay in a relationship with a person doesn’t really guarantee that you love him. Perhaps, you have stayed long enough with the person that you know you wouldn’t be able to bear his absence if ever he walks away. Perhaps, you don’t really love him; you only fear losing him because you love yourself too much to ever go out of your comfort zone- because he has become “that” to you. Perhaps, he has only become nothing more than just a brother to you- a best friend, an exceptionally good friend. perhaps, you don’t really love him- you just choose to stay with him because you know you’ll never find anyone like him who loves you too much. Perhaps…
NOTE: To view the other entries, go to OTHERS then to the ARCHIVES part. Choose between, “Latest” which contains the recent entries or the “Months” for by month posts.