froglegs

We are all meant to move on. That gives me a measure of peace, in such a way that all things that are happening- and not happening, by the way- are meant to be. There is a kind of calmness that washes over you when you just accept- things, people, and situations as they are.

I miss the time when I could explicitly believe in what you say, when I could trust you. Now that I’ve been proven otherwise, it just amazes me how free I feel. Strange, no? Ironic how liberating it feels, that I no longer have to hang on to your every word, that I no longer need to have your approval, that I don’t have to wait for you, wait on you.

Let’s just call this story, lesson learned.

Then again, aren’t we possibly always brought to a place we thought we’re meant to be in, only to discover ourselves riding another wave, and crashing down to another place yet destined for us? Aren’t we always travelling around in cycles until we find that stop sign that says home? It shouldn’t really matter how long or short a time you stay. Oftentimes, we stay too long in a place because we’re comfortable- or too damn scared to move lest you’re wrong. At times, we move too fast and leave behind things. Places. Ourselves? (What else, I don’t know). We leave behind things we thought we knew, only to find that we yet again- search for the very things we have left behind.

I’ve kissed more than enough frogs. Some frogs worse than pond scum. And yet we invariable turn to them, again and again, like a bad habit hard to break. Ranting to a friend, he laughingly reminded me, But of course you cannot expect frogs to turn to princes. They’re ugly, for one. And they’re full of warts.

Sheesh. O nga naman.