Ralf et les prophéties de Mayas pour 2012 - Webbielady

<<Pourquoi es-tu si généreux?>> avais-je l'habitude de lui demander.

<<C'est juste quelque chose de matériel, ce n'est pas grave, le monde prendra fin bientôt>>,  avait-il toujours répondu de cette façon.

C'est mon ami Ralf. Nous sommes allés à l'école secondaire ensemble, de l’ âge de 12 à 17 ans. Chaque fois que nous sommes allés  déjeuner ensemble, il a payé pour tout ce que j'avais commandé. Le Taxi, les transports en commun ou les petits frais de scolarité, il payait aussi tout cela  pour moi. Il avait toujours la même réponse, qu'il n'avait pas besoin de garder des choses matérielles pour lui-même. Il croyait vraiment que le monde devrait se terminer bientôt. Alors, il n'y avait aucun intérêt à  garder quelque chose de matériel pour l'avenir.

Maintenant qu’on parle beaucoup de la prophétie célèbre des Mayas, selon laquelle le monde se termine cette année, j'ai pensé à Ralf. Nous avons des contacts sur facebook et je sais, en discutant avec lui de temps en temps, qu'il n'a pas changé. C'est toujours la même persone généreuse que je connaissais. Je sais que je ne peux jamais battre sa générosité, ni aucune personne que je connais ne pourrait le faire. Sa  générosité est tellement profonde et émane de sa personalité . Si une bonne partie de l'humanité était comme Ralf, le monde serait un meilleur endroit pour vivre.

C'est vrai que le monde peut se terminer cette année. Cependant,  s'il n'y avait aucune cupidité ou avidité  dans le  caractère des humains   et s'il y'avait de la générosité dans l'air, et que tout le monde était autosuffisant , les guerres et les famines disparaitraient et nous serions tous heureux d’affronter  la fin.

This is the summary The Ghost Town by Webbielady

I used to have them. How much I enjoyed listening to their ideas, seeing their brilliance, feeling their concern for me, their love for the nature, their everything. Now they are gone, gone to far away places and I miss them. Those kids, they broke my heart to pieces, really chopped it thinly and then pulverized it real good. The only consolation I have is the fact that they did break my heat but unintentionally. Yes! They were forced to do so. I know it pains them to know my situation and I know that. This is the reason why I keep my silence, I don't want them to come back here just for me. I want them to be happy, I wish them a happy and fulfilled life.

They left five years ago. I see them probably twice or thrice since then. Everytime they go back home, it relieves me to see how contented they are, how successful they are. It makes me happy listening ot their stories of their adventures, their tales of the lovely lands they went too, their bragging against each other who got the best land of choice. At the same time it disturbs me, it makes me think no one of them actually remembers me nor cares for me. But deep within me, I know them, I know that they care, I know they love me, but they can't blame me if I doubt it, sometimes they are just too loud about their contentment somewhere else than here.

Ten years ago, they were just starting their university days. These kids were restless, full of passion for their studies and their focus towards success. Sometime they stay at night and make their presentations for their university projects and it used to cheer me to no limit hearing their lines in the middle of the quiet night, how they see the future, how they plan to share their minds and soul for the better of their motherland. Those days are gone. I have no one here left. All I have are memories, beautiful memories, their dreams fulfilled with me as a collateral beneficiary. It's painful.

These days, what I hear around are relatives of these kids bragging about the latters' success. They spend here, they brag there, they throw parties everywhere. Their kids are abroad, earning so much money so these people here think they can drink unlimited and can gamble all day. Or worse, the younger ones don't study as hard since they don't feel the hardships their older brothers and sisters went through to attain success. These people here have no future, they are lifeless! I hope they wake up one day and realize their mistakes. I hope they get back to life. As of now, they are nothing but living dead. I call them ghosts. And I am the ghost town. I am a town in the Philippines!

In the tropical island by Webbielady

In the tropical island  by Webbielady

It can't be true! It can only be a dream.  

Hmmmmm... how relaxing.. how lovely... Mmmazing... The warm white sand soothing my naked body feels like ecstasy. At arm's length lies my fresh coconut juice in its own dehusked shell. I took a couple of sips out of it, slowly savoring the fresh sweet juice. It's sheer pleasure. Sitting like a Roman against the sun-bathing rattan chair, I could completely enjoy the view of those coconut and other palm trees casting the shadows of their dancing leaves against the warm white sand.


And I said to myself, "I love this dream".


I continued to "devour" that marvelous situation as the scent of salty waters filled my nostrills while the sea breeze, fresh, mild and aromatic at the same time, hit my naked physique like a mild Shiatsu. I inhaled deeply feeling the healthy oxygen the breeze was offering to my physical being for nourishment and for my soul to survive.


I affirmed to myself, "it can't be real".


Ohh how relaxing, how pleasing, how mind-relaxing. I almost moaned out loud with the moment's pleasure as three perfectly shaped and tanned ladies passed by, smiling at me sweetly. Oh those inviting smiles! And those glorious skimpy bikinis made me whistle out of tune. Those warm eyes seem to challenge my masculinity. "What a paradise it is here," I thought and I repeated for the last couple of times, "it can only be a dream. It can only be a dream." 


I slowly opened my eyes and turned my head in the direction of my office window. There's no hope outside, it's gloomy, cloudy, drizzly and windy as always in my EPO office location in Rijswik, Netherlands. What else can I expect in the middle of winter? I can only dream. Or worse, I can only day-dream! 

Life and Happiness

Life and Happiness

Moments

Sitting on the grass, under trees’ shadow, sunbeams through the

leaves, inundates me.

Thoughts

Distant memories, current sadness crowding

Flying

As a bird floating up in the air, soaring.

Celebrating

The miracle of life, the nature.

Singing

The sweet lovely melody

Reminding

That life, like happiness, is an instant.

Ang Akwaryum

Ang Akwaryum
Isinulat ni Webbielady

 Pagod na pagod na ako. Ayoko na. Ano ba naman ang importansiya ng buhay? Hindi ko talaga maintindan. 43 anyos na akong solo sa buhay. Wala lang, buhay nga ba 'to? Oo nga, buhay ba ang tawag dito? Buhay nga ako pero patay naman ang kaluluwa ko. Araw-araw na trabaho, walang pagmamahal, walang pag-aaruga, as in wala! Pagod na talaga ako sa routine na 'to! Ano pa ba ang pwedi kong gawin? Walang-wala na! Ang umanidad ay nakakahiya! Ang pulitika ay nakakasuka! Ang mundong ito ay playground lamang ng kasamaan at nakakasukang katotohanan. Ayaw ko nang manatili dito. Ayoko na.Gusto ko nang tapusin ang lahat! Papano nga ba?

 Ano nga ba ang best way ng pagpapakamatay na hindi kailangang magdusa? Tama na ang pagdurusa ko! Nakakahiya naman kung bibitayin ko ang sarili ko, pangit ang dating. E, laslasin ko kaya ang pulso ko? Yay, bloody nga naman! Ayoko din nyan! Lagyan ko nalang kaya ng lason ng daga ang gatas ko mamaya. Oo nga, tamang-tama! Bingo! 


Kaya lang... saglit nga! Papano ang mga isda ko? Sila lang yung nagpapasigla ng araw ko at sila lang ang nagpapasaya nang konti ng malungkot kong buhay. Sigurado magdudusa sila pag wala na ako. Kawawa naman itong mga minamahal kong isda! Hindi ko to matitiis! E, papano na ngayon? 


Makapagisip nga. Ayaw kong magdusa ang mga minamahal kong isda ng mas matagal kaysa sa pagdusa ko. Saglit! Hmmmm... Sa tingin ko, bawasan ko nlang yung tubig ng akwaryum, tapos ilagay ko sya sa kusina at buksan ko yung gas.... Tama! Ayan! Isara ko yung mga bintana at sa kusina ako matutulog kasama ng mga mahal kong isda sa kahuli-hulihang pagkakataon sa mundong ito. Bukas wala na kami dito............. 


 .....kinabukasan..... 


 Oo na, oo na, alam ko! Buhay pa din kami! Hindo ko kayang patayin ang mga mahal kong isda! Wala na akong choise kundi mamuhay sa nakakasuklam na mundong to.

Pain... at 17:05 26/07/11

Pain

Some hate it

some love it

some avoid it

some embrace it

Is it essential?

Is it immaterial?

Is it lethal?

But is it mortal!

Pain...

Pain..

It's nothing

But humane!

Chapter II. I Am The Messenger: That Last Day

It was a beautiful weekend. Sunny as always in the city where my parents and I lived. Being a lazy kid at school where all my needs was provided easily by my ever understanding and generous dad. School was not a problem either: my dad has connections and I was always failing in all the tests. Why should I care? I would surely pass and make it to the next school grade anyway. Yes, just like the year before and the year before that.

To inspire my little lazy dumb brain,and bad attitude too, dad and mom wanted to give me some special weekend treat. I chose to go out and do shopping with them, have them buy all I wanted. We have loaded everything into our car and decided also to head to the nearby restaurant for dinner that Saturday evening.

After dinner, I knew my parents were tired but I was always the deciding factor and after all I knew it was I they wanted to please so that I would study at least a bit. I was thinking back then, "Oh f_ _ k that s_ _ t! Why should I?"

Being a typical me, and to partially punish my parents for not leaving my ass alone, I opted to watch the last show in the cinema with them. I can't even remember what that stupid film was! It ends around 9:30 PM and it was so much stretched day for mom and dad. And I did not care, I was actually enjoying seeing their exhaustion.

It was already late when we finished the film or when we decided to get back home. It was just before ten o'clock at night.We were in the parking of the cinema building and I was still sulking because of my parents who forced responsibilities on me. At least the way I thinkof it that time. I really hated that.

As I was sulking, it was when my dad was about to open the car doors when two masked individuals shot him thrice: head, head and left chest. They did the same to my mom. I wondered why they did not shoot me too. They searched for dad's wallet, took all the things they could put their hands intofrom the car and they also took my mom's shoulder bag. They took all the jewelries and watches my parents were having on that day.

I was immobile leaning hugging one of the nearby posts as I saw my parents shot to death. I was in that position until the police and ambulance arrived. That was when my lazy and comfortable and wealthy life was ended...

To be continued

Chapter I. I am the Messenger

Chapter I. I Am The Messenger

No regrets. I am as I am. I am the messenger. Anyone who wants his message delivered, I am glad to offer the service. My service costs a lot of money. How much? One attache case of bundled cash is the minimum. And my services cost blood and breath. "I'll take your breath away." This is always my first message to my recipients. Then, I deliver the final message..."the message of the messenger".

Most of the time, my recipients would laugh at my very face. The usual reaction is to take my first message as a joke. But once they hear the final message, they try to panic. Yet, the confusion stays in their expression. I know what they are thinking... that I am incapable... yes, incapable of ending their lives. I don't want to make people suffer from confused mind, thus, I always shoot them between the eyes to make them not to get confused further or to be confused longer than 30 seconds.

It's been 15 years of service. Yes, 15 years as a messenger. When I was 12, I started this profession. It was harsher for me back then, but I learned my lessons and lasted to this very day. I am not aware how many breaths I ended, or how many gallons of blood I allowed my recipients to waste for all these years. I have no idea. I cannot even count. But I am sure I am okay with all those cash I received from those who availed my services. I got a few sacks of them at my place.

... to becontinued...

I am the Messenger Chapter II. That Last Day

At the Same Place by Webbielady

"Where are you going to have lunch?"
"The same place."
That's noontime.

"Where are you going to have dinner?"
"The same place."
That's evening.

It is more than three years already that I blurt the same answer out every time someone asks me about my eating place. It is always at "the same place".

I am Antonio and I am in my late thirties. I am a municipal employee in my home town. I live a regular life but there is always a strong taste of bitterness in it. That is why I always, and yes, literally "always", eat at the same place to at least remember that once, life had something sweet in it too.

I have very vivid and sweet memories at this place I refer to as "the same place". It is a restaurant where I always go to eat and I always want to remember those good old memories and keep them alive inside of me. These memories are what make me keep going in my day-to-day sorrowful existence.

In the past years my lovely wife, Heda, would always ask me if we could meet at lunchtime at this restaurant. During Saturdays, we also made it a point to have a delicious dinner at this place as we look at the reddish-orange setting sun across the horizon and hear the hit of the waves against a big rock along the sea's shoreline just a few meters away from where we were seated. This local and old bamboo-made, palm-roofed restaurant can only cater a maximum of 40 diners in their 10 regular-sized four-seater tables. Its local ambiance and local taste really suited our preferences and it made us feel at peace and with nature and it seemed that it helped us get more and more deeply inlove with each other..

During the last months of my wife's life, we were struggling to stay happy. The fact that her days were counted due to her having a brain tumor did not stop us from enjoying life. It was sad everytime we realize that soon I would be left out alone in this world but that was the best we could do: be together and be happy together while we still could. In fact, she made me promise her that I would continue to enjoy life after she's gone and even repeated a thousand times that I should look for someone to replace her place as my love as soon as I could so that I would not feel so much pain of losing her.

At this restaurant, during the few days of her life, we spent many moments reminiscing the good old days. We talked and talked about the beautiful past, how we met at this place, how we dined here for so many times, how we shared our dreams while we were still dating and how we continued and have our love survive until the end. It could be badly sad at times but it is a public place with lovely surroundings that the deep sadness that always brush my heart can be controlled easily. I know for sure this would not be the case if we were inside our home and alone. This place has witnessed my happy days, how I discovered my love and nurtured it. It also a witness to my sorrowful days, how I hold on to happiness despite it slipping uncontrollably our of my grip... it is a witness to my lost love... my lost life. It is a witness to my struggling survival and my longing for my lost beloved Heda.

Now, my wife has passed away and it's more than three years already and yet, I am still stuck to this place. Who can blame me? I remember, when people asked me where I would have my lunch, I would reply with a happy voice and wide smile: "At the restaurant, with my Love." That reply was valid at least four years ago.

Tzabilita's Frustrations

Who can blame me? From childhood, as far as I can remember, I was deeply in-love. Yes, deeply in-love with food. I love to eat. I love to munch! I love to have always something wet and filling my mouth. Who’s to blame? I am sure I am not the only one at fault here. I mean, I could’ve controlled my appetite only if those television commercials were not so convincing….or if my parents warned me that being fat is not a beautiful thing, especially when I’d grow into adult… or if the friends I grew with were not fat. Yes, I was also with fat friends all the while so it was very normal to have extra bulges around from when I was a child.

At 38 years old, I can say that I have never lost any weight. I was always I constant increase until now that I am at least 130 kilograms! It’s so difficult. It is such a big burden to flex and sweat. Only to think about it, I feel tired even before I could start!

Is it wrong to be fat? Maybe yes, or maybe not. Yes, it is wrong as I am already nearing 40 and still single, available and never been kissed, never been touched. But on the other hand, it signifies freedom as I am alone and I can go anywhere I want without having to consider anything. But you know what? This freedom is so painful! If you can only imagine what I feel in the middle of the night…. The loneliness… the emptiness.. How I wish I was never this fat.

I still don’t consider it my fault though. Since I was a child, my parents had already emphasized the importance of food, the beauty and pleasure of eating and all of us, my two brothers and I, we all grew fat. “Fat kids from fat parents”, that’s what our neighbors used to tell us when we were only little ones. We did not understand by then that it was already half insult.

When I started working, I tried hard to lost this weight that’s with me ever since but it was so difficult. It is sad to be fat and I regret or hate so many things that are connected to my being fat:

1. My parents: how could they permit being so fat and passing those flabby figures to all us, their children?
2. Myself: I could have been more disciplined when I was a child and tried to limit my food intake to not grow as fat as I am at the moment.
3. My two brothers: If they were good enough in losing weight, we could’ve helped each other in losing weight.
4. My friends: If they’re not as fat as me, they could have motivated me;
5. The food industry: they always convince me to try their new products;
6. The world: They look negatively at fat people!

The whole human race is brain-washed on how to treat their fellow human beings. Why should they look so bad at fat people? This I don’t really understand. But someday, I will have my vengeance against the whole world for being so cruel to us fatter people! Watch out, mean world of slims and thins! I’ll show you!

My Antipatic Colleague

She is always irritable. She is my colleague. She is in her early forties and I really dislike the way she acts. It seems to me that she has severe mood swing problems: one moment she is talking to me like she's my best friend in this world, and one minute later, she's gonna bark at me like a stray hound! I just don't know what's into her.

Almost everyone at work dislike her. She is really very uncongenial. However, I always try to be nice to her and be kind despite the fact that she unreasonably barks at me most of the time. I always think that behind someone's attitude, there is always a deeper reason and a deeper meaning and explanation.

I was correct!

One sunny afternoon, one of her friends visited her. They sat just a few meters away from me from the office garden. It was our afternoon 30-minute break so it was a coincidence that I was also taking some sun and reviewing my language course lessons near where they sat and discuss stuff. Naturally, I overheard their conversation.

Her visitor is the nurse of her son. The son is a vegetable (paraplegic???? or something like that?). I learned later on, both from the conversation I heard and from people who knew her better than me, that the son, two years ago met an accident in a ski lesson in Italy. The accident has damaged the spinal column area (nervous system organ) and resulted to permanent paralysis of his limbs. Thus, her son can only live if the nurse or his mother (my colleague) is attending him.

I was really saddened by the discovery that I made. I understood why she's behaving so. I found the reason for her mood swings and irritated manner. I uncovered the meaning of everything. I never regret that I always tried to be good to her. She is feeling so bad for the situation of her son. I feel lucky for myself as I am so young, at 24 years of age and healthy and no worries about the health of my loved ones.

From that discovery, I even tried to be even more good to her. I know it's so difficult from her side and understanding from her colleagues is a big factor for her. Now I am thankful that I did not try to bark back during those times she barked at me.

A Poor Boy's Memoir: Dimension I

Pardon me If I cannot tell the story perfectly as I only finished Grade 4 of Elementary School in Philippines. But I want to tell my story. --- I was born as the second child of my parents. I am the eldest son though. We are six in all: I have two brothers and three sisters. Maybe you are thinking why my parents did not have family planning tactics. You are right in a way but not correct in another. After my sister who's next to me was born, my mother had the tubal ligation schedule at our local hospital but that very scheduled day, a typhoon hit the Philippines until she could not get another schedule so soon. In short, she get pregnant again for our 4th sibling. He's a boy too.

My childhood was not bad, I can say. My sister, the oldest in the family, she was very responsible as a child, while our younger siblings, we both played with them and we helped a lot in the house chores. We used to fetch water from a very far place, maybe around 3 kilometers away from our house. You can imagine us: I, with my one gallon of water as I move it from my right hand to my left from time to time to ease the pain of the gallon container weight, while my sister, she has each in her hand. When she's tired, or can't bear the weight for quite some time, she puts those two gallon containers to the ground and we both take some minutes of rest.

-- I remember my childhood when I saw that image in the right... that child is carrying a heavier container than what we used to do though... --

Since we are talking about those gallon containers, I tell you that we really considered ourselves to be lucky if we could find those containers to have lid. Because if not, we expect a lot of wasted along the way, maybe 20% of what we initially took from the water well. I can remember that we used to do this water fetching the moment I could walk. Water supply in my town, and many other towns in the Philippines, is such a bitch, you know.

Those gallon containers were a remarkable part of my life. Maybe because I spend almost all my childhood for that: fetching water. When our third sister started to walk, she joined the team of water fetcher for the family. Thus, we always went in teams of three with those gallon containers in our hand. That time however, Sister 2 is the one who's carrying a single gallon container as she was the smallest in the team. Sister 1 and I were both having two gallons containing water in each hand.

The fun of doing this thing was, we do it after school in the afternoon. We arrived at home at around 5:30 after running back home from the elemntary scholl that's around 5 kilometers away from home. The moment we rested our school bags and umbrellas inside the house, we would go right away to the kitchen to take those empty gallons, get them ready, and then we would change our school uniforms to house clothes. After, off we go to the water well a few kilometers away.

Since no hurry is needed when we did those tasks, sometime we played along the way. We were only afraid of the darkness which starts to hit the country at around 6 or 6:30 sometimes or maybe in a very limited number of times at 7 pm. But how could we know anyway? Wrist watches were things of luxury for us so we have none. We relied on our guts and eyes to see if darkness was coming. Thus, when the sun was still up and light was still visible, sometimes we go inside the mini-jungle along the way and climb some fruit tress and eat them. I remember those fruit trees: santol from May to June and guava for various months of the year and pomelo on a few ocassions. There were so many coconuts but it needs a cutting material to be eaten so we have not eaten any fresh cocos along the way that time. We also used to eat sugar canes but those were from sugar cane plantations and not from mini-jungles like the other fruits I mentioned. That's the fun of it! Climbing trees and eating and stealing a few sugar canes.

Despite the fact that we, my two sisters and I, worked more than play, we tried to make good of those moments and enjoy the best way we could. We only played during recess time at school from 9-9:30 in the morning and lunch break, when the sun was not so strong.

The water fetching with gallon containers is only one dimension of my life. You will know me little by little. I find my life interesting, sad, happy and a mix of everything. I will tell you another dimension soon.

What's the True Measure of Intelligence? (Page 1 of 3)

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Jenora: Yes, I'm the Regional Finance Director of an International organization now. My responsibility covers Europe and Africa.

Me: That's amazing, Jen! I'm so glad to hear this big success of yours.

Jenora: The same is true here. I'm glad I heard from you. Remember our high school escapades? And have you heard anything about Lugina?

Me: In fact, I am planning to call her right after this conversation with you. I'd like that the three of us will have a reunion sometime when we happen to have some time to go back to our city.

Jenora: All right. Please let me know what's the latest with her if you can contact her. I would like to talk with her as well.

Me: No problem. Byw for now. I bet you're very busy. I'll call you again when I have news about our old dear friend. Ciao Jen.

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Me: What?!?! You have four kids now? That's a big surprise. I never expected that motherhood could happen to you so soon. I mean, we are 25 and you have five children. I just spoke with Jenora and we're still both single.

By the way, how have you been? It's been years since we last talked to each other. Tell me about you, Ludge.

Lugina: Oh Rogue... It's been a crazy life for me. I never succeeded with my dreams. I'm stuck here in our city, with four children, with a life thrown. I mean, I do love my four little angels but sometimes I do regret I got into this marriage life so soon. My husband does not even have a permanent job. I did bad decisions and here I am. Sigh...

How's Jen by the way? You mentioned you just talked with her?

Me: Yes Ludge. She's travelling all over Europe and Africa so she really is not staying in a single country. She sounded so pleased with her work. Ah, you know that go-getter. She has a residence in Munich though and she told me that if she has time, she stays there.

Lugina: I'm so envoìious of you two. You have reached your dreams, while I.. I really think I'm a failure. Sigh.... Oh wait! That's my youngest crying. I bet she's hungry now. I'm still breast feeding her. Hope to talk yìto you soon Rogue. For now I need to hang up. Thanks for calling.

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Isn't Life Supposed to Be Meaningful? page 1 of 2

Lord, I offer my life to you
Everything I've been through
Use it for your glory
Lord I offer my days to you
Lifting my praise to you
As a pleasing sacrifice
Lord I offer you my life

This is what he was hearing from his little speaker attached to his phone. He wonders why this song, which is not his taste of music, played out of the blue. He's soaked in the bath tub as he was thinking how to finish his own life. He's been dying to commit suicide but he lacks the courage to do so.


As he faintly hears the song from his little speaker, which he also use in his bedroom when he wants to fall asleep and FM stations play mellow music, he feels something from deep inside him. The feeling relates to the song but he tried to ignore it. He always enjoyed relaxing as he does his evening baths but this time, his purpose is different as he just stay soaked in the tub to imagine how it would be to die there. "Maybe I'll rip my wrist deep enough and voilà I'm dead!" he thinks like crazy.

In fact, not only this thought of ripping his wrist came into his mind. He was also thinking of loosening the screw connecting the gas tank to the main gas lines from the city to his apartment. "I'd open it just right for a little gas to escapee, then I'd lock myself here and I'd wake up facing Saint Peter," he was actually amused by this thought.

What is the reason of this all? Why he, the bright and talented and successful person trying to end his life?

"That biatch! I trusted her with all my life and now she's fuc_ing with that idiot right under my nose! How dare they do this to me! And I... I... I am so coward to do any vengeance against them! I am a coward and I can't even manage my own death! This life sucks! I just wanna die"

That was Abelard. He's trying to kill himself. Her ex-girlfriend is Yvonne. It was a great love story between the two of them, full of romance for three full years until the relationship became sour. For what reason everything fell out of place he doesn't know. All he know is, he was happy with her and he hates the fact that she betrayed him. How he caught her betrayal? He doesn't want to remember.

Lord, I offer my life to you
Everything I've been through

The chorus played again. Now he's paying attention as he hears it. And now he listens deeply to it. He searched in his heart what this song is all about. Nothing. He tried his brain. Empty. He knows that the song connects onto something but in his confused mode he could not easily fathom what the song connects to.

He added more hot water in his tub unconsciously. He added the bath cream and tried to relax. He forgot everything about his suicide plans. He just wanted a few moment of peace for now and a little relaxation. He closed his eyes deeply.

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Isn't Life Supposed To Be Meaningful? page 2 of 2

Abelard woke up feeling cold. No more heat in the water he's soaked into. He got up and out of the bath tub and dried himself and took his phone and the little speaker to his bedroom. When he looked at his bedside table clock, it was already 1 o'clock and three minutes. Midnight has passed an hour ago. He fell asleep in the tub for about two and a half hours.

He put on his pajama and went under the sheets. Although it's spring already, he could still feel cold in the night so the bed cover remains thick but the heater is okay to be switched off. He went to bed thinking about the song. Now he has all the time to think about it. After an hour of deciphering the connection to the song he remembered what the song was, and why it was telling him a certain feeling.

Two weeks later Abelard was invited to deliver a speech to teens who attempted to extinguish their own lives. He told the whole story about his own suicide plans and the meaning of the song.

Her name was Strawberry but we gladly call her Berry. She's among the brightest in our batch in high school and she even managed to be second to me for a certain school year. I maintained the first honors in all my high school years. She was healthy by then and was the romantic type, not violent, not sporty. A simple yet very sweet girl. She's a friend to many but a casual friend to me at first. Later on, we went to date and she became my girlfriend. However, we both decided to put everything to normality, kind of "cool off" until we get our respective degrees. We made this agreement for our very own future.

University life came and we were all busy with our respective studies. Berry and I, we started to lose communication but I still think of her when there's space in my mind. Studying Accountancy and for the upcoming CPA examinations when I graduate really made me very occupied.

One day we all received the news that she died. She died of a complex sickness. She was in hospital for quite some time but we never had any news about it. We were only able to see her in her wake. That caused a lot of pain to me but since our communication was a little loose than when we were in high school, the pain was lesser than I expected. I did not even shed tear and when I met Yvonne, I forgot everything about Berry.

While we were in Berry's wake, it was like a reunion with all high school friends and acquaintances. The sister and the mother told us the story. While many of her family and friends gather at her wake, a background music was playing.... it's the song I heard that night... We asked the mother and the sister why the same music is playing in Berry's wake all the time and it's played over and over.

"Berry, while waiting her last moments, was having a smile in her face", said the mother. "She was never afraid of death and was even comforting us not to worry about her, and as her very final moments she sang the song.. until she finally lost her breath...", added the sister.

Lord, I offer my life to you
Everything I've been through
Use it for your glory
Lord I offer my days to you
Lifting my praise to you
As a pleasing sacrifice
Lord I offer you my life

When I realized the connection, I changed my mind about dying. Berry, enjoyed and appreciated her life 'till the last second of it. I am still feeling the pain Yvonne dug in my heart but I will be eventually all right. Life is a game and it's great to play wise with it. It will only be meaningful if we try instill meaning to it.

To be honest, I am not religious nor a believer in some kind of spirit but Berry's courage and that song inspire me and remind me to be alive. Little it may seem, what we had together had made me survive and be here in front of you at this very moment. Indeed, here I am, alive and kicking. I believe now that I am more courageous than I think I was. I chose to take life's path 'till the end. I must face life and conquer happiness. That's the true courage.

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