It just seems like yesterday when I was full of hope for a new chapter in my life, the zest that they call high school. Ugh. I sound cliche just right now. But after four years, here I am, about to face a bigger part of my life and also getting ready to leave behind that "future" that I was so ready to face when I was still that wide eyed preppy 13 year old. What to make of it? High school is, was many things and if you'll try to capture some recap in your head of all those years when you've had just about every "firsts" that you can cram in your life, you'd end up with this mashed up and slightly deformed version of things. Because really, no matter how you cling dearly to those things that made you happy, sad, fulfilled and disappointed, all that they are memories. 

I've once tried to experiment with this stuff. I'm pretty sure everybody has tried it once in their lives. Maybe because it's a fun thing to do with you have nothing to kill time. I'd sit somewhere and do these actions, anything actually, may it be from just scratching your nose to working up a funky dance. You do it and as you finish the action it will hit you that what you did is done. It can never happen again; maybe you could perform the same actions but it won't be the same. Right to the last minute detail. That's why our present is so precious. It can easily slip by our fingers and like a snake, once you lose the moment, you won't ever have it back. All that's left as an option would just really be to move forward. 

Talk about blogs, this blog has been with me since day one of high school. Or not exactly. Somehow, I can't bring myself to consider my first year in high school as really being start of high school. Because there's too much of my elementary memories seeping within me then. Although, I did meet some great friends and curiously, our lives still intersect once in a while. Right now I can even name a few. :) 

I don't know, I don't remember much from my first year since I guess I wasn't given the chance then to test myself and know who I really am. Because life was then a simple walk from home to studies. There was no intense social life to deal upon, no love life to overtly keel over, and certainly no insecurities on my part. There are times that I wanted to go back to who I was before. To how I felt before. To how I viewed life before. But looking at it now in a different light, I don't think I want to go back. I have made many mistakes and have endured a lot, but I think I like who I am now. Not any more perfect, but at the least, a tad stronger. It's to consider running away, especially when we know our weaknesses and are afraid that these very things can easily pull us under. But if we focus on going ahead and walking that path in front of our feet, we can very much leave our own footsteps and make it count. 

Second Year was everything. Because it was the time when the hurt was finally getting through to me. The time when I started to find out that true love or a love that counts at least, is something you can't easily forget. That facing love for the first time and truly accepting another person for what he is attaches you to that person. It was also that period when I felt that life was still fair with me. When I would fail or commit minimal mistakes in class and I'd foolishly weep over it, but then after much determination, scheming, and believing, I'd still be rewarded. A time when I didn't doubt myself and knew that what I do matters. That I was not a nobody and that people would listen to me when I talk. I knew then in my heart that I'm the lead of my own life. And not anyone else. 

What endeared me to that year were also the endless opportunities for the class to get closer and feel what each of our hearts yearn to say. Those times when we'd stay up late and even though we'd go home tired, the night would be immortal and infinite. It felt good going home during those nights because everyone knew we've made something so special and delicate. We also had the teachers that anyone would dream of having. Teachers who, instead of pushing their students away, would give them the spotlight to break free and help find their identities for them. It was with these mentors that I was able to find my place; know where I belong. For that, I owe them everything. 

Third year was particularly the worst. I don't even know how I survived that wreckage of a year. I can't count how many times my heart broke, how many place I've cooped up in and cried, how painful it was while my confidence and trust in people ran thin. I can still remember my futile efforts to forget, how I've flitted from person to person, never really finding what I'm looking for. Even now, it make me sad to think of how many times I've pleaded with God to take these stupid feelings away. And oh, the many ways how I tried to cope. This was also the year when I pretty much felt that everything was being taken away from me. How everything seemed to go wrong and the year ended with a sharp dagger in my chest. Of course, take that figuratively, not literally or else I'll be dead by now. Long dead.

Fourth year lived up to its purpose. An end. Fate chose to be kind with me. Even though I wasn't able to restore everything completely and things still continued to hurt, I was able to get some kind of closure. A civil one. To everything, to everybody. I still continue to make mistakes, and believe me, I'm still carrying those guilty burdens up to now. But as I graduate tomorrow, for once I want to be grateful. I want to see a beginning rather than an end. A fresh start. A sign or a mark that I'm living my life. That my life is not for anybody anymore. A life that is completely mine. A life ungoverned by what people think, and how people respond to what I do, but a life dependent on the decisions I make and how I turn it into something worthwhile.

As I leave high school, and come to think of it, this blog (for I'll be starting a completely new one to celebrate my college life) I'll be glad to leave behind the bad and disappointing memories but to take with me the learning experiences and the many "firsts" that completed my symmetry.

P.S

And oh yeah, why Phoenix? And why Dumblydore? Lol. Phoenix since its a bird offering up hope and new life. A phoenix lives as a young, grows into beauty and after awhile, is engulfed in flames to its death. But as the night passes, a phoenix rises from the ashes and lives a great life once more. And Dumblydore because I want to warp my favorite and ideal professor's name.

It just seems like yesterday when I was full of hope for a new chapter in my life, the zest that they call high school. Ugh. I sound cliche just right now. But after four years, here I am, about to face a bigger part of my life and also getting ready to leave behind that "future" that I was so ready to face when I was still that wide eyed preppy 13 year old. What to make of it? High school is, was many things and if you'll try to capture some recap in your head of all those years when you've had just about every "firsts" that you can cram in your life, you'd end up with this mashed up and slightly deformed version of things. Because really, no matter how you cling dearly to those things that made you happy, sad, fulfilled and disappointed, all that they are memories. 

I've once tried to experiment with this stuff. I'm pretty sure everybody has tried it once in their lives. Maybe because it's a fun thing to do with you have nothing to kill time. I'd sit somewhere and do these actions, anything actually, may it be from just scratching your nose to working up a funky dance. You do it and as you finish the action it will hit you that what you did is done. It can never happen again; maybe you could perform the same actions but it won't be the same. Right to the last minute detail. That's why our present is so precious. It can easily slip by our fingers and like a snake, once you lose the moment, you won't ever have it back. All that's left as an option would just really be to move forward. 

Talk about blogs, this blog has been with me since day one of high school. Or not exactly. Somehow, I can't bring myself to consider my first year in high school as really being start of high school. Because there's too much of my elementary memories seeping within me then. Although, I did meet some great friends and curiously, our lives still intersect once in a while. Right now I can even name a few. :) 

I don't know, I don't remember much from my first year since I guess I wasn't given the chance then to test myself and know who I really am. Because life was then a simple walk from home to studies. There was no intense social life to deal upon, no love life to overtly keel over, and certainly no insecurities on my part. There are times that I wanted to go back to who I was before. To how I felt before. To how I viewed life before. But looking at it now in a different light, I don't think I want to go back. I have made many mistakes and have endured a lot, but I think I like who I am now. Not any more perfect, but at the least, a tad stronger. It's to consider running away, especially when we know our weaknesses and are afraid that these very things can easily pull us under. But if we focus on going ahead and walking that path in front of our feet, we can very much leave our own footsteps and make it count. 

Second Year was everything. Because it was the time when the hurt was finally getting through to me. The time when I started to find out that true love or a love that counts at least, is something you can't easily forget. That facing love for the first time and truly accepting another person for what he is attaches you to that person. It was also that period when I felt that life was still fair with me. When I would fail or commit minimal mistakes in class and I'd foolishly weep over it, but then after much determination, scheming, and believing, I'd still be rewarded. A time when I didn't doubt myself and knew that what I do matters. That I was not a nobody and that people would listen to me when I talk. I knew then in my heart that I'm the lead of my own life. And not anyone else. 

What endeared me to that year were also the endless opportunities for the class to get closer and feel what each of our hearts yearn to say. Those times when we'd stay up late and even though we'd go home tired, the night would be immortal and infinite. It felt good going home during those nights because everyone knew we've made something so special and delicate. We also had the teachers that anyone would dream of having. Teachers who, instead of pushing their students away, would give them the spotlight to break free and help find their identities for them. It was with these mentors that I was able to find my place; know where I belong. For that, I owe them everything. 

Third year was particularly the worst. I don't even know how I survived that wreckage of a year. I can't count how many times my heart broke, how many place I've cooped up in and cried, how painful it was while my confidence and trust in people ran thin. I can still remember my futile efforts to forget, how I've flitted from person to person, never really finding what I'm looking for. Even now, it make me sad to think of how many times I've pleaded with God to take these stupid feelings away. And oh, the many ways how I tried to cope. This was also the year when I pretty much felt that everything was being taken away from me. How everything seemed to go wrong and the year ended with a sharp dagger in my chest. Of course, take that figuratively, not literally or else I'll be dead by now. Long dead.

Fourth year lived up to its purpose. An end. Fate chose to be kind with me. Even though I wasn't able to restore everything completely and things still continued to hurt, I was able to get some kind of closure. A civil one. To everything, to everybody. I still continue to make mistakes, and believe me, I'm still carrying those guilty burdens up to now. But as I graduate tomorrow, for once I want to be grateful. I want to see a beginning rather than an end. A fresh start. A sign or a mark that I'm living my life. That my life is not for anybody anymore. A life that is completely mine. A life ungoverned by what people think, and how people respond to what I do, but a life dependent on the decisions I make and how I turn it into something worthwhile.

As I leave high school, and come to think of it, this blog (for I'll be starting a completely new one to celebrate my college life) I'll be glad to leave behind the bad and disappointing memories but to take with me the learning experiences and the many "firsts" that completed my symmetry.

P.S

And oh yeah, why Phoenix? And why Dumblydore? Lol. Phoenix since its a bird offering up hope and new life. A phoenix lives as a young, grows into beauty and after awhile, is engulfed in flames to its death. But as the night passes, a phoenix rises from the ashes and lives a great life once more. And Dumblydore because I want to warp my favorite and ideal professor's name.