Envy and many more

I'd like to start this one with that word: "Envy."
That's how I felt; envious.

Envious of those old people with much wisdom attained. With their age comes the vast number of experiences. With those experiences comes the people. With all of this put together, they've attained respect and the attention of those who would lend an ear.

I guess I envy that one old man, because he has changed thousands of lives. He's still doing it. Through the direction of plays that deeply move you. That inspire you. That eliminates the fiction in acting.

I envy him because he's been changing lives, through changing minds and hearts. I've the same voice. The only differences are that; his is louder, his is stronger, his is more persuading, and that his is louder. He is given the opportunity to be heard, through his theatre.

I like his words, they.. provoke ripples.
"A poem is like a pebble dropped in the well of your mind, it creates ripples depending on how wide your mind is."

In my case, well, there aren't any blocks that surround the waters, the ripples never stop.

I envy him because he is eloquent, spontaneously speaking on any topic. While I don't know how many times I've pressed backspace in this composition.

I envy him because he is doing what he wants to do, what he's been moved to do. And he is succeeding with each mind and heart he convinces.

I envy him because he's still succeeding.

I envy him, simply because he's able to make me envious of him.

I envy him, because he is close to Him.



Now we move on to the "And Many More.." part.
When the most beautiful girl asked the lead actor, "Does it hurt , acting?"
He didn't spill a word, couldn't even barely look at her, but he nodded.
Then another provoking question came, "Then why do you do it?"
The actor, looked at her this time, and hands towards the crucifix on the wall in front of the stage, "Because!"

Silence broke the momentum. Then that old man says, "The crucifix is for the actors, and they do it all because they find purpose in it. And something to ask yourselves tonight is if you have your purpose too."

At this story, I smiled. These are the kinds of words that I've been wanting to write, to say.
Sadly, my tongue isn't as sharp-cut as my words. It's too shy, too humble to speak out.
Even if it did say its thoughts, who would care to listen? Afterall, he's just really young isn't he?
He's just another boy, thinking he's a man, isn't he? He's just another trying-to-be-noble soul out there, isn't he? He's just another kid, isn't he?

But, at the slightest possible chance that he isn't Just a kid, not just another one of those who come along everyday, that he is the epitome of rarity, I would listen to him. Anyway, no matter what the odds are, they're still odds. And that there's still a chance, no matter how unlikely it is.

T O M I S S W H A T A G R E A T M I N D W O U L D S A Y C O U L D N'T P O S S I B L Y P R O F I T Y O U I N A N Y W A Y.

It's more often than not, easier to listen than to read. But what's written can always be read again, apparently, what's been said cannot always be heard again.


I'm a hypocrite for saying that I don't like reading long stories, and expecting you to read them. Especially because I wrote some of them.


The loss of a person's individuality, his character that defines him as he, how he is remembered and known, how his tale will be told, is my biggest fear. It's probably because, I won't be seen as an individual, but as merely a guy in the crowd. A person, void of voice.

And many more continues a long lot, but I won't fit them all at one time, that'll be too much.

My mouth is envious of my fingertips that merely spun these words out and have wrote down the script. It's envious because these fingertips don't have to be seen doing so. While he has to be brave and fight all threats that come after his part. That's why, more often than not, he simply relates with matters that aren't of great consequences. This in turn, causes no conflicts nor provokes no harsh words, but attracts those who do not want to be stirred. But every so often, they don't know, he's slipping some words into their ears.



The next one'll be all about you.