Fuck It.

I so fucking want to cry right now.  I want this so much.  I want this so fucking much and it's too hard.  It's too fucking hard.  I don't think I can do it.  I don't freaking think I can do it and I want it so bad.

Downpour.

I like the rain, not the stormy, frightening type, just the lazy downpour, you know?  I like how it sounds and I like the feeling it gives me.  I don't know, it's weird, but the rain almost, always makes me sad.  Since I was a kid, I love having and hearing and seeing the rain but it makes me feel, hmm, unhappy.. Like something's missing, you know?  Like I'm going to lose something very important.  Gah, I can't explain it properlyyyyy but, it's like some weird paradox, see.  I like the rain, meaning that it would seem that rain makes me feel euphoric and shit, right?  But, noooooo..  It doesn't.  It makes me feel sad... But I still like it.  There's just something so breathtaking when it's raining.  When I finally figure things out, I'm gonna blog about it.

On something different, I was looking at some of the old stuff I wrote and, man, this blog looks like a depressing blog!! That shouldn't be the case, though!  I always forget to blog about the things that make me happy as shit!  Kinda sucks when you come and think about it.

With magic soaking my spine, can you read my mind?

The Genius Sex Poets.

Sunshine, Daisies.

I realized that my blog post yesterday was a tad bit dramatic.  After posting it, I felt that I'm not that unhappy.  I was sad yesterday but I wouldn't really kill myself or what.  I was just... sad.

Anyway, I can't wait for my hair to grow longer!  I can't wait to chop off all the rebonded parts!  See, I've been rebonding it for 10 years so.. yeah, I think I should stop this year or something.  I'm a bit scared, though.  I haven't seen my natural hair for ten years so, I wouldn't know if my ringlets and curls would be the death of me or what.

Gah.  Whatever.  Hoping for the best.  As always.

Bless Your Body, Bless Your Soul, Reel Me In And Cut My Throat.

• I've been out of loop for quite some time now.
• I feel.. I don't know.. Useless, I guess.
• I also feel sad.  Like, sad sad.
• I want a new pair of Vans.
• I really, really want a new pair of Vans.

Whatever.  Everything's gonna work out in the end.

You And Me, Babe, How About It?

Where Do Words Go?

You were there the moment I opened my eyes, the day I was born.  I could see you smiling down at me.  You gently pinched me and I started crying.  I remember thinking, "Who is this mischievous devil who dares pinch my buttocks?"

I grew older, one, two, three, four, and then, I'm already seven years old. I remember my mom scolding me for cutting my brother's hair.  Oh, how you laughed at the uneven haircut my brother sported for Christmas.  For a while you were ignored, not entirely forgotten, no.  You were always there.  Always smiling, that sinister smile of yours, always watching over me with kind, albeit malicious, eyes.  I wondered about you a lot, you know.  Don't you have any job?  Are you a fucking stalker?  Why are you always following me?  You can't really blame me, you know, I mean, you act as if you have all the time in the world.  Surely you noticed that I'm not entirely stupid.  Sooner or later, I was going to wonder about your job (or if you have one, for that matter.)  So, one of those lazy afternoons, I did ask you.  I asked you what you're doing, why you're always following me.  You chuckled and you told me that I'm too young to know.  I wondered then if you were one of the drug peddlers or kidnappers my parents warned me about.  You messed up my hair.  I asked you if you could at least, please, tell me your name.  You said, "Someday."

Years rolled by, then, bam! I'm already fifteen.  For a very long time, I've forgotten that you were there.  I think I got used to you just being there, I never even notice you at all.  One day I heard you whistle.  Did you know that I don't know how to whistle?  You tried teaching me how.  After an hour of failed attempts, I gave up.  I looked at you and I said, brightly, you don't age, do you know that?  You still have that black hair of yours - without any tinge of gray..  Imagine that!  Just recently, my mom started dyeing her hair.  She was complaining about the grays and the whites.  But, wow, look at you.  Your hair is still as black as coal.  Do you dye it?  You shook your head and you continued to grin.  I scoffed.  I asked you if it's okay to know your name now, since, well, I'm already fifteen.  I'm no longer a child.  You were going to say something but someone just yelled my name, I turned around to look at the caller.  It was my neighbor, Dan, I informed you.  You raised your eyebrows and looked at me curiously.  I don't know why but I blushed.  I told you that I'll see you soon, that I'm off with Dan.  To the movies.  You nodded as I left.

I was seventeen and I was crying my eyes out.  You sat beside me.  You didn't say anything.  It was oddly comforting.  Before I knew it, I was telling you about how Dan left me because I got fat.  You said that I didn't.  You said you prefer the term "soft around the edges", thank you, that made me laugh.  Talking to you is easy, you know?  So, Dan left me, that superficial bastard.  He left me because I got fat..  Just when I found out that my parents are going to separate.  Did you know that? No?   I went to Dan's house to talk to him about it because I was so upset.  I mean, obviously.  Before I could say anything, he told me that he wanted to end things.  At the risk of sounding shallow (which is a fucking understatement!), he said, he wants to break up with me.  I got too fat.  He's not attracted to me anymore.  I was outraged..  and murderous.  Why are you laughing, you prick?  Can I carry on with my story now?  Yes?  Thank you.  So, anyway, I stormed out of his house.  Not without scratching his car with a nail I found on the driveway first.  Pretty convenient, huh?  

We laughed together, you and I.  You said you admired my guts.  We were silent for, oh, I don't know, a long time, I guess?  I sighed.  Then I asked, why would my parents want to get their marriage annulled?  Why?  They've been married for twenty years!  Yes, the marriage wasn't picture perfect but at least they were happy!  Then you asked softly, "Are they?"  I got so mad at you, I hit your arm and, with all the poise I could muster, walked away.

I was nineteen and I was smoking and drinking heavily.  I stopped talking to you after that incident wherein you politely asked me if my parents were indeed happy in their marriage.  Oh, I could still see you looking at me and watching over me.  Sometimes, you would give me an encouraging nod.  Other times, I could see you shaking your head while I popped some of the pills my new friends give me.  This infuriates me.  You have no right to look at me like that, you're not my fucking parent.  I could do whatever I want!  One night, it was very late, you caught up with me while I was walking home.  Why are you doing this, you asked.  I told you to fuck off.  You told me that you care.  And then, on that sidewalk, under the dimming street light, I bawled.  My parents are no longer together, my mother's best friend is a bottle or a can of beer, my dad's happy with his new family, not once did he try contacting me or my brother.  He left us.  My brother is off somewhere doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who.  Everything's fucked up.  And you, you have no right to be condescending, you fucking prick.  I don't even know who you are.  You were bewildered with what I've said, you told me I'm your friend.  You let me cry on that sidewalk.  Afterwards, I remember asking you to just take me with you - wherever you're going.  I want to go away from this place.  No, sorry, I want to run away from this place.  You let out a small laugh and you sadly told me that this is not the right time.  You can't take me with you?  I asked, my voice hard as steel.  You shook your head.  You tried telling me that there's more to life, that I should and I could enjoy it.  I stood up and told you (frostily) that I don't need your fucking words of wisdom, if you can't help me get away, you better get the fuck away from me.

I'm twenty-two, I'm pregnant and unemployed.  Does it bother you that I don't know who the father of my unborn child is?  No?  I wonder where you are.

I'm twenty-eight. The social services woman just took John away from me.  I'm so numb, I don't feel anything.  Although, I did sigh with relief.  John would have a better life without me.  I don't even have a job.  Fuck it, who cares.  As long as I have a can of beer and a pack of smokes, life's good.  My life is good.  I have to believe that.  I have to.  Where are you?

I'm thirty-two and I found out that my brother died of an overdose.  Life's unfair.  He's too young.  We're too young.  I feel so alone.  I have no one.  I tried contacting my father.  I got brave and I went to see him at his house with his new family.  He told me to fuck off and never show my face again, he slammed the door.  I could see my half-sisters and half-brothers peeking out of the window.  I gaze at them.  This ought to be my life, I thought.  I'm in the bus on the way home (but where is home?  I have no home), I start to wonder where you are.

I'm forty-nine and I'm dying of cancer.  I haven't seen you for thirty years.  You could imagine my shock when I saw you walking, no, gliding in my hospital room.  You asked me how I was, I politely told you that I've never been better.  You smiled at my ill-humored joke.  I told you how I'm not afraid to die.  I told you how I want everything to just end because I was so tired.  I was tired of life.  You touched my stick-thin arms, I winced and said, "I bet Dan, my neighbor, wouldn't call me fat now, huh?"  You laughed.  You laughed hard.  You asked me if I wanted to go run away with you now.  It was my turn to smile at your ill-humored joke.  You told me you're not joking, and you looked at me reassuringly.  I just wanted to find peace.  No, I wanted to be at peace, I said.  You held out your hand and you whispered, "I never did tell you my name."  So, I asked, "What is it?"

"Death."

You smiled kindly, just before I grabbed your hand.

********

I think I could still polish this (if I get bored again, I guess.)  But, as of now, it's going to be that way.  I think it's okay 'cause it's simple and, well, direct to the point (almost.)  I guess it's not really unique (plot-wise) but.. whatever.

What say you?

I'm Not Talking About Deadlines And Commitments.

I think I'm not a "miss-able" person.  I think when I'm there, it's okay.  But, when I'm not there, people wouldn't really mind either.  I think people notice me because I'm really, really, really, really, really, really loud but that's all. They don't miss me when I'm gone.  They don't even notice when I'm not there.  Are you getting me?  No, you're not.

Actually, I'm not being dramatic or what.  I'm just stating a fact 'cause I just noticed this.  Most of my friends would get all giddy with some of my other friends and stuff.  Sometimes I feel kind of left out.  No, I'm not holding any grudges! Hahaha! I told you, I'm just stating my observations and stuff.  It's all fine, actually.

Whatever hahahahaha!

So, what've you been up to?

There's Something To Be Said For Pushing Through.

Happy 21st birthday to one of my closest high school buddies!

Sobrang daming hearts HAHAHAHA. I just realized that we need new pictures together.

I miss my friends!

Winner, Winner, Chicken Bone Dinner.

A chicken bone got lodged in my throat today.  Will have it removed tomorrow because there are no ENT's  at this time of the night in the hospital.

Why these things happen to me... I will never understand.

There Is A Place Here In This House That You Can Stay.

So, do you guys think I'm obsessed?

P.S. Listen to Deadlines and Commitments.  It's one of their awesome-est songs in Battle Born:

You Know That I Was Hoping That I Could Leave This Star-Crossed World Behind.

This is one of the best The Killers songs in the world.

I love listening to Spaceman a lot because it obviously talks about depression and a botched-up suicide attempt.  It talks about how most people around you don't care about what you're going through 'cause they don't know what's happening inside your chaotic and self-destructive mind (And they're zipping white light beams, disregarding bombs and satellites/ And the public don't dwell on my transmission 'cause it wasn't televised.)  People talk about how it's gonna be okay, how life's going to be fine, how it's "all in your mind" (The song maker says, "It ain't so bad."  The dream maker's gonna make you mad.  The spaceman says, "Everybody look down.  It's all in your mind") but they have no idea.  No freakin' idea.

This song reminds me so much of, what I call, The Dark Times.  It was around my junior year in college.  My maternal grandmother got hospitalized for two weeks, my favorite grandfather was dying of lung cancer, there were other family problems, and I had school problems - I felt that I was losing everyone.  That year was a really, really, really, really bad time for me.  You guys have no idea how many times I've contemplated on just killing myself to end everything.  I was really, really, really sad.

One thing you need to know is that when I'm in deep-shit, I refuse to talk to people.  I dwell on my problems alone.  That's why nobody at school knew what I was going through.  I kept a happy-cheery facade when all I wanted to do was overdose so that I could finally rest.  I was tired.  I was so tired.

One night, I just couldn't take it anymore, my nose and eyes were puffy from all the crying, out of nowhere, Jodie texted me.  It was like a miracle because minutes later, I've told her everything and, well, I didn't feel so alone.

When I think about that crappy year, I dunno, I think, somehow, I'm glad that I didn't end my life.  I'm not going to pretend that my life is picture-perfect at the moment but, at least, I have hope now.  I think I'm going to have a bright future (even if the process scares the bejesus out of me.)  I just have to start learning to depend on other people when life gets too tough, you know?  Maybe I should learn how to tell my problems and not keep it all inside.

P. S. I want to watch The Killers concert.  God, please, please, please!

If I Go On With You By My Side, Can It Be The Way It Was?

So obsessed with this song right now:

Oh Brandon (or Mark), I want to repopulate Atlantis with you!

I really, really, really want to see them on September!

It Feels Just Like A Dagger Buried Deep In Your Back.

Last Friday, I went to Ortigas to meet some of my college friends.  We stayed and drank at Reserve for, like, eight hours straight.  It was a total bust 'cause I got kind of bored and shit but, somehow, it was okay because I missed most of my friends.  I missed Pao and JM's gayness.  I missed every one.  Hahahahaha!  I haven't seen them for four months so.. yeah.  Anyway, I stayed at Ekay's place the following day.  We got home at around 2:30-ish am?  When we got there, Pareng Roderick was already at home.  I was sort of nervous 'cause I stank of smoke and alcohol.  Plus, the man intimidates and scares the living shit out of me.  Anyway,  when we got there, I said, "Good evening po...  Ayyy good morning na po pala."  Pareng Roderick smiled and gave me a nod.  Pareng Roderick SMILED!!!! Woooo!!! That was such an achievement!  For the last 3 years, the only response he gives me were grunts.  So, see?  Hahahaha!  I missed Ekay's house and her mom!  Her mom is one of the nicest and awesome-est mothers in the whole wide world!!

“Look at you. You’re young. And you’re scared. Why are you so scared? Stop being paralysed. Stop swallowing your words. Stop caring what other people think. Wear what you want. Say what you want. Listen to the music you want to listen to. Play it loud as fuck and dance to it. Go out for a drive at midnight and forget that you have school the next day. Stop waiting for Friday. Live now. Do it now. Take risks. Tell secrets. This life is yours. When are you going to realise that you can do whatever you want?”

—	Louise Flory

I have to keep that passage (?) in mind because I don't know..  I've lost faith in myself and I dunno..  Whatever.  I don't feel like explaining right now.  I'm just updating for the sake of updating.  Will probably elaborate this..  whenever.

P.S. If you know someone who could give me free The Killers tickets, I would owe my life to you.  Please, please, please, please.  I really, really, really, really, really wanna see them!  I want to repopulate Atlantis with Brandon Flowers or Mark Stoermer.  Or both.  Whatever.  Hahahahaha!  Don't judge me about the Mark Stoermer thing.  He's a really hot bassist.