“it’s raining like fuck”

i dunno if that statement really means anything. i like the way it sounds though: all angry like the wind trying to destroy the wall beside me in my room. it’s still going at it like the fucker it is. at least the fucker rain had stopped flooding the house over and over again.

what’s weird though (and this is the real part of this post) is that after days and days of rain, never once had i a moment to stop, breathe and think as i always do when the weather’s like this. there was no quiet in me in the middle of a literal storm (a typhoon just to be exact). it seems as the rain and wind got worse, so did the storm inside my head. and that mood reached a peak last night as i realized something important. my limbs turned cold in 2.5 seconds and my heart wanted none of the shit it’s been through. and for a moment there i seriously wanted to fold. i (much like my heart did) wanted none of the shit the world and myself are giving me. it would be so easy to drop out the face of their planet and go on my merry (though miserable) way. in that moment i tried to do that but much to my physical heart’s dismay, i couldn’t. i’m not that type of person. i know i’m weak but i also know how big my pride is and how much of that pride will not give up just to save face. i know, i know, “pride, such a noble reason.” guess what? i don’t give a damn. if i have to succumb to my pride then so be it. it doesn’t change the fact that i have to produce results despite the fucking rain eating up my time and destroying my plans. and hell, at least i can swallow enough pride to admit this to myself.

okay i’m going to stop there because anymore of this ranting and i will break my laptop keyboard. on the bright side of things: i’m glad my feet are mostly dry again.

finally… probably

so i think im happy now… well, maybe just how i was before all those feelings and shit i never wanted to have (okay, maybe i did, but not in those circumstances) happened. i really dont have a word for it. im not used to identifying what i feel because up until her my days were constant ennui. wait, no, i was already changing way before. i guess i really am a late bloomer (gad, you dont know how much i hate that word). sigh, im rambling again. ‘point is, im getting hungry so im gonna leave this post like this. bow.

dear your name here,

i’d like to have this chance to say i have strong feelings for you far beyond what one should feel about a friend. i’ve done some pretty rash things just for you and i hope you don’t notice the absurdity of it all. never have i ever wished for you not to know me that well until i had to keep this from you (from everyone, really).

i’d want to think it stupid that you make my eyes seek you out every single time, that you make me want to kiss you when you get too close, that you make me want to rip my heart out to stop it from beating too much too fast. but no. i won’t let myself think that way because firsts only come once and i would never ever ruin this “first”. you are my first–who am i kidding, you aren’t even mine.

i want to tell you so much. how much it hurts me to have you cry in jealousy after someone–i mean, really, who in the hell is he to deserve your tears?–how much it hurts to be the one reassuring you that you can have anyone you want, that, hell, you can have him, how much it hurts to think about you and not let my dam of emotions burst and break me in two, how much i struggle to be your friend and nothing more. i even want to laugh with you about how it seems like every song is describing everything i’m going through, everything i’m feeling. i’ve so much to say to you but my ever shifting walls will never break. it’s for the best and i know this for a fact.

i’d rather hurt than risk losing you, that’s why. and no matter how much they tell me that you have tendencies (something i will never attempt to even consider) i would keep it all in. things are better this way no matter how tempting thinking that nothing is for sure and there’s a small chance that you’d have me.

and hey it’s okay, it’s not like you’d even be reading this. it’s not like it would hurt you never knowing all these things. and, well, you know i’m a big girl and i’ll learn to handle myself. i swear that will be the last time i’d snap closing into myself away from you and everyone else just to keep my unwarranted rage and tears in check. sure i’d sometimes grit and grind my teeth at myself and all but i’ll be there as much as i could, as much as i can still handle.

here’s hoping i’m never right about these things again.

trying to forget this feeling,
my name here

I am not a 90’s kid except I am.

I’m not a 90’s kid. Well, technically I am but I was too young to really have a clear picture of how it was back then. I was basically sheltered from the outside world. I remember morning cartoons and anime in the afternoon.I remember evenings  believing with every fiber of my being that WWF (now WWE) was real. I don’t remember much of then really. I don’t remember things that would really mark me as a 90’s kid but… but the music forever ingrained in my being from that time.

When I think about the music back then I always come up with Nirvana, Radiohead, Rage Against the Machine… but when I think harder I come up with a nostalgia inducing array of styles and genres from the cheesiest pop songs to the moodiest vocalizations and I just… my heart feels like it’s caving and at the same time about to explode.

My 4 older sibling are way older than me: the eldest is 13 years older than me and the 4th one, 7 years. They were the reason I knew so many songs back in that decade by heart. Sometimes I find myself singing along to songs that most in my age barely or not even recognize and I am so very thankful for that.

I love music and I say that with certainty I rarely ever have. And as much as I think I know, I’m still learning about the music from that decade or from any decade for that matter.

(And I would make a list of every artist in that decade or make a stack of one song for every year all off the top of my head but I won’t, I’m too lazy.)

dealt

(So this is obviously another of those word vomits I’ve been lacking for a very long while now.)

Today, I had my cards read.

“Disclaimer: I am not telling you your fate,  what you should do, your past, your present, nor your future. I am simply reading the cards and it’s up to you what you do with them.”

Fate, destiny, all that hoopla;  I don’t really believe in those things but I sat down, thinking this will be interesting. I was asked what I wanted to know. Ultimately I chose to read about my life in general as opposed to hearing about love (this probably says a lot about me… maybe it doesn’t). One by one the cards were  lain (laid?) out for me. The last one, directly in front of me caught my eye. The image burned like the sun and one word sent my insides flaring. Joy.

(See, I really don’t believe in this stuff but there would always be that weird churning in my gut with every little seed of hope. I hate that feeling hence the overwhelming effect it has on me once it goes blasting through my walls.)

I kept a straight face and went on reminding myself to never jump into conclusions (nor latch onto false hope). A breath was taken.

There were seven cards spread out in a formation, three rows: two, three, then two, each representing my past, my present and my future. The readings were vague as anyone would’ve guessed. But what struck me was the recurring theme of identity, internal conflict, and shifts, changes. It all sounded melodramatic to me but really, each card suited me well (probably my tendency to fit myself into the words supposedly describing me). It amused me to say the least.  It may even have put some things into perspective.

(There is obviously a paragraph or two lacking around here… meh.)

I don’t want to go into detail as I would get too excited and waste too much empty space so I am going to end it with a note: we hear what we want to hear, doesn’t mean any of it is true.

Oh and the card right in front of me? It was in the future row; it meant lasting happiness… so yeah. What’s funny is that in the past there was a card that pertained to a spark trying to escape and me not knowing what to do with it. Here’s to me burning like the sun.

Okay so this is about smoking again.

My demons are probably catching up to me again. Or maybe it’s just my need for people to accept whatever bullshit I tolerate myself doing. Probably my thirst to screw-up things that are actually important just to have something other than fucking ennui.

Here’s a good example:  Forget about all the adds, campaigns and tax bills and the entire world against it. Yesterday, I went out with long time friends. 8 long years I’ve considered them my closest friends and then go shoving in their faces how I broke a promise I’ve made to them, how much I didn’t give a damn about it. I played like it wasn’t a big deal. They played like it wasn’t a big deal. And I made myself believe that I’m not to feel guilt over something that I decided myself.

I was wrong.

And the guilt is eating at me forcing me to distract myself from update feeds in my social networks that would undoubtedly contain their general and subtle disdain with me, with my bullshit. And I remember justifying to myself that what I’m doing is nobody else’s business but mine. Nobody else’s decision but mine. No matter how destructive this habit is.

Is it so wrong to deal with my crap in my own pace? To be able to say to myself that I’d be stopping for MYSELF and not for anybody else? And I know it’s pride and so very hypocritical of me. Everything I hate about other people.

But I’m a mass of contradiction, forever wavering and shifting, balancing the fragile line of monotony. So here we are again with my endless complaints and chronic inaction. How predictable, utterly pathetic.

I make no sense. I really do.

Proof: I have revised and rewritten this with unspeakable ruthlessness

I want to be free again. Back to when I didn’t know shit about the rules. When there was nothing hanging over my head, breathing down my back–

no, not good enough.

When the only voice in my head was a ceaseless babbling telling me stories on end, nudging me, reminding me of that certain itch at the pads of my fingers to tell of the things overflowing inside me.

Because now the only voice I hear, even as I’m trying to write this, keeps my fingers poised for one key. Backspace. Clack clack clack, backspace. Like an editor trapping me inside a cubicle, telling me to write, for the love of god write. And I do; I try as hard as I could but it does nothing but–

oh, that’s horrible.

are you even thinking straight?

okay, that is just plain–

This voice, it has grown cold, cynical, jaded. It does not trust me anymore. It doesn’t wish to share me tales it excitedly whispered to me. After all, why would it? I have failed it too many times in uneven childish scrawls, in naive blind strokes, in arrogant measured angles.

mistakes, all of it!

see how you’ve fucked me, yourself!

look at that trash!

I have failed it and it takes all of me not to burn the pages I once lovingly spilled my thoughts over.

Still I want my freedom. Not for the voice to cease into radio silence, as such would break me, but for it to loosen its grips on the both of us, for it to scream and to let me splatter ink into words.

I never hated it, never wished it gone, because it keeps me wanting. And to want is to be me.

one of those times i desperately want to be wrong

for months i have been wishing for that shot of inspiration, to be able to write again. now i have it in my hands but i don’t know what to do with it. i have it in my veins but it’s too busy burning holes in my chest. this thing i have, i know i can draw something beautiful from it. i also know that i can’t do it. not now at least.

you see, this is the first time this thing happened to me. it hit me like a train but what’s funnier than my mangled remains is that, in hindsight, i knew the train was coming; i just couldn’t admit that i was standing on the tracks. god, i can’t even put this in the right words. i’m afraid, okay? always have been (though i like to pretend i’m not). but i am terrified of this feeling, of that train that i know hit me and sent me flying then falling.

it started with a simple question: “do you have someone you like?”.  the immediate and honest answer has always been “no” in my case. well this time that question was met with silence and uncertainty. thus began the never ending poking and prodding at my resolve and especially at my patience (you can say threats were also involved) in persuading me to spill just who the person was who finally, FINALLY made me think twice about how i feel. i did my best but i was backed into a corner. it was either i spill or i don’t get to bathe (see: blackmail). so, i caved, nodding with a crooked smile and fluttering guts. and the joke is on me because the realization just came to me at that moment. my wounds were fresh and i let two people open them further.

it hurt at that time. still hurts now. it hurts that the person i like has been with a friend of mine for a while now. it hurts more because i’ve been there to witness that relationship from the beginning. i was even their buffer for god’s sake! the buffer that helped them get over themselves and just be with each other. and it hurt the first time i saw them together after this realization washed over me like ice water. i felt cold. i wanted to get away. so i did on a bus and clutching at my chest the whole ride back home.

i hope i’m wrong. i hope this is just me mistaking a feeling with something else again. or i have to get over this.

god, i hope i’m wrong.

first of hopefully many.

Yep, first post. Honestly I have nothing to say. I know it’s ridiculous. “Why blog when you have nothing to blog about?” For that sentiment, I give no cares. I made this blog on a whim like how I’ve done everything else lately. Hopefully in the coming days (or even hours) something in my horridly boring slate of a life will push me to have something to offer. Until then, I’ll let this sorry excuse for a post out here floating.

 

[edit] Anything below this post are reposted from my old tumblr accounts. [/edit]

lxv.

The past few days have been hell and a bit surreal. My whole body aches and I have a friggin’ black eye (guess how I got that). Well, I have been asking for something else to happen in my life. And it did just that only I didn’t expect to not be able to walk right or even stand up the day after. Honestly, I don’t know how I managed to lift my bags going down that bus when every step hurt like a mother. Though, time in the friggin’ semi-wilderness was awesome and gone better than I think it would with people who agree with each other (always the ones afraid to step on each others’ toes). The swimming, the navigation, the trekking, the rain, the sun beating down, and all the freedom to smoke my cravings away—at least the last part turned out great.

I don’t know where I’m going here. I am never one who writes coherently anyway especially when on medication. Ha.

 

*originally posted here