Heartbreakers

I'm not as happy as I used to be these days but what's worse is that I had to make others unhappy, too.

Reader, I have broken another person's heart, unwillingly. I don't know what's wrong with me... In the end, I always end up hurting the people who have nothing in their minds but to love me and to help me. And it makes me feel really bad...

I always spurn the love they offer because of my selfishness. I want myself to be the one actively loving, and I would only give that to someone I really want. And if that is not the case, then I would do nothing... I would let you love me, but I will not force myself to love you. I would just wait for myself to reciprocate what you're giving and if that time won't come, then we're friends.

Was it my fault if I didn't fall in love with someone I hardly know? He's too young yet. He had to learn to control his emotions and not let himself fall too fast with people like me - selfish heartbreakers. (Yes, reader, you're not mistaken. It was a "he" this time...)

If I were more spiritual, I would almost believe in karma. The misery I've caused those who have been involved with me is not comparable to what I'm feeling, even with all the loneliness, the bitterness, and the confusion I've been going through. I have no right to shout out and complain to you, reader, because it was I who caused other people more pain. They are the ones who need help, not I.

I've been a fool, and I still am. The day will come when I will regret all those I have let go. All my chances of being happy I have ignored and given away. That cold day will come, one morning alone on my bed... And what would be my reaction, then? I would smile. I would smile broadly because I am living my own life - a life penned by my own hand and not influenced by those around me. It may be a cold morning, true, but inside me I know there's the satisfaction that I'm living my life my way.

Bick once told me that what is sad is that in living this kind of life that I have, I've broken the hearts of those who loved me. But what's worse was that I broke my own heart in trying to find who I really am. And the sorry thing is, I think I might break a few more if I'm not more careful this time.

I think I'm becoming fond of being a heartbreaker of my own heart. I'd rather break it on my own than let another person rule over me then leave me without even friendship left. I won't have that happen to me again. Never...

You, ***. You've seen me lately, haven't you? Did you see me stiffen as you and your friends walked past? Did you see the fuck you sign I almost formed with my fingers? Did you hear the faint "Shit!" I uttered when my eyes laid on you? Did you, ***, DID YOU?

You never did see a thing. Never hear a thing. You never feel a thing about me, and why should I? Why should I continue to suffer and call your name in vain when you shed no tear about me. You devoted no thought of grief whatsoever in my name, so why should I still think of you?!

Go away, bastard. You're full of shit, and if ever I see you alone I'm sorry but things might just get out of my hands. I might hurt you. I'll try to make you feel how much your selfish decision caused me hell, damn you.

So when you see me again, will you do me a favor? (And this time, it really is a favor, not a confession) Will you run from me like the coward you are? Run from the things you'd rather not face because it is "dyahe" to you? Run, run from ME!! Leave me alone because I'll find my happiness in a world completely devoid of your stinking heart!

Ha ha ha.

Harry & Me

Ever since I opened the first few pages of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, I've always wanted to be Harry. I've followed his journey through the magical world, imagining it was I in his place, fighting against the Dark forces... Little did I know, then, how much of his life would mirror mine.

It was in fourth year high school when I got to know Harry. Sandie was the first among my classmates to have the books, and one night while I was in her house, I picked this small paperback book she was raving about. I was immediately absorbed.

Why? It's because I didn't think I would ever find a book hero so like me at the time. He was bespectacled, skinny, with unruly black hair. He wasn't very outgoing, quite a shy boy in school. He had green eyes, and although my eyes aren't green, at that time it was my favorite color. He was simply me. If he wasn't so much like me at the time, I wouldn't have been so obsessed about Harry Potter.

Then the first movie came - I was in first year college at the time. I vividly remember the first time I watched it with my high school friends. There were a lot of people watching it, we had to stand and wait in the aisle for a while before we can sit. We weren't able to watch if from the beginning. When we entered, it was the Mirror of Erised scene with Dumbledore talking to Harry about what the mirror shows. Then, one of my friends exclaimed, "<I forgot the exact expletive>, he looks like Bryan! Kamukha talaga!"

Was I flattered? Well, a bit. I didn't much care about how I look back then. All I thought was... Wow, am I that good-looking? Bitter laughter. That was years before when my face was clearer than it is.

Then, the popularity of the movie spread, and a lot of people got to know Harry. I got used to people pointing at me on my way home or in school, and saying, "Look, there's Harry!" or "Pare, gusto mo makita si Harry Potter?" or "May kamukha siya..." Those were some of my most blissful moments ever. I half-wished I could take out a wand off of my shirt and wave it at them and say, "Lo! You're right. I am Harry Potter!", accompanied by blaring trumpets and dancing sparks off my wand...

I wrote about it in my journal. I talked to my friends about it. On my way to my bedroom, when I pass by the mirror, I would say to myself "Goodnight, Harry." Before I go to sleep, I chant to myself "I will be Harry Potter. I will be Harry Potter" over and over since I have read in one of my dad's books that that is one way to make what you really want come true - to trigger your subconscious mind. And it worked!

Looking back, it isn't just the appearance which made me want to emulate Harry Potter - it's his life. My letter of acceptance to UP was Dumbledore's letter. My course was Chemistry, which is, in my opinion, the closest course you could ever get to Potions and Magic. We get to wear lab gowns, the Muggle equivalent of robes when we work in the lab, and we get to prepare solutions! Even gloomy Pav 2 looks like the dungeons to me.

Harry was also abused physically by his Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley, and so was I before, by my dad and my brother (who was still very violent then). My dad even tried to stop me from enrolling in UP! He wouldn't give me the money for my application. I was so distressed I had to cry and be heard by my uncle (who was staying in our house at that time) who gave me the money I needed instead. Was my dad Uncle Vernon reincarnated or not?

Sadly, the similarity in Harry and me faded, especially with the change in Daniel Radcliffe in the following movies. He seemed to have taken in steroids (he's no longer skinny dammit!), and he looks more like Elijah Wood now. However, Harry isn't Dan Radcliffe, and at least I still get to look a bit like Mary Grandpre's illustrations in the books. I still do get some comments now and then from my students that I look like Harry, but they're not as frequent as I used to get and I'm not very elated about that anymore since I know that I have lost my Harryish look years before.

But looks alone aren't my sole basis for saying that I'm like Harry. What makes him really special? Its his scar, and the consequence of that? He became famous.

Now I'm not going to say that I am famous. I'm no star, but at least I'm not a nobody in our Institute, especially in light of recent events.

When I was in the first two years of my undergrad life, I was still quite a low-profile person. People only know me as the one who gets high scores in exams - just that. At that time, I wasn't satisfied with that kind of fame, and thankfully, I joined Chemsoc.

I was chosen as the head of that sem's batch of applicants, and we became the sort of Dumbledore's Army (Book 5 was just released at that time.) Anyway, in Chemsoc I gained more power and more responsibility. I became a familiar face to the heads of our Institute, and got more public appearances (Ha! The term...) in the various org activities.

We even had a House Cup in Chemsoc during my term as AcadCom Head. And we even got the chance to play make-believe Quidditch with blindfolded players holding a broomstick between their legs and trying to catch a Golden Snitch tied to a pole. Talk about power-tripping!

But that still wasn't enough fame. I joined the Student Council too, and luckily I got a position as a representative of my course (Wow. Potions Rep?) I got to officiate some College-wide activities, and that made me more known to the students of other Science courses. Did you see the CSSC Road Painting in front of CS Lib during our term? I designed that, that's why it was Harry Potter inspired.

Still, that wasn't enough. Fame from doing good in acads, org activities, council activities, is harmless fame. Nice fame. Harry's fame is a mysteriously speculative kind of fame. The kind which makes people whisper excitedly behind your back. The kind of fame in which people you don't know, know too much about you. And lately, I got that, too.

With recent events (which I have no need to discuss), I became the talk of the Institute. I was gossiped about. People I encounter in the corridor smile with knowing smiles, some I knew to be friendly before became suddenly cold. And not only my peers, even the staff and some of the faculty! Well, Harry became famous not because of a tempestuous love affair, but because of being involved with You-Know-Who.

Speaking of love affairs, Harry ended up with Ginny Weasley. Well, so did I! Chiyo has the same birthday as Ginny (August 11.)

With all that happening in my life right now, I begin to understand what Harry was being angsty about in Book 5 and in Book 4. Being in the limelight is not all that good if the source of it all isn't. I've mentioned here in my blog that I would have rather lived a normal life than be this way... So does Harry. Sometimes, we feel that we want to take a break from this grinding mill of a life - a life that we did not choose. At times, we both feel that we'd give anything to be somebody else...

Both Harry and I were chosen to face these problems, and although his fight is against You-Know-Who and his minions, and mine is against my identity and society, we both have our ups and our downs. (That explains the angst I let out here frequently.) We had no hand whatsoever in these issues being handed to us, and we can blame no one except the source of our miseries.

In the magical world, the fight against the Dark Lord goes on! If Harry won't give up, I won't either. It offers me comfort that even though Harry Potter is fictional, there's someone out there writing about a story so extraordinary yet I can still relate to it.

P.S.
J. K. Rowling has mentioned that one of the trio will be staying in Hogwarts as a teacher. I'm guessing that it would be Hermione since Harry wanted to be an Auror (his acceptance in Slughorn's Potions NEWT almost ensured that.) But if it was Potter who turns out to be the teacher instead... well what more can I say? He was a good DA teacher, right? Otherwise, I would just quit my job and send my resume to the NBI (they need chemists there, you know) just to follow Harry's life... Nah I'm not that obsessed. I used to, but we all grow old eventually, and we begin to lose the things which make our lives magical...

:(

Vanity House

I live in a two-storey apartment in KNL near UP with two friends - a guy and a girl. We used to have two guinea pigs as pets but the girl took them home, so we've got no animals there anymore except the alley cats. Most of the day, we're not there. We go to work at roughly around the same time every work day - that is between 8 to 9 am. Sometimes earlier.


It is a very simple house - typical for starters like us. It has a white linoleum floor, and white walls. Our living room area is dictated by the spread of a carpet, dotted by throw pillows and bean bags. There's also a small stool there, which serves as a table if you're sitting on the floor. Actually, you have no choice but to sit on the floor since there are no chairs in the living room area. In front of it, near the stairs, is a shoe rack, in which 6 out of the 8 items belong to the girl.


The dining area is made up of a green table-clothed table, and two cream-colored stools. We are three in the house, so when we eat together, the other eats on the living room area. The table is piled with stuff. For instance, I think my ash tray and my lighters are there. There's also one of the girl's shirts folded on a corner with her books, and the guy's facial cleanser standing near the edge. We don't usually eat there, so its okay for us for the table to be stacked with a lot of things. At least, when nobody's using it.


The kitchen area's main attraction is the ref, which at present, is broken. As usual, its top serves as another platform for our stuff. Beside the ref is a quite hidden area where we store our empty bottles of beer, some spare plastic bags, boxes, and the guinea pigs' old cage. The kitchen doesn't have cooking materials. Not even a stove or a frying pan. We don't cook our own meals. We do have six drinking glasses, some plates, utensils, a knife, mugs, two bowls, a shot glass, and some others. The girl brought her oven toaster from home, but we've never used it since we moved in.


The bathroom is... functional enough. The toilet bowl has no flush, and we've got no shower nor bath tubs. The floor is tiled, but the walls are painted pink. At least, there is enough water. On one wall, there is a very small mirror (about 4 square inches) left by the house's previous occupant. That small mirror makes our bathroom different from all the other bathrooms I've had the chance to use.


You can get to the second floor through climbing the wooden stairs. There, you have two "bedrooms" although the division isn't that enclosing. The first room you'll come into after climbing the stairs is the guy's, even if he seldom sleeps there since he prefers to sleep on the cooler first floor. It's filled with his stuff mostly, but we've also got some stuff in there, me and the girl, still stacked in boxes from when we moved in. What I like about this room are the old-fashioned windows. They look nice although not very functional. It gives the otherwise boring house a sense of uniqueness... and a sense of age.


The other room is shared by me and the girl. On one side, we have our "clothes area." For you see, we rather have a large number of clothes lying around, but we have no cabinet to put them into yet. We have a very large window, which lets in lots of light and unfortunately, heat. Near the bed is a lot of stuff. CD's, books, accessories, empty food packs, and some other things. You might think that we're pigs, leaving our stuff to stay in that condition. But its tolerable, I'm telling you. At least, there are no flies yet.


You might have noticed that we have no TV or computer. You're right. We only have a CD/cassette player as our source of entertainment, so if we get bored enough by it, we go to internet cafes. Even so, I'm quite comfortable in there. I'm not a TV watcher anyway, and I love music. As long as I've got music, I'll be okay.


Who needs TV's when you've got wonderful company to talk to. The two people I'm living with are not boring persons at all. We've got colorful lives, and something new always happens every now and then. We've got common interests and common backgrounds so we never have the lack of a topic to chat about.


The guy works in a laboratory in a hospital. He's a gentle man, quite talkative at times. He likes to sing and dance in front of us just to entertain us. He's quite vain. He worries about his looks, his body. Anyway, it's okay. He's not that annoying type of vain persons. Lovewise, he's single right now. His relationships are, to say the least, unconventional because his partners always turn out to be colorful people - like characters in a book. He likes to write, too, and among the three of us, he likes poems the most.


Me and the girl work in the same place - in IC. She's a researcher while I, as you very well know, am an instructor. Both of us are taking our masterals degree. Mostly, she's a quiet girl. Observant. Sensitive. She's also quite talkative but in a relatively more reserved manner. Between us, she'll often start with, "You know, a while ago, this person was..." She likes to talk about what happened during the day. She's vain, too, although she decidedly would not admit it. Well, almost all women are vain anyway. She takes particular care of her hair. She cannot live without her "Hair Doctor." Even in bed, she makes sure that she doesn't tangle her hair too much. She likes music and she likes to sing and dance. She likes to write, too.


And that leaves me to talk about. I don't really know how people see me as I am. I am not a very violent person, but I can be harsh with words. I am lazy and disorderly. I sleep late, and I smoke a lot. I can let my whole night pass doing nothing but smoke and listen to music. I like to think, too, and I like to share some of my novel ideas. I like to be funny, but I'm often quiet. I am fond of abusing other people in private when I'm in a particularly devilish mood. I LOVE music, and I like to sing and dance, too, although I can't say if I'm even a tolerable singer. I LOVE to write, and among us, I am the one who blogs the most.


Am I vain? Yes, but not in a physically aesthetic manner (for I have precious few to be vain about in that category.) I am vain about my personality, since in my perspective, I'm one of those enviable people you'll ever meet. I'm open, easy-going but still manages to get good grades, well-rounded, funny, creative, and loads more. I esteem myself that I did not turn out to be like some people I know who got stuck in the personality they were in since elementary school.


Now these three people, even if they don't know it, are probably the bestest of friends. They've been living with each other for more than a year now. They hide almost nothing from each other. They've seen each other cry at their most depressing moments. They've laughed at each other's follies. They've witnessed each of them change and grow as a person within the one year they've been together. They've been family - me and the girl as husband and wife with the other guy as the pet. Hehehe.


All good things come to an end, and the girl is moving out of the house. This weekend, she said. She's moving out for her own reasons.


So tonight, they're going somewhere to have fun and sing their hearts out. Somewhere to dance and somewhere to drink alcohol. Somewhere where they can fool around and simply just have fun. One last time together as housemates.


Cheers to Chase, Rhay, and Bry, the Bloggers Three! Cheers to friendship! Cheers to love! Cheers to friendship which led to love! Hehehehe!

Who I Need To Love

Tonight I feel an infinite sadness. Infinite? Perhaps not. This kind of heartache, I have learned, doesn't last forever. Time heals all wounds, they say, but knowing that doesn't make things easier.

I am sad, because thinking of losing someone I have learned to be fond of is... excruciating. I don't know. I have allowed someone previously unconnected to me in any way to know me. Know my thoughts and what I do. Either the real me will lead you closer to me or will push you away. Either you realize that we have a chance or will make you see that our worlds are too different.

This blog entry may even be baseless, for all I know, but sometimes we have an inkling of possible things that might happen. And I am just steeling myself for that. I am preparing myself for another blow, so that when it does come, I'm already numb. Well, no matter  how I do prepare myself for blows like this, it still hurts. I've learned that last year.

I just don't want to be hurt anymore right now. I've been through quite a rough ride this past few weeks, with all the exams, the getting-to-know-myself phase, the getting-to-know-others phase, work, stress, stuff, and all others... that I feel that I wouldn't like to be on the center stage of God's training exercise for the present. I want to be excused for a while, go to the loo, and throw a splash of water on my face. I want to feel something nice which would last. Something I've tried to look for but have only found in dreams.

And should I still search after God has taken this away from me? Should I keep the hope I'm holding in my hands from vaporizing into despair and loneliness which would smart me in my face? Should I continue? Should we continue? Should I turn my face on the wall?

It's nice to be given encouraging words by friends. I appreciate them a lot, but they're just like candies, like food. Because life doesn't stop from giving its share of bitterness, and some time after, my supply of candies run out.

I need help, I told you that before we got deeper with each other. I need you to stay with me. Help me find myself, because the pain I feel is eating me from the inside.

It's nice to hear from my friends that the right person for me is waiting out there. That love will come. That I'm too young to worry about these. But that really isn't the problem. What's wrong with me is me! I can't understand what this fucked up body of mine wants. My heart, my brain, my body is pulling me in different directions! I want them, to please, coordinate themselves. For once, point in one direction so that I can finally move on from this phase of my life.

***There will be times when I'd look back at these entries with a smile on my lips and a sparkle in my eye. There will be times, when, in the future I'll be reading back on my entries, pondering why I was such a heartbag before. Laughing at how melodramatic I have always been. But I know that for each entry I have written here, I have encapsulated a part of myself. Trapped it. Caught it, feel it and be enchanted by my own heart. Marvel at the workings behind my own mind so that, in that indefinite future time, I will finally learn to love myself.

David

David is my brother. He's my only brother. He'll be 19 later this month. He's staying with my parents. He's not studying. He's staying at home, doing nothing very productive. He doesn't have friends, except perhaps for my mom and dad. He doesn't go out of the house without my parents. He doesn't go on errands. He can't be trusted to stay at home alone.

He slouches when he walks. His mouth is often left open, gaping at whoever he creases his forehead at. He eats messily, and he eats a lot. He's becoming quite bigger lately due to lack of exercise. His voice is like a young annoying child's. High-pitched, and whiny. Sometimes, he speaks words which doesn't make sense. Most of the things he does doesn't make sense. He throws tantrums when he forgets to take his medication.

It's been nine years since I first heard that my brother is going crazy. What we first thought was just a nervous breakdown turned out to be the beginnings of schizophrenia. I've heard of the term, but at that time, my idea of the disease is limited to its criteria. I looked it up in my dictionary, and saw its layman's definition- a psychotic illness characterized by... I stopped reading then. Surely, the doctor got him wrong. My brother? My best buddy is psychotic? No way.

No way indeed.

He shouts so loudly we had to close the windows. The floor shakes when he stamps his foot. When he's in a fury, he could hurl the TV at us. At times, we really had to tie him up. He hurts my dad, my mom. He hurts me, too. Physically and emotionally. Talking him out of it is useless. Threatening him is useless.

Some nights, we get no sleep at all. Just as were about to fall to sleep, he talks. He whines in his irritating voice. He pokes us until we're awake.

He threw my watch, tore my books. He threw my walkman on the floor and it broke. He bent my eyeglasses. He scratches my arms with his fingernails. We fight. We fight a lot.

During those times, it is hard to feel sympathy for him. It is hard to think that this... cruel monster... who's always causing us misery used to be my brother. He used to be David.

Oh the times when we were playing as kids! The times when we talk about childish stuff late at night inside our room. The times we used to tickle each other breathless. The times he used to tease me. Nobody can tease me like he used to. Nobody can and nobody ever will!

Oh David, do you still remember me? Do you still remember your kuya? Do you still remember the times when Mom scolds us and we find our only solace with each other? Do you remember how I fought against those who were bullying you in school? Do you remember Leanza? Calabasy? Hazel, the small perfume bottle I found outside the hospital? Do you remember our make-believe world? Do you remember the fights we waged against Black Master? The marble tournaments? What about Lego? What about cars? What about everything that we've shared?!

David, ibang-iba na si Kuya... Miss na miss ka na niya. Siguro kung normal ka, itetext kita... Sasabihin ko, "Oi, musta na kayo diyan? Musta na gf mo? Kayo pa ba?" Siguro sasabihin ko, "Itigil mo na yang pag-inom" o "Gago! Mag-condom ka ha?"

Pero ngayon, anong nangyari sa atin? Pag-uwi ko, gusto mo lang ako umalis dahil pinapagalitan kita. Pag-uwi ko, sinusungitan lang kita dahil ayokong ipakita kahit sa sarili ko ang laki ng pagkawala mo sa buhay ko! Ayokong isipin na sa isang iglap, naging parang "only son" ako. Ayokong ipakita na nawalan ako ng kaibigan. Nawalan ako ng kalaro, kasama... Nawalan ako ng kapatid!!

David, tulungan mo si Kuya. Kailangan ka niya ngayon... Kailangan niya ng makakausap at makakaintindi sa kanya.

David, kapatid ko... Bakit mo ko iniwan dito mag-isa? Bakit nagpa-iwan ka sa ating gawa-gawang mundo? Ayaw mo na ba tumanda kagaya namin? Ayaw mo na ba habulin ng problema?

David, kung nasaan ka man ngayon. Kung saan mang state naiwan ang iyong utak. Sana di mo malimutan ang mga pinagsamahan natin. Nung mga panahong bata pa tayo, at walang bahid ng kasamaan. Doon ka lang, huwag ka na babalik dito dahil magulo dito. Iba na ang buhay kapag tumanda ka. Mapait, masakit, nakakaleche ang totoong buhay. Huwag ka dito.

Ngayon, walang magagawa ang mga salitang ito para baguhin ang sitwasyon natin. Kahit ilang beses akong mag-sorry at mag-i love you sa iyo, hindi ka na babalik sa katinuan. Hindi na kita makikitang nagduduling-dulingan. Hindi ko na maririnig ang panunukso mo. O ang tawa mo na nakakaasar. Tapos na. Wala na.

Binabalikan ko na lang ang mga panahong iyon sa aking isipan. Binubuhay ko na lang ang mga panahong masaya ako dahil ang mga nakikita ko ngayon - sirang ref, wallet niyang wala nang picture ko, fone na walang message, isang picture sa bag, usok ng yosi - ang mga bagay na ito ay nagdudulot sa akin ng kalungkutan. Kaya't mabuti pang balikan na lang ang mga bagay na parang fairy tale na lang. Yung mga panahong ang mga problema lang natin ay nawawala si Green 2, o brownout at hindi tayo makapanood ng Dragonball Z.

Verge Of Three

Gray skies merge
On the verge of three
A shout was heard
That I'm coming free!

From high to low
I've bent to seek
I singed my brow
I've skinned my cheek

A length of arm
Within my palm
Feel of the sun
Beneath my thumb

Gray skies merge
On the verge of three
A cry was heard
This is not for me!

I flew above
The pallid skies
To find the love
For which I'll die

And fly I did
To feel the storm
Not knowing if
Things would go wrong

To put myself
On the verge of three
I killed the soul
I used to be...

And it's bleeding...

Inside of me...

And I'm weeping...

But you'll...

Never...

See...

Lasahan Mo 'To

Sometimes, I wonder why I keep on fooling myself - like I'm just forcing myself to go with those on the other side. After all this time, it still feels unnatural for me. Where do I really belong? Where should I look?

It's tiring. I don't like being single anymore. I haven't had that many relationships before, but it feels like when you've been in one, you want to jump into the next at the soonest time possible.

Tomorrow, I was supposed to meet this friend. A new friend, someone like me. I tried to help him out of the same experience I have gone through last year. He was supposed to thank me in a quite unconventional way (I wouldn't tell you what it is, but you could guess.) And now... I don't think his plan would push through. I am beginning to think it never will.

And the sadness I'm feeling now is because of that?

I still remember the times I was with her... Even through the rough times, I've never felt this bad. There's a switch somewhere in our brains, I think. A "relationship" switch, which, even though you are not aware of it, prevents you from feeling too much negativity. Your brain knows that in the end, there is someone you can go back to. Which leads me to the next topic...

She is moving out of my life... figuratively. She is moving out of our house.

Damn! I didn't think it would hit me this hard!

Well, all of us have to leave something behind in order to put things back in order. But I don't know... I've been living with her for a year now. It wouldn't be easy going through life without her. It will never be the same...

I was a fool to let her go, I realize now. I was the biggest fool. Who would love me as much as she did? Nobody. I will not find anybody else who will accept for everything that I am. She accepted every stinking inch of me whole-heartedly. She went through all the hell I gave her, and she stayed still. She loved me still. But what did I gave her in return? What did I pay her back with all the good times we've spent together? Still more hell!

Our breakup wasn't really that final. I still get to see her every day and night. We are sort of still together. But now... Now she's leaving! For good.

I believe in fate. I believe things happen for a reason. I believe that I have to be whole first. That I have to explore all my sides before I can even think of settling down with someone. I have to accept all the consequences of my past decisions. There is no other way for me to live this damned life I have. Yes, reader, "damned" is the term. I've looked through the good and the bad of it, and it's still a damned life.

I need to see someone who will make me realize that my life is lovely - that it really is worth living.

God! Sometimes I feel like giving up on me. Why do You have to do this?!

Haaay sa totoo lang sawang-sawa na din ako sa blog na puro kadramahan ang laman. Gusto ko na din magsulat ng blog na kung saan ikinukwento ko na ang saya-saya ko. Na kinikilig ako sa pag-ibig. Na kahit ano pang ibigay sa aking problema ay makakaya ko dahil kasama ko ang isang taong gusto ko. Gusto ko yun... yun lang naman ang kailangan ko ngayon...

Gusto ko munang magpahinga. Gusto ko munang tumigil sa pag-iisip ng mga ganitong bagay. Bakit ba kasi masyadong active ang utak at puso ko? Na hindi ko kayang hayaan man lang ang mga nangyayari sa buhay ko na wala akong ginagawa. Na hindi ako curious. Na hindi ako titigil hanggang sa naintindihan ko lahat-lahat tungkol sa mga nararamdaman ko. Na hindi ako titigil sa pagkilos hanggang hindi ko nakukuha ang sagot.

Ngayon, medyo naiintindihan ko na kung bakit ako nahihirapan. Hindi lang dahil sa identity ko, dahil kung ganun man, bakit ako lang ang nagblo-blog tungkol sa ganito? Dahil din kasi sa ugali ko na gusto kong kilalanin ang sarili ko.

Iyon yun. At siguro, kung hindi ako nag-blog ngayon, baka hindi ko maiisip yun.

Hehe naisip ko lang about this blog thingy. Para kasing gusto kong ibroadcast sa inyo ang mga naiisip ko. Dahil ba para magpasikat? Para maging proud dahil kahit papaano hindi boring ang buhay ko? Siguro nga... pero bukod dun, I want to make a difference kasi. Kahit papaano, through my blogs, I am able to change the world a teensy weensy (n times) bit.

Yun nga, kasi ayoko nang wala akong ginagawang makabuluhan about this world. Nabubuhay ako hindi lang para sa akin. Para sa ating lahat, kaya't kung ano man ang maicocontribute ko na feeling ko ay makabubuti sa atin, ginagawa ko.

Sus, ijustify daw ba ang pagbloblog... Hehe. Gusto ko din kasi talagang maging isang writer kaya heto, pinagbubuti ko ang aking munting column - ang "One Tree House."

To Be A Father

"Say 'Daddy' for me."


"Dud dud..."


"Da..."


"Du..."


"Dee...:


"Dih."


"Daddy."


"Didi."


***

It was a cold autumn night as I was walking home to my flat near the school where I am working as an assistant teacher. The weather isn't as cold yet as I thought it would be, in this far-fetched East Coast city where I now live. A wind blew, rippling the khaki Burberry cloak I'm wearing. After all this time, I'm still not used to wearing a lot of clothes. But that doesn't mean that I don't like it.

Taking my PhD wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. My work is lighter than what I'm used to, and my studies are, at this point, still bearable. I also study more than I used to when I was taking my BS and MS. Perhaps, it's because of the environment. The competitive air in the classrooms. Perhaps.

I reached the door to my apartment. It's a simple detached house with a small and yet empty porch. I earn a lot more now - I can afford to have this house all to myself. I took my keys from an inner pocket, and unlocked the front door.

I turned on the lights and placed my things on a table. I've got some essays to check later, and I need to read for an exam coming two days from now. But before I settle down to my desk and work, I need something else. Something else to get me started. I turned on my player.

Listening to the music of my favorite bands, I am taken back in time. Taken back to those days in the Philippines when I was but a shadow of the person I am now. I've gained weight, for one thing, and became well... more good-looking than  I was before. My hair is a lot nicer now, though it requires a significant number of minutes in front of the bathroom mirror for it to be set. I dress well (thanks to LE), and I've gained more confidence.

I gaze upon the picture frames I've set up on a side table. There's a picture of my family - mom, dad, and David - back at home. They're doing better now, and in a year or less, I will be able to pay in full our house in Las Pinas. I gaze longingly on them, wondering what they are doing this time on the other side of the world. I checked myself from becoming too emotional, so I moved on the next picture frame which is... empty.

I stared longer on this blank photo, listening to Dolores O'Riordan sing her heart away.

I took a peek at the spare bedroom that I have. I imagined the room to have colorful walls instead of the plain beige they are now. I imagined the ceiling to have glow-in-the-dark stars arranged in constellations (and Voldemort's mark -a skull with a snake tongue lurking on the far corner.) In my mind, I see the shelves filled with colorful books, the cabinets bursting with educational toys. I pulled the drawers and saw children's clothes, predominantly green. I sat on the edge of the bed, turned on a night lamp, and gazed upon the face of my child, sleeping on the bed, a story book lying opened by his side.

I held his hand and thought of how I'd raise him. He'll be smart. Active. He'll be talented, and will play the guitar. He'll play basketball (or baseball) with his cool friends. He will graduate school with honors, and I will always be invited to go up the stage to pin hand him awards or certificates of some such achievement.

He'll be better looking than I am. He'll be healthy. I'd make sure he gets all the nutrients he needs in the right amounts (like preparing a chemical solution.) He'll be tall, taller than I am. He will have black hair, and no pimples. He'll be loads more good-looking than I am. Girls will fall all over for him.

I imagined holding his hand as he slept, letting him feel how much I care for him. I want him to have what I never had. I want him to feel what I've never felt.

I'll do everything for my son - my blood - an extension of my own being.

The phone rings, and the small hand I am holding vanishes into thin air. The bright colors of the room fading into the drab colors they really were. I stood and rushed to answer the phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey Bry, it's me. I just want to clarify some things about today's lesson. I hope you don't mind?"

I smiled then, realizing who it was. "Sure thing. Why don't you drop by by 8 while I shove down some dinner first. Or do you want to eat here?"

"Actually, I am just about to eat, too. Wanna join?"

"Umm... okay. That sounds nice. I didn't know you can cook."

"Oh (laughs) it's not me. It's (naming a nearby diner)."

"Ha! (laughs). I thought so. See you in a bit, then."

"Alrighty. Uh, and dude, no need to bring your books, I just borrowed some really good ones from the library."

"Cool. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay, thanks. Take care."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone, feeling happy and useful.

"Daddy?"

I stood still for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards the door, fetching my cloak on the way.

"Daddy?!"

I turned a deaf ear on the imaginary child. My imaginary son. I'll find the happiness I can find in the path I chose.

"Daddy, wait."

Now I can hear tiny footsteps following me. I looked back and glared at the child, banishing him.

"Go away, son." I said quietly, and walked on.

As I was closing the door, I saw my son totter back to his room, vanishing even before he reached his destination. This is the path I chose, son. I'm sorry but I'll find all the happiness I can with this.

I walked on, willing the crisp wind to clear away my tears.

I may not have a son anymore, but I will have a baby.

And with that, I walked faster towards my chosen destination. No looking back, Bry. No looking

back.

Hunter Haunted

"When you think the party's over, look over your shoulder. I'm at your door, coming back for more..."

That was how the song went. But for me, it's more like "When you think the nightmare's over, look over your shoulder. I'm at your door, trying to hurt you more."

Two questions:
1. Do I really consider it a nightmare? and
2. Is it really over or did I ever think it really was over?

I was in a texting marathon the rest of last night (after watching "Lovewrecked") with Marnie and Ria, each of them sending their replies while I was sending a message to the other. My hands were too busy juggling my fone, my cig, and my glass of cola. Perhaps it was those busy fingers which brought me this dream, or perhaps it was Marnie's association with him. Or even perhaps because we talked about him for a bit last night. Whatever the reason, I dreamt about something related to him again.

I dreamt that I was texting (ha!) with this really cool fone and I came upon this friend who is my "sorta" lone connection with him now. We talked, and I asked her whether she has already given him "it". She said she hasn't, and I have expected that to be her answer. I suggested that perhaps she should just leave it for him to find with a note attached to it, since lately, I am already able to not think about him for days and the idea of reviving our friendship has somehow lost its appeal.

I can't remember what her exact reply was. Just that she didn't agree with me, then she together with the rest of the dream swirled into a scene where I am texting my friends who are Globe subscribers. (Hehe, for the unlimitxt thingy.) Texting them about stuff related to him. Weird, but it was like I'm texting them a blog-text - something not conversational but something which I wanted some of my friends to know.

Then, here goes! Somebody replied, and I somehow expected it to be him, and it was him. His number wasn't saved in my fone, but I know his number by heart (no, by brain). He was asking me to clarify the message I sent to my friends since I named him there. What bothered me in my dream was how he received my message when he wasn't a Globe subscriber, and he wasn't even in my phone book.

I looked at our common friend (who was suddenly there again) and she advised me not to reply, even though I was practically itching to have a conversation with him. She thought that this would only lead to more misunderstandings between us and that instead of acting, I should just wait for her to mend things. I acquiesced, since in my dream, I was already a bit indifferent about him. (That fast)

Some time after, I checked my fone again, and I found he has sent a lot of messages, all clamoring for replies. I read one, and it spoke (it was a voice message?) and in it, I heard his anguished voice, asking me why I should make him suffer more. Asking me why I do these things to make him bitterly regret what he has decided. That I did not need to give him more misery since it was hard enough for him - hiding his sexuality.

From his voice, it was clear that he was, indeed, suffering. But suffering from what? I think to myself now. Does he even read my blogs? Does he even care about me? Is he suffering because I made him realize that he wasn't as straight as he thought he is? Is he suffering because I found out his deepest secret? Is he suffering because I made him gay?!

These questions will find no answers. And I don't care anymore about finding the answers because this dream brought me some satisfaction already. True, there are a lot more sensible reasons why he chose to leave, but until we get to clarify things, those reasons do not make those I stated above devoid of the possibility of truth.

Who knows? Who knows I made myself foolishly suffer when in fact, it was he who is pining away, trapped by his own deluded personality? Who knows that for every thought I devote to him, he thinks about me twice more?

Nobody messes with me unscathed. Whatever your reasons are, I know you will never forget me that easily. I may not haunt you anymore, but you will always feel that you are haunted. Because you want to be haunted, hunter.

You can't let our memories go that easily... without them bouncing back to you. Hard. And in your face. When you least expected them.

The Blacksmith's Hands

It is more difficult for folks like me to find somebody new. Especially, since one of my requirements is discretion.

"There are a lot of them in UP," Jewell said, as she sipped her iced tea and placed it back on the table. "But if you're looking for discreet ones, they'd really be harder to find."

"Yeah," I added. "They don't walk around with signs you know. Like 'Hey, I'm avaialble' or 'I wanna go out with you'."

I placed my cigarette on my lips and sucked the smoke into my lungs. I looked at her, and I added, "I want someone younger than me. Like with ***. You know, it would be like drinking from the fountain of youth..." I smiled and winked. Please excuse my language. At that time, I was already a bit intoxicated with gin pomelo.

She smiled, and said, "In that case, you have to support him financially."

I nodded and said thoughtfully, "Yes. You're right. But my salary isn't enough though..."

Jewell then went on about telling a story about this really good-looking guy he knows, whose education is being supported by an older man. I thought inwardly, and realized that I may do the same, if it turns out that I cannot find nobody to suit me.

"You know what," I confessed to LE and Jewell. "My problem is that my standards are too high! I mean, look at me. Am I fit to demand for what I want? Will it be a fair bargain?"

Given the parameter that it is very hard to find somebody like me in a typical setting (like how boy meets girl), how do you proceed to finding someone new?

Esme, my high school friend once said through YM, "You try *********.com. My gay friend goes there and look at the papas he gets. My gosh! I don't even have a boyfriend yet, but he...!"

So I did try, but I found that I did not like it.

I have another confession reader. I am a bit hypocritical about how I deal with homosexuals. You have heard me abuse those who look down on the third sex people. You have heard me call you to open your minds about issues like these, when deep inside, in my very own soul, I am also biased. I'm partially biased.

When I see gays trying to dress like women, my initial reaction is disapproval and dislike (unless they are really gorgeous). I have more respect for gays or biusexuals who act like straight people. I mean, they were born as men, why not act like men?

I am very aware (sometimes, more than I would like to be) that I am effeminate in some of my actions. If I dislike that in other people, how much more to myself? So, can you see how much I love myself already?

Once, I went to this kiddie party (I was in elementary school then) for my cousin. Like in most parties, there was someone doing the video coverage of the whole thing. When I got to watch the video and saw myself playing with the other kids... Hell! I acted so gay! I didn't know that before. I was so depressed after that, and until now, there are traces of that shame in me.

That's why I walk awkwardly, because I am trying to walk how straight people walk. I bow my head when I walk, not to look at where I am stepping on, but because I am ashamed of how I act. I wear my eyeglasses lowered because I don't want to see the sneers of people who dislike people like me. I don't want to see their expressions - their ill-meaning expressions - whenever I pass by where they are. I let my hair grow as long as I could, because I want it to cover my whole face, my whole personality I am so ashamed of!

So this is God's Plan for me, ain't it? This is HIS GODDAMN PLAN to make me go through all of this.

If that is so, I will get through these issues within me. I will not give up. I am given these problems because I CAN handle them. And I will. Nobody else can!

My fondest dream would be to go back to the people who has degraded me before. The people who laughed at me, who looked down on me. I will go back at them to show them how much I  have changed - physically, emotionally, and sexually. I will show them how their insults helped me be the one I am now. I will show them what they would never have - a character forged strong and true by hardships only I have ever went through!

Shots

I couldn't help but think that Superman and I have something in common (and no, I'm not going to say we look alike...) We are both sad. I mean, he saves the world and everyone but I wasn't able to feel that he was happy doing it. He didn't even get Lois Lane to be his wife. Sigh... We, who are given great power, have great responsibilities as well... (It may sound ridiculous, but it may be interpreted in other ways.)

However Superman had a son, while I...

***

Sometimes, fate has a way of arranging things to a nicety. For instance, yesterday I went into a motel for a taste of fornication, and today, I was summoned to go to church.

Of course, it wasn't of my own volition to go to church. It was Rhods who invited me. And so I found myself, sitting on a cinema chair, wondering whether the preacher really looked at me when he said the word "pig."

***

Last night (the night after the motel thing), I had trouble getting to sleep. I was sufficiently tired (I wasn't able to sleep much the night before because of too much excitement) but still, I couldn't turn my conscience off. I also had sudden qualms of a queasy stomach whenever I remember what I just did. It made me want to puke. I'm not lying, I swear I almost did do it when I was near the sink.

***

A slight movement woke me up from my fitful sleep. I looked at the time - 5am. It was July 1. The day I was to go to the motel with someone. I couldn't get back to sleep once my mind realized what was going to happen in a few hours.

The radio was turned on. She left it on, and it was playing nice early morning music from WRock. I closed my eyes and listened to the radio, trying to get back to sleep to forget about what was to happen. But it was an impossible task. The repercussions of what I was about to do will drastically change my life forever. Who could get back to sleep knowing that?

As I was turning these thoughts over in my mind, an eerie voice issued from the radio. A song I'd never forget because of its associations with me - us. It was My Immortal by Evanescence. I moved my arm and reached out for her hand.

***

It was Harry Potter's birthday, July 31. The year was 2005. She has just proposed that we drink in honor of the occasion and I was the foremost among our friends who heartily agreed.

We hid the bottles of beer we bought outside into a backpack, and I stole up secretly to our boarding house room. Drinking and smoking were prohibited then. Bags of chips were opened. Plates of food shared. Bottle caps off and the froth of alcohol oozed into our thirsty throats, finding its way through our blood and through the brain, driven by our conversation and the music from the CD player.

But before the alcohol reached my brain, it reached my heart.

Hazily, I found myself crying on her shoulders, cursing the world for making us suffer. It started from there. What happened to us now started from there. And the song playing at that time was the same...

***

song I'd never forget because of its associations with me - us. It was My Immortal by Evanescence. I moved my arm and reached out for her hand.

I held it tight. Held her tight. So tight that her arm might have felt numb.

"This morning," I tried to tell her without uttering a word. "This morning, Chiyo, I am going to get to know myself. This morning, I am going to try to do it with a man... I'm going away, Chiyo... I'm going away... to... to hurt you.

"This will be the last time I am going to hold you with innocence in my hands. This will be the last time you will hug my body pure and untouched by others. This will be our last hug together as Chiyo and Toy, you and me, Honey and Honey."

Tears slid down from my eyes, but with the dim light, she wouldn't see them even if she tried.

"R u awake?" somebody texted me. "Yes," I replied. "Is 10am ok?"

***

I felt her eyes scorch the back of my head as I rose off the bed too early for a weekend. They followed me as I took my towel off where it was hung. When I looked back though, she was fast asleep.

***

A guy in a yellow T-shirt, jeans, and rubber shoes approached me. He smiled, and I nodded in reply.

***

1am. July 3, 2006. What was done cannot be undone. I have no regrets. But I have no answers either.

Sa Motel

WARNING: This blog entry is Rated R. Those who are below 18 years old (especially my past students) are strongly advised not to proceed reading this. This might contain details which some of you may find umm... distasteful? If you are going to proceed though, please keep in mind that even if I am a teacher, I do have my own personal life separate from my profession. I am a normal person, just like you. Don't worry this isn't erotic. (It's funny actually...)


***


10 am, naglalakad ako sa may _______. Palingon-lingon. Kabado. Sobrang kabado. First time ko 'to gagawin. At sa hindi ko pa kakilala. Naisip ko nga na mag-bungee jumping na lang kaysa ituloy ito. Pero, hindi, inisip ko na kaya ko 'to. Ako pa? Si Bryan, susuko? Maduduwag? Adventurous yata 'to. Paano ko malalaman kung hindi ko susubukan? (Clarification, sa girls hindi na ako virgin... Read on.)


Kung saan-saan pa ako nagkalat bago pumunta sa aming meeting place. Ang daming tao, tapos parang lahat pareho nang gagawin ko. Over paranoia. Nakaka-praning kasi mag-isa ka lang, tapos yun pa... Yung gagawin mo. Kabadong kabado ako pero sige, masaya din naman 'to... Sana. Text na lang ng text. Saan ka na? Malapit na ba?


Sabi nya, naka-yellow daw sya. Kaya hayun, tuwing may dadaan na naka-yellow nate-tense ako. Siya na ba yun? Ito kaya? Napa-yosi na ko sa tensyon. Nung pangalawang stick ko na, heto na siya. Lumapit sa akin. Nag-smile. Tumango ako. "Let's go."


Anong itsura nya? Hmmm basta sa tingin ko, mas pogi naman ako. Hehehe. Pero okay naman siya. Of course, mas malaki katawan kaysa sa akin. (Given na un.)Mabait, for one thing. At hindi effeminate. E di lakad na kami papuntang motel. Alam nya yung lugar, so sunod lang ako sa kanya. By that time, tinadyakan ko na ang confidence ko. Tuloy, siya pa yung mas mukhang kabado at bago sa gagawin namin. Na-intimidate kaya siya sa itsura at asta ko?


Oo na, reader. Alam ko tinatanong nyo ang mga sarili niyo kung bakit ko ginagawa ito. Tinanong ko din ang sarili ko nun, habang naglalakad na kami. Alam ko na parang mababa ang tingin niyo sa amin. At bumaba pa dahil nag-eengage ako sa casual sex. Pero para sa akin, wala lang un. For fun lang. At yun nga, para masubukan ang mga bagay na hindi ko pa nagagawa. Sus, 21 na ako. Minsan lang ako magiging bata, kaya habang maaga, go lang nang go! And besides, kaya ko nang alagaan ang sarili ko. Kung magkasakit man ako, kasalanan ko na yun. Aware ako dun.


Anyway, heto na. Pumasok na kami sa motel. Ano pangalan? Alam nyo na yun dahil sukang-suka na tayo sa pangalan nya at ng kanyang lurid trademark colors. Secret pala yung pasukan niya. Ginagawa pa nga ung pinto nung pumasok kami.


Nahiya ba ako sa mga attendants? Hindi. As I've said, ang confident ko nga e. (You have to give it to me. Kung ikaw siguro, umihi ka na sa floor or tumakbo sa takot.) Three hours or two hours? tanong nung attendant. Three hours daw sabi ng kasama ko. May pagka-mahal sya ha. Mga Php 3**. At ako pa ang pinaka-usap nya dun sa babae, e sya nga tong supposedly na mas sanay. Pero ayos lang naman. Bigay ng bayad at iniabot ang susi na may napakalaking key chain.


Pagpasok namin, narealize ko na ang laki pala talaga nya. Hundreds of rooms yata. Pero malinis at mukhang hotel talaga. Makitid ang corridors at maliwanag. May elevator pa nga e. Pag may nakakasalubong kaming staff, nag goo-good morning pa. Ano kayang iniisip ng mga ito sa 'min? Tanong ko sa sarili ko. Pero go lang nang go. Sanay na naman yata sila.  Pasok na kami sa Room ***.


Hayan na ang kwarto. May bed. Malinis na CR. TV at anong tawag dun? Ung table na may drawers at salamin para makapag-makeup ang mga girls. Kulay red-orange ang light sa may bed pero may fluorescent din na naka-off. May fone din siyempre. Ung remote ng TV nakakabit sa wall (at wala syang battery, pano kaya un?) Sa table, may nakalagay na towel at extra bed sheet (pero hindi ko siya napansin agad.) May dalawang red slippers pa nga e. Umupo muna ako sa bed at huminga nang malalim.


Shet, heto na, sabi ko sa sarili ko. Paano ba ito? Konting usap diyan para naman may magawa. Bukas ng TV at nood ng porn. Actually, sawang-sawa na din ako sa porn e. Hehe. Kaya wala na syang effect sa akin. Tapos...


O, akala mo ba ikukwento ko lahat? May privacy din naman ako tsong no! Pero sige, heto na lang mga funny moments... Please para doon sa mga conservative, or masusuka sa mga ganitong klaseng "aksyon", huwag nyo na ituloy ang pagbasa. Kaawaan niyo ang sarili ninyo.


Funny moment 1: Nalock-jaw ako. Lintek! Pero naibabalik ko din naman. Mahirap pala talaga sya gawin... Kaya pala wala akong karapatan na mag-complain kung may gumagawa nun sa akin. Mahirap pala siya.


Funny moment 2: Connected dun sa funny moment 1, di ko sya nagustuhan. May point na muntikan na kong masuka. Haha!


Funny moment 3: Before naman kami mag-meet, ine-encourage nya ko na malaki daw ung sa kanya. Alam nyo na... dirty talk. But no, nung nandun na e biglang napa-Ha? na lang ako sa sarili ko. Ito na ba yung sinasabi nyang  malaki? Pero, hindi naman sa minamaliit ko siya ha (double meaning un a). Siguro malaki lang talaga ung sa akin. Hehe.


Funny moment 4: Wala nang hiyaan sa paghuhubad! Sabagay, naka-ilang sex na ba ako para mahiya pa? Napansin ko lang na, un nga, nung nakita nya yung sa kin, siguro na-intimidate sya kaya medyo tinanggal nya muna sa lime light ung kanya until nagbihis na kami. Actually, nahihiya nga ako maghubad ng brief hindi dahilsa modesty, kundi dahil wala akong... alam nyo na... proper response. Nakakahiya for him un di ba?


Please, kung nagbabasa ka pa rin ngayon at hindi mo na kinakaya, huwag mo na ipagpatuloy. Sasabihin nyo ko ng "Yuck, Bry!" o "Yuck, si SIR!". Ahaha! Kebs naman ako pero winarningan ko na kayo ha. Tao ako. Totoong tao at hindi ako nahihiya dahil parte naman talaga 'to ng buhay. Ako lang kasi ang may guts sa inyo na umamin at magkwento e. Puro kayo hiya! Ewan ko sa inyo! Modernong panahon na kaya yang mga utak-Neanderthal nyo, pwede ba, pakitapon na.


Funny moment 5: Walang effect sa akin ung ginagawa namin sa bed. Shet, sabi ko sa sarili ko. Ano ba 'to? Akala ko gusto ko. Akala ko kaya ko. Kasi parang nung nakita ko na nga, parang "So? Meron din naman ako nyan. Mas malaki pa..." Kaya nag-suggest sya na mag-shower daw. Sabi ko pa, "Naku wala akong towel..." E shongs may towel nga dun di ba na provided? Halatang hindi sanay e.


Funny moment 6: In fairness, may warm shower. May sabon din. Okay... fast forward... sorry! Hanggang sa hayan, may nangyari na sa kanya. Napunta sa legs ko. Wala man lang akong "Holy shit!" na reaction. Wala. Walang exhiliration. Tapos when it was my turn, aba, hindi ko nagawa! Kung anong powers na ng imagination ang ginamit ko, wala pa din! (Ano kayang naisip nya?) So in short, hindi ako nag-iwan ng bakas sa kwarto namin.


Funny moment 7: Kung hinihintay nyo ang tungkol sa part na masakit, well, sorry hindi ko ginawa yun. Kasi sa totoo lang, gusto ko na ako ung "male" part sa amin, e parang never pa sya naging "female" part so, kaya din siguro walang pinatunguhan ang ginawa namin. Well, at least for me walang masyadong erotic benefit. Pero nakapag-shower naman ako, at least. Hehehe.


Hayun kaya heto, may lakas pa kong mag-internet about that. Pero don't take me wrong, hindi ko pinipintasan yung kasama ko. Sa totoo lang, I'm very thankful dahil walang nangyari sa aking masama at tinulungan nya ako na mag-explore. Maswerte ako at siya ang nakasama ko ngayon.


O anong conclusion? Straight yata ako. Or asexual. Haha. Madami din sigurong factors kung bakit ganoon ang nangyari... Bahala na ang future pero I wouldn't say no to another round. Of both. (Kuha mo?)


Hi reader. Wala lang, masaya lang ako today. Hindi siya sa sexual ha, emotional happiness. Medyo natututunan ko nang mahalin ang sarili ko at mas maging open sa mga ganitong bagay. Alam mo ba, kaya ko din isinulat ito dito ay para ma-open ang mga isip ninyo about these things. Sana tanggapin nyo na ang ganitong mga bagay ay normal. Walang masama dito. Naging masama ba ako sa ginawa ko? May nagbago ba sa pagkakakilala nyo sa akin?


Sana wala. Kasi sa totoo lang (class) dapat ngang tularan at hangaan ang mga kagaya ko dahil hindi ako nahihiya na silahis ako (o bakla o straight o kung anuman - di ko pa talaga alam e.) Hindi ako nagtatago, kagaya ng iba diyan na nasa denial stage pa din. Ano bang masama dito? Ang mga sarili lang naman natin ang totoong kumakalaban sa atin. Huwag na nating labanan pa. Mahirap gawin yun, oo alam ko. Napakahirap, pero hahayaan lang ba nating manaig ang ideya ng ibang tao kaysa sa mismong sarili nating pagkatao. Nabubuhay ka ba para sa kanila? Sila ba ang tama at ikaw ang mali?


May tiwala ako sa iyo, reader. Alam ko na hangad mo din ang kaligayahan ko kaya sana masaya ka din dahil sa ginawa kong ito, naging mas kuntento ako sa sarili ko.


Kitams, may kalibugan ba sa entry na 'to? Kung meron kang naisip, ikaw ung green-minded hindi ako ha. Hehehe.


Salamat sa pagbabasa. Sana may natutunan ka. (Bukod sa tips, hehe.)


P.S.
Totoo pala yung nahuhuli ng mga misis kung nambabae si mister nila dahil sa amoy ng damit or ng katawan. Wala lang, kasi naaamoy ko pa din sya sa akin hanggang ngayon.