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."