pouring it out, part one

May 21, 2007

there's this one specific day that i wanted so much to call my h.s.  best friend  (as if i have a college, kinder, grade school best friend, well, you get the point), my emotions was clamoring for the yester year's comfort we used to exchange, but recently, i held myself back. i was scared, nervous, that once that i call her, i will be mute. MUTE. like when you turn the tv on in the wee hours in the morning, and find these neon stripes on the screen on free tv shouting to your face that they have signed out and you have nothing to watch. TUUUUUUUUUUUUUT. i'll talk, that's given. but i guess, when i call her and be fortunate enough to have her on the other line, i will restrict my words into pleasantries– kumusta ka na? yung boyfriend mo?– that sort of shit. but i will never have the courage to say sorry to her for the daily arguments that i tainted 205*4 that we spent high school together. PRIDE. 

 

i have argued with her, most of the time in my silence, that i can no longer remember what i hurt her for. i am darn crazy. sometimes i hated her, i know she hated me in return, but we were seatmates, kada mates, trying to ignore each other with a grudge inside our chests has exhausted my brains into thinking of strategies until the day came that we just got used to having this cold war between us. 

 

ok, i was hormonal, REALLY! is that the only reason why we had to away-bati-away almost every other day? i want  so much to tell her that i hate my life in UP, that i am having a hard time to find my true friends, i wanted to tell her that i wish we made it together in UST just like what we planned to. but will it matter to her? i guess not. maybe she is having a hard time too, but i am not sure if she wants me to fight off her battles for her. she's hard to configure sometimes.

 

Obs and i, i think we are just protecting this image of a 'best friend,'  in the barkada, of course we were the ones who were together most of the time, she slept over at my house and i did at theirs. she always gives me gifts from a letter on a PE shirt, expensive stuff and a broken wing of a butterfly that she found during our field trip in laguna. but i know friendship goes beyond the sleep overs and the gifts that you exchanged. kyaw, jowie, trina, cheska, kit happened, and somewhere along the way, we lost ourselves, and each other in other acquaintances. there's so much regret but i restrain myself from pointing the blame. if we were protecting this image or not, i still want her to know that i get excited over the simple SMS that she sends me once in a blue moon and hope that endless conversations will follow, i still keep the letter that she wrote on a PE shirt, i still keep the broken wing of a butterfly in an empty box of almond chocolate. 

there's so much regret in me that i can't help but proclaim it on my blog. geez. im sorry to those who read this, this will be over soon, i promise. and so will i. 

so long summer, hello rain

EMO

 

listening to jackson waters, 8mm and la rocca doesn't kill the depression, exacerbates it instead. the rhythm of every beat echoes into the hollow, resonating emptiness. eww. pure, virgin, unadulterated EMO.  i don't know if im ready to watch 'in the mood for love' by won kar wai, or before the sunset. not yet. not now that theres a relatively pointed monggol lying innocently before my face, waiting for my palm to embrace it into a fist, to find its way under my skin. gore. but not quentin tarantino gore. not yet. oh no. this emo thing just turned thriller. fast forward. 

 

suspense.

 

i have missed my blog and the people who usually visits it. out of boredom and to feed my need to be productive. i meddled with adobe and experimented into trying what others have been doing. i have learned to love 'cutout' and gradient, but that's all that i explored. i wanted to do a lot in my life. but guitar lessons did not come, nor did the other activities i planned for this summer. slap on my face: mai, you are not a planner.  im scared that i can never achieve anything that i dreamed of fulfilling. maybe i just need to get away from the city, the pollution is drying up my senses and clouding into my sanity. 

    

    why does the sky seem a prisoner. of what? a lot of things, thats for sure. the same way that i have imprisoned and succumbed to a lot of things that i cannot break away from now. like hindrances that i, myself created. i am trapped into my own insecurities. i really missed the feeling of looking forward to something, of being over excited over uncertainty and certain things at the same time. this is going nowhere. stream of consciousness. i just hope that i can do the things that i want to achieve in life. halt. now i am thinking of the things that i want to achieve in life. i am still so clueless, or maybe i have so many things i want fulfilled, or neither, either, or both.  

    i am still not giving up on my dream to be a writer. after all i am an INFP/ INPF just like Shakespeare. when i got to the 7th circle, it'll not be a mystery why Minos, decided me to end up there. ngayon palang, i am aware of the genre of violence i savor now. again, thriller. hail Dante! 

   

     maybe i just missed the rain. maybe i need to pour it out too.  

adobe bidubidu

May 19, 2007

sinipag lang. 

isang batang lumapit sa akin habang nagkukuha ako ng mga capiz na bintana sa intramuros

hay. kunwari marunong ako. adobebidubidu