September: In A Nutshell
September, for a starter, has got to be one of the happiest and most fun months ever (you weren’t expecting that, were you?). It’s even better than
summer if you ask me. Yes, there were still lots of arduous school tasks and painful people I don’t have a choice but to work with, but all in all, September was great. Our baby thesis will be due in a couple of weeks, so half of my time was spent making it more feasible. I’ve gone through series of frustrations and strains just to get everything right for the school Society I’m presiding over (in which I was thankfully successful). One of my classes is getting duller and duller each session and it’s taking me everything not to walk out. September was just like a normal academic month, but do you know what made it stand out above the rest? Yes, I finally (kind of) had a
social life.
This September, I experienced being an audience member for a game show adapted by local productions from the international scene (it was literally a cool experience – the AC vent was right above us). My parabatai
Diane and I got to be little fangirls again through this year’s Candy Fair (more on that on the “And Confetti” section). And… well, nothing more. My adventures in the scary world of socialization weren’t actually an epic ones, but at least I’m making progress.
SEPTEMBER ARCHIVES
The F Word
I got a little inspired with Ms. Marla’s blog (more on her on the “Favorite Person” section – and yes, it’s back), so I decided to make a reference on one of her many beautiful words. I tried writing as metaphorically and romantically as possible, but all I came up with was “the shitty road” and “bad and dark Christmas lights”. I am quite awesome, am I not? Excerpt: “The bravest people are the ones who can accept their fears; the strongest people are the ones who can own up to their weakness; the freest people are the ones who can acknowledge their pain.”
Goner
To be honest, one of the many phenomena that made me a happy kid this month was – yes, you guessed it right – Great Crush. Okay, before you hit me with a cleaning mop for being masochistic, please read this post first. Here’s an excerpt: “There is just something about him that makes me want to hold on, refusing to let go, refusing to move on, agonizing myself over and over again. It’s cliché to say but he’s like a drug that I can’t relieve myself from.” Well, this doesn’t change anything so I guess you can hit me now.
Unidentified
Have I ever told you that I basically don’t have a personality? Oh, right. I didn’t need to tell you since it’s already too
obvious. So yes, so far, after two long decades, I still haven’t discerned what my personality is. I don’t know who I am, for heaven’s sake! All I know is that I’m this weird, crazy person who’d rather study than party, who’d rather stay at home and read than stay in a bar and reel. I’m this girl who charms her way through words, who talks about her life like it’s something worth talking about. I am an exhausting human being.
HALLELUIAH CATHARTIC
“It’s funny. I met a man once who did a lot of mountain climbing. I asked him which was harder, ascending or descending? He said without a doubt descending, because ascending you were so focused on reaching the top, you avoided mistakes. ‘The backside of a mountain is a fight against human nature,’ he said. ‘You have to care as much about yourself on the way down as you did on the way up.’” ©
For One More Day (by Mitch Albom)
LOONY DRAGONSLAYER
Oh well… I got too happy with this month that I forgot to read.
September read:
For One More Day by Mitch Albom (as usual, it was heartbreaking).
Current Read:
1984 by George Orwell (I cannot seem to finish this).
EARGASM
FAVORITE PERSON
Marla Miniano is the current editor-in-chief of Summit Media’s
Candy Magazine. She is also an author of several Young Adult novels. Ms. Marla is my favorite person (after many months of not having one) because, to be honest, she has one of my dream jobs. But I’m not saying I’d steal her source of livelihood from under her nose. I want to actually work with her, until I’ve done enough to deserve the spot. I also really like her because she’s nice, an optimist and a romantic. Have you read her
blog? It’s awesome. When you read her works, you’d wish it was you who wrote it. Have you mentioned her on
Twitter? She’d respond for sure. We’ve exchanged a couple of messages, and I enjoy it so much I’m acting like a stalker already. I met her at the Candy Fair and it was awesome. She said she’s glad we’ve finally met, and I couldn’t say more.
FAVORITE PHOTO/GIF
This is Diane (right) and I at one of the many (like,
a lot) photobooths at the Fair. Diane had numerously expressed her delight in this particular photo, saying it’s the only shot where we look decent – which I agree with. We do look great here, like we’re sisters by blood or something, smiling like we’re looking at cute boys and/or a gallon of pistachio-flavored ice cream. FYI: A portion of our hair was colored, hers green and mine orange (although it just looked like it burned up by itself). I really hope we could make it to next year’s fair and the next and the next, until we get too embarrassed by our age.
AND CONFETTI
Confetti #1:
“Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” audience experience. Other than it being literally cool (God, the trembling my body had gone through), it was awesome because I got to learn some things about studio production. I was actually more interested with what the floor director was doing and with the aerial camera than with the famous host. I would’ve volunteered as Production Aide if asked! It was also tiring because the taping finished past midnight already – but
hello, welcome to the real world!
Confetti #2:
Sports Festival 2013. For some reasons, I’m not a fan of sports festivals or sports itself, but I quite enjoyed this year’s intramurals. No, I didn’t join any events (I’d just kill myself with embarrassment and concussions from hitting myself in the head), but what I enjoyed was the successful things my Society had accomplished: (1) we got our Broadcasting shirts after a lot of dilemmas with the final design and printing; (2) some members participated in different events and won (hooray!); and (3) boodle fight – need I say more?
Confetti #3:
Candy Fair 2013. Because it was just awesome, duh! Besides meeting Ms. Marla, spending time with Diane (whom I missed for more than a year, by the way), and seeing lots and lots of guys worthy of ovaries explosion, I have this cool shot (taken by Diane) that got featured (kind of) in Candy’s
Facebook page and was used in one of the
articles on their website. This is literally confetti-worthy.
October = sembreak = fun (*cross fingers*).
Unidentified
Describe your personality.
That is one of the questions I always find so hard to answer. I’ve realized that it’s hard for me to describe my personality because I
don’t have one. I don’t have a personality – how
cool is that?
For one thing, I’m not a fun person. My humor is bad and I’m more or less boring. I’m awfully shy around people, and the only interesting topics I can be enthusiastic about are different fandoms and the beautiful world of weirdness. I don’t go out a lot, and when I do I prefer doing it
alone – in
bookstores. I have the personality of a
brick.
Unlike other people, especially those from my school, I don’t have a lot of friends who I hang out with after surviving midterms or something. I’m friends with the library; I’m friends with reading. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop myself from not being diligent. While others are taking everything lightly on their hands, I’m overthinking every single issue like my life depended on it. It’s really frustrating. Sometimes I just want to take things slow and chill a bit, but a few minutes on it, I immediately start to get bothered by my procrastination. When I take things less seriously than how I used to, I have this feeling that I’m betraying someone, this anxiety about something invisible. I always try to push myself too far because, as I’ve realized through the course of time, it’s the only way I can prove to myself that I’m worthy. Worthy of what? I have no idea.
I can’t afford to not be diligent and hard working because those are the only areas where I excel. I’m always that smart kid, that assiduous student who tries to do things perfectly. I can’t be anyone else: I can’t be that funny person everyone is friends with; I can never, in any dimension, be the hot and popular cheerleader. Being a
nerd is the only character I can best play. Have you seen cliché American high school movies where canteen tables describe the clique one belongs to? There’s the popular table, the incognito table, the artsy table and the nerds. Sometimes I take a seat at the incognito and the artsy, but most of the time I’m
glued to the nerds. I’m not saying that I was born a genius and I get perfect scores every freaking time. No. I’m just hard working. One professor told me that thesis is actually easy, so I shouldn’t stress myself too much; but he added that I can’t take it easy because I’m already known as the student who submits one of the best works. Well, that’s just like saying I can’t flunk because everyone’s expecting me not to. That’s it, right?
Expectations.
God, I hate that word. It has always been my weak spot. When people expect too much, I get really crazy and anxious. Their expectations, with the way I’m taking them, feels like the judgment of my life, like the fate of the remainder of my life will depend on their outcome. You’d ask me, why not just shuck the whole thing and forget what they think? I tried, God, how I tried. I tried slacking off and don’t give a shit about it, but in the end, I’d always remember that it’s my reputation on the line. If I do really badly, I would not only disappoint the “expectants”, but I’d also disappoint
myself. I’d get frustrated and depressed, thus my remotely low self esteem would get awfully lower it’s already friends with the Tartarus staples.
Sometimes people would look at me funny when I spend most of my time buried in a book or a puzzle, and I don’t really give a fuck. It makes me happy. I may not have the best Friday nights that are worthy to write a song about, but at least I get the grades that would look fantastic on my transcript. The day may pass and my hair would look like it has never met a comb, but at least I get a pat on the back. Really, I don’t get why some students hate school. They’d whine about how school wastes their time and how Mondays are the worst, but really, when you get rid of everything else and focus on the things that
actually matter, school would make your List of Things I’m Grateful About. A decent education is one of the best opportunities one can acquire. These kids should know their priorities and be thankful that they can afford a good education. I’m not saying that I’m in love with school – that’d be hypocrisy; I also hate Mondays and homework and demanding professors, but I know that all these shits I’ve gone and is going through are my stepping stones to be the best person I can be. They are some pretty hard and pointy stones, but, just like the constant annoying tick of the clock, you just get used to them as time pass.
So do I have a personality now? I’m not sure. Can I just say I’m that person who has a not-so-socially-colorful life but like talking about it nonetheless?
Goner
Sometimes I’m just so full of myself. This blog is the proof – and my never-stopping yapping about my hopeless one-sided romance with Great Crush.
Yes, we are talking about Great Crush again, for probably the thousandth time. I can’t help myself actually. Maybe my writing about him lessens the wretchedness I feel for him. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my narrating my feelings for him like I’m writing a cliché novel actually
worsens everything. I’m not sure. All I know is that I like him; I miss him; it feels weird; it feels amazing; it hurts; I want to see him; I feel like I’m a shit; I feel hopeful and hopeless; I feel like crying; he makes me smile; I’m so full of myself.
As you all know, this infatuation – the
greatest infatuation in my lifetime – has been haunting me for three years and three months already. There is just something about him that makes me want to hold on, refusing to let go, refusing to move on, agonizing myself over and over again. It’s cliché to say but he’s like a drug that I can’t relieve myself from. He’s a drug that gives me euphoria every time I feel like my life is anything but special. He’s a drug that makes me smile like a maniacal killer. I’m so addicted and dependent on this drug that any form of withdrawal from it will
ruin me. I tried different ways to forget him, to change my perspective towards him, to imprint in my mind that he’s nothing but a huge distraction and beautiful destruction. But look at where it got me!
I know that this is impossible, that hoping we’ll be something more than online, barely-there friends will never happen, that this feeling I have for him will never be reciprocated. But what is it about him that makes me continue hoping? What is it about his smile that makes me forget the shits I go through every time I think of him? What is it about our senseless nerd-outs that makes me want more, that makes me seek for these conversations every day, that anchors me to a better, flowers-with-butterflies disposition?
Do you think this is love? Is this called love already? Lately, every time I see him online, exchange words with him or just dig up my memories of him from my subconscious, I have this aching in my chest that I couldn’t explain. My chest hurts every
freakin’ time. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? If it is, it isn’t fun. Jealousy has also been becoming a problem lately. I get jealous every time I realize he’s too sweet with the opposite sex. I envy girls who have established concrete friendships/relationships with him – I want to have that! I get suspicious with pretty girls swarming around him. I’m acting like a
crazy person. I’m acting like a crazy ex-girlfriend who never actually had him. I’m acting like a crazy, obsessed girl flinging myself to him like he’s my prince charming saving me from the wicked witch.
I’m really unsure if this is love already. I hate to admit it, but it feels a lot like love. Just like before, I’m standing a few inches risky from falling into this abyss of crazy euphoria with crazy difficult emotions, with my one foot dangling. Only a little push forward and I am a
goner. I’ve been a goner anyway, ever since he first smiled at me, with those beautiful eyes of his. My being a lost cause worsened when I learned he could sing, ticking off another dream guy quality on my list. This is kind of crazy, but then again, there’s nothing normal in this world: Math is crazy; Chemistry is crazy; book characters are crazy; fangirling is crazy. If this is love, then it is. Let it be. Let’s be crazy and in love together.
If only every memory, every pain succumbed to, every word exchanged, every jealousy, every tear shed were the answer…
The F Word
“Back then I didn’t know that hurt was a beginning, always, and that forgiveness was a quiet guest that did not announce its arrival but stayed until you were ready to make room on the couch, set a place at the table, bring out warmer blankets and nicer sheets, the ones you’d been saving for ‘a special occasion.’ I didn’t know that the things that were large and loud and heavy then would someday fit into my pocket, or be small enough to stow under the bed, like an old pair of shoes that no longer fit.”
People born under the Cancer sign are supposed to be forgiving but never forgetting. I am a moon kid. I am born under the Cancer sign. And yes, the cliché “Forgive but don’t forget” works with me so much it’s already unhealthy. I don’t know why but I can’t seem to forget unfortunate things in my life.
I can easily forgive. If shits come falling from the sky, tarnishing our friendship or relationship, give me a few days and all the shits have been taken cared of already. The road has been cleaned, whatever happened was history. But then, just like history, it’s already written and undying. I may forget details from the past, but I remember bits of it nonetheless. The road has been wiped clean from its shits, but it’s already imprinted in my mind that this road has been tainted – I can still smell the stink it has left in its wake; its dirt is still in the darkest corner that will never discover itself unless provoked. The memories are sleeping but can always be stirred in its lair. The offense has been forgiven but never forgotten.
I know it’s a bad habit but I
can’t unclasp myself from it. I can never forget. This thing works just like that “trust is like a mirror” thing I’ve heard in a pop song: trust is fragile, trust is sensitive, trust is irreparable. Since this is my prerogative, I’ve learned to assume that it’s also everyone’s – that the people I offended with my weirdness and foul mouth also can’t forget. This makes things between us awkward. But it’s easier that way. At least we both know that even though we may have forgiven each other, there’s still that past haunting us. It’s weird, but I guess everyone can never forget. “You’ll just laugh at it when you become older” – does that sound familiar? That’s one indication that we all can’t fail to remember. How can you laugh at the past when you’ve already forgotten about it, right? So I guess Cancer baby or not, all of us are carefully tiptoeing our way on that shit-tainted road, with hazmat suit and sharp eyes and all safety precautions.
I have learned that forgiving is a never-ending process. We may have verbally forgiven this person, but the pain it has left us is still living inside of us. If left unnoticed, it can light up our whole body like bad and dark Christmas lights. The bravest people are the ones who can accept their fears; the strongest people are the ones who can own up to their weaknesses; the freest people are the ones who can acknowledge their pain. We can never heal if we don’t admit in ourselves that we are hurt and that are capable of being hurt once more. We can never make peace with others if we deny that we’re also to blame. We should own up to our faults, because this battle of spitting fire will never end if all we do is point fingers to each other. Once we’ve come into terms with our own mistakes and open ourselves to forgiveness, the burden we’ve been carrying on our shoulders like we’re the freaking Greek Atlas will fall into its proper places and not become flying shits on the road.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
September: In A Nutshell
September, for a starter, has got to be one of the happiest and most fun months ever (you weren’t expecting that, were you?). It’s even better than
summer if you ask me. Yes, there were still lots of arduous school tasks and painful people I don’t have a choice but to work with, but all in all, September was great. Our baby thesis will be due in a couple of weeks, so half of my time was spent making it more feasible. I’ve gone through series of frustrations and strains just to get everything right for the school Society I’m presiding over (in which I was thankfully successful). One of my classes is getting duller and duller each session and it’s taking me everything not to walk out. September was just like a normal academic month, but do you know what made it stand out above the rest? Yes, I finally (kind of) had a
social life.
This September, I experienced being an audience member for a game show adapted by local productions from the international scene (it was literally a cool experience – the AC vent was right above us). My parabatai
Diane and I got to be little fangirls again through this year’s Candy Fair (more on that on the “And Confetti” section). And… well, nothing more. My adventures in the scary world of socialization weren’t actually an epic ones, but at least I’m making progress.
SEPTEMBER ARCHIVES
The F Word
I got a little inspired with Ms. Marla’s blog (more on her on the “Favorite Person” section – and yes, it’s back), so I decided to make a reference on one of her many beautiful words. I tried writing as metaphorically and romantically as possible, but all I came up with was “the shitty road” and “bad and dark Christmas lights”. I am quite awesome, am I not? Excerpt: “The bravest people are the ones who can accept their fears; the strongest people are the ones who can own up to their weakness; the freest people are the ones who can acknowledge their pain.”
Goner
To be honest, one of the many phenomena that made me a happy kid this month was – yes, you guessed it right – Great Crush. Okay, before you hit me with a cleaning mop for being masochistic, please read this post first. Here’s an excerpt: “There is just something about him that makes me want to hold on, refusing to let go, refusing to move on, agonizing myself over and over again. It’s cliché to say but he’s like a drug that I can’t relieve myself from.” Well, this doesn’t change anything so I guess you can hit me now.
Unidentified
Have I ever told you that I basically don’t have a personality? Oh, right. I didn’t need to tell you since it’s already too
obvious. So yes, so far, after two long decades, I still haven’t discerned what my personality is. I don’t know who I am, for heaven’s sake! All I know is that I’m this weird, crazy person who’d rather study than party, who’d rather stay at home and read than stay in a bar and reel. I’m this girl who charms her way through words, who talks about her life like it’s something worth talking about. I am an exhausting human being.
HALLELUIAH CATHARTIC
“It’s funny. I met a man once who did a lot of mountain climbing. I asked him which was harder, ascending or descending? He said without a doubt descending, because ascending you were so focused on reaching the top, you avoided mistakes. ‘The backside of a mountain is a fight against human nature,’ he said. ‘You have to care as much about yourself on the way down as you did on the way up.’” ©
For One More Day (by Mitch Albom)
LOONY DRAGONSLAYER
Oh well… I got too happy with this month that I forgot to read.
September read:
For One More Day by Mitch Albom (as usual, it was heartbreaking).
Current Read:
1984 by George Orwell (I cannot seem to finish this).
EARGASM
FAVORITE PERSON
Marla Miniano is the current editor-in-chief of Summit Media’s
Candy Magazine. She is also an author of several Young Adult novels. Ms. Marla is my favorite person (after many months of not having one) because, to be honest, she has one of my dream jobs. But I’m not saying I’d steal her source of livelihood from under her nose. I want to actually work with her, until I’ve done enough to deserve the spot. I also really like her because she’s nice, an optimist and a romantic. Have you read her
blog? It’s awesome. When you read her works, you’d wish it was you who wrote it. Have you mentioned her on
Twitter? She’d respond for sure. We’ve exchanged a couple of messages, and I enjoy it so much I’m acting like a stalker already. I met her at the Candy Fair and it was awesome. She said she’s glad we’ve finally met, and I couldn’t say more.
FAVORITE PHOTO/GIF
This is Diane (right) and I at one of the many (like,
a lot) photobooths at the Fair. Diane had numerously expressed her delight in this particular photo, saying it’s the only shot where we look decent – which I agree with. We do look great here, like we’re sisters by blood or something, smiling like we’re looking at cute boys and/or a gallon of pistachio-flavored ice cream. FYI: A portion of our hair was colored, hers green and mine orange (although it just looked like it burned up by itself). I really hope we could make it to next year’s fair and the next and the next, until we get too embarrassed by our age.
AND CONFETTI
Confetti #1:
“Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” audience experience. Other than it being literally cool (God, the trembling my body had gone through), it was awesome because I got to learn some things about studio production. I was actually more interested with what the floor director was doing and with the aerial camera than with the famous host. I would’ve volunteered as Production Aide if asked! It was also tiring because the taping finished past midnight already – but
hello, welcome to the real world!
Confetti #2:
Sports Festival 2013. For some reasons, I’m not a fan of sports festivals or sports itself, but I quite enjoyed this year’s intramurals. No, I didn’t join any events (I’d just kill myself with embarrassment and concussions from hitting myself in the head), but what I enjoyed was the successful things my Society had accomplished: (1) we got our Broadcasting shirts after a lot of dilemmas with the final design and printing; (2) some members participated in different events and won (hooray!); and (3) boodle fight – need I say more?
Confetti #3:
Candy Fair 2013. Because it was just awesome, duh! Besides meeting Ms. Marla, spending time with Diane (whom I missed for more than a year, by the way), and seeing lots and lots of guys worthy of ovaries explosion, I have this cool shot (taken by Diane) that got featured (kind of) in Candy’s
Facebook page and was used in one of the
articles on their website. This is literally confetti-worthy.
October = sembreak = fun (*cross fingers*).
Unidentified
Describe your personality.
That is one of the questions I always find so hard to answer. I’ve realized that it’s hard for me to describe my personality because I
don’t have one. I don’t have a personality – how
cool is that?
For one thing, I’m not a fun person. My humor is bad and I’m more or less boring. I’m awfully shy around people, and the only interesting topics I can be enthusiastic about are different fandoms and the beautiful world of weirdness. I don’t go out a lot, and when I do I prefer doing it
alone – in
bookstores. I have the personality of a
brick.
Unlike other people, especially those from my school, I don’t have a lot of friends who I hang out with after surviving midterms or something. I’m friends with the library; I’m friends with reading. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop myself from not being diligent. While others are taking everything lightly on their hands, I’m overthinking every single issue like my life depended on it. It’s really frustrating. Sometimes I just want to take things slow and chill a bit, but a few minutes on it, I immediately start to get bothered by my procrastination. When I take things less seriously than how I used to, I have this feeling that I’m betraying someone, this anxiety about something invisible. I always try to push myself too far because, as I’ve realized through the course of time, it’s the only way I can prove to myself that I’m worthy. Worthy of what? I have no idea.
I can’t afford to not be diligent and hard working because those are the only areas where I excel. I’m always that smart kid, that assiduous student who tries to do things perfectly. I can’t be anyone else: I can’t be that funny person everyone is friends with; I can never, in any dimension, be the hot and popular cheerleader. Being a
nerd is the only character I can best play. Have you seen cliché American high school movies where canteen tables describe the clique one belongs to? There’s the popular table, the incognito table, the artsy table and the nerds. Sometimes I take a seat at the incognito and the artsy, but most of the time I’m
glued to the nerds. I’m not saying that I was born a genius and I get perfect scores every freaking time. No. I’m just hard working. One professor told me that thesis is actually easy, so I shouldn’t stress myself too much; but he added that I can’t take it easy because I’m already known as the student who submits one of the best works. Well, that’s just like saying I can’t flunk because everyone’s expecting me not to. That’s it, right?
Expectations.
God, I hate that word. It has always been my weak spot. When people expect too much, I get really crazy and anxious. Their expectations, with the way I’m taking them, feels like the judgment of my life, like the fate of the remainder of my life will depend on their outcome. You’d ask me, why not just shuck the whole thing and forget what they think? I tried, God, how I tried. I tried slacking off and don’t give a shit about it, but in the end, I’d always remember that it’s my reputation on the line. If I do really badly, I would not only disappoint the “expectants”, but I’d also disappoint
myself. I’d get frustrated and depressed, thus my remotely low self esteem would get awfully lower it’s already friends with the Tartarus staples.
Sometimes people would look at me funny when I spend most of my time buried in a book or a puzzle, and I don’t really give a fuck. It makes me happy. I may not have the best Friday nights that are worthy to write a song about, but at least I get the grades that would look fantastic on my transcript. The day may pass and my hair would look like it has never met a comb, but at least I get a pat on the back. Really, I don’t get why some students hate school. They’d whine about how school wastes their time and how Mondays are the worst, but really, when you get rid of everything else and focus on the things that
actually matter, school would make your List of Things I’m Grateful About. A decent education is one of the best opportunities one can acquire. These kids should know their priorities and be thankful that they can afford a good education. I’m not saying that I’m in love with school – that’d be hypocrisy; I also hate Mondays and homework and demanding professors, but I know that all these shits I’ve gone and is going through are my stepping stones to be the best person I can be. They are some pretty hard and pointy stones, but, just like the constant annoying tick of the clock, you just get used to them as time pass.
So do I have a personality now? I’m not sure. Can I just say I’m that person who has a not-so-socially-colorful life but like talking about it nonetheless?
Goner
Sometimes I’m just so full of myself. This blog is the proof – and my never-stopping yapping about my hopeless one-sided romance with Great Crush.
Yes, we are talking about Great Crush again, for probably the thousandth time. I can’t help myself actually. Maybe my writing about him lessens the wretchedness I feel for him. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my narrating my feelings for him like I’m writing a cliché novel actually
worsens everything. I’m not sure. All I know is that I like him; I miss him; it feels weird; it feels amazing; it hurts; I want to see him; I feel like I’m a shit; I feel hopeful and hopeless; I feel like crying; he makes me smile; I’m so full of myself.
As you all know, this infatuation – the
greatest infatuation in my lifetime – has been haunting me for three years and three months already. There is just something about him that makes me want to hold on, refusing to let go, refusing to move on, agonizing myself over and over again. It’s cliché to say but he’s like a drug that I can’t relieve myself from. He’s a drug that gives me euphoria every time I feel like my life is anything but special. He’s a drug that makes me smile like a maniacal killer. I’m so addicted and dependent on this drug that any form of withdrawal from it will
ruin me. I tried different ways to forget him, to change my perspective towards him, to imprint in my mind that he’s nothing but a huge distraction and beautiful destruction. But look at where it got me!
I know that this is impossible, that hoping we’ll be something more than online, barely-there friends will never happen, that this feeling I have for him will never be reciprocated. But what is it about him that makes me continue hoping? What is it about his smile that makes me forget the shits I go through every time I think of him? What is it about our senseless nerd-outs that makes me want more, that makes me seek for these conversations every day, that anchors me to a better, flowers-with-butterflies disposition?
Do you think this is love? Is this called love already? Lately, every time I see him online, exchange words with him or just dig up my memories of him from my subconscious, I have this aching in my chest that I couldn’t explain. My chest hurts every
freakin’ time. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? If it is, it isn’t fun. Jealousy has also been becoming a problem lately. I get jealous every time I realize he’s too sweet with the opposite sex. I envy girls who have established concrete friendships/relationships with him – I want to have that! I get suspicious with pretty girls swarming around him. I’m acting like a
crazy person. I’m acting like a crazy ex-girlfriend who never actually had him. I’m acting like a crazy, obsessed girl flinging myself to him like he’s my prince charming saving me from the wicked witch.
I’m really unsure if this is love already. I hate to admit it, but it feels a lot like love. Just like before, I’m standing a few inches risky from falling into this abyss of crazy euphoria with crazy difficult emotions, with my one foot dangling. Only a little push forward and I am a
goner. I’ve been a goner anyway, ever since he first smiled at me, with those beautiful eyes of his. My being a lost cause worsened when I learned he could sing, ticking off another dream guy quality on my list. This is kind of crazy, but then again, there’s nothing normal in this world: Math is crazy; Chemistry is crazy; book characters are crazy; fangirling is crazy. If this is love, then it is. Let it be. Let’s be crazy and in love together.
If only every memory, every pain succumbed to, every word exchanged, every jealousy, every tear shed were the answer…
The F Word
“Back then I didn’t know that hurt was a beginning, always, and that forgiveness was a quiet guest that did not announce its arrival but stayed until you were ready to make room on the couch, set a place at the table, bring out warmer blankets and nicer sheets, the ones you’d been saving for ‘a special occasion.’ I didn’t know that the things that were large and loud and heavy then would someday fit into my pocket, or be small enough to stow under the bed, like an old pair of shoes that no longer fit.”
People born under the Cancer sign are supposed to be forgiving but never forgetting. I am a moon kid. I am born under the Cancer sign. And yes, the cliché “Forgive but don’t forget” works with me so much it’s already unhealthy. I don’t know why but I can’t seem to forget unfortunate things in my life.
I can easily forgive. If shits come falling from the sky, tarnishing our friendship or relationship, give me a few days and all the shits have been taken cared of already. The road has been cleaned, whatever happened was history. But then, just like history, it’s already written and undying. I may forget details from the past, but I remember bits of it nonetheless. The road has been wiped clean from its shits, but it’s already imprinted in my mind that this road has been tainted – I can still smell the stink it has left in its wake; its dirt is still in the darkest corner that will never discover itself unless provoked. The memories are sleeping but can always be stirred in its lair. The offense has been forgiven but never forgotten.
I know it’s a bad habit but I
can’t unclasp myself from it. I can never forget. This thing works just like that “trust is like a mirror” thing I’ve heard in a pop song: trust is fragile, trust is sensitive, trust is irreparable. Since this is my prerogative, I’ve learned to assume that it’s also everyone’s – that the people I offended with my weirdness and foul mouth also can’t forget. This makes things between us awkward. But it’s easier that way. At least we both know that even though we may have forgiven each other, there’s still that past haunting us. It’s weird, but I guess everyone can never forget. “You’ll just laugh at it when you become older” – does that sound familiar? That’s one indication that we all can’t fail to remember. How can you laugh at the past when you’ve already forgotten about it, right? So I guess Cancer baby or not, all of us are carefully tiptoeing our way on that shit-tainted road, with hazmat suit and sharp eyes and all safety precautions.
I have learned that forgiving is a never-ending process. We may have verbally forgiven this person, but the pain it has left us is still living inside of us. If left unnoticed, it can light up our whole body like bad and dark Christmas lights. The bravest people are the ones who can accept their fears; the strongest people are the ones who can own up to their weaknesses; the freest people are the ones who can acknowledge their pain. We can never heal if we don’t admit in ourselves that we are hurt and that are capable of being hurt once more. We can never make peace with others if we deny that we’re also to blame. We should own up to our faults, because this battle of spitting fire will never end if all we do is point fingers to each other. Once we’ve come into terms with our own mistakes and open ourselves to forgiveness, the burden we’ve been carrying on our shoulders like we’re the freaking Greek Atlas will fall into its proper places and not become flying shits on the road.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
