Friend...

Dear Friend,

I don't know and I don't even care if it's too late for me to say this so I will say it anyway. You're  both wonderfully depressing and depressingly wonderful at the same time. You're amazing and you heartlessly devastate the hell out of me to the point that I want to laugh and cry like a special child whenever I see you. You raise me up to the top of the world with just a glimpse of your face, and then you dig my grave from under the ground with the sight of your fingers locked with hers. But although it pains me to see you with somebody else, the joy that I feel with the actuality of seeing you overwhelms the trivial pain that it incorporates because I love you.

I love you that's why even though we're from different networks, my phone always has enough load so I could text you. I love you that's why even though my feet hurt like hell, I still prefer to stand in the LRT and make my way home with you. I love you that's why even though I don't wake up next to you, I wear my heels and makeup on to make sure that I'll always be pretty for you. I love you that's why even though your teeth are not perfect, the best thing to make my day is a smile that comes from you. I love you that's why although your name sounds queer, it's the name of the only person that I adore the most. I love you that's why even though it's hard... I will not ask you to love me back. Because I love you like my own dear life and I don't give the littlest damn whether you love me the way I love you or not.

Beth

Mahal kita friend

Ngayon ko lang to naramdaman. Wala akong ganang kumain. Hindi ko rin magawang matulog. Wala akong magawang kahit ano bukod sa isipin siya. Tumulala, mag-muni-muni, at hanapin ang gamot sa hika na pinalala pa ng di nakikisamang pagtibok ng aking puso. Inhale, ooh... Exhale, aah... Kaya mo yan Lizzy, kaya mo yan. Di ko na alam kung dala ba ng asthma o heartache ang dahilan ng paninikip ng aking dibdib (o baka naman masikip lang ang bra ko?) Sa tingin ko karma na to. Masama kasi ang ugali ko. Ngayon alam ko na kung paano masaktan, kaya naman New Year's Resolution ko na ang di manakit ng puso ng iba.

Alam ko na hindi ko siya dapat sisihin. Taken na siya, ano pa inaasahan ko? Gaga rin kasi ako, kung kailan pa siya nagka-girlfriend dun pa ko nagpakaganito. Pero di rin niya ako masisisi na mahalin ko siya. Gwapo, matalino, mabait... lahat ng magandang bagay nasa kanya na. At kahit di maganda, nagiging maganda basta siya ang may gawa. Napakabuti niyang tao. Kahit bad mood ako, may topak, o may sapi man, pinipilit pa rin niya akong intindihin. Kahit pagsalitaan ko siya ng kung anu-ano, hindi pa rin niya makuhang magalit sa'kin. Kaya naman mahal na mahal ko siya. Kaya naman di ako maka-move on. Kaya patuloy akong nasasaktan. Pero ayos lang, mas gusto ko na ang ganito, syempre ayoko namang matapos yung pagkakaibigan namin di ba? Mas hindi ko kaya yon.

Gusto ko sana siyang yakapin, gusto ko siyang hagkan, gusto kong ipagsigawan na mahal ko siya. Parang bombang sasabog ang puso ko. Parang sugat na binudburan ng asin. Parang toothache na di tinatablan ng pain reliever. Parang gripong sira na patuloy sa pagbuga ng tubig kahit wala namang may kailangan nito. Nais kong ipadama ang nararamdaman ko pero hindi pwede. Kaya naman dapat na akong makuntento na ligawan siya sa tingin, magmasid sa gigilid, at hintayin ang mutual na pagtingin na para sa akin.

Ligo Na U, Lapit Na Me: Book Review

When I first laid my eyes on Eros Atalia’s Peksman (Mamamatay Ka Man) Nagsisinungaling Ako in one of the shelves in National Bookstore, it already caught my attention. Aside from its bizarre title and book cover—in the cover is an ugly and dirty-looking old man with a disgusting set of teeth and has his right arm risen as if making a promise—but what really dazzled me is the author of the book. To my surprise, Eros Atalia is a PNU alumnus. He’s a PNUan just like me! This piece of information gave me an instant sense of school pride. Right then and there, I told myself that I should buy his books or at least one of his books for now. I had planned to buy the Peksman but I was dazzled yet again to know that he was the creator of Ligo Na U, Lapit Na Me. Ligo Na U was premiered in local cinemas as an independent film but I didn’t get to watch it. So when I had the money, I bought Ligo Na U instead of Peksman.

The title and the book design of Ligo Na U are also very catchy. In the cover there’s an old man—the same man in Peksman’s cover—and a young lady whose maybe in her late teens or early twenties who are sitting in the street beside a poso with the kids around. The lady is wiping the man’s foot with her hair while the kids are just watching them. At first, you’ll think that the setting happened in a depressed area and Intoy is the old man. But the picture was actually just a dream of Benzon—Intoy’s unhinged pal. According to Benzon, this dream is a sign that the aliens are going to capture the Earth. I remember that there’s a same scene happened in the Bible where a woman washed Jesus’ feet with perfume and wiped it dry using her hair. It’s a great design but the man shouldn’t be old because Benzon is not old. (Yes, Benzon is the man in the cover and the girl is the girl that he has an ultimate crush on.)

Anyway, I read the book with full anticipation and high expectation. But to my great despair, I was deeply disappointed. The plot is plainly simple, it was basically about the relationship of Intoy and Jen. Intoy is a not so good looking, not so smart, and not so rich college dude, while Jen is a beautiful and well-off college girl. Intoy and Jen’s life intertwined when Jen had been caught by the school guard having sex with her boyfriend during that time in one of the classrooms of her former Catholic school. Although what they’d done was ostensibly illegal and punishable, the school administration didn’t want to create a bad publicity for the school so instead of expelling Jen and her boyfriend, they just had an internal arrangement that the two should leave and transfer to another university in their own “free will” instead.

Obediently, Jen did what she was told to do. In her third year in college, Jen transferred to a state university. Being as gorgeous as she is in a place where beautiful women are endangered species; Jen grabbed every people’s attention. Boys want to be with her; girls want to be like her. Every living creature in the university adores her but Intoy, or so he pretended. Intoy is neither handsome nor smart nor rich, but his indifference had been his route to get Jen’s attention. Jen was appalled that a pretty girl like her has been ignored by a dude like Intoy. But later on, Jen and Intoy became friends, or more than friends. They became friends with benefits.

Jen is very promiscuous. She goes for casual sex. She fucks around. Commonly, this type of behavior has underlying causes, like broken family, child molestation, or even social deprivation. But surprisingly, Jen didn’t experience any of those. Jen grew up in a rather well-off and holistic family. In here, the author wants to point out that whatever type of individual we turned out to be, the society and the person’s experiences shouldn’t be blamed.

Hmm, very humanistic, but I totally disagree with this. I believe that in some point or another, the person’s early experiences in life are great contributors to the individual’s total personality, and so as the environment in which the person belongs. Jen was disturbed without second thought. She was even asking Intoy what the ideal time to commit suicide is. I had a strong feeling that Jen was suffering a major emotional landscape, aside from being impregnated by another man. The sad thing is, there was no way the readers would know what was it because the author didn’t bother to discuss it or to even give a hint of what was going on in Jen’s life. All I know is she’s rich and gorgeous and promiscuous—nothing more.

The story ends without a closure because according to Atalia, the concept of closure is just for the people who are lazy to know the real end of a story. In fairy tales they always end the story with “They live happily ever after,” but the story doesn’t really end there. It’s just the middle point of their lives. Atalia said that in real life, people just come and go. That’s why in his novel, Jen just disappeared suddenly.

I agree that there are people who come and go in our lives and there’s really no happily ever after, because after the marriage, new problems will surely sprout in a couple’s life. But the point is, real life is different from fiction. We read and write fiction because real life is vague and boring, while fiction is made to be artistic and entertaining. Jen is just a chapter in Intoy’s life, but that chapter must have a closure so the next chapter will flow smoothly, so the chapters in Intoy’s life will have a sense of coherence and unity. If Atalia thinks that closure are just for writers who are lazy to know the “real” ending, for me, his idea is just an excuse for his own laziness in putting a closure or at least a decent open end in his work.

Ligo Na U is not a novel. It’s a collection of the author’s random opinions about random issues that disguises itself as a novel. The story—heck, it’s still a “story”—was a roller coaster of events that has nothing to do with the heart of the freaking “story”. It seemed like I was reading a published blog than a novel.

Another sad thing is, there are some points of view that I can’t make sense with. Like the one about sports. The author was saying that we shouldn’t make things complicated. He said the basketball ring should be lowered and the court should be smaller, yaddi yaddi yadda… It doesn't make sense because the sports are made that way because of the spirit of the game. The complicacy makes the game exciting and fun. No one will enjoy playing Basketball or any other kind of sports if there’s no spirit of challenge and competition.

He said we should come up to more “creative sports” like pataasan ng ihi, pabanguhan ng jebs, o palakihan ng kulangot. I doubt if somebody will agree with his ideas. Obviously because ihi, jebs, and kulangot are gross enough as they are that even hearing those words is enough to lose somebody’s appetite. (I’m actually losing mine while writing this down.) These crazy ideas will not sell at all, so stop this craziness for goodness’ sake!

Throughout the book, the author tried to sound smart and funny but he unfortunately can’t. I can’t help but think that Eros Atalia is a certified frustrated Bob-Ong-wannabe. His insane/irrational ideas are neither brilliant nor funny. He is neither brilliant nor funny.

Retard Epiphany

I was asking myself, ‘If I would acquire another talent, what would it be?’ I want to learn how to paint and draw. I wish I had that artistic side in me. I feel a little bad because the thought makes me realize my inability. Then I've had this epiphany. I have an expert’s eye when it comes to beauty. I appreciate everything beautiful. I like looking at beautiful women and trust me I’m straight. I want to paint the faces and the bodies of alluring women. I can’t paint, but I can learn the art of photography. My blog now contains various photos that I've gathered from the net. A group of photo bloggers commended my blog including the photos, and they wanted me to join their site. Of course I declined the offer because first, I like doing things on my own and second, those photos are not mine.

So what’s the point of this all? The point is I know what’s beautiful and artistic and what’s not. It means… I indeed have an expert’s eye! I need a workshop. Give me that SLR. I’ll make my photo blog—soon.

Wormed

I love books. I'm not a highly intellectual dork and I'm not that fond of studying but I like seeing shelves full of books. It has a relaxing effect on me. I like the smell of newly printed papers and the sight of words on a page. I'm an amateur in wrapping gifts but I'm a virtuoso in covering books. Anyone can borrow money from me—if I have, that's the question—but nobody can borrow my books, they are my priced possessions, unless, the book is highly exceptional that I feel the urge to share it with a friend.

When some people get to see my books at home, they'll instantly go wild and tell me, "You read all of that?!?!" as if I did an act that changed the world history. I just refuse to inform them that I read and reread all of the books several times so they won't go nuts.

I love reading. I can spend the entire weekends reading inside the house, never step out, and talk to no one. My family is seriously getting disconcerted with my "weird" demeanor. They think I'm sad whenever I spend too much time reading, which is ironic because I truly enjoy it a lot. Sure, when I read, I'm basically alone, but I'm not alone "alone". How can I explain to them that I'm talking to a best-selling author? That I'm touring the different parts of the world? That the book IS my company?

Reading is the only activity that enables us to visit many places and meet various individuals with just a flip of a page. That's why I love reading, and you should love it too. Pick up that book. You'll thank me for it.

Parang Tanga Lang

First year college ako noon nang una ko siyang makita,

Sabi nila ang cute niya pero di ko agad nakita.

Naging close kami at nalaman na siya pala'y dakila

Pero late na nang malaman ko kaya ako'y nagaga.

Dalawang taon na ang nakalilipas

Ngunit multo niya'y hanggang ngayo'y may bakas.

Ang puso kong ito puno man ng gasgas

Kung umibig nama'y walang kasing wagas.

Gusto kong ipabatid ang aking pagmamahal

Ngunit ang bibig ko'y lagi na lang nauutal.

'Pag kaharap na ang aking pinakamamahal,

Kahit simpleng "Hi" lang ay hindi ko pa mausal.

Ngayon ako'y nagsisisi sa mga di ko nagawa

Subalit ang pagsisisi'y wala na ring magagawa.

Umiyak man ako'y magmumukha lang akong kawawa

At di ko matatanggap ang kanyang walang kwentang awa.

Ang ninanais ko lang ay kaunting pagmamahal

At sa kanya ko 'yon hinintay nang kay tagal-tagal.

Ang pag-ibig ko malungkot man ay di napapagal,

Patuloy akong maghihintay sa'king minamahal.

Jessica Mendoza: Not your streotypical pretty face

Jessica Mendoza

From being her high school's home coming queen, landing cameo roles in music videos, and gracing the covers of various magazines. To being the ACET topnotcher, 100% Ateneo merit scholar, dean's lister, and a cum laude. There's not a shadow of a doubt that Jessica Mendoza is not your stereotypical pretty face. With her beauty, brilliance, and talent combined (did I mention that she dances and acts soooo well too?) she can turn the girls the other side (sure, I'm exaggerating).

Jessica Mendoza is my idol and I'm her number one fan. Je and I (close kami) are so like-minded, her dreams are also my dreams, and I obsessively look up and bow down to her. She's a radio DJ, VJ, courtside reporter, events host, freelance writer, and a print ad model. Face, brains, moves... she got it ALL (0_0). She was everything I ever wanted to be. I'm going to die if I'll meet her. God knows how much I love her. Jessica.... (*.*)

Photos of Jessica:

 

Videos of Jessica:

She was still a student DJ in this video. She was 19 and very fresh and cute and promising... I want to hug her!

 

She was doing the courtside report for Ateneo when she was still a student.

This was aired on Studio 23, and I'd nearly sliced my wrist because I was stupid enough not to watch this. But thank goodness there's YouTube.

 

Listen to Jessica's radio show: Top 5@5 with Andi Manzano, from Monday-Thursday, 3-6 pm in Magic 89.9. Watch her hosting stints in CGE TV and AKTV.

Dancing, acting, speaking, writing

I dance. And I do it well. I do, or at least I used to. I can teach you how to dougie and I can drop it reeaallyy looow 'cause I got the moves like Jagger. I also act. And I also do it well. I do, or at least I used to. I was one of the weird 'tards who like to do a telenovela scene in front of the mirror. Idiotic, I know.

I was a total performer before, I'd even joined a dance and acting workshop when I was younger under the scholarship grant of Herbert Baustista who was still just the vice mayor of Q.C. by that time. I'd also joined a theater group called Obra and been a cast of an indie film written and directed by Toby Alejar entitled Tawid (a horror movie that I never ever had the chance to watch). I'd ventured into TV also by the way (no, I was not a superstar; not even a starlet. Pa-extra-extra lang... ;))

But like I said, that was before. I don't know if I can still perform well because I haven't done the stuff for years now. The last time that I'd been on the dance floor was almost two years ago. I danced with the wonder beat of the Wonder Girls' Nobody (it was a hit that time, okay?) But I only danced because it was required. It was part of our play (so I acted too, umm, sort of) which was our finals in Humanities. Technically, I was in a stalemate. I dance or I fail? I chose the former.

I was truly having fun with performing. What I don't like was the strength-absorbing and time-consuming practice. I was vigorous in the first week of practice, I was restless in the second week, and I was gone in the third week. The reasons for my actions (or inaction): First, I get tired easily. Second, I'm lazy.

I piss a whole bunch of people whenever I act like that, especially if I'll back it up with this excuse: Pag-practisin n'yo 'yung kailangan ng practice. Sure, it sounds vexatious. But it does make a lot of sense. Why do I have to repeat the same steps over and over if I've already mastered it? Besides, if I think I need rehearsal, I would just do it in the comforts of my home with my own choice of time and surrounding; that would save a lot of time and energy.

Also, it's absurd because I like performing in front of people, but I don't like people in general. So being as sullen and hostile as I am, those were maybe the underlying causes of the sudden halt of my theatrical life.

But as the old saying goes, "If God closes the door, he opens the windows." (Did I put that thing right?)

When I entered the wonderful world of university life, I learned a new skill. I learned to play with my tongue (not in the way you think). I discovered the wonders of communication and I realized how essential it is to have a tongue of privilege (to quote James Soriano). Since then, I learned to tune in to various radio shows (not the masa ones); to watch music channels like MYX, and also sports channels like ABS-CBN Sports. Though I pretty much enjoy the music and games, my primary reason for tuning in to those shows are the hosts. Isn't it funny to think that I'm not entirely familiar with the players but I'm a huge fan of the sportscasters?

And when I finally have a majorship (I'm majoring in English). I learned to write and I learned to use my head, finally (I'll not be able to survive the demands of our ever lovable department otherwise). I'm already a voracious reader since high school, but I didn't really use to write. But now that I'm in college, I often find myself holding a pen and paper or clacking a keyboard. First, because I have to. Second, because I like to. And now, I'm not just a voracious reader. I'm a certified struggling writer as well.

I fell in love with speaking and writing because of the cosmos that I'm exposed to. As an English major, I am required to listen, speak, read, write, and think well. Plus, as an English major, I am surrounded with other English majors who listen, speak, read, write, and think well. So what options do I have? Oh I love my majorship. Buncha pressure.

For the record, you'll never see me crying my eyes out in front of the mirror for no apparent reason. You'll now frequently see me lounging on the couch with a book propped against my knees while my mind's traveling in many places. That's a good mental exercise. Try it.

That's My Friend

He walks me home everyday

Although I walk like a snail.

He carries my things especially

If I look miserably weary.

He allots time just only for me

Although he's crazy freaking busy.

He checks me up regularly,

I'm sure he cares genuinely.

He shares his secrets to me

And trusts me wholeheartedly.

And he never gets mad at me

Even if I tease him so badly.

He's there when I desperately need company

And his shoulder's forever heartily ready.

His ears are always ready to listen

Though my stories are boring and beaten.

He never fails to commend my every deed

Whether or not it is indeed a good deed.

He finds my call-center accent so amusing

Though the rest of the world find it so assuming.

A shoulder to cry on.

A wide wall to lean on.

A sandbag to punch on.

A big joke to laugh on.

That's my friend, through it all.

I miss my mom

My mother visited me in my sleep all of a sudden. In my dream, we were on a holiday somewhere in the province. I was drinking water in the falls, then after being smug with my thirst, I came back to where she was. She did a heart to heart talk with me. She hugged me so tightly and reminded me of how much she loves me. She said I need not worry or feel down because everything will be okay. I sat on her lap for awhile while she was talking to me, and for a moment, I was foolishly happy. A surge of bliss flooded my heart. It was an ecstasy to hear her voice and to feel her touch. I felt like I was eleven again, innocent and unaware to the harsh world around me. She was sorry for leaving me and still sorry because again, I have to let her go.

In my dream, I was actually happy of her leaving. Not because we'll be separated, but because I know that her destination is way more beautiful than where I stand. For there, she's healthy and young, away from illness, away from harm. There, she needs no medicine or any other kind of treatment. There, she's free of pain. With Jesus, she smiles freely.

She told me she's glad to see my change. I'm a few inches taller than her now, but I'm still as thin as ever. She said she's so proud of me because I turned into a beautiful and brilliant lady, and will be even prouder as years go by. She said she's thanking the Lord for giving her the privilege to be my mom. She said I should be enthusiastic to wake up each morning because in the right time, I'll soon realize all of my dreams and will soon be in a better place.

* * * * *

My mom was very close and sweet to us. She was the kind of mother that's very generous in bestowing her motherly love. She was very free to her hugs and kisses and "I love yous".

For eleven years that she'd been here, I became really dependent to her. I wasn't even able to sleep without her by my side, and it indeed took a huge adjustment when she died. It took a couple of nights to remind myself that I should stop stretching my fingers, seeking my mother's warmth, because the other side of the bed will now forever be cold without her.

But although she left us early, I'm still thankful that I had the chance to be with her. I'm thankful because no matter what, I know how it feels to have a mom. And my mommy, who was ridden on the bed, who barely can talk, and who hardly can move her hands, told me that she wants to make my gown for my debut. And now, I'm no longer eighteen. And now, all I want is to hear that voice and to hold those hands again.

Goner

Oh yes, I had a dream about my guy friend again. If you've been reading my blog, you know what I'm talking about. The story went this way:

I was living again in our old house somewhere in Q.C., and I had a surprising neighbor. Yes, it is he, my beloved friend.

My girlfriends and I were in our vicinity and we were talking so loud of about how much we loathe our friend's girlfriend, little did we know that he can overhear our conversation. But instead of panicking, I was glad that he can hear us because I want him to wake up to the ahypnotism made by her crazy-in-love beast. So instead of shutting up, I stood in front of his place and showed my discontent.

The next day, I was not so shocked to see his transformation. The super virtuous boy that we used to know had turned into a madman. He was yelling and very angry at us, or should I say at them because he was surprisingly not mad at me, especially to think that I was the instigator. But after he vented out, he eventually apologized for his impulsive demeanor, and everyone said sorry to him too.

When everybody had returned in their business, he approached me and politely asked me if he can walk me home (just like what he always does in real life). I accepted his invitation although I have an appointment with a gal pal and I don't feel like going home yet. I canceled my scheduled hangout with my best friend and chose to be with him instead.

Analysis:

• I hate ugly girls. I abhor ugly girls who think they're pretty. I condemn ugly girls who think they're pretty just because their boyfriends—with visual impairment—are hot. I want to cut their throats and put salt into it after. I hate them THAT much.
• I'm hotter than that stinking whore. Oh wait, let me edit that one. I'M HOT. SHE'S NOT. [End of the conversation.] There yah go! That's way lot better. ;) Because there's no point in comparing two things if there's no point of comparison to begin with.
• Even though I always act like a domineering biatch, my friend still remained a friend to me. He's still so kind to me and he still cares for me—which is bad. So bad. Too bad that it kills me. His gentleness works its way to the inside of me. It's penetrating into the throbbing interwoven fabric that is my heart, rooting there, sucking its blood, torturing it. While I try to remember how to inhale, how to exhale. But it's weird, because the pain tastes breathtakingly sweet.
• I was just making a fool out of myself when I said I'm over him. Truth is, I'm ALL OVER him. It's been almost two years but this heart beat is unrelenting; it's getting even worse as time goes by. This stirring emotion within me terminates the tiny pieces of logic my skull dared to hold. Driving me nuts. Going me bonkers. Leaving me petrified.
• I'm a goner. And I have to live with it.

Not all skinny girls are flat-chested

Every girl’s childhood dream aside from being an artista or a super model is to have a nice pair of breasts. I still remember when I was little, I used to put socks in my chest so it'll look bigger (a lot of kids do that, 'wag kayong magmalinis). When I grew up, I can honestly say that I don't do that kind of deed anymore (I don't need such.) Yes, I thank the good Lord for giving me an above-average boob size. I'm not saying that I can go against Ara Mina or Diana Zubiri, but my breasts are above the normal range if you will weigh it with my body type—I'm too skinny to have these cups.

Rarely can we see my kind. We can only usually see them on TV screens and on the pages of magazines but not in face to face scenario. The sexiness of celebrities that is always questioned.

That's why I'm not so surprised that there are some people who doubt mine's authenticity. Up until now, I literally have to lean down and show off my cleavage and let them scrutinize my twins as well as the bra that I wear before I can convince them that their eyes are not fooling them. Why don't they just accept the inevitable reality that I can manage to be thin yet curvaceous?

P.S.

I also want to give you some lecture about breast measurement. Bust line doesn't matter; it is only your upper body's circumference. What matters is the cup size. That's why you can't be hell proud to say that you're size 36, pero cup A ka lang naman. And you can have a 30-inch bust line pero D cup ka naman.

Model: Grace Lee, Belo Photo shoot

A Wishful Thought

I wonder how it feels to be loved by someone you love. I wonder how it feels to be kissed; to be touched; to be cuddled. I wonder how it feels to see him on his knees, asking me to marry him. I wonder.

I want to be with him forever. That was what I always wanted. I want to wake up next to him. I want to cook breakfast for him. I want to fix his necktie before he goes to work, and wait for him until goes home. I want to spend every single day with my love...

My love. He's a dream. My dream. That's all I can do. Dream about him. And I don't feel like waking up.

Haven

No one cares, 

No one dares.

No one wants to step out of their rail.

But it's okay 
'Cause I don't care.

I'm aware 
That people prefer to be unaware.

In the midst of sorrow, 
There is no tomorrow.

Because at the heart of it all, 
I know, this is all for show.

I want to get out of here, 
In this confusing mess.

I want to go somewhere, 
Somewhere safe.

In a place where no one can see me,
No one can hear me.

No prying eyes, 
No cutting tongues.

Nothing but silence.

I want the curtain to fall, 
I want the lights to be off.

I want everything to shut down 
And leave me alone.

A Silence Full of Voices

I want to kiss your lips,

I want to squeeze your hands.

I love you forever,

And forever is now.

You can make my toes curl,

You can make my mind whirl.

I'm reaching euphoria

By the sound of your name.

I want one thing on earth,

And that one thing is you.

And only to you,

I want to say "I do".

I want hold you close,

Sniff your scent, be with you.

Because being with you

Is my dying wish, that's so true.

I hope one day, one time,

Your heart will be free.

'Cause mine will patiently wait

Till our feelings agree.

Deemed Doomed

TRUTH # 1:

Being jealous and hating you crush's girl is understandable.

Go ahead, roll your eyes, but I still stand my ground that I have the right to be jealous and irritated with the girl that's with the guy that I have an eye on. I have the right to feel this way because my emotions are mine. If I feel happy, I can't help but smile; if I feel pissed, I can't help but curse at least under my breath; if I feel gloomy, I can't help but let the sadness be written all over my face.

I strongly believe that feelings should be expressed. Now, I don't mean that I should walk my way and kick the girl's ass or anything like that. What I mean by this is, we should express what we feel even through small things so we wouldn't end up being deranged. Some people channel their emotions by immersing themselves in their works, others do it by way of painting or other artistic means. I, do it by the way of writing. That's why I always have a journal at hand, and that's why I blog. I use writing as an outlet to my angst, excitement, giddiness, anything that I feel like venting out.

To put it simply, I conclude that feeling what we feel, whether good or bad, is not a crime. But we should master the art of control so we won't end up hurting anyone, including ourselves.

TRUTH # 2:

It takes time for me to fall in love, and it also takes time for me to fall out of it.

I'm proud to say that I'm not the kind of girl who drools over handsome fellows. Physical appearance is still a factor but not the most important. He should have the character, the wit, and the heart, if the boy wants to win me over. And although let's say that he got what it takes for me to be magnetized by him, it will still take time before it happens. Estimated Time: 6 months to 1 year or more. And there should be a real interaction between us. Seeing him everyday without communication is not enough.

But once I fell, it'll also take time, even days, months, years and years... before I get into my feet again. Albeit I'll not get to talk to him, or to even see him; he'll remain in my mind, in my heart and soul no matter what he does, no matter what I do. And once I'm certain I like a guy, my heart will be occupied, as in I'll never have any other eye candies but him. Yeah, I'm loyal like that. By that you'll know that I rarely fall for someone, as in RARE. For eighteen years of living, I can easily count the boys that I had crushes on using my fingers (celebrity crushes are already included, take note).

Sure, time will reduce the attraction and lessen the tingling sensation, but I know that he will always, always have a place in my heart, and I will always, always be attracted to him even someone new comes along. I'm deemed doomed.