KMN

I haven't written anything for a while. I mean to write but I just can't put pen to paper the way I used to be. And it's because I didn't want to write to begin with. I was under the impression that if I didn't write, then it'll just be inside me, and soon, it'll die a natural death. But the longer it goes, the more it corrupts everything in me. And I'm afraid that if I didn't do anything about it now, I won't be able to recognize myself the next morning.

 

I made a mistake of trusting myself.

 

I've been in this world for more than three decades and I've seen a lot of things growing up. I even experienced most of those things. That's why I was pretty confident that I know everything there is to expect, and in hindsight, I did know. It's just that even though I knew what would happened, I still took the risk. I still gambled. And it resulted in something that I thought is no longer possible.

 

I hate myself more than I could possibly hate myself for.

 

Who would have thought that someone as cynical, pathetic, pragmatic, pessimistic, and downright wasted as I am, that I could hope for something better for myself. I actually believed that there's a rainbow after this shitty storm that's currently drenching my life. I actually believed. I actually hoped. I actually saw redemption.

 

Then I fell... hard.

 

It's nobody else's fault but myself. I allowed myself to feel something that I shouldn't in the first place. I opened myself up and brought down my walls. I showed my true self. And in return, I actually thought that I was doing the right thing. And no, I didn't do all of that because I already felt what I felt. No. I did that because I thought it was the right thing to do. Apparently, I was wrong. Because in doing so, I felt something.

 

Goodbye is never easy.

 

I had to pull myself up. I had to turn my back away. I had to do something, anything, to avoid anymore pain. I could endure hurting myself, both physically, emotionally, and mentally, but I could never forgive myself for hurting the people that I care about. And so I have to leave. I had to say my goodbyes. Because staying will only mean hurting them. Yes, I know, leaving could hurt them, too. But the pain is lesser compared to my staying. Because I know myself. I'm an evil person. And I will not stop to get what I want as long as I am around. So I have to leave. I have to go.

 

Redemption is not what I'm after.

 

It might sounded as a good deed, me leaving. Maybe good for the people involved but definitely not for myself. Because this here, leaving, it's killing me. Slowly, painfully. And something inside me dies in every passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, there will be nothing inside me anymore. Nothing to redeem. Nothing to live.

 

 

 

I fell hard.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

Now it's time to get up.

Lesson Well Learned

 

I reached out to my mentor last week. I still haven't heard back from him. I hope he's fine.

 

I've been bothered by a question that I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know why, in all the times that we were together, talking, sharing, learning, that he never shared or showed his own personal problems, not even once, to me. I only realized this quite recently, which means, that in those years that past when he was teaching me, I never once cared for him. I was a little shit of a git that only cared for myself.

 

I wanted to ask him why he never did share, not including his sexual innuendos and adventures, his own humanity. I was left wondering why? Was it because he thought that I will lose some of my respect for him if I see him as a normal person? Did he feel that by sharing his own problems, that it will take away the spotlight from my own issues? Or was it as simple as he didn't trust me enough to share his own burdens?

 

I wanted to know. I needed to know. Because right now, being as stubborn as I am, I went and tried to become a mentor myself. And thinking that not sharing my own problems to those who look up to me, is taking away something from that mentor-mentee relationship. But my problem is, it's not working. Not one bit.

 

So I guess, I got the answer for myself. That as a mentor, it's my job to help those who needed guidance. It's not part of my job description to share my own follies to them, because gods know that they are already stressed enough with what they are carrying. As the adult and the person with the most experience, I should have kept my own issues to myself. Doing so, would highlight the issues that needed to be addressed. Not my issues, but theirs. Because as a mentor, as a guide, as a muse, it is these kids' future that's more important. Not ours, and definitely, not mine.

P360 - Day 005

'Sundate'

It's always been one of my dreams to have a lazy Sunday with boyfie. Just lounging in a sofa, munching on sandwiches we made, while watching TV. Who would've known that one of those three would happen today?! We made sandwiches together!

Yay!

Now, if we could just find a place were we can lounge in safety and discreetly, that will be awesome!

Trial and Effort

Ever since I started the "revival" of sort for this blog, I've been filled with ideas on what I wanted to post and share. There's some projects that I've been meaning to start for a few years now and I think this will be the best time to do so. Also, I've decided to have a "post of the day" on certain days of the week to have a certain "regularity". Not only will it be good to have a goal, but it's therapeutic as well.

 

Unfortunately, as much as I want to start it today, I will have to delay it for one more day. I've been bugged by a certain feeling, a certain emotion, that I just can't shrug. It's been bothering me for a couple of weeks now and I think writing it here, will somehow lessen the burden, if not completely remove it. So please, pardon the break on the happy lines, even for just today.

 

First of, I'm disappointed. For years, I've trained myself to be careful, to not to trust easy, and more importantly, to never expect anything. Expectation begets disappointments. And yet here I am, sitting in my desk, bored as fuck, thinking about nothing but how much disappointed I am at myself for trusting, for believing, for hoping, for expecting... I should have known better. That's why this line from one of Adele's song really gets in my nerve:

 

 

"...who would have known how, bittersweet this would taste..."

 

 

I do. I would have known. I should have known. I've been there way to many times. I'm so stupid to let my guard down.

 

And so I got hurt. Still hurting. Nursing my bruised ego like a little Chihuahua licking it's wound. And hurt, leads to anger. Anger that is both misplaced and unjust. Because I'm angry at those people that hurt me. I shouldn't be. I should be angry at myself. It was my fault to let them in. They just did what a normal, sane, individual does - hurt people. They're human and that's what they do. I just should have known better.

 

I know how can this be resolved. I know what I need so I can move on. But I don't want to do it. I'm scared. I'm afraid. I'm petrified. They had no idea that they hurt my feelings. How could they? I didn't tell them. I didn't share with them what irks me. They didn't know me. Because I didn't let them know me. But I did trust them. What a fool I've been. Trusting people who doesn't even want to know who I am.

 

 

I'm such an asshole.

 

 

 

"Each of us must confront our own fears, must come face to face with them. How we handle our fears will determine where we go with the rest of our lives. To experience adventure or to be limited by the fear of it."
--Judy Blume

Of Crossroads And Other Paths

"...Now I have come to the crossroads in my life. I always knew what the right path was. Without exception, I knew. But I never took it. You know why? It was too damn hard..."

- Lt. Col. Frank Slade, Scent of A Woman

 

 

I've been going through a lot lately. Don't ask me what about because I myself doesn't know what or why. All I know is that lately, I'm always tired, drained of energy, and some days, downright depressed. I've lost my appetite for both food and life. All I want to do is to lock myself in my room, day and night, waste away playing online games, until the day I die.

 

I've lost my motivation, my push, my will to live.

 

I'm merely existing. Almost flitting.

 

It could be depression. I don't know and I don't care. I just thought writing it here could somehow help. Or maybe this is just a call for attention that I think I deserve. Maybe.

 

I've been doing some thinking lately. Which is bad considering that I overthink everything. I oftentimes allow my mind to wander way far ahead. That's why I stopped thinking about many things for a long time. But having all this time that I have now that I have locked myself away from everyone, I can't help but think.

 

For the good part, I wanted to reinvent this blog. I have an idea of making it more light and fun. Though it will run contrary to what I feel usually, at least it won't be so heavy. I will try to inject humor to the tragedy that I will share. Again, someone that is not me. But it would be redundant if I write as who I really am in real life, someone who is boring, heavy to be with, full of drama individual. What's the use of having an online persona right? It's just it won't be me. It won't be me.

 

For the bad part, I've been thinking of breaking up with the love of my life, my current partner, my boyfriend, my one. I love him so much and it pains me to see him suffering because of me. Would he be hurt if I leave him, yes, he will be. At least I hope he will be. And then he'll move on. Compare that to being stuck with me through all this years, sucking up all his positive vibes and replacing it with my negative aura. Imagine living with a dementor as your partner. You'll be insane as all the prisoners in Azkaban. I don't want him to be insane. I want him to be happy. And I don't think I can do that anymore.

 

I'm on a crossroad of some sort. I know what path I must take. Will I take it? I don't know.  It seems to be too damn hard.

Hence, I write

I have issues. There are those that seems cute at times, and there are those that really needs help. I think I've listed them all down somewhere but to be honest, I'm sure there are a lot more issues and quirks in me that I myself do not know.

 

Hence, I try to avoid people. For one, I do not think that they will like me. I don't like me. I think it's just fair that I should not like them, too.  Another thing is I've been hurt countless times. Who isn't right? So I have this feeling of justice and righteousness to stray from people. It's called self preservation.

 

There are more reasons that I can think of that I will not write here. There's no use. Because in the end, no matter how much I hate them, I always go back to reality: "I'm human and I need my fellow humans."

 

I've tried being friendly. It doesn't suit me. I'm a boring guy. I don't make people laugh. And people who can't make people laugh are boring people. At least to most people. Because for me, funny people are entertaining, yes, but while they're making you laugh. What interest me more are those people that can make me think. People that can make me use my imagination. Someone that can make me say "why didn't I think of that?"

 

I've tried limiting my human interaction to a bare minimum. Talk when spoken to. Smile when needed. Shake hands when offered. Keep your head down. But being a talkative shit like me, I can't contain myself sometimes. Especially when I hear people say the wrong stuff. I'm such a know it all. Another thing why people hate being around me.

 

Hence, I stayed away from physical contact whenever I can. Thanks to the world wide web, I can quench my desire for human interaction to blogs, forums, and chats. The development of social media was a great milestone for people like me. I can see all their pictures and videos without languishing from all their tales, fishing for self approval (as if I am not like that hahaha). But be that as it may, I still end up longing for physical human contact. I'm gay that way.

 

Which finally brings me to my point (boy, these days, my introductions are too long!).

 

I mentioned before that besides blogging, I've joined a forum called Pinoy Exchange or PEX for short. There's a thread for the LGBT community that I just learned about quite recently. There's tons of information there that I gobbled up. I even saw a group in my area of employment that seems friendly enough. Though I'm happy enough to engage these people online, their increasing desires to do a group meet up captured my attention. For all their plans and desires, they can't seem to make one happen. It irritates me to no end. I mean, how hard could that be? So I set forth and make one happen. Much to my surprise, it was indeed hard. But after seeing their faces for the first time, all the effort and hard work were rewarded. Not that they are cute or anything. But they are a diverse group of people. And diversity always means information. I love information.

 

The meet ups became habitual. People from other groups mimicked what we did and were successful. I'm happy for them. But the fun of doing something that seems undoable faded. And the information the forum provided dried up. What's left are relationships that were founded during the meet ups. Friendships. Trust. People.

 

I got scared. I'm getting too attached. Pain from previous encounters hunts my dreams. Needless to say, I left without saying another word. Better to sever the thread that binds myself to these people before they can hurt me. It's painful and hateful. It's selfish and unfair. But my fear is real and the potential pain is just too much risk for me to continue.

 

So I stepped back. But those that I met and grew fond of, created a mobile group where we can all chat away from PEX. As usual, I'm part of it. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I no longer wish to be part of their family. Better that I just fade away without people noticing. That way, no goodbyes are needed. (reading this part made me realize that I think too highly of myself. As if the people in the group would actually care if I leave.)

 

I thought I made it in time. I thought I was able to cut the chains before I was in too deep. But I was wrong. I'm already drowning without knowing it. Because the pain that I was afraid of, it's real and it's here.

 

 

 

"it's nice to be needed until you are not. then you are cast aside, left in the corner, gathering dust."

- Toy Story 3

I'm Rare, I'm First, I'm Fucked

Ever heard of the Fermi Paradox? If you haven't, click here because you should!

 

I will not discuss what the Fermi Paradox is. The article in the link here is very well written and should be sufficient enough for anyone to understand what it is.

 

Now on with the program.

 

 

When I was a kid I used to think that I'm a unique and special individual. My parents and teachers said so. We have our own individuality and there's a special place in our society that only I can fill. What a noble notion. If only it were true. Like the great Tyler Durden said: "...You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else." - Now that's the truth. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we will find satisfaction to our existence.

 

Growing up as the first child, I have this notion that I will be the first to everything that my parents can offer. Apparently, that was wrong too. I was born to parents that are generous to a fault - giving everything away without thinking of themselves or  little ole me. But that was neither here nor there. When I got a little brother, they dole on him too much for my liking that I, like every little first born jerks, got jealous and hated my parents for it. Of course I'd blame my parents. Why I would blame myself or my little brother? Who can blame that poor innocent soul? Just one look in his eyes and you know he won't do anything bad. Yeah, I'm good that way.

 

Fast forward to today. Now that I'm old and understood people more, I've learned that I will be first to some, last for most. It will all be depending on their needs and wants, as well as, how good they are in prioritizing. Meaning, you're their number one because you're in front of them. That's a very good way to bullshit people. I know. I do that, too. Makes them feel important. Valued. Does that make me an asshole or a good person? I have no idea, and at this point, I just don't care.

 

Being in a relationship with someone, somewhat give you this feeling of being special, rare even, and that you're the number one priority. Until you realize that you are not special or rare or even the number one priority. It sucks big time. Yes, tantrums and fighting can help you cope with the idea that you should be at the top of the tier but after everything is said and done, we have to realize that this is an inevitable truth. Because our partners' lives should not just revolve around us. They can't just live for us. They are breathing, living, individual, that will soon hit the dirt like each one of us. They should be allowed to be with their chosen friends at the time that they feel that they should be, instead of being forced to accompany you to your friends. You can say that since it's important to you, that it should be important to him too. Well shit, how about what's important to him? Shouldn't that be important to you, too? So what if you bought tickets to a concert to surprise him? It's your fault that you asked him to not plan anything for that day while knowing full well that he will. So yeah, You're fucked.

Of Views And Perspectives

Not too long ago, I met a guy named Trip. We we're both bloggers and in a committed relationship and we both wrote about our sexual exploits, the parallelism ended there. We have different approach when it comes to writing and life in general. He often points out that though our blog contents were the same, his is leaning more towards morality and guidance while mine tends to just be that, pure, raw, lust. To be honest, I never really saw the moral in his posts. But hey, that's his opinion so that's that.

 

As time goes by, I started calling him "Master Trip" just for the heck of it. Other bloggers joined in and he started calling me his "Apprentice". Though I didn't plan on anything more than a mere empty jest, I got to admit, I actually liked the idea of being an apprentice. And so begins our mentor / mentee relationship.

 

He thought me how to become cynical. He would disagree, of course. He doesn't like being tagged as someone who teaches cynicism but that's the truth. He also taught me that everything is relative, and as such, truth is relative. My truth may be different from his truth, and so on. Kind of mind bending shit but it works. He made sure that I remain critical about everything and anything. And that every story has more than one version. You may have heard the saying that there's three version? Your version, Their version, and The Truth. Trip has a different approach. There's actually nine - Yours, What you think theirs is, Theirs, What they think yours is, What we want people to know, What they want people to know, What people perceive, What people believe, and What people would like you to believe. He taught me all of this things without actually teaching them to me. He just showed me the way. And for that, I looked at him as my life coach.

 

He also share his views on relationships and his version of what cheating is. Views that I share and agree to up to this day. It's a very long story. Maybe I'll save that for another time. I have a different side of the story that I wanted to share today.

 

As my life coach, he became the person that I go to for everything that happened to my life. relationship issues, work problems, family feuds, everything. We will just sit in his couch, drinking beer, him listening and me talking. It's always been like that. I've learned a lot. He was not selfish with his experience and knowledge. Though looking back, and I just realized this a few days ago, that there was one topic that he never shared with me. His own problems.

 

Today, I'm wondering why. Recently I've been given the chance to be a mentor myself. And I started sharing my own problems with the kids that I'm trying to guide. In my mind, this is needed to appear more human and gain more trust. But it also opens myself to pain and sadness. I wonder, is that the reason why Trip never crossed that line with me...

 

We haven't talked for a long time. There was an incident that shattered our bond. I plan to reach out to him soon. ask him why he never shared his problems and struggles with me. because right now, I'm confused and I needed some answers. and he's the only one who can answer them.

And So It Goes...

Ever wonder why some people always want to be around other people? I blame advertising and marketing for that. That made sure that when we here the word "alone" we would automatically assume that "loneliness" follows. One would disagree. After all, I'm a self proclaimed loner.

 

"I'm alone but I'm not lonely. I'm alone because I choose to be. I'm a loner."

 

Pretty cool line don't you think? Sounds like something a rock star or a cowboy would say. I've been saying that to a lot of people who misconstrued my lonesomeness to being lonely. I know lonely. I'm not lonely.

 

My brother and I were raised as sheltered kids. We're not allowed to go outside and play.  I did have fun with my little brother. After all, we only had each other to play with. I don't even remember making friends while in school. My mom always said that the neighborhood kids are bad people and we should not associate ourselves with them. If the neighborhood kids were bad, what more were these kids that live farther away, right? So I decided to keep to myself.

 

I met my first friend when I was 12 years old. A real boy I can play with that had the same interests that I do. Or so I thought. He's much more like my little brother. They both like music and art, I'm more into logic and puzzles. They're both into fun and games, I'm more into serious and adult stuff. I thought if I acted like an adult, I'll be treated more seriously and with respect. All I got was jeers and people not wanting to be my friend because I'm too serious. As my aunts and uncles put it, "the adult little boy".

 

I embraced being alone. I learned to love it, cherish it, accept it. I've decided that from that day onward, I will be alone but never lonely. I was 15.

 

Then I grew up. I hate growing up. Argh! Why do I have to grow up!?

 

I've met a lot of people. Some great, some, not so great. People with different personalities and different views in life. Some of them were loners too! And so begins a life, my life, with friends or as I would like to call it "the journey to not being alone".

 

And like how I embraced my lonesomeness, I welcome the warmth of companionship with open arms. I allowed myself to actually care for other people. I even loved, and continuous to love, some of them. As the song goes, I was just minding my own world without knowing what life and love is all about, and then they came, they took me out of my shelf, they brought the world to me, and without knowing, there I was so in love with them.

 

Oh if only the real world is like that. But it's not. Relationship ends. Hearts are broken. Pain. Suffering. Despair. Loneliness.

 

In all my years of being alone and then having someone to have dinner with, the most lonely, saddest part of my day, is eating alone. It's never the same...

"is it's so much easier to say you're antisocial, or claim that you just don't like people, or pretend that you just don't care anymore, than to admit how lonely and damaged you truly feel."

 

So we found ways to fill the gap. I turned to blogging and other social media platform. Sometimes I wished that the internet were available during my younger days. But then again, I would have written some really bad shit so I guess it's better this way.

 

 

 

P.S.

Here's a funny thought. All I ever wanted to write about today is why I decided to stop being part of the forum Pinoy Exchange. I guess I'll just write about that tomorrow :)

Almost

I went to his house today, like I did everyday for the past two years, so we can spend a little time together as we go to the office. It's usually marked with the usual pleasantries and temperature check on how things are and what's going on with each other's life. It's a great way to start each day.

Today was a little different. Today, we almost broke up. Almost.

There was an incident earlier. And it's not to say that it never happened before. I guess, it's my fault that I've decided to not get used to it by now. And no, it's not that big of a deal, but there's just something about tonight that I decided to not let things go. That's my fault too, I guess.

We took a cab together, but we didn't utter a single word to each other. When we arrived to our destination, he asked if I wanted to eat dinner. I agreed. Only to find out that I was the only one that's going to eat.

In all my years of experience and in all my relationships, the thirty minutes that we sat there, not talking to each other, as I finish my food, was the longest, most saddest time in the history of my relationships. It was simply too much.

We walked towards his office building in silence. No one seems to give in. No one seems to be the first one to say something.

When we reached the door, no words, just a kiss, he then walked towards the elevator. He didn't look back. He just kept on walking, and when the elevator arrived, he went in without glancing back...

Is this it? Is this how it all end? I got to say, it's pretty romantic. Like the one in the movies. No goodbyes, no tears, no drama, just a kiss. And that was all.

Of Angst and Anger

Angst

noun \ˈäŋ(k)st, ˈaŋ(k)st\

:  a feeling of anxiety, apprehension, or insecurity

- Merriam-Webster

 

I first encountered this word when I was about to alight the MRT. Some teenage girls were blocking my way so I said "excuse me" in my usual authoritative voice. They parted and let me through. When I had my back on them, one of them said to another, in a voice loud enough to be overheard: "ang daming angst lang".

 

Kids and their new word. Probably heard or read it somewhere. I smiled to myself as I walk away. I didn't know the meaning of the word but I can still remember the feeling I felt as I associated the word with anger. During those days, I can remember that I was always full of anger. I had no idea why but I'm basically angry about anything and everything. But upon hearing that word, it made me realize that I need to keep my temper in check and not to let it be evident in the way I speak. I tried and failed. Not more than a month passed after the MRT incident, as I was about to get off the elevator at work, a coworker said to me "wag ka masyado ma-angst". I was dumbfounded.

 

Yes, I could have said "excuse me" in a much more nicer way. I could have kept my mouth shut as someone tries to get past the line. Or I could speak out about anything and everything but without the angst in them (I'm using the word Angst here even though what I really mean is Anger because during the time, I really thought they are one and the same)

 

Ever since that fateful second incident, I was able to keep myself in check. I was able to learn how to control my voice and to keep my mouth shut. I was able to speak only after thinking it through. And I was able to communicate my disgust without the "angst". That's until 2 days ago.

 

 

Angry

adjective an·gry \ˈaŋ-grē\

 

: filled with anger : having a strong feeling of being upset or annoyed

: showing anger

: seeming to show anger : threatening or menacing

 

- Merriam-Webter

 

 

In the past couple of days, I've seen and heard myself becoming angry at the slightest provocation. Gone were the days of diplomacy and words of caution. The silvertongue that I've been using is now a thing of the past. Thinking about it makes me angry. Either I'm turning to The Hulk without the Gamma radiation or I'm just one sad individual who's lashing out to the world again, like in my teenage years. Ugh, how I hate myself.

 

As I write this, I'm trying to think back to the day that I lost my diplomatic touch. But as of right now, I really don't know. I really can't remember. I mean, it could be when boyfie stopped me from ranting whenever I'm with him, keeping my emotions bottled up. Or it could be when I got the rejection notice from a company I was trying to join and started plotting how I can get back at them. Or it could be the sad stories of people close to me and the inevitable feeling of being unable to help them. Or it could be the little things that I tend to ignore, piling up until they're too heavy to carry. It could be any one of these or none of these at all. I really don't know. I wish I can say that I don't really care. But this time, I do care. Maybe that's the reason behind the anger. Caring.

 

I've allowed myself to care for people. Something that I've tried to avoid for a very long time. I've even learned not to care for the fate of my own family. I don't even care for myself. Because having someone to care for, to love, who cares for you and loves you in return, it affects you, it changes you. It makes you want to protect them, even angry at yourself for not being able to. Anger that can make you lash out from time to time. Because caring, loving, it gives you a reason to lower down your defenses, show your true self, and even share a part of you with them. That's very dangerous. It's very risky. It's also very worth it.

 

 

Random Ramblings #3

As much as we want to be connected with others, we have to realize that there will always be a part of us and a part of them that will never connect, that will never interact. We each have our reasons, we each have our own standards. We call them doors that can't be opened, rooms that can't be entered, areas not to be explored. We call them secrets and taboos.

 

I came to understand that we will all love more than one person in our lives. Most of them will be the platonic kind and few will be the romantic kind. Some will even dare say that you will only really love one person. Your one true love. Wouldn't that be nice. But experience thought me that there will be a few "the one" and a lot more people that we will give all the love we have. It's not because we have so much love to give or we think that this person is "the one". We give them all our love because we hope against hope that maybe, just maybe, the person we are loving is the person that will love us back the way we think we deserved to be loved.

 

Ha, love. What a very powerful feeling. But even love is not enough to open all the doors that we have locked away from people. Even love is not enough to give them access to all the off limit areas that we have. Sure, we might unlock some doors, open some areas, and even dig through some old memories we tried to buried a long time ago. But we can never be truly honest, truly open, because we ourselves, can't to ourselves.

 

I wish I knew why. I really wish I knew how. But I don't know the answer. I'm just rambling because I don't want to talk about something I really want to talk about. It's paradoxical oxymoronic comment but I don't know how else to put it. I don't know how else to say it.

 

I do not want to share my problems and angst to anyone because that's my burden to bare and besides, everyone else's carrying their own burdens. Why should I pile on to theirs? I would rather take what they have and help them carry it. Superman complex, that maybe but I guess it's something else for me. There's power in information. Power that I would like to hold someday.

 

And as for the thing that I want to talk about but doesn't want to talk about, here's something that's close to what I have in mind... 

 

"there comes a point when you have to realize that you'll never be good enough for some people. the question is, is that your problem or theirs?"

26 and Counting...

We've been having some problems recently...

I look into your eyes, so far away
There's trouble on your mind
You're losing faith
 Hey now, let me hold you
It'll be okay
Coz I will love you
Till they take my heart away

we've been through some tough times before...

Remember when you called
And said goodbye
You thought we'd lost it all
And so did I
Even if I'd lost you
It'll be the same
Coz I will love you
Till they take my heart away

but whatever happened in the past...

Believe
I'm here to stay
I will love you
Till they take my heart away

and whatever the future holds, I'm confident...

Now we're stronger than before
We've made it through
I never felt more sure
Because of you
Hey now, are you listening?
Can you hear me say
Coz I will love you
Till they take my heart away

because whatever happens...

I will love you
Till they take my heart away...





I wanted to write something else... something about my past... something that shows who I was... but it seems that I can't. The past was sad and painful. It was gloomy. My present is much happier. Much clearer. I prefer that now. Shit, it seems there's hope for pessimists after all.

Random Ramblings #2

Are you happy?

 

I think I am.

 

Do you still see a future for us?

 

I think I do.

 

Do you think we can move forward?

 

I think we can.

 

Do you still love me?

 

I think so. Yes, I think I do.

 

 

When we try to convince ourselves of what we think we should be feeling, and we did get ourselves convinced, how sure are we that we really are feeling that way? How sure are we of anything?

 

I've read Simon's and Maktub's recent posts. Full of emotions. Full of reality. At least, for them. Does wanting that same kind of reality makes me a romantic or an idealist? Sentimental? Can I be all three? I don't think so. I can't be both.

 

Sentimental and romantic. Both words I heard people used to describe me. And those same words were used to point what I lack. How ironic.

 

I'm in a dilemma. I'm in a crossroad. I'm afraid. I'm scared. I'm terrified. I'm petrified. I can't move. I can't think. All I can do is write...

 

Write of the past. Write of the present. Write of the future. Write all the ideas that I can find and as far as the imagination can fly. For with written words, we can feel secure. We can feel safe. We can feel... love.

 

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to feel.

 

because right now, I feel alone.

Busted

I really thought the day would never come... wait, who am I kidding, I always knew this day will come. It was just a matter of time.

Apparently, my boyfriend, my partner in life, knew about this blog's existence for quite sometime. He just didn't say anything about it. Not until today anyway.

He was hurt. Still hurting. I can't say I blame him for hating me. I did write some things here that, well, let's just say borders social conventions of what a relationship should be.

Today's the fourth time that our relationship suffer such a crushing blow in it's two years of existence. I would enumerate them all but I do not have the energy to do so... Let's just say twice it was my fault, twice was his. Today's mine though. And I hate myself more than the usual.

I could have denied it. I could have lied. But I made a promise that I would never lie to him. Yes, an arguement can be made that keeping a secret is lying by omission. Good thing he would disagree with that.

He has his secrets and I respect his privacy. I was an open book to him from day one. I never pretended, I never held back. But there were just those things that I can't talk about without writing... hiding behind the anonymity of the world wide web. Sharing my thoughts to others like myself.

The thing is, I never intended to hurt him. I never intended to hide things. Things just happened. I know, it's a lame excuse. I should know, I'm very good with excuses. Used them my entire life.

He will read this. He will probably hate me even more. Talking to faceless people instead of him... sharing my thoughts to people other than him...

Ah, I'm babbling. I was stupid and I knew it. I hate myself. I love him and I want to spend my life with him.  I know he wanted the same thing too. I just keep on making it difficult for him... what a shame.

A Walk To Remember

Ever have that one person that occupies your fantasies whenever you're horny? I do. He's name is Von. We met back in 2011 through DowneLink (DL). He had a boyfriend back then and I was just rebounding from a bad relationship. We dated, went out, made out, but nothing really serious nor did we had sex. I really like him. As in, really, really, really like him. So much so that I was too afraid to be in anything intimate with him because I know I can't make him happy. Don't ask, I just know. And no, I couldn't care less for his boyfriend then. That cheating bastard. I'm going to gut him for hurting my Von. But I digress.

So, I like the guy. I think I'm even in love with him. There are times that when I look into my future (madam rosa is that you?) I can see myself being happy with him. But no, it can not be. I'm too much of a chicken shit to go down that road. That's why I contended myself with drooling about his six pack abs, or salivating about his sexy cut arms, or fantasizing about that sweet, red lips of his and what it would feel like around my... stahp!!!!

inhale. exhale.

You get the point. I'm uber attracted to the guy. That's why, even now that we're both committed to someone, I make it a point that we meet once a year. Socially of course. No naughty dirty monkey business. Am I cheating? Probably. Do I care? Of course. But not enough.

I asked him out last June for a movie and and tea. He declined. My hopes were dashed of seeing him this year. But last Sunday, he asked me out for an early dinner. Obviously, I accepted and reschedule my movie date with my boyfriend. I rationalized that this will be just a social meeting so no harm done. And so I thought.

We had dinner at his favorite pizza place in QC. The conversation and catching up was great. We haven't really talked to each other for more than a year and there's a lot of things we can talk about. When we had our fill, we decided to take a leisurely walk down the streets and have a much more intimate conversation.

We talked why I never asked him out officially. He asked why I never made the move when he cried on my shoulders when his ex broke up with him. We talked about our past, my fears, my fantasies, his dreams, his plans, and then he asked why we never went all the way when it's clear we're both attracted to each other.

silence. we walked in silence. contemplating the situation. measuring the temperature. 

and then, for the first time in all those almost four years of knowing each other, he asked me, nope, he offered me, his body. The body, that I fantasize and imagine all those years, mine for the taking, all I have to do is to reach and grab it. I just have to say the words and my dreams will come true.

I said no.

I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to do it. I wanted to take it. But then I said no. I hate myself for saying no. But I did. Because I love my boyfriend. Because I'm afraid that whatever special thing between Von and I, might be snuff out if we do go that route.

because I'm a chicken shit. and I will always hate myself for it.

It's Been A While

I visit this blog almost everyday yet for all the time that I have, I can't seem to put pen to paper, so to speak. So today, being a weekend and I'm stuck in the office, I finally have the motivation to write something and share my thoughts again - it's just I don't know how and where to begin, which just reminded me of something I heard in one of those countless movies I've seen...

"...always begin your story at the beginning"

and so I shall.

I wanted to write about all those movies I've seen in the past few months. There's been some great ones and those that I really don't know why I watched it in the first place. I just didn't get around to writing any "reviews" about them. Not for lack of trying though. I just lack inspiration.

When the news broke out about the pork barrel scams and scums, I was sure that I have enough mojo to write something here. Surely my political views that's verging to racism is something I've always wanted to share. Alas, no post was made.

When I gave in to that one vanity that I have, I was sure as hell that I would write about it. Yet nothing. All those time I sat in front of my computer ended in a staring match between my blinking cursor and I. 

When Glenda passed by and people where going gaga over how strong it was compared to all those past weather disasters, I was sure I would write something to correct them and point out that it was nothing compared to what I have seen. Yet it was another staring competition that I can't seem to win.

When I got a new laptop, I said to myself, surely, this time, at the luxury of my own room, I would be able to write something. But those dastardly addicting FB games got in the way. GoT Ascent anyone? Sheez.

And now we circle back to this. Another lame post for a lame blog from  a lame blogger. What a pity.

But hey, I have a boyfriend but we haven't had sex for more than 5 months, now that's indeed been a while.

In The Name Of Love

When it comes to love, we do crazy things. I've done my share and asked the same from a lot of people. Today was no different. I did something that I never thought I could do. Have a full leg wax.

Im pretty attached to my hairy legs. I personally find them sexy. Same goes for those of my boyfriend. Imagine my shock when he said he wanted to get them waxed off. Like every good boyfriend, I did my best to dissuade him but to no avail. That is why we  both ended here, at the Lay Bare waxing salon, shouting in pain while trying to laugh it off.

Lesson learned: if you love someone, we do things from as big as saying sorry even when it's not our fault up to the small things like being bottom even when you're a top. Just don't forget that there are certain quarters and beliefs that we can't compromise. Because if we do, we are no longer lovers. Just a robot trying to do his master's bidding. Nobody wants to end like that

Pabling

I usually write in English. It's the written language that I am more comfortable in expressing myself but for the purpose of this entry, I will write in the vernacular to impress the needed emotion and the gravity of the message.

Marami na akong nakarelasyon. Bata pa lang ako, marami na akong napaiyak na tao. Nagsimula lahat sa una kong "gelpren" nung elementary ako. Highschool sya, grade six ako. Sya ang first kiss ko. Kabata-bata ko nung lumandi ako. Pero ano nga bang alam natin noon di ba? Basta ang alam ko, masaya ako kasi meron ako na wala ang mga kaklase ko. Tumagal ang relasyon namin ng mga tatlong lingo. Ang tagal na nun para sa isang bata kaya halos isang buong araw akong hindi nakakain. Tandang tanda ko pa yun. Bata pa lang ako drama king na ako.

Simula noon, nagpapalit palit na ako ng gelpren. Maraming babae na umiyak, nagalit, at nasaktan. Sino ba naman kasi ang matutuwa kapag nalaman mo na ang boyfriend mo pa lang tutoy pa ay pinagsabaysabay kayong tatlo na magbabarkada. Pogi ko din noh? 

 Highschool ako noon ng magsimula akong makipaglaspagan sa mga babae. Isa sa umaga, isa sa tangali, isa sa gabi. Hayok na hayok lang ako sa laman. Ang sarap kasi. Kakaiba ang feeling. At syempre, dahil panahon pa ni mahoma at kopong kopong, walang kapo-kapote ito. Bira ng bira, tira ng tira, sarap na sarap. Kapal ng mukha, lakas ng loob. Boom!

Tumigil ang lahat nung tumungtong ako ng kolehiyo. Paano ba naman, delay ng dalawang lingo si gelpren! Katakot ampupu. Ang alam ko ako ang hari ng sablay eh bakit ganun bakit parang nasapol ngayon? Hindi ko alam gagawin ko nun kasi hindi pa ko handa maging tatay. Sarili ko nga hindi ko maayos magdadala pa ako ng bata sa mundong ibabaw? Anakampusangalangwalangkilay! Ayaw, ayaw, ayaw.

Nadala ako dahil dun. Kaya sa buong taon ko sa kolehiyo, birhen ako ulit. Wala munang babae. Wala munang putahe. Aral muna. Good boy muna ako. Sarap buhay. Galing galing. Dami ko naipon. Walang magastos na gelpren na kailangan regaluhan at dalin sa motmot.

Nakapagtapos naman ako ng wala pang panganay. Pero dahil malaya na ako, naisip ko ng bumalik sa buhay pabling. Pero pero pero dahil nagpaka alive alive ako, kinalawang na ata kukote ko. Isa na akong naglalakad na torpe. Depress-depress-an ako. Araw araw inom. Hangang sa natsambahan ng isang barkada ko. Sarap ng inuman, parehong nalasing, may gumapang, may nagpagapang.

Dahil sa nangyari, nagbago ang pananaw ko sa buhay. Napaisip ako ng matindi at dahil bawal ako nagiisip, may kung anong butete na gumalaw sa utak ko. Bakit nga ba hindi ko pasukin ang mundo na hindi ko pinasok noon? Wala naman mawawala kung susubukan. Marami na akong matutunan, mageenjoy pa ako. Kaya ako'y tumalon, tumakbo, kumadirit, nag split, sabay kindat sa mundong aking ginagalawan ngayon. At dahil totoo ang kasabihang "History Repeats Itself" ako'y bumalik sa buhay pabling. Sa buhay "tres" - isang tao sa umaga, isa sa hapon, at isa sa gabi.

Suma total, naka tatlong gelpren ako pero hindi ko na mabilang kung ilan ang naging pampalipas oras at init lang. Sa kabilang dako ng bahaghari naman, nasa pang apat na ako na boypren. Hindi ko na din mabilang kung ilan ang nakahati ko sa magdamag. Sama mo na din sa umaga, tangahali, at hapon. Nakakapagod pero marami akong natutunan. Marami akong nalaman. Kaya ko na siguro sabihin na alam ko na kung anong dapat at hindi dapat gawin para maging "successful" ang relasyon ko. Yun nga lang, panahon lang ang magpapatunay.

A Year To Remember

February 10, 2013

I sent him a message. He replied. No pleasantries, just pure business. Digits were exchanged, meet up in a few minutes...

I showered, made sure I'm presentable. Went to his place and enjoyed the moment. After savoring it again, we cleaned ourselves. A few small talk, then I left.

Hit and run. That's the first thing that came to mind. I smiled to myself. I actually enjoyed this last one..

Message sent. I initiated the conversation. He replied. Good. Keeping the lines open for future use.

3 days passed.

I went to his place once more. This is unusual for me. I try to keep it to once per person to make sure no emotional attachment is seeded. But I did enjoyed it and another serving doesn't seem to be a bad choice. This time, pleasantries were exchanged. More small talk were made. I got scared so I left.

February 17, 2013

7 days since we first saw each other, we saw each other again. This time, while waiting for an elevator. It would seem that we are working in the same building albeit different floors. Those who believed in magic or a higher power would call this fate or destiny. I call it chance. A chance for me to enjoy a different kind of desert in one of the vacant floors of the building. Risky and exciting. Another trait I am not associated with. What is happening to me?

1 day passed.

Message received. He initiated the conversation this time. An out of town invitation. Puerto Galera. A place I've never been to and had no plans of visiting in my life time. The stigma of the place is just not for me. I replied that I will go with him. Contradiction. Now that's something I am familiar with.

February 23, 2013

The fated day. We went to Galera. I was scared. I don't like crowded places and the noise but I'm committed. I will do this. I will endure.

It was almost midnight. Inside a bar filled with noise that passes for music nowadays. People drunk as fuck swaying like hippies trying to dance to the tunes in their own heads. Me, seated in the bar area together with him. Booze filled veins and heart pumping like crazy, I confessed. I tore the wall that I made. I blurted out what I was feeling and thinking all along. I uttered those three words people throw away so carelessly nowadays. Fear conquered by alcohol.

He was in tears. He claims he have the same feelings even before. We kissed. We hugged. Cheers from his friends for we found what we were not looking for in a hopeless place. We found each other.