My, my.

You opened a can of worms, my friend. You probably didn’t mean for that to happen, but it did. I can feel you inching farther and farther away from me, further proof of how guilty you’re probably feeling about everything. The way you acted that one night changed the way we would be for the rest of our days.. And I’m willing to bet every cent I have to my name that you know full well what happened—hell, you can probably pinpoint the exact moment you fucked things up. Know how I know? ‘Cause I can, too. I did. I knew it was happening. I saw it right before my eyes. I didn’t think to stop it, though. Probably because I thought you knew what you were doing.

No, scratch that—I hoped you knew what you were doing. I prayed that you were awake and aware of the way you set the drapes of my mind on fire, aware of the way the flames shone through the windows of my eyes. I pleaded with all of my heart: please tell me he’s doing this on purpose.

But you weren’t. No one ever claims to be when they’re drunk.


I can’t even remember the songs I used to love by myself

But I remember all the songs I used to love with you

Fucking kill me

In Which Nag-Taglish Ako Sa Sobrang Sama Ng Loob

Sobrang nakakasama ng loob how I can’t update this blog anytime I want to. Nakakainis yung kawalan ko ng access sa internet, yung kabagalan ng laptop, yung pagbaha ng mga thoughts and ideas every time may internet—so much so na hindi mo na lang ma-handle yung dami at you end up not doing anything dahil masyadong madaming ideas to keep up with—and the mere fact na I made this blog to be privy to my multimedia thoughts pero hindi ito nakaka-live up to my expectations, and it’s mostly all my fault. Kasalanan ko na walang matinong internet yung bahay na tinitirhan ko, na wala akong pera pambili ng matinong laptop, na wala akong oras mag-ayos ng mga kaisipan kahit buong araw ako nag-iisip. Kasalanan ko na deprived ako.

Ah tangina. Gusto ko pa din talagang i-maintain ‘to, I swear. Kaso I want to be able to do it on my own time, in my own pace; how I want to, when I want to. And you know me: pag hindi ayon sa gusto ko, madalas ayoko nalang. Sobrang sakit sa kalooban na patapos na ang November ay 12 posts pa lang din ang nagagawa ko dito—may daya pa yun, like 75% of that number is made up of Sky photos or music—kahit pa sobrang dami kong mga naiisip. I mean, sure, most of those thoughts end up sa journal ko, but like I said, I made this blog for a purpose, and that purpose is to cater to my multimedia thoughts, which make up the bulk of my thinking process.

So yun. Nakakaiyak man, tanggap ko na siguro na I won’t be able to maintain this blog, or at least not as much as I want to. I’ll be waiting for the time na magkaroon na ako ng kahit maayos na internet man lang—when it does come, I swear I will come back to this blog and post every single damn thing that crosses my mind and I will love every minute of it—but until then, kailangan kong magtiyaga sa cramped situation I am in, i.e. being able to make posts within the daily 30-second window in the dumbfuck internet connection, or not post at all.

The cracks of my heart grow in micromillimeters with every single urge to blog ignored, but there’s nothing I can do but tape over these cracks and wait.

I have been busy. Very busy. The sem just ended. I am home, and supposedly now on vacation. But you know what’s crazy? I still am busy. With my acads. Even after the sem has ended. I understand that this is due to my own stupid procrastination but I had no idea it would to be this cruel, mon dieu I just finished a paper and I am now about to begin on another that’s due midnight tonight but I don’t think I can do it anymore, I need sleep and Jim Morrison in my life right now. And maybe some Oreos in pancake batter. Deep fried and smothered in chocolate.

Diyos ko, it’s two days past the end of the semester, but my Hell Week doesn’t end until tonight. Somebody kill me!

P.S. Will be updating this blog properly some time soon. Just gotta get all this shit over and done with

On Strangers


My reactions to the plot twist that had just happened.

I just now found out that the girl I currently have a crush on and the girl I miraculously found on Facebook by sheer accident and had assumed to be my crush were apparently two different people altogether. I am perplexed, at the very least. On the other extreme, I am crying about it because how the actual fuck could I have mistaken one person for another? And why does that other girl look so much like that girl that I actually like? And why, why, why is she also in our school?? Or is she really?? Was she just added to the campus branch group randomly? Who the hell is she?? The questions make my head swim!!

This girl I had mistaken—let’s call her F—isn’t really a girl anymore; a few Google searches (yes I’m that hardcore) revealed that she had graduated from UP a decade(!) ago, and that she is an accomplished person, and travels the globe on a regular basis. I never found out which campus she graduated from, though. She did have pictures of herself posted, and I did view them, and I was more than 70% positive it was the girl I was chasing around the campus. Yes, that’s how much the likeness was. I went on telling my friends about my discovery: about the miracle of me finding her without a clue of who she was, about how rich and high and mighty she was, and how insignificant I am as compared to her being, and how my mix CD might as well be given to an elephant. I continued to pine, however. Of course I did.

And then my friend told me that a friend of hers actually knew the girl I liked, and so this very helpful friend of mine asked for her name.. Imagine my shock when the name she gave was something else entirely. Of course I was skeptic; what the fuck man, I had already found her, what’re you doing going around telling me she has a different name? So when the internet came back on, I immediately went to look for this new name on Facebook—let’s call her B. The moment I saw her profile picture, I was overcome with panic, because that there was definitely her. 1000000000% per cent. No fucking doubt about it, not this time. I was so confused for a while that my brain actually stopped functioning and all I could do was stare dumbly at the monitor while emitting low frequency sounds from my gaping mouth. After a moment it evolved into a full-fledged scream, so much so that I had to bury my face in a pillow if I didn’t want the neighbours to think I was being assaulted.

Long things short, I panicked.

I panicked about how it could have  been possible that I believed my own idea so easily, how these people looked so remarkably the same yet not quite exactly alike, how could I have mistaken them for each other, how a lot of evidence pointed to the earlier assumption that F was her, and how the lack of anything except the single concrete proof of B‘s unmistakable face toppled that earlier assumption down so easily. I panicked about how easily my senses could be deceived, and how long I could hold on to such a deception, and by my own hand, too.

The good news is, she’s not as distant—socially—as I had initially feared. She’s not a jetset traveller publishing her own magazines or swimming in fancy beaches.  She really is just a student, like me. Only I think she’s about to graduate this year, and she’s sort of a member of the student body or something. That makes her still a far cry from the teenage dirtbag I can only dream she is, and that I actually am.

But at least now, I am a little more determined to give her the tape and just run with whatever happens, or won’t happen. Earlier today I had the perfect chance to do it, but I fucking pussied out because I wasn’t expecting to meet her coming up those stairs as I was going down, and my heart kind of stopped and I think I actually staggered back when she made brief eye contact with me—twice. I felt my knees turn to jelly; I was mute for a few minutes. The pathwalk was empty, and it was only the three of us—my bestfriend, me, and her—that was there, and it was the best chance there could ever be to give it to her. It was only after a few minutes—and her having walked around the corner already—that I remembered I had the CD on my person, and that I could give it to her, and that I should because this situation couldn’t get any better. But like I said, she was already rounding the corner, and the next moment was gone. I couldn’t have chased her, and anyway, the other kids were starting to come up the stairs too. The moment had passed my pussiness by, and I regret it to this very minute.

I won’t pass up the next opportunity, though. I promise.

Ayoko nang bumalik ng Baguio. Ayoko nang makita ulit ang UPB ng siguro dalawang taon. Ayoko nang makakita ng mga mukha na kailangan kong ngitian at kausapin ng ilang oras. Ayoko nang bumiyahe ng madaling araw para makaabot sa isang klase kung saan makikipagkwentuhan lang sa’yo ang prof. Ayoko nang maghilamos ng malamig na tubig. Ayoko nang tumunganga ng ilang oras sa kwarto, iniisip kung paano ba nangyaring natambakan ako ng gagawin at naubusan ako ng utak (at pera). Ayoko nang gumising ng maaga para lang mawalan ng gana pumasok sa loob ng ilang minuto. Ayoko nang kabahan sa pagdilat kada umaga.

Ayoko nang magpanggap na gusto ko pa ang buhay kahit paulit-ulit lang ang lahat.



Post bilang pag-alala sa huling akyat ko pa-Baguio mula Manila ngayong semestre, at sa panahon ng matinding pag-aasam ng pahinga.

Ramblings On The Waiting, & What Comes Before

I can’t wait for this semester to end. Seriously, I am agitated merely by the thought of having to spend two more weeks in school, and the worst ones of the semester at that. I keep waiting for the days to just skid by in the periphery, like how we always imagine time passing; I wish it could go by without me having to look at it. The wait is boring, especially if there’s nothing to do. But there are things to be done, and a whole lot of them, too. I can’t even think of starting on them, though. I guess it’s the usual shit, you know; the procrastination, the overestimation of cramming abilities, the lack of ideas in general, and the now totally  burnt-out self-starter that had been thin from the get-go. And I don’t even know what I’m looking forward to exactly. The idea of repose? The things I’ve been planning to do but can’t during school days, with the pretense of prioritizing academics when in truth studying is only ever done in the couple days before any deadline? The family that I miss when I’m not here, but loathe whenever it bursts into flames randomly and regenerates after, as if nothing happened, like a fucking ragged phoenix? The boredom that consumes me each and every single time I’ve had to stay unmoving in a place for longer than a few weeks? I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what I’m waiting for. What I do know, though, is that I am not getting anything done soon enough, and I will be paying for this once again with tears and soul-rending feelings of inadequacy as an intellectual.