:::2003-10-06-10:55 p.m.:::

Magge: Really, I'm flattered. But I'll get even. I swear. Bahala siya.

Pero malamang, isang ngiti niya lang, makakalimutan ko rin tong araw na ito. Makakalimutan ko na rin na nasaktan niya ako.

Sabi nga sa isang quote: Minsan iniisip ko kung pwede lang sana wag na magmahal para lang wag na masaktan... kaya lang pwede ba yun? Makita lang kitang nakangiti... Handa na akong masaktan ulit...

Tangina no?

Ewan. Parang ang lahat ng bagay ay joke ngayong mga araw na ito...

I want to love. Intensely. Deeply. Yung tipong talagang iiyakan ko every night. Yung tipong as in madedepress ako. Yung tipong masasabi ko sa sarili kong, "Shit, eto na yun..." kasi puro infatuation lang yung nararamdaman ko dati.

Siyempre, gusto ko rin mahalin. Pero bonus na yun.

Basta. Gusto ko lang makaramdam. Kasi pakiramdam ko, at this point, mababaw pa ang lahat...

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:::2003-10-04-11:38 a.m.:::

Long overdue post.

1) New layout. Yehey!

2) I'm pining over someone new. I'll post a rant later.

3) Friendster! email: squall143@yahoo.com, First Name: Yot, Last Name: Henson

4) Pictures up! Visit: here. Sign guestbook!

And now for the rant:

Para sa mahal ko,

Putangina mo. Bakit ikaw na lang palagi laman ng utak ko? Bakit kailangan mo pang ngumiti at magsalita at guluhin ang buhay ko? Maganda na ang takbo ng buhay ko.

Mahal kita. Mahal na kita. Simula noong mga oras na ginagabayan mo ko sa bagong daan na tatahakin ko, minahal na kita.

Hindi mo lang alam kung gaano ko kagustong tumakbo sa iyo at yakapin ka nang mahigpit. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kagustong isandal ang ulo ko sa balikat mo kapag magkatabi tayo. Hindi mo lang alam kung gaano ko katagal tinitigan ang mga daliri mo, kung paano ko pinipigilan ang sarili kong kunin ang kamay mo at ihabi ang mga daliri mo sa akin.

Ngunit hindi pwede. Wala akong karapatan.

Sapagkat ang puso mo, siya pa rin ang nilalaman. Siya pa rin ang minamahal. Siya pa rin ang sinisigaw.

At putanginang pag-ibig yan. Putanginang kapalaran iyan. Lagi na lang lahat mali. Lagi na lang.

Setyembre, 2003. Doon mo ako unang kinausap. Noon ako nahulog sa iyo.

Pagkatapos ng Setyembre, hindi natapos ang katarantaduhang ito. Pero parang lalong nadagdagan. Pero ikaw, parang para sa iyo, hindi na ako nabubuhay. Naglaho. Parang bula.

Nagseselos ako sa kanya. Siya na ang bukambibig mo at itinutukso sa iyo. Wala siyang ginagawa sa akin, pero galit na galit ako sa kanya. Nagngingitngit. Hindi ka niya mahal. Iyan ang ipinamukha niya sa iyo. Kaytagal mo siyang minahal. Kaytagal kang nagtiis.

Hahayaan na sana kita sa kanya. Tutal, sa kanya ka naman masaya. Pero sinaktan ka niya. At ano na ang natira sa iyo?

Pero tangina... mahal na kita...

October is such a sad, sad month.

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:::2003-09-30-11:18 p.m.:::

Okay, first of all, congats to Taeneo, excuse me, Ateneo, for managing to get to the championships. I will NOT be rooting for you. We put up a good fight. Yeo was wonderful.

Next, I got my balck and white pictures already. Statistics: Out of 36 exposures, 33 was developed well. Out of the 33 pictures, 9 were worthy to be online. I'll post them when I find a suitable image hosting service.

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:::2003-09-28-10:48 p.m.:::

I'm starting to get cheesy again.

But really, it's one big letdown. No. Letdown won't even begint o describe it. It's one big meteorite from far out suddenly crashing on my head. It's three San Miguel pale Pilsen beers taken without pause. It's three packs of yosi inhaled and exhaled, all without break. It's marijuana, cocaine, shabu, a whole lot more drunk with the most sour red wine there is.

And that doesn't even come close to this sense of disorientation, anxiety, and depression I'm feeling.

I do exaggerate. But take these words as truth: When I was thinking about it, I had this imaginary fist in my chest, clenching, unclenching. It was literal, I could really feel my heart crushed.

What am I blabbing about?

He, the one mentioned in the post below, has proven to me that he really does love his girlfriend, and has no intention of letting her go. They already refer to themselves as married.

And the worst part is, I see them everyday, always together, or him, always waiting for her to come out of class.

So many time, he came too near, yet still so far.

Right now. With the new contraption called Friendster, I have discovered him again, and once again, we share a common virtual ground. But now, I won't even attempt to send him a provate message. I won't even attempt to make him my friend. After all, who am I?

This common ground had once been the feeding ground of my fantasies. For I have emailed him a poem and he replied. That was how I knew that he truly is the most humble and wonderful person I have ever seen.

And now I'm listening to a CD of some music that he sang during a play. A play that became my personal damnation. I saw him there, and fell for him there.

I churned out essay after poem, including the one posted below.

And then, I realize, I could never do anything. Except let go. As I've always done.

Let go. Always let go.

My curse.

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:::2003-09-28-7:09 p.m.:::

This was posted last year in my other blog... just thought of posting it again...

+++

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

*sad girl mode ON*

Do you want to know how I really feel? Then picture this.

You go to a musical play of a book you really love. Before the showing, it was announced that hte popular commercial actor will not perform tonight. You feel disappointed. But you take consolation in the fact that the substitute is the son of a famous singer/actor.

They are introduced in a musical scene. You sit back, warily criticizing each and every word and note. In the back of your mind, the giddy high school girl surfaces. She notices the eldest among the kids, the son of the singer/actor. She gets infatuated. Before act 1 ends, you get infatuated too.

You leave the theater hall with a smile that rivals that of the Grand Canyon. You keep blabbing about his prowess and how good-looking he is. You pester your parents with descriptions and metaphors that they were relieved when you finally went to sleep. You get home at 12 midnight.

The next morniung, you pester your friends to accompany you to see it for the second time. They agree. And then you pester your mom again to buy tickets in advance so you'll have good seats. Using her money. You say you're going to repay her on or before the show.

You cannot take the play out of your mind. You grope for pictures and facts about the cast, You see a picture of the cast in a kid's newspaper. You cut it out and place it in your wallet. Every now and then, you take it out and caress his face, thinking you are touching him too.

In some hopeless moments, you see him having a girlfriend. You see his girlfriend taking him for granted. You imagine ugly things about a girl you never knew.

You remember a moment in the end of the play. While you were standing up and clapping, you caught his eye. He held you gaze for all but three seconds. And then he retreated.

You start to fantasize. You think that those precious three seconds will tell him you are different. You imagine him pulling all resources to know your name. You imagine him shaking the information out of the attendants in the theater. And then when he finally knew your name, his eyes light up. He then shakes other people for your phone number.

After exams, exactly two weeks after you saw him, he calls you. Even when you're drowning in happiness inside, you act indifferent. You tell him he's superb. You tell him he has talent. You tell him you have to go back to schoolwork now. But he doesn't want to put down the phone.

You get calls from him every day. You learn that he has dumped whats-her-face, and is now planning to court you. You play hard to get.

After a particularly grueling day, you come home to find a bouquet of lavender flowers on your bed. You hear the maid saying, "Someone's waiting for you."

You run down the stairs, flowers on one hand and the schoolbooks on the other. You find him in the garden. You wrap your arms about him, and he says the words you long to hear.

And then you wake up. You find yourself in the middle ofg the play, watching him say those lines again. You knw he can never be yours. But you dream. You fantasize. Because that is how you live.

+++

And now it's all over. No more fantasies. No more dreams.

*is still sad*

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:::2003-09-27-9:02 p.m.:::

My legs are aching from too much standing/walking. And waiting. But it was all worth it.

We went to Intramuros. Actually, we didn't get to explore far because there was already too much to behold in San Agustin Church. SO we spent most of the time there, and, due to unavoidable circumstances, we had to go home early. We didn't get to see the sunset.

Sayang.

Oh well.

I'll post the pictures when I get them developed. I just discovered something: There is such thing as a black and white film. :D And I want a camera! The real professional multi-lens camera!

Ow. My legs are killing me. I want to sleep.

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