Bakit kasi hindi ako pinanganak ng mas maaga? ='( *sigh* I hope to find someone like him...I'll pray. =) I used to say that if my fairy god mother would give me three wishes, the last wish would be, “to give me another 3 wishes”. But that is cheating.
Wishes expire on its expiration dates and dozes.
If today, I will be given a chance to wish. I would only get one wish… and that would be to allow me to live in his time, his prime.
“How many times have I told myself that I’m going to quit you only to find out that I’m two steps back?” -mia
Is there such this as a good… bye?
Is there?
I was transferred to a new room that is not so new to me.
Trying to fit in a crowd not so new to me.
Sitting with my bosses.
Melting.
Crushing on the guy, loving the girl.
This is another new exciting sad thing about working. From the E-learning room of Vibal, I was transferred to the I don’t know what room is this? PRD? Corp Comm? Or to be simple… the room “in or near Sales.”
I LOVE E-LEARNING
If there was a group of people that truly welcomed me here in Vibal it was them. Sir Alfred was the first person I ate lunch with here and made me so comfortable. Mar, Sol, and King, the knights of E-learning failed to give me company at first—for I was too shy to bond with boys. But when Sally—my bestest friend ever in Vibal—came, E-learning votled in 1 solid, sticky-gummy, rugbied team. Then came Kuya dong and dongkey. It was perfect… but I have to leave and go to the department I belong.
I love PRD/Corp Comm. My boss is the easiest to approach boss in Vibal, on top of that she listens and understands. My other boss, the “he”, is a major reason for a major KO. He’s totally a hands down—brain, body and beautiful (married with kids). Dunno, liked him the 1st time, I met him. He is a “no-batman” but fun joker. My partner is the Mr. Friendship of Vibal. I believe no one can ever do the things he does; he greets everyone around, smiles and charms everyone. And I never had a low toned moment with him.
E-learning is home to me and my heart rested there for awhile and changes seems so hard to swim now. I know I belong in PR and this is where life, lungs, love is. It takes time…. Takes time to fall and drown in love. But I heart both.
LEAVING.
My partner, JR is leaving as well. And soon, I know I will too. JR’s life is planned before he entered Vibal. I started planning my life here and realized a lot of things. Lucky him… he is in two places at once: the place where he should be and the place where his heart beats. :)
"Sun moon collides, slides, dies." -mia I'm, again, not in the right place and time when this happened. I'm not after the photos I can take during the eclipse, what I'm after is the memoirs... when will this memoir for me come?
from http://azraelsmerryland.blogspot.com/2009/07/partial-solar-eclipse-july-22-2009.html
“Sometimes love is like taking a medicine. You grab a pill to make you better…”
This pill’s a paracetamol, orange, round.
Lying at my bed, vanishing the end that left. The same. I cry, tried to figure, shape, mold but it’s formless, shapeless, hopeless.
Move from side to side, wipe a tear from eye to eye. Painful.
Needs a paracetamol. A pill, someone… to get over this.
Went downstairs with aches of heart and head merged. Closer to the cabinet, chose what drug to take, the one that will, the one would ill, the other would kill.
Reached for the chosen bottle. A new battle. Drank a paracetamol, a pain reliever, a fever reducer. A rebound. Like a guy for the meantime mending heartaches, headaches of past fakes.
Opened the bottle. Gave one a chance.
Lifted a capsule, pulled, reached your waiting hand.
Held it. Swallowed it. Tastes… tasteless.
Pretended afterwards. Forced a smile. I’m better.
Makes me sick. Makes me ill. Hidden the pain.
I know this pill won’t make me better instantly. But if I keep drinking it every single day, with its right dosage and doses, I will be addicted. Maybe this pill would replace the effects of the past pill. Maybe he can erase you in my system. If I open up for a chance, yes this pill would make me better. One day, some day, he could cure up your medical malpractices… in me.
Play. Next. Next. Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle. It played the same song in 3 consecutive shuffles… is it meant to be?
My Mongol pen rolled to the side of my desk. Tried to save its lead. It fell. It’s dead.
Should it be destiny that drawn its line why I am sitting in front of this computer, writing things you cannot understand? Or is it the tragedy that life made, to be here.
Loss. Write a poem about loss and burn the whole thing. You cannot read loss, you cannot write. You can feel.
Drink a glass of whisky. Turn red, tipsy. Open up. Confess. I love you in my most bangag way.
Cross the street. Don’t look on both sides go. If true love comes in the most unexpected way, could it be the man bumping me.
Hold my hand. I’ll hold your hand. What’s the difference? Both holds… but one lets go. I’ll hold. I won’t let go.
Take a ply. Wipe the tears away, we are happy.
Heard this song in the radio, dedicated it to you... TITLE: Beer by Itchyworms
Drove my car, imagined you by the passenger seat, singing songs with me. Miss you like crazy. Drive me crazy!!!
That’s it? No mad Mom restricting her daughter about late dates and PDA? No Dad worried about daughter’s whereabouts?
No courtship stories of weird fun challenge—eat tuyo, eat monggo seed, “shout to world you love me!” Be here exactly 3am. Bring me mangoes from Guimaras. Let's ride this jeep. Let's walk ten thousand miles. Let's stay up till the next midnight.
If it's an instant yes, there will be no LQ stories of I’m sorry, I’m never gonna do it again, I’ll never break your heart? Give me one more chance baby? Look… you and me are meant to be!, One last chance with you? Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me...
No sweet baby love talks of....? “I miss you baby!” “Be my pie… Cutie pie!” “Why do you love me?” “You complete me” “Hug Me” “I need you” "God has destined me to be with you"
I, personally, would want to watch love grow. There will be heartaches, there will be pain, but in the end, you'll still savour love at its best. I would rather experience love in its CRUEL-est form... Than be in love.
"Than I'm in love... the end"
I would want someone chasing me head over heels. I would want to drop you first like a hot potato then, go crawling back to you, begging I realized I love you. I would want some action, mom and dad shouting mad at their stupid lil daughter. I would wish your Mom to curse me, I would like her to disagree, just for the sake of story.
I would want our love story to be GAY. to be happy... together with its up, down, under. I wouldn't want it easy. Make-break-make is challenging. I love you then I hate you then I love you should be a habbit.
In this way, love is never tiring. Exciting. Something to look forward to. Some so constant, yet so unconstant to us.... it's ours.
You really don’t know what love is until you get to a point where you’re ready to trade ten years of your life for a single kiss, all your wealth for a single touch, or when you’re willing to leave someone you’ve been with the last decade for a total stranger. Love isn’t about the time you spent with someone, or the challenges you’ve gone thru together... It’s about that rush of butterflies in your stomach or that single heartbeat that says..."I’d rather have a day with this person than spend an eternity with someone else..".
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Freeze. No one moves, unless I said so. But no one stopped. The world moves, changes from time to time—ignoring me, ignoring you.
It goes around like a carousel, turning, circling, not knowing who rides. It goes around like time, twitching past hour, rush hour, last hour. It forgets me, it forgets you. Only remembers if you do something dangerous. Only remembers you doing extraordinary. Always forgets what values you. Always leaves.
Sometimes, it feels like you don’t belong, alone. And when you feel like no one’s there, maybe a shadow here waits. Like Me. Maybe a shadow here needs. Like Me.
I should blog, type the thoughts in my mind now or it will be gone forever.
Today is a beautiful day. I realized how unlucky I am to live in this world. How I need air to live. How I need water, food, clothing, shelter to survive.
How I need friends to laugh with, be with. How I have to talk to mom about life-love-life problems. How I need my brother’s alarm clock every morning. How I… need this, need that, want this, want that….
There are lots of things I need to be able to live. How unlucky I am to need that. But at the same time lucky…. Because I’m still alive.
Weird?
I wanted to die yesterday and now realized that I love to live, hundreds, thousands of century…That every single breathe I take, every beat of my heart, every blink of my eye, every pulse, signs me that I’m still living. That these heartaches wounds deep now, but will later heal its own. That scars of pain doesn’t matter now, for surgeries are left, right, down, under.
Maybe I’m living too much that I couldn’t feel it anymore. Living’s been perfect in the days that gone. No problem, no challenge… just alive. Maybe God would want another twist, he’s bored and saturated with my perfect life.
Now, he’s back to attack for more fighting. He’s back for some action. Anyway, a hero wouldn’t be a hero without some villain. But he wouldn’t send terrorist in front of me like he how he bombed off WTC. He wouldn’t trap me in a broken elevator. He wouldn’t break my shoes, steal my phone. He wouldn’t send a fire-mad boss. He wouldn’t touch, push, hurt a family and a friend…
He would break a heart, my heart… to mend, make it stronger—to feel pain is to live—to be alive.
I’m way too sure that I tried killing myself 5 times…
The 1st attempt was when I was 5 yrs old. I mixed vetsin with ice tea and drank it all. Vetsin was rumored to kill people? Dunno if it’s true but that’s how I see it before. The 1st attempt wasn’t successful. The ice tea and vetsin had a weird taste; not good, not bad and not enough to kill me. After drinking a liter, I felt dizzy… I fainted.
I woke up in the sofa with my Lola waiting for me back to life, worried. I thought it was heaven or hell when I’ll open my eyes again but no I was in our house. Didn’t even bring me to the hospital... who would want a gossip of a mentally-ill 5 yrs old? No one.
The 2nd attempt was when I was still in SPC. I used the blind cord to kill me. Standed on a higher place, wrap it on my neck, jumped… the first 10 secs is perfect… I wasn’t breathing for awhile, closed my eyes, still not breathing, it’s working…I’m dying! Then suddenly, a heated pain in the neck started bleeding. Ouch. When you feel pain, you’re still alive. OMG. I’m alive… The neck scar is still visible to this date—the sign of pain, the sign of life.
The 3rd, 4th and 5th are all the same, used the traditional way of slicing my pulse. But none of it succeeded. None of it even went to hospital authorities. None and kept inside the family, forgotten over the years. Forgotten.
The lines are not that visible anymore. The lines formed its lies—not telling the whole world—I don’t want to live.
Who would want to live in a cruel world like this? I outlived MJ, outlived Elvis, outlived Diana, outlive M.Theresa. Will die after this great people. Who am I to lose? I’m not of bigger value.
Million times thought of killing myself in a car accident. Will I die? If I bump my car somewhere dangerous would God grant another life, another breathe? Would God still want me to live? What if I really want to die? I want to.
TAKE ME NOW.
***PS. This is the product of my boredom. Don’t freak and panic. I wouldn’t kill myself… Relax.
