I won’t catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know.

005.

Officially, the first day of May.

It doesn’t just end there. A pocketful of memories. And it sorta haunts me every 1st day of the month. 19 months ago. And don’t assume that I forgot. I want to…but I couldn’t bring myself to un-count the days. Months. Weeks. Somewhere along that 19 months, it started to bend. Then break bit by boring bit.  It’s actually an everyday occurrence, the swirling, annoying thoughts part. But today, it’s practically special. S’posed to be. Now, I don’t know what to do. Who fucking invented Labor Day. IDK. I should’ve been at school by now, preoccupied as hell. This day is just…total horse piss. (Sorry for my reactive state.)

Okay, okay….I think I sorta get it. I’m about to get my period this week, which adds up to the remembering part. Also, we have summer class so how could I not forget that it is, after all, the first day of the month? There is no way that I could not take note of dates (which usually happens when it’s summer.) It’s even a holiday. There’s NO WAY I couldn’t associate today with some other things in my mind. Lastly, there’s too much to remember. Still, I have to face the world head-on. And still, who am I fooling? The fucks that I give.

“I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship.” - Michelle Williams

Renee Camille L. Levine. Not bad.

004.

I know that things happen for a reason. But sometimes, I wish I didn’t get too attached to you. Actually, compared to 001, it’s getting pretty lighter. The feeling inside. But it’s still heavy. I got a taste of perfection with him, and I want it back. But I shouldn’t try. The concept of futile attempts just doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I don’t know. I’m really clueless. Sleepless. Helpless.

All things are passing. I don’t know where I stand in the labyrinth. I’m fiddling with my feelings…which might be equal to, I don’t know, maybe hopelessly trying to do every trick in the book. Just to get out of it. Just to escape suffering. And that might be a lifetime pursuit.

And the regrets part? It’s just part of the things you have to live with. I don’t believe that you could have done something. I mean, deciding to do  or not to do anything is already half the job. And with regrets, you just have to know how to handle them as they haunt you. Deal. Live. Breathe. Hurt it all out. Regrets are all a part of our humanity.

“Sometimes, you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart, but not in your life.” - Dear John

003.

Last night occurred to me as something so dramatic. Or so I thought. Silence had been broken, as well as my soul. I was tempted to start over and enter the cycle again. But I had to stop myself. Whew, that was close.

It’s hurtful…like a hell lot, to see someone you care about being hurt at the things you’ve done. But I don’t know how to do it the right way…I mean, that was the only way I could think of. Straight and fast. Out of the labyrinth, leaving him behind. Either I am really selfish (like how he really thinks of me now), or I’m complacent that he will get out of it in his own time. Either way, I didn’t want to see him in that mess, but I allowed myself. Tough luck. (I’ve just figured…my writing style is now modeled after John Green’s, especially with “Looking for Alaska”)

When you hurt yourself so much, you get to a point where you would want to amplify the pain. I don’t know why. So yeah, I read our old conversations again, just to 1. verify the root of it all, 2. figure out where we both went wrong and 3. to put an end to those queries in my mind. I’m not so sure whether I found the things I’m looking for. I guess the only consolation I have right now is the pain I feel inside. But yeah, I think I understand myself a bit more. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing, ‘coz I’m pessimistic. And after I did, I just let it all out. Cried a bucket…a river…an ocean. And I felt pissed at myself. At him. At everything. I’m in an entry point towards a profession that deals with saving lives, but I can’t even save something so important to me. And I think it helped. I just hope it did. I’m all jumbled up. This is madness.

Can We Still Be Friends? || Mandy Moore

It’s a strange, sad affair
Sometimes seems like we just don’t care
Don’t waste time feeling hurt
We’ve been through hell together

Can we still be friends?
Can we still get together sometimes?
Can we still be friends?
You know that life will still go on

We awoke from our dream
Things are not always what they seem
Memories linger on
It’s like a sweet, sad, old song

Story of my life. But I’m not yet ready for friendship. It’s still too fresh.

I wish you never looked at me that way.

002.

So yeah. I’m planning to make this blog more personal in nature. About my life’s accidents…and how I got/might get through them. I’m planning to do this (maybe) until I move on. Or something. I don’t know.

I guess it’s stupid ‘coz it took one book…just one book, to completely turn my life 180 degrees in some sense. If anything, missing certain people really annoys the shit outta me. It gives me the creeps. It never had to be this way. But here I am, standing up for the choices I made. I believe that people make choices not only for their happiness (which is, because most of the choices you make really would upset you…and the happiness you’re looking for? It takes time.), but because they don’t want to live in repetitive shit. They want to break-off the cycle of disappointment and…shit. All that somewhat wonderful but unbearable shit.

I’m just starting.

001.

I’m typing things as fluidly as possible. As thoughts surge through the cracks and crevices of my brain…I’m trying my hardest to think straight through it all. I write…type what I think for the reason that I’m not verbally articulate. Being confrontational and all that shit. It doesn’t appeal to me at all.

Like Pudge in Looking for Alaska, I’ve come to seek for my personal Great Perhaps. (That’s how much the book influenced me.) So many things have happened over the week. First of all, I’ve come to acknowledge that our passion fizzed. Second, realizations about the course of the ‘involvement’ (I don’t want to call it a relationship, ‘coz clearly, it’s not. And I don’t want to lie here. I’m sick of hiding shit.) really struck me. It’s crystal clear now…it’s human nature to deny and play blind to the things you don’t want to see because 1. people expect too much, 2. they don’t want to undergo some form of labyrinth…which is suffering and 3. there isn’t much to gain from pessimism. It’s not that I saw it coming. But if I had used enough common sense…well, I would actually know where it was headed. It’s like we were both holding the steering wheel. And, assuming that I did, I had the ability to see things. Premonitions. But I never took action. I never had the guts to. All because I strongly believed at the start that I stuck up with an Alpha male. Someone who’s everything I wanted. Someone who believed in something. Someone who would take action. And the pleasure was mine to disprove it all.

I decided to cut the crap. And it’s not about what I felt for him. It’s about what I felt for no one else but him…the passionate and petty trifles, the anger, the frustration, the possessive outbursts. My motherly instincts (the pretty negative ones). I wanted to rip him up alive, into bits and pieces that I would only keep for myself. And just like that, I knew that I became different. It wasn’t me anymore.

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(A very touchy and personally relatable excerpt from “Looking for Alaska”)

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed” - Carl Jung. 

With the Y U NO MEME we drew for English class. <3 

I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.

I’m saving all my love for you.

I’m listening to cheezy songs.

Yes, and I cried inside the comfort room while taking a shit. Srsly. Idk. My system is dying slowly…if I made the worst mistake or decision in this lifetime, then I’ll have to face it. The worse thing is that I’m facing all this crap alone. No one knows what I’m going through, only because I chose to keep it all inside. And it doesn’t make sense talking about it to a bunch of anonymous people on the net, but I’m doing it anyway. I am severely, undeniably depressed. I’m listening to Whitney songs that aren’t relatable to my dilemma but still, I’m being an emotional ass. I’m breaking down. 

I just want you back for good.

And then I realized, we can’t always get what we want.

You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain.