Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
my hist2 prof who insisted she be called Panginoon is absent today. thank the REAL God. i have to admit, i get offended whenever she refers to herself as a God, take note, God not goddess.
last night, when i was supposedly studying for hist2, i found Weng's songbook. so we decided to crash at Keatre's place, as we always do, equipped with Selle's guitar and Weng's golden voice we disrupted Joseph and Eme's study time. asa. twas fun. singing oldies, i mean. it reminds me of long trips with the 'rents. my dad's a big beatles fan, and i grew up listening to michael learns to rock, bread, eagles and such. joseph and weng are too, so we felt bit nostalgic. i felt sad when Weng was singing it's all coming back to me now. hahaha. whaaaaaaaat?? it is a bit sad, really.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
i <3 secondhand serenade.
because because. anyway. my heart is heavy and my eyelids are heavier and the longer i stay awake the more i worry. that's what's wrong with me, i worry too much. right now i feel worried, scared and happy. and i didn't think it's possible to feel this much emotion all at the same time.
i'm worried because i'm scared. i'm scared that this is how things will always be. i'm scared that if i don't move on now, i never will. and i don't want that to happen. i want to move on too. i want to be happy. i want to find someone who'll love me. but i'm scared that even if i do, as i have many times before, i'd still be stuck on you. i'm scared that i will always switch from emotion to emotion, you make me so vulnerable. vulnerable to everything. i just want to be happy. and sometimes, i am. when we feel us getting closer, i'm happy. but i'm scared. because the closer we are, the harder it is to let go. i want to be contented. the thing with this situation is that you make me unhappy being myself. i hate myself because i can't change enough for you to like me back. it's crazy, huh? you've become a stranger. but sometimes when we talk, i hear him too, and i know that deep inside of you, he's there. make him come home. maybe he still likes the me i still am today.
yun lang. haha!! i have tons to write a while ago. but im in a good mood now. so, yun.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
i don't see you much. doesn't matter. i don't want to anyway. atleast that's what i tell myself when stuck in the sofa, still dressed with the clothes i wore the whole day hoping you'd visit and see me in them. pathetic. i know. i don't cry anymore, atleast there's an accomplishment. but i find myself writing to you everyday, and that, i find even more pathetic. i kinda feel like dan humphrey in gossip girl, with his sad-ass poetry and suicidal letters. haha. i've got a notebook full of them shit. except ofcourse, i'm far from suicidal. but anyway, here's one from the many i'd wish you'd take time to read:
Here’s to honesty I’d willingly give you, in far-fetched wishes of acceptance and love, wishes that you will never grant of reality. I’m tired. I get it, I’m just not it. And if I wait another year I’ll only get stoned for martyrdom, but before that, the pain of loving you will kill me first. And the rest of the world will stand and watch me fall, over and over again. If you promise me an eternity, I promise to die before you get tired of me. But what you can only promise me are walks you’re too tired to take. Of conversations that’ll only push me away. Of forever’s worth of 60 second memories you will never be able to give. Broken promises are promises nonetheless, and they are the only thing I get a hold of. And this is what you do to me. You make me wait all night for your arrival. You make me sing songs I wish I wrote. You make me lie in the ground with you while you’re drunk with heartbreak liquor, and me with tears. You make me listen to your stories, even when all I want is for you to listen to me. When shall I tell you? perhaps never. Because this is what you do to me. You make me fall so hard, the fall gets too tiring that I want nothing else but to finally hit the ground, but I keep on falling. I’m singing you goodbye, and from the muffled voices could you pick apart what im saying? I’m telling you I miss you and if I could bring back highschool, I would.
Here’s to goodbye and the lie that I will finally let you go.