you miss childhood so much you try dressing like you would if you were seven again. sneakers and frilly socks. big t-shirts and messy hair, because you’ve stopped caring about perfect hair. you don’t mind getting your knees dirty or scabs on your shins. those pains don’t make you flinch. those pains don’t talk to you at night. those pains don’t hurt like the hurt you’ve really felt. the type of hurt that can’t be pin pointed or fixed with copious amounts of Neosporin. you don’t worry about how you’ll feel in the morning until the morning comes. you bite the skin off the tips of your fingers like your aiming for the bone. because the stress and pain hits you bone deep. bone deep. its almost romantic sounding. but isn’t being so broken such a romantic thing anymore? sad music doesn’t even phase you. its all you know. instrumentals lined with tiny violins and crying cellos. you lay back in the grass and close your eyes. you try forgetting about the city surrounding you. the heat rises from the pavement and grips your lungs like my hands grip the small of your neck. the sun beats down on you like you owe it money. but you don’t sweat. this is the small stuff. ice coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. start your day happy. fall apart at the end. repeat. things get better. then they get worse. three months of total bliss for three months of total shit. thats the way life works right? it always gets better though. be still.
cockiness is so attractive to me in a way and it’s so irritating. like it’s annoying. and it annoys me. but the kind of expression and body language that comes with it. the self-satisfied attitude. the smug comments. the eye rolling. the smirking. “come and get me” hand gestures during a fight. eyebrow raising with an air of superiority. it’s just like. fuck you. i’m annoyed right now. i am so annoyed right now. but oh my fuck i am also so very, very attracted right now
Throughout my life,
I have read a number of books,
have heard the different variations of music,
have wrote a great deal of sappy poems
and have done stupid things that made me [me].
But these are now stories.
Stories to tell.
the memory of these stories
became tangled and twisted
for reality merged with fiction
I could not tell
which is which.
I am just so tired.
Tired of missing you,
tired of loving you and
most of all, I am tired
May naging kaibigan ako ngayong college na nafriendzone. I hated the girl kasi sinaktan niya yung friend ko. Pinaasa niya yung friend ko. After ng lahat ng effort niya, in the end, nasaktan parin siya. I didn’t hate the girl because I’m in love with my friend or the like- pero kasi, ang tanga ni girl. Ang swerte niya kasi may nag-eeffort ng ganyan para sa kanya.
Pero hindi ko alam, nag-papaasa din pala ako.
At nung ako na yung nang-friendzone, naintindihan ko na si girl. Nakakaguilty kasi yung mag-paasa. Lalo na kung sobrang mag-effort yung lalaki. Habang tumatagal lalong lumalalim yung guilt.
Sabi nga nila,
Ang tanga-tanga ko daw.
Ang sama-sama ko daw.
Paasa daw ako.
Alam kong ang sama-sama ko dahil pinaasa ko siya ng halos tatlong taon. At compared dun sa girl, mas masama yung ginawa ko. Mas nakasakit ako. Akala ko kasi nung high school ako, kapag hindi ko inentertain yung efforts niya, kapag iniwasan ko siya, makakalimot din siya. Na makakamove-on siya. Pero hindi eh. Pinaasa ko siya.
At ang masaklap dun, pinaabot ko pa ng tatlong taon mahigit.
Alam mo na kung sino ka. At kung mabasa mo man to, I know it’s too late but I’m sorry for hurting you.