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The count down has started. Itíll be only a few months more before the year ends. But I wonít talk about how productive or wasted my year has been. My days before becoming a full-pledge adult (physically though) are also already counted. And itís all too soon to grow up. But itís all too slow to mature. Iím old enough to be young and young enough to be old. Itís confusing. What does a person my age should do? If life then is a test, in what criteria are we judged to say weíd passed or weíd done great?
We sheltered ourselves from the rest of the world and hid behind the walls. You were my sun, my only one. I traced your lips gently through my breath in the back of my mind, and you brushed my hair with your fingers. For a moment I was sure they were true. The smell of summer lingered through my nose. And the summer kisses; they felt so warm in my forehead and in my cheeks, to my lips down to my throat. I took them all to my winter nights. The summer scent I preserved; still bottled in my mind.
I sat still at the break of dawn. Somewhere along my solitude I found my contentment. I stared ahead of me as I waited to greet the sun. The soft breeze seemed to do the same. I could have imagined it whispering to me, wrapping me with its arms, and blowing my anxieties. I love the wind in my skin. It makes me feel that I wasnít alone, that something so great and indestructible is with me, and that it wonít ever leave me. I felt a wave of air as the horizon turned crimson yellow. Time to say hi.
If thereís one thing I am good at, probably itís wasting time. My things-to-do list is getting longer faster than Iím able to accomplish one. Iím busy. I should be. Somehow my body wouldnít just respond to my mind. I get catatonic Ėmy mind moves while my body lay still. Most of the times Iím not aware of it until something would snap me back into reality. Then I would realize that Iíd gone day dreaming again. Or that Iím staring at nothing or sleeping in my notebooks. Sometimes I even find myself contemplating my newly polished toes.
No matter how hard you would convince me, you wonít hear a thing from me. We both agreed to seal our lips to the wrong persons. Iím sorry to say but you are one of them no matter how close we are. And I wonder if your want to know is a friendly concern or just your need to satisfy your curiosity. Really, since when have you been concerned with my dramas? Or does the story just mattered to you now because your somewhat related to him and you need something interesting for you and your boyfriend to talk about.
I would like you to meet the mean girls. They pride their selves of being mean. Licking your ass is their best interest. So whatís glorious about that? Then here comes the rich. They think money make them a world ahead of the rest. Next are the dominators, the richí best buddies. They always think theyíre way better than the rest and that gives them the right to pin point whoís to worship and whoís to step upon. Then of course, the victims Ėthe average type who has nothing but their attitude to rely on.
This has gone for ridiculously far too long. I have always been strong and hard-headed. I usually get a way out of things. But I guess my being strong and hard-headed have been unhelpful for me in this situation I am still stuck in. Being hard-headed I donít easily give up. And thatís why maybe up until now Iím still holding on to you. I knew it would be bad for me to be anywhere near you or hear anything from and about you. But I did. And now I feel unreasonably miserable.
Wouldnít it be wonderful if the stars are tangible and can be reached by our fragile hands? Weíll be staying up all night with baskets on one hand and your hand on another. Weíll fill the baskets with glowing stars bright as the sparkles in your eyes whenever you stare at mine. Then weíll count them as our treasures and weíll be the richest in the world. Weíll wish upon them one by one and weíll have a million wishes in million nights. Everything will be fine. Weíll shine as bright as them. Youíll shine brighter than them.
Being a human, there are so many things that I want. And as I get them one by one, I am wanting for more. Well thatís human nature. We can never be contented. We make things complicated. We sought for ways. We invent. We innovate. We discover new things. Still they wonít be enough. So we continue to search for our never-ending wants. And then we over-look the simple things in life. And then we take things for granted. And then when things go wrong, we go looking for the best and easiest solutions. And then the cycle never ends.
If you know that you are being observed, would you still do things that you normally do? Would you still sing with all your heart while in the shower? Would you tell your mirror image how gorgeous you look? Would you still dance and play to be some sort of hero when youíre alone in your room? Or dress up or any thing weird you do when youíre alone? Thatís a problem with people. When they know they are being watched, they tend to be conscious and thus they pretend to be someone they are really not.
This is so annoying! Early this morning, I rummaged through my old shoes and closet looking for something interesting to mix and match. I browsed through little magazines I have and tried to read them again just to sleep. And with futile effort I only managed to sleep for not more than three hours! Now I am wide awake and is really frustrated with the black circles under my eyes. They are not making me look good. Damn it. Blame it to the coffee! Blame it to my disrupted biological clock! Dear Lord, I desperately want a good night sleep!
If thoughts were as loud as the sound of our voices when we talk, if they could be readily heard by anyone near you, if they can be echoed across where youíre at, then my mine would have cause a catastrophe in this place. Every word I had thought of might have arrowed or bombarded the walls. The buildings would collapse. There will be strong gushes of winds. And the people who have heard of my thoughts in this place might have chased me until they had torn me into pieces. I would have loved everything except for the last one.
Reasons why I lie:
To hide the truth.
For their benefit. White lies as you might call it.
To spare myself from the hassle of explaining. Come on. It would be better to say that I stayed home all day than explain to anyone when and where did I go and with whom and why. It would be better to say Iím fine than explain why Iím not. It would be better to say that someone looks good than reason out why that shirt doesnít fit that person.
None of their concern. They donít need to know every details. Butt out.
After a week of not seeing her and almost a month of being aloof, I finally garnered my will to be nice to her again. She never again brought the subject Iíve been avoiding. And thatís good. She finally grasps the fact that Iím not spilling the beans. Not on her especially. We talked a lot. It seems like I havenít talk to anyone for such a long time, seriously. I realized that for the past weeks Iíve been occupied with myself. And now Iím craving badly for someone to talk and have fun with. We had a nice afternoon window shopping.
Some girls grouped themselves together in a time where they need shoulders during their worst days of youth. Time went by and they went their separate ways. Occasionally they see each other. Occasionally. Now someoneís in doubt about their bond. Sure it was strong and true but only at a certain time. She wonders why they still bother to keep it despite the distances. She has her own life. They also do. And then there are some things remain unsolved. She is angry and the other wonít talk. The rest doesnít bother. Then I canít talk to them about things I normally can.
For the last weekend, I spent my time squeezing words out of my brain. I had to do nine essays. Hell, I almost want to write in the paper ďI donít careĒ. Public issues arenít really of my interest. And I hate writing when I donít feel like it especially when I donít care about what Iím going to write about. Maybe if I was right there in front of my professor while heís reading my essays, he would have told me insultingly ďKid, you donít know what youíre talking about!Ē. And I would gladly have answered yes.
Wrong people prying up in your business are just so seriously annoying. Itís not like they are genuinely concerned why you are like this or what happened or whatsoever issues you recently came up with. Itís just plain satisfaction of curiosity. Iím easily irritated by unnecessary questions. I dislike unnecessary explanations either. Would it help if I just answered them all with ďbutt outĒ so they would just let things off? I could be rude enough to do that. But at the moment I just donít want to act on my reckless impulse of ruining everything for myself.
Living with my parents in the same roof for all my life is my hell. Donít get me wrong, I donít crave for maternal or paternal attention. Oh come on. Iíd rather like it if they just give me necessary material things and just let me live my own life. I want my independence so much. I canít stand in the same room with them for long. I donít really hate them; I just donít want them sticking their noses with my life. Weíre not open with each other since I was a kid. Let things stay that way.
Today I slept early and woke up early Ėliterally. Iíve finished our project about 3 oíclock in the morning and woke up 7 am for the printing. Now Iím just killing time while waiting for it to be softbound. Iím not really sort of a leader type person. Mostly I take the lesser parts. Itís not like me to take the responsibility of a group especially a whole class. For some reasons I volunteered to do the layout and I ended up doing all the jobs. I guess I just want it to be the way I wanted it to be.
Thereís no doubt that I had hated my mom since I was a kid and that hate didnít cease as I grew rational. Itís not about my childish wants; the problems are with attitudes and approaches. Sheís like a child in some ways Ėimmature and narrow-minded. Funny is she accused me of the same. And thatís what I hate most Ėthe similarities in our attitude. That made things harder for us during arguments. No one wouldnít want to be defeated. The more I press my side, the more she does the same. And I really hate her for that.
I swear Iíll rip your throat apart if you wonít shut up. Iíll throw you out the window if I can. Do you have any idea how greatly you affect my mood for the whole day? Oh yes you donít know me enough to know that I have temper problems. Just the slightest nudge and Iíll burst into flames. Donít you think there are more appropriate approaches rather than budging the hell out of me every morning to wake me up just to ruin my mood with your stupid rants? Weíre both literate and civilized right? So be fucking nice.
I mistakenly took a turn down memory lane again. A single picture suddenly popped out of my mind which reminded me of numerous things I lost. It didnít take long for me to feel my eyes getting wet Ėlike they also want to erase the image before me and drain it down the sink. And then cold tears came streaming down tracing their path through my cheeks down to my neck. I reminded myself not to look back. Itís bad. I shouldnít be doing something that will hurt me. So I quickly shove the memory away until I fell asleep.
I once had constructed a story in my mind out of different stories that I liked. Actually I tried to make a novel out of them but I never had finished it until now. If my memory serves me right, I had reached the fourth or fifth chapter when I stopped writing it. Not that I had lost interest, back then I had not enough time for it. Now I had the time, I am at loss for words. I canít remember the story now. Itís such a shame that my draft was lost when the CPU was replaced.
Today, I have officially given up that one thing I have taken pride of. It was something so prestigious that I wasted, something that anybody would want to get. I donít really have good choices about that matter. I tried to do what I can. Guess not everything will go the way you wanted them. Iím trying to convince myself that this will be for the better; at least itís all settled. A burden was lifted at the same time. I let out a huge sigh of relief and defeat.
I truly want you to be happy even if it means without me. These are such clichťs, Iíll say them anyway. That is why I let you go. It hurts and until now I canít sincerely say that I had moved on. I canít sincerely say that Iím happy with where I am. Youíre happiness is more important to me than my own. But it hurts to think that youíre happy without me. Iím risking myself from tears again by entertaining thoughts like these. I miss you my fallen star. Tonight Iíll lie awake staring at you in the sky.
It was raining so hard and we only brought an umbrella for one person Of course it would be impolite to keep the umbrella to myself so my father and I had no choice but to fit ourselves under the small umbrella. He put one hand across my back to my shoulder. His touch made me feel awkward. Iím not used to being taken care of by my parents. I distracted myself by counting the times I had yawned. I am so sleep-deprived. All I wanted that afternoon was to go home and end this awkward moment with my dad.
Itís quite questionable and at the same time sweet that despite the number of times I had turned my back from you, you are still there. Itís like I have been running on a treadmill. I must admit you have been a special part of me. Not that enough though. Still sometimes I find myself wondering what if it has always been Ďusí. Then I would always feel guilty. So Iíll just dismiss the thoughts. I wouldnít be surprised if you hold a secret grudge for me. It doesnít show. But if there is, I wish youíd show me that.
One thing that usually caught my thought is the existence of the supernatural. Whether or not they are true, I wonder how they came about. If theyíre true then thatís amazing. If not, how did people come up with such stories? Surely there is more to it than the imaginations of ancient people which they had successfully passed to the present generation. I believe more in the fact that there is some truth to them. Life has its secrets that we cannot fully comprehend and explain. But thatís good. Mysteries spice life. They lessen boredom and increases curiosity of living.
I have always been a dreamer. My mind has a wide range of imaginations and wishes. That is why one may frequently notice my silence accompanied by that far-away look in my eyes and expect that Iím off day dreaming again. Whenever I realize this, I donít know if I should be laughing at my silliness or I should pity myself for being such a pathetic wishful thinker. But sometimes, it is fun to just sit or lie down and let my mind wander whether of being a fairy tale princess to being the president of a country.
I am a total mess. Tell me that again and I will certainly agree with you. My self-esteem has never been high but it is now way lower than before. I feel like a damaged good. Something that has been damaged before being even use. Things in my life have been going out the wrong way. I am falling off to places I should not and I do now want. I am really unhappy with my life. I know mine is not yet the worst. But things could have been better than this if and only ifs..
Why do I feel bad every time the month ends? Time is clearly passing. And then things changes. Heís not the one you used to know. Sheís not the one you used to smile with. Heís not the one you used to kiss. Sheís not the one you used to hang out with. Heís not the one you used to hug. Sheís not the same person she used to be.
I am nowhere in his life. And neither am I her friend now. Time caught us all in a swirl of love and hate. Of broken friendship and tragic love.
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