say it.

..go on just say it. you need me like a really bad habit.

‘Cause it’s a guilty pleasure
Deciding whether you were ever mine or not
But the truth’s apparent
That you weren’t ever mine to start

What will it take to make you understand that I
I’m not lying when I say I need you to leave everything

Every night I kept you up
I never once heard you say stop
But right now I wish I had 
I wish I had the nerve to tell you that I’m a wreck
But what really did you expect?

All I really want right now is to sit comfortably in silence, hear myself think, because words fail me. I watch the breeze sweep the fallen leaves of the things that matter to me most – of beginnings that seem destination-less now. As I sit still in this quietness, I’ll explain what anyone can understand. I open my palms to show what I only have to offer and that it’s not much. I work with what I have no matter how meager they seem.

I work for adoration, for recognition but I am a slave to my personal beliefs, my pride. My well-built, strong facade is torn down by the tears I have cried. My life has been inconsistent so far, with a few peaks of happiness but more plateau of sadness and disappointments. I’ve seen my star rise but I’ve also seen it crumble. I’ve allowed myself to trust people no matter how unworthy they are – one too many times. I’ve made it conscious effort to hold good memories of people than to remember the bad ones. They make the wings that make me fly high.

And while some people may regard mortal possessions as legitimate reasons to be above everyone, I can only exist to watch them and continue being as I. I am who I am and it won’t get any simpler than that.

i’m going to…

There has been not much that I did the last year. I was floating on emotions I should’ve put more into other things. I dwelled, sulked, and celebrated much of the loneliness without really ever meaning to overcome it.

This year, I’ll be more active in some of the things I have neglected in the past. Although I’m drained out of the emotions, I’m much more aware of myself now than I ever did before. I have more time to explore more of the selfishness I deserve.

a prince in a panda suit (?)

This was an old post I published in a social networking site more than a year ago:

I am not the easiest person to fall in love with. I am the girl who walks out on everything.
I am no Cinderella. I am not part of any fairy tale. I am not the kind of girl who awaits for her prince to gallop to her rescue.
My world does not revolve around princes in their gallant costumes. I am not impressed by chivalry (it’s because of how hypocritical it all seem to me). I am not the kind of girl who appreciates extravagant, luxurious things. I’ll choose the simplest things over them. I don’t want to be swept off my feet by some strong muscled rescuer.
I am very much the girl who’s in love with her solitude; who’s devoted to finding out  the real essence of why I am alive in this lifetime and why I am not dead; who’s real happiness lie on the most trivial things; who’s real heartache is not being able to afford to love or being loved or giving the love back…
I am no princess. I do not look for any kind of any handsome prince. This was never my longing… Only a far away dream (isn’t it that love make dreamers out of us all). No longer, I guess. c”,)
Princess or not. Life will never allow us to pause and pick the most beautiful of roses, at least the ones that we were taught to love.
Because in this near me thought (no longer the far away thought, ha ha), someone has redefined a prince after all – dressed as a panda (in my thought anyway), adorable as its comparison – someone who makes me feel unafraid of afterthoughts, someone who makes sense of the uncertainty…
Hmmm… maybe, i found my prince after all… and gawd, how i feel like a princess (scary!) c”,)
Just because…

I was so in love then. I really thought he was what I thought he was. That has been always my problem:  fall in love with an idea then fill the ellipses with thoughts that can easily have my heart broken then giving him another chance.

We had one of those arguments again. Accusations at a high speed. He being with someone else under the pretense that it was better for the relationship – our hide-and-seek relationship. I think he didn’t really understand what he’s putting me through.  The waiting. The patience. Rationalizing. These things don’t make any difference.  It always ends up the same, and he doesn’t bother to heal what’s obvious. I think what made the situation worse is I let him and I still let him.

The second chances. The hope that maybe he had changed. The fairy tale that he’ll choose me and then we go off to the sunset and be happy. But these utopian thoughts are slowly becoming a desperate plea to notice what is already factual.

He said he misses me. Then he berated me about having another man. How can he miss someone he doesn’t trust and then goes around town manifesting how he missed HER?  He’s confused. Or am I confused? Either, the result always comes back unsatisfactorily. And I being the recipient of all the heartache.


I cant figure out whats worse, having to know every single detail of your desperate love for some other woman, or having to know that you obviously didn’t even come close to feeling the same way about me.

Kate Hudson, Alex & Emma

….It’s not up to me anymore. If you want me in your life, you’ll find a way to put me there.

I think part of the reason why we hold on to something so tight, for so long, is because we fear something so great will never happen again.

I left you because you couldn’t give me what I wanted.. and funnily enough, it turns out you are also the only one who could…

how much u know

I wonder how much you really know about her. Did you know she is afraid of bridges? Or the dark? Did you know she hates lightning but loves the rain on a summer night? Did you know she would do anything for her friends, and loves them with everything she has. I bet you didn’t know that everyone she has counted on has left her with with one more shattered piece in her broken heart. I bet you didn’t know she can’t count her true friends because well, she has none. I have to wonder if you know that her breasts are real, and they’re her least favorite feature. I wonder if you knew she still thinks about you and even though she will deny it every time.