The scattered remain, the rest is missing.

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There’s this red censoring flag in my mind blurring out all thoughts I’ve been needing to put into perspective. I can’t get a hold of things in the middle of this despair, hunger, lust, desperation and guilt. What am I doing? What am I thinking? This isn’t me. What is me? 

Images flash in my mind. The past, the present… the future. My mind is on ecstasy; everything is just nice to touch, to hear, to taste. And yet there’s nothing to satisfy those senseless needs. I don’t have an elevated sense of touch, taste nor hearing. Just an elevated sense of hunger, need, lust, pride. Everything is moving so fast with a regular pulse and I’m just stuck trying to fight for air.

My imagination is running a marathon with the stamina only athletes wish could achieve. I just want it to stop.

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Why does everything happen with the taste of liquid courage in your mouth, and the strong bass line pushing your heart to urge, to move? With a hazy veil clouding my memory that’s getting more and more opaque as time ticks days away, I’m left with echoes and colors. Words I’ve saved and smiles I’ve kept slowly lose their meaning and leave me wondering about what I’m doing to myself. I feel like I’m a timebomb waiting to explode, slowly lurring in preys to take down with me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’ll admit, the first thing I’m trying to do is to save my own ass. Save it from the embarrassment, from the fall, from the nothing that will come out of this.  

What a stupid little girl. What a stupid little girl. What a stupid little girl. 

I’m unsure of where I stand, yet this new search for thrill and the unknown has got me wandering in places I never would’ve stepped foot in a week ago. It’s all part of a game. We are creatures with the skill to think, and thinking has gotten my in deep seas with hurricanes and whirlpools. As the clouds rush in to drop massive amounts of rain and gray fills my whole sight, I’m lying here, wishing for that green dot to appear. For a smile. For an acknowledgment. I’m not supposed to be like this, because I’m one out of many, in a far more distant place. It’s been awhile since I’ve played with someone who knew the game better than I did, with more grace and tact than everyone else I’ve played with. All my bluffs are being called and my pokerface is not working. I need bigger shades to hide these longing eyes and a veil to hide my blushing cheeks and shy smile. All my cards are low but everything on the table makes me feel like I might have a shot of winning this round. 

What am I playing for? I don’t need the money. My pot is running out. The gamble… the gamble. The thrill of knowing I’ll get it next round and the one after that. The pride in saying I beat all of them. But with these low cards? 

Then my mind flashes to video games I’d play when I was younger. On how my victory was well played out and planned by my father who only wanted me to win for confidence and for fair play…

This is not fair play! Who am I in this game with anyway? The guilt and secrecy of my vice has led me to speak of this to no one while the growing bubbling need for victory is consuming me more and more by the hour. The regret of knowing I would’ve had higher chances of winning and scoring if I had jumped on the wagon earlier is killing me. But knowing that a career out of this is not even thinkable and just takes me down three steps behind just when I’ve gotten over the fear of the first one. This is a never ending cycle that only time will end. 

As time ticks closeness away and distances me more and more, it is my only ally now. The only one who can bring me back to my senses. I try to kid myself into thinking that everything happens for a reason and that this is all the result of my doings. If I had handled it differently I would probably be standing from a different chair right now.

But I’m not. And I’ve got to deal with this like a big girl. Like the same nonchalant and intriguing girl you wanted to take home the last time but didn’t let you. The one you asked for a kiss. Because that what lurred you in, in the first place. Now as seconds pass and the green dot is nowhere to be found, I’m sitting here hoping that the other ones are as worthy as I am. Because I know your game and I’m on to you. I wouldn’t have played your game any differently if I was in your shoes. It’s just that it’s been a while that I’ve been on the receiving end and I’ve forgotten how shitty it was. 

Bulimic with life.

So here I go, on a fire spitting spree of words that have been bubbling in my mind and eating me slowly from the inside. I guess I should spit them out before I’m completely consumed. 

Maybe it’s the flooding of papers and study sheets, the soar and cramping hands, the 5-hour-sleep-per-night nights and the constant migrane that have been my loyal and clingy companion for the past two weeks that are taking a toll on me. I’m weak. Physically. Intellectually. Emotionally. I’m tired and weak.

But most importantly, I’m full. Of good and bad.

I feel smarter now, with Kant, Marx, Smith and Plato quotes and philosophies echoing in my head, with the capacity to explain the Cold War in detail and the creation of the Third World, with the ability to explain the evolution of today’s society historically, economically and socially, the possibility to study Napierian logarithms and speculate a company’s marginal production cost and potential profit because of my mock exams. 

I feel grateful for everything I have. My family and everything I have here. This will always be home and I have yet to find the courage to start counting down my departure date. I found love and lost sight of it for a bit, but made finding it again all the more worthwhile. This kind of gratefulness isn’t petty. It’s the one that ties a knot and make a whole ball of butterflies flutter in all directions in your stomach. Something one should experience at least once.

But you see, this vulnerability and weakness brings in emotions of all sorts. 

I’ve been feeling like I’ve been floating on a cloud, observing everything around me like it was some dream. Hazy memories of my days and even more blurred ones of my nights. I limit my conversation time and topics with the few ones that I don’t feel like I can handle and unfortunately, they don’t even know me anymore well enough to notice. 

I will be the first one to admit I’m not the type to assist and support a one man show. I despise it with all my might. I dislike dictators and absolute monarchies, and there is no way that some sort of high school illusions are going to escape that list. It seems logically and ethically ill fitting that everything should revolve around one thing because that’s simply not human. But there’s a weird gravitational pull that sucks me in. Maybe because we’re as much alike as we are not. 

I’ve finally come to terms with something that people have been telling me. We can’t keep holding on to memories that tie us together because the more we try to force intertwining our universes, the more we forget their beauty, veiled by darkened confusion and misunderstanding. 

… to be continued. 

Wow it’s been so long since I’ve last written here. I didn’t even realize that I started to have followers. 

I’ve been telling myself that I need to get back to writing. I need go gain my sanity back and I need to stop feeling like I’m floating and hovering everything that happens. It feels like I’m on this cloud, where I’m waiting for things to fall into place. As if they weren’t already. I think I have everything I want, a bit more even. I would get into so much trouble if I said my thoughts out loud, it’s not even a funny thing. 

I’ve gone back to writing songs, maybe that explains my lack of skill and honed quill tips for writing prose. 

Please forgive my lack of eloquence. 

I just want this to be over already.

I want to be done with exams, fast forward my workload into the next five years, when I’m finally done with school. I constantly find myself mourning over my teenage years, the golden days. If not, I find myself contemplating on the future, but just not now. Because I’m up to here with orals and writtens and revision sheets. I’m up to here with lectures and exams. I can’t even function properly anymore, because all I want to do is sleep all the time and listen to music. 

I keep telling myself my future is important and I need to step it up, because I’m really going to be on the verge of decision making soon.

Can’t I have to good stuff without the bad? 

I can’t even think straight anymore.

I caught myself

I’m forcing myself to write. It’s like this fear in me to start again. My mind has been such a blurry haze ever since last Thursday. It was like this 360 that shook up everything. I finally got a mac, and I finally got in the band.

Not that I was dying to. It was more of a confidence thing. I’d walk in the studio and hang out with the boys anyways cause their studio was colder than the one of the younger girls. They were just loud and… girly. I was never the girly girl. Most of my friends are boys, and I fit in easier with them. Maybe it’s the easy attention I get, maybe cause they’re just more real and easy to get along with. That’s beside the point though. 

Last Thursday, rehearsals went by so quickly. It felt like we’ve known each other for more than the past brief three introductions we had. I know that as I entered the studio the girls in the other room were eyeing me and listening as I sang along, like I was supposed to, with your riffs and drum patterns. You were all nice, that even when I’d make a mistake you’d just smile and say it’s ok. Maybe I came off a bit strong with my standoffish attitude, but I think that’s what makes you guys not treat me like how you make fun of the other girls too. You all had a smile and you guys talked like normal guy stuff, I’d laugh along.

There’s just something about musicians. I think I’ve always had a thing for them. All the other ones had to play something, or at least be very well inclined in music. Guitarists in particular. Yeah, I know, I’m a sucker for hopeless romantics. Not as much as rockers. I think it’s my dad’s fault. They say every man ends up marrying his own mother. I guess it’s the same thing.

So it was unexpected. I caught myself following your riffs to find myself better in the music, because you were lead and I was just the singer. I was amazed by your fingers and smile. You acted much older than everyone else. I’ve never quite had many friends my age either. The next day, rehearsal dragged on for an hour, you were still not there, I caught myself, to my disgust, waiting for you and growing upset as minutes flew by. You showed up, drenched in rain.  And so, it went on, and another one was scheduled the next day.

Of course, I could’ve found my way there, just as much as I could’ve found a way to the gig. I had to play the game, get you to get my number, pick me up. That’s not the problem. 

So you picked me up, we talked on the way there and back, despite everyone else’s presence. Everytime I moved, I just know it, you were keeping an eye on me. Maybe because I’m new, and that everyone else is just way too annoying to entertain any of you guys and hold a proper conversation. Maybe I just amuse you… Most probably.

I hope it stayed there. At that level. I really hope it did.

Why did you have to look at me everytime you made a mistake? Even when you’re on stage and I’m waiting for my cue? Why do you have to crack private band jokes and tell me that it’s my job to tell you when your solo is when you’re playing for another group? 

I try to kill these butterflies; I seriously apologize for you Facebook profile’s rape. I’ve been there more than my own these past five days. 

The thing is, I’m in love. With someone else. And you’re not looking for anything serious, you even told us backstage as a conversation starter. You kissed a girl the other night. Yet I find myself upset and selfishly wanting her to climb in a hole and wait until her braces come off and she learns to put makeup properly. Till she grows up, that little girl. I feel like a cougar, you’re two years younger than me, and God only knows how old that child is. 

I’m insane. I know it. I’ve got to have lost it. 

For the first time, when he asked me if I still loved him as a joke, I looked him in the eye and said yes, although a small part of me didn’t want to say it. 

I know this is going way out of hand, because I’ve only spent the past four days with you more than my own boyfriend. I know I’m putting way more meaning into everything. Like I always do. 

It just sucks that I know nothing can happen, because I’m comfortable where I am, in my other world. Because I know it’s just two worlds I can’t bring together. And because you’re not what I want. Not what I want want. 

You’re just a phase.

You’re just a phase. 

You’re just a face…

I’m secretly excited for next Thursday’s rehearsals. 

I think I’ve figured it all out. 
17 for me, has got to be the most revolutionary, even more than my tattooed 14. Needless to say, I’ve done quite a bit of growing up, and most of it, I’m still mourning about. Not because I regret it, but because I know that now, there’s no turning back, ever. There’s no refresh button or a backspace key for these sorts of things you know? Everyone’s always asking me what I want to do in the future, only to put their input in and tell me that what I want to do isn’t good enough fro my standards. Well the truth is, I don’t know what I want to do. I’ve caught myself saying I want to make music ever since I was small, maybe it was my dad’s influence on me. But as embarrassed as I am to actually say it aloud, I actually somehow mean it. I don’t know, I’m most probably way in over my head anyways. Like always.

You never really know what you have going on, until you lose it. But the worst part is realizing you are losing it, and there’s not much you can do about it. I know. Oh, trust me, I sure do. It wasn’t until the beginning of this week that I grew paranoid, because knocked up signs have been flashing in front of my eyes over and over again. There’s no way it could be true, its physically and chemically impossible. And yet I found myself telling him I needed a test, for my own sanity and peace of mind. Right now, I wake up every morning checking, and relishing every cramp I get, because it’s a faint reassurance of my worst fear. And then we go back to the whole future-ahead-of-you-thing. I count the days over and over again and hope with every aching bit of me to see that I’m right. It’s literally impossible. I think I’m going nuts, seriously.

And I seriously think I need a night out with my friends. It’s not so much of the time spent together, but I fear social insignificance and association, and so, I just need a break. I’m afraid of taking you for granted and not loving you for how much you love me and how much you deserved to be loved, simply because I’ve exhausted the supply in me. I need time to be me again, in order to love you like that again. 

I thought the figuring out part was the hardest, when in fact the hardest is the doing-something-about-it-part. I need to find it in me to do so.

It’s been a while since I last wrote.

It’s 2AM and I’m lying in bed, the taste of cigarettes still in my mouth mixed with the crackers I’ve eaten in an attempt to stop my grumbling stomach from screaming. Alcohol free, it doesn’t quite feel the same, on a Saturday night.
Two hours ago, my phone rang and your familiar name blinked on my screen, as I picked up and despite the loud background music, I managed to decipher an “I really miss you, I wish you were here with me”. You mumbled “I love you” as I struggled to return it without fighting the urge to slap myself in the face.
I love you.
I’ve wanted this for so long. And you’ve wanted this for so long.

And then my mind drifts off to your dark room. The faint echoes of your neighbors singing their lungs out next door. I breathe you in as the TV lights up your face in multicolor and you look at me, with that one sided smile I love so much. I try so hard to remind myself of why we’re fighting and try to figure out why you put up with all my antics. “It’s all worth it, I know it is.” You kiss me so deeply and your hands find their way around me. You whisper let’s never fight again, and I pull away and nod lightly.
Your chest bare, and me stripped of nothing but my polkadotted underwear, i turn away facing the wall and you hug me and sigh. I sigh too. And then you kiss my neck once more.

i hope you didn’t drive too fast on your way home… they wouldn’t have let you drive 150 anyways, with all the humps and everything. but still.

i still don’t fully understand why you’re feeling bad, you put too much blame on yourself. and you always tell me i blame myself for everything. . knowing you, you’re probably interpreting the whole situation as something far worse than it really is, and even if i tell you that it’s all going to be ok, you’re just going to say ok and not really believe me. but i’m still going to say it anyway.
it’s all going to be ok.

nothing’s been lost, it’s just another way of handling things i guess… i just realized it’s pretty selfish of me to decide on, but i think that we both really need it, at least for now.
why do you feel like something ended? you know last night when you said you were pretty much sure about how i loved you less and that i was on the edge of breaking up with you? i got so scared when you just walked away. the yabang part of me ‘knew’ you were coming back, but the ‘schoolgirl’ part of me made me realize how much i take it for granted and how i don’t let you properly know how much you mean to me.
it’s the pride, i told you. it’s knowing that you’ll know where i actually stand and what i fear most; the fear of being vulnerable to you in that way (about my feelings AND my safety net with my family), and the fear of you having the power to use it against me once you do become aware of it.
i’m not the schoolgirl-dreamer type who’ll write your last name after my first with hearts all over my papers, and i’m not as good as you when it comes to corny texts. in a way, i’d rather keep it that way, keep my feelings for you to myself, cause it’s so much simpler that way. you knowing the essential is the most important thing; you don’t need to know the little details. and you already know me more that i know myself, so i mean, i think i could keep those little things to myself.

i don’t like it when you start making those small promises to me about nevers and always and forevers, because i don’t want to find myself holding on to every word and being confused when they don’t stand true anymore. relativity and truth; the truth isn’t always true.
so i try not to even process those ‘i never want to hurt you’ because once i do, even if i try not to believe in them, i’ll still always have that in memory and still wonder why you did hurt me…
it hurt what you said last night, i told you already. even though it wasn’t what you wanted me to understand, i guess i just got reminded of some things that i did forget about cause i was so into our little bubble.
it’s like now, it’s not only your insecurities that we’re trying to fix, it’s mine also, on top of the things that i promised my self as a part of my self defense mechanism. it’s selfish, but i always forget love isn’t just one way.
i’m sorry. i know it’s not what you wanted, and as always, you didn’t have much of a say about it. i don’t know what else i can say. i just wanted to let you know the real reasons why i think that it’s the right solution.

it’s not like it’s ending any part of the relationship. i know we can still be the same despite this change. and the thing is, we also have to see how long this new thing’ll actually last

anyways, all that to say thank you for putting up with my occasional shit and i’m sorry for being such a bitch. i always miss you and i do love you even if you forget sometimes, and my pride gets in the way.

it’s 4am and i think my second wind is going down.