I'm tired of crying.
I think I've spent an ocean's worth of tears for the past 3 days. Breathing seems to be the hardest thing to do. I drive myself to the point of exhaustion just to be embraced by sleep the minute I lay myself to bed. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about you.
But I can't help it.
A picture of us still has its place on top of my dresser drawer. I still have our pillow beside me when I go to sleep. I still have everything you gave me. So, it must a be force of habit for me to think of you.
I'm not angry that you found somebody although I'm not exactly jumping for joy either. maybe its the selfish me who is hoping that we'd be the only two people who would rather be alone than to be with anybody else.
Not that I didnt try to find happiness in another, but for some reason, I tend to self-destruct and sabotage any hopes of getting out of this rut by letting myself be haunted by thoughts of you.
It pains me to say this, but at the end of the day, I still want you to be happy. To truly be able to find the other half of your heart. If you love her for all that she is, then you're starting things right. I hope you learned how to love her from how I loved you. It just sucks that you didn't make it right with me the first time. But all the same, the goal is to move on.
And as for me...
CHANGING MY WORLD, ONE MISTAKE AT A TIME.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
S.O.S.
I need someone to hold my heart. or piece it back together. Or just make it stop.
... because this pain is too much for me to bear. I'm sorry.
... because this pain is too much for me to bear. I'm sorry.
Monday, June 06, 2011
Midnight Musing
Friday, May 06, 2011
You. Yes You.
Don't force me to hate you.
I think you've abused me enough to make it appear to everybody that you're the martyr and I'm the villain.
I've endured all the insults and pain for the past four years. Stop making it appear that my move to finally get out of this prison is the worst crime anyone could commit.
Like you, I deserve to be happy too.
At the end of the day, it is not only you who is hurting and thinking that they may never find the half of their heart. I do, too. Every MINUTE Of EVERY DAY.
RESPECT. Is it really too much to ask?
I think you've abused me enough to make it appear to everybody that you're the martyr and I'm the villain.
I've endured all the insults and pain for the past four years. Stop making it appear that my move to finally get out of this prison is the worst crime anyone could commit.
Like you, I deserve to be happy too.
At the end of the day, it is not only you who is hurting and thinking that they may never find the half of their heart. I do, too. Every MINUTE Of EVERY DAY.
RESPECT. Is it really too much to ask?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Lenten Lament
It is that unbearable pain of knowing that you did everything you could to make it work, and it didn't.
It is that indelible scar that reminds you that once, not so long ago, you allowed yourself to bleed dry for someone who has the power to take you to heaven and make you feel hell.
It is the gut wrenching truth that while you know that it is only him who can love you best, it will never be the enough to bring you the happily-ever-after you know you deserve.
It is the dreadful realization that no matter how much you miss him, love him, pine for him, you will never ever be together.
...Because you and him are two puzzle pieces that will never fit.
it is this agonizing road between breaking into a million pieces and finally piecing yourself and moving on that I'm currently treading.
And I'm getting there. One step at a time.
It is that indelible scar that reminds you that once, not so long ago, you allowed yourself to bleed dry for someone who has the power to take you to heaven and make you feel hell.
It is the gut wrenching truth that while you know that it is only him who can love you best, it will never be the enough to bring you the happily-ever-after you know you deserve.
It is the dreadful realization that no matter how much you miss him, love him, pine for him, you will never ever be together.
...Because you and him are two puzzle pieces that will never fit.
it is this agonizing road between breaking into a million pieces and finally piecing yourself and moving on that I'm currently treading.
And I'm getting there. One step at a time.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
My QLC
I am here inside an empty café, listening to bossa while letting my thoughts run wild. It’s been ages since I last tried to even phrase the ‘nothingness’ that sometimes engulfs me (sometimes being the operative word). In most days, I would welcome this blank state. But since my birthday is coming a-knocking, I think I deserve some good old fashioned wallowing.
In about a month’s time, I will be turning 25. This could be the potential quarter life crisis (QLC)---that is, if one is expected to live until 100 years old. I, on the other hand, do not expect to live until 50. With the nature of my job, I may even be optimistic. So is this my midlife crisis, then?
Let me just get my thoughts out. I am a 24 year old sales manager (fine, assistant manager assisting not a manager but an assistant vice president) in a medium sized company. What you can call a medium fish in a medium pond (now, that actually sounds bleaker than what I had intended). Let me rephrase that, I am the youngest member of the Management team and if I had not been used to self- deprecating, I would be proud of myself. Despite my stellar educational background (I got into good schools, but my grades were not stellar), I literally settled for the first company who would hire me. I started out at the lowest of lows, doing a Ryan- Pam combo (you have to know the series The Office to get me), then moving to a sales position, then a year and a half later, managing a team. Four years into this big bad corporate world, I would say that it’s been great so far. Not perfect and not without my share of horror stories but interesting, nonetheless. I met the love of my life in the office and have travelled to different places for free. So far, so good.
What am I rambling about, you would ask? Nothing, really. Except the fact that I have been so wrapped up in my responsibilities work-wise, that I fail to hmmm, stop and smell the roses? Too cliché. A better choice of words would be, I’m so caught up in my work that I forget to stop and pick my scabs (figuratively).To explain, I used to love bleeding---- it gets me really juiced up to write good stories. I used to magnify even the minutest of problems just so I can write about it. In hindsight, I could write stories about my pantyhose running or my hair catching bees like I was vying for a Pulitzer prize. For me, being manic-depressive is healthy. Wait, I would not go as far as saying that I need drama 24/7, though a little of the unexpected would not hurt, either. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss writing. I miss it when friends drop a comment on my blog telling me how funny I am, or how they totally agree with how I dissected the meaning of my current favorite song. Things like that may be trivial to people, but for the people concerned, these things forge a sense of affinity and belongingness.
At 24, I’m currently in my ‘tween’ years, no longer young but not too old. I would like to think that I am still in that age bracket where I could still do the things that I want and still be able to turn things around when they go bad (there’s a Dashboard song that captures this idea, but I forgot what song that is.) Bottom line is, I want to explore this ‘generation’ while I still have the chutzpah to do it.
Whoops. Time is up.
7.16.09 – 9:44pm Rocci’s
In about a month’s time, I will be turning 25. This could be the potential quarter life crisis (QLC)---that is, if one is expected to live until 100 years old. I, on the other hand, do not expect to live until 50. With the nature of my job, I may even be optimistic. So is this my midlife crisis, then?
Let me just get my thoughts out. I am a 24 year old sales manager (fine, assistant manager assisting not a manager but an assistant vice president) in a medium sized company. What you can call a medium fish in a medium pond (now, that actually sounds bleaker than what I had intended). Let me rephrase that, I am the youngest member of the Management team and if I had not been used to self- deprecating, I would be proud of myself. Despite my stellar educational background (I got into good schools, but my grades were not stellar), I literally settled for the first company who would hire me. I started out at the lowest of lows, doing a Ryan- Pam combo (you have to know the series The Office to get me), then moving to a sales position, then a year and a half later, managing a team. Four years into this big bad corporate world, I would say that it’s been great so far. Not perfect and not without my share of horror stories but interesting, nonetheless. I met the love of my life in the office and have travelled to different places for free. So far, so good.
What am I rambling about, you would ask? Nothing, really. Except the fact that I have been so wrapped up in my responsibilities work-wise, that I fail to hmmm, stop and smell the roses? Too cliché. A better choice of words would be, I’m so caught up in my work that I forget to stop and pick my scabs (figuratively).To explain, I used to love bleeding---- it gets me really juiced up to write good stories. I used to magnify even the minutest of problems just so I can write about it. In hindsight, I could write stories about my pantyhose running or my hair catching bees like I was vying for a Pulitzer prize. For me, being manic-depressive is healthy. Wait, I would not go as far as saying that I need drama 24/7, though a little of the unexpected would not hurt, either. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss writing. I miss it when friends drop a comment on my blog telling me how funny I am, or how they totally agree with how I dissected the meaning of my current favorite song. Things like that may be trivial to people, but for the people concerned, these things forge a sense of affinity and belongingness.
At 24, I’m currently in my ‘tween’ years, no longer young but not too old. I would like to think that I am still in that age bracket where I could still do the things that I want and still be able to turn things around when they go bad (there’s a Dashboard song that captures this idea, but I forgot what song that is.) Bottom line is, I want to explore this ‘generation’ while I still have the chutzpah to do it.
Whoops. Time is up.
7.16.09 – 9:44pm Rocci’s
Saturday, March 13, 2010
I Wanted More of Paramore!
Last March 9, I went to the Paramore concert-- which I promised myself I would be situated front and center. Well, I wasnt in front, and I was not exactly in the center. But i still got a great view of Hayley and the band. Silver ticket is not that bad after all.
So, wait. Let's review.
but before that, I just want to say that Paramore ROCKS big time. and Hayley, you are such a firecracker and you were hair-ing it like no other.
Now that that is finally out on the open, let's move on.
I have been dying to see Paramore live since forever. Admittedly, I wasnt a big fan when they first broke out. Although i've listened to a couple of their songs, I initially found it tuneless and loud. However, what got me hooked was the song My Heart. I was listening to this song nonstop on our way to Tagaytay with my office friends (November 2005 or 2006-- not sure which one). A year after, I saw their Riot! concert in MTV and saw Hayley the Livewire and fell madly and deeply in love with the band. It was a great opportunity to finally see them and watch them here in the Philippines. Good thing they got here before I left for Aussie. God is good.
Not having a fellow Para-whore among my friends, I went with my brother to the concert. Holding the recently bought Silver Tickets-- specifically just a few hours before the concert (Lunch time at National Bookstore Market!Market! branch), I met Randy at MOA. This place, of course, is alien territory to me, given that I hail from the North. I just got out of the office and I only managed to bring jeans and my havaianas. Not wanting to look so 'corporate'/ ate-ish in a rock concert, I even attempted to try to fit in. Thus, before going to the concert grounds, I bought those I love Pinoy shirts. But no... havaianas pala is sooo old school. The kids (yes,kids) around me were wearing Chucks, which I do not have because I am not a sneakers/ rubber shoes person. If you do not know already, I have no concept of 'roughing it up' and sporty fashion is really not my style. So shirt+jeans+havaianas+C&K bag= out of place aka 'napadaan at napabili bigla ng concert ticket' look. Tsk tsk.
What can I say about the concert? Well, i don't know if it's because of my location but I was kinda disappointed that the Filipinos were a bit too reserved. I don't know if Paramore liked performing here but they had a hard time hyping the crowd (at least that's what I think). We couldnt even chant "PARAMORE" for more than minute. Nor can we sustain the applause/ shouts until the next song begins. So most of the time, there was dead air during the transition. Although the band was great beyond words, I just didn't get the feel of 'oneness' with the crowd during the concert, except during the last song (Brick by Boring Brick).
All i know is that we, Pinoys, should better shape up and make a really good impression if we want to get the good bands/artists to perform here. Don't be too pa-sosy, pa-reserve. Let us all learn to let loose and break free. Its not everyday that we get Paramore to perform for us.
Well, maybe next time.
So, wait. Let's review.
but before that, I just want to say that Paramore ROCKS big time. and Hayley, you are such a firecracker and you were hair-ing it like no other.
Now that that is finally out on the open, let's move on.
I have been dying to see Paramore live since forever. Admittedly, I wasnt a big fan when they first broke out. Although i've listened to a couple of their songs, I initially found it tuneless and loud. However, what got me hooked was the song My Heart. I was listening to this song nonstop on our way to Tagaytay with my office friends (November 2005 or 2006-- not sure which one). A year after, I saw their Riot! concert in MTV and saw Hayley the Livewire and fell madly and deeply in love with the band. It was a great opportunity to finally see them and watch them here in the Philippines. Good thing they got here before I left for Aussie. God is good.
Not having a fellow Para-whore among my friends, I went with my brother to the concert. Holding the recently bought Silver Tickets-- specifically just a few hours before the concert (Lunch time at National Bookstore Market!Market! branch), I met Randy at MOA. This place, of course, is alien territory to me, given that I hail from the North. I just got out of the office and I only managed to bring jeans and my havaianas. Not wanting to look so 'corporate'/ ate-ish in a rock concert, I even attempted to try to fit in. Thus, before going to the concert grounds, I bought those I love Pinoy shirts. But no... havaianas pala is sooo old school. The kids (yes,kids) around me were wearing Chucks, which I do not have because I am not a sneakers/ rubber shoes person. If you do not know already, I have no concept of 'roughing it up' and sporty fashion is really not my style. So shirt+jeans+havaianas+C&K bag= out of place aka 'napadaan at napabili bigla ng concert ticket' look. Tsk tsk.
What can I say about the concert? Well, i don't know if it's because of my location but I was kinda disappointed that the Filipinos were a bit too reserved. I don't know if Paramore liked performing here but they had a hard time hyping the crowd (at least that's what I think). We couldnt even chant "PARAMORE" for more than minute. Nor can we sustain the applause/ shouts until the next song begins. So most of the time, there was dead air during the transition. Although the band was great beyond words, I just didn't get the feel of 'oneness' with the crowd during the concert, except during the last song (Brick by Boring Brick).
All i know is that we, Pinoys, should better shape up and make a really good impression if we want to get the good bands/artists to perform here. Don't be too pa-sosy, pa-reserve. Let us all learn to let loose and break free. Its not everyday that we get Paramore to perform for us.
Well, maybe next time.
Monday, February 15, 2010
If it Kills Me.
I would be lying if I said that I don't love you anymore. I can barely go to sleep without the help of alcohol or extreme exhaustion. I cry at those stupid love songs. I cringe when I hear happy music. Its a lie. It's all lies. You and I were never meant to be in the first place. But at least we tried. and that removes all 'what ifs' i might ask in a lifetime.
I will get over you. Not because I want to but because I have no other choice. Time will become my best friend. And no matter how deep these wounds are, I have no other recourse but to be okay.
I guess I found my muse again.
I will get over you. Not because I want to but because I have no other choice. Time will become my best friend. And no matter how deep these wounds are, I have no other recourse but to be okay.
I guess I found my muse again.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Finally, a Blog for YOU
You wanted to get hurt. You want to be haunted by monsters that you, yourself, created. You thought I still cling on to old memories. Well, I don't. Because what you don't realize is that old memories are replaced by new ones. Just like you and me.
You live by my words from before. You slash your heart with these words then blame the pain on me. You wanted to believe that with words of hate, there is love. To tell you straight, Words of hate are just that. HATE. Just like what I feel now.
You're scared of the memories he and I had. Now you don't have to because what you should be afraid of are my memories of you. You just bled me out of our great memories, of love and happy endings. All I have now are bottled tears and resentments. Of accusations, of hurtful words that reverberate even as I sleep.
You secretly wanted me to write about you. Well, here it is. You earned it.
You live by my words from before. You slash your heart with these words then blame the pain on me. You wanted to believe that with words of hate, there is love. To tell you straight, Words of hate are just that. HATE. Just like what I feel now.
You're scared of the memories he and I had. Now you don't have to because what you should be afraid of are my memories of you. You just bled me out of our great memories, of love and happy endings. All I have now are bottled tears and resentments. Of accusations, of hurtful words that reverberate even as I sleep.
You secretly wanted me to write about you. Well, here it is. You earned it.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
2009: The Year Facebook Ruined my Social Life
If you havent noticed, I went MIA for almost a year. Not that nothing interesting happened to me in the past year. Its just that my work schedule has gone haywire. LIAR!
Actually, that is just partially true. Higher sales target calls for higher quality time with my desk. But the trueER truth is that Facebook ate my brain. I can no longer compose sentence of importance and my creativity is restricted by a 140 character limit. I still believe that my gift of satire is still very much intact, bad news is, I cannot convert it into text. On the other hand, FB did me good by forcing me to stay at home during weekends, therefore, spend less. However, when you think about it, it limits human connection. I, for one, admit that for a time, I would rather stay home and fix my 'restaurant' than to be in an actual restaurant with friends. At times, I would go offline to extinguish any form of distraction (chatting) when I'm playing. But I got cured, thanks to faulty internet connections.
I just wish that I could still have the juices to make me write good stuff again. I dont know if its because I want to be safe, or because happiness is not a good motivation. Whatever it is, I vow to make it my new year's resolution to , as the great Madonna wrote, express myself and not repress myself.
Actually, that is just partially true. Higher sales target calls for higher quality time with my desk. But the trueER truth is that Facebook ate my brain. I can no longer compose sentence of importance and my creativity is restricted by a 140 character limit. I still believe that my gift of satire is still very much intact, bad news is, I cannot convert it into text. On the other hand, FB did me good by forcing me to stay at home during weekends, therefore, spend less. However, when you think about it, it limits human connection. I, for one, admit that for a time, I would rather stay home and fix my 'restaurant' than to be in an actual restaurant with friends. At times, I would go offline to extinguish any form of distraction (chatting) when I'm playing. But I got cured, thanks to faulty internet connections.
I just wish that I could still have the juices to make me write good stuff again. I dont know if its because I want to be safe, or because happiness is not a good motivation. Whatever it is, I vow to make it my new year's resolution to , as the great Madonna wrote, express myself and not repress myself.