Tuesday, July 15, 2008 @4:59 PM
My friends say I'm a commitment phobe, that I push people away, that I don't show my real self to other people. That, well I said this, I am building blocks all over me and then I put on a mask for everyday use. I mean what's wrong with this? I am still the person that people see every day, the mask that I put on is just to cover a certain aspect of myself. It's not actually a mask, it's more of a shield, a helmet or any sort of protection that one can wear. Is it wrong to protect myself from future pain?
Is there something wrong with anticipating the bad things that may happen? To shield myself from falling apart? To be cautious about my actions and the reactions to those actions? I say, there's nothing wrong with it. There's nothing wrong with protecting yourself. There's nothing wrong with being strong, or at least pretending to be strong. In the world that I am in, I cannot afford to be weak. It's a natural reaction, it's natural selection. Those who are strong makes it through the next generation, and the weakling? The weakling gets pushed aside, ignored, and then gets eaten by the next predator who would think that they are even alive.
I on the other hand, just got the genes of a safety engineer and a businesswoman. It's their job to anticipate problems, and solve them before it even happens. It's their job to minimize losses, it's their job to cut costs, it's also their job to protect people, or in a business objective the business. It's in my genes to find the best, to be the best. I minimize the losses that I might encounter; I anticipate future damages and try to cut opportunity cost. In a business, you can't be weak or else you'll fade into oblivion.
You see my dear friends, you cannot persecute me for being “scared.” You, of all people, should see, understand, and support me with my new tactic. You have seen me before. Before all this, before I started building walls again. You have seen why on earth I am becoming cold, cynical, and indifferent about all these love shit, flirting and plain jungle riot that is happening all over. I have seen it first hand, and I have learned my lesson.
They say, experience is the best teacher. But as Minna Antrim puts it, “Experience is a good teacher, but she sends in terrific bills.” I have learned my lesson through experience, and she did send me a big bill that my parents had to foot. It was literally expensive, and most of all emotionally exhausting. This is how I cope, this is my coping mechanism, this is how I adapt, how I learn, how I show that I’ve learned my lesson. It’s just sad. It’s just sad that even you, my friends, the people who know me better, have objections in how I am.
On a lighter note: I got crazy, I got lonely… But ssssss-see? I learned!
P.S. This is sad. That little line didn’t cheer up my mood. Gawd! I’m purging myself of emotions hoping that all these heaviness would come pouring out of me and make me feel light again! I have not drank gin but still “Bilog ang Mundo.” I was just happy this morning, this afternoon, until I felt lonely all of a sudden in the midst of lovers! I hate love sick people. I hate them. They should not make me feel sad, alone and lonely! It all started with the rain, and the coldness, and the people around me who has someone, and I am all alone.
I’m sorry, but I want you to find me now!!! Find me! Find me! Find me! I want to be swept away by your charms. I want to float when you smile. I want for the world to dissolve around us when we talk. I want to be elated when you touch me, even just for a fraction of a second of your skin on mine, I want for the electricity to flow through us charged with ten thousand volts and all we could do is hold on to each other to neutralize it. I want for you to be breathless without me. I want for you to fly with me, dream with me, and together we’ll find Neverland. Most of all, I want that when you find me, we are both in reality.
Now, I have fewer requirements for my dream guy:
1. He should make me feel special and get me to feel kilig.
2. He should capture and keep my attention only to him.
3. He should know how to love me without being told.
See? I just have three requirements for you. That’s it! Three simple things! Yet it seems like no one can be my dream guy!!! Is that hard to be my dream guy??? I don’t think so! One already became one, even just for a day. For one day he became my Peter Pan and took me to Neverneverland. Well, I guess it really is not never land. Because we landed. We landed again, in this wretched earth. Or maybe, we were in our Neverland, but it became the realworld when all his magic left as he left me standing in the middle of thin thread to fall all alone.
I hate you, Zab. Yes, his name is Zab. And I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. And I wish I’d stop hating him and not care. Not care that he is nowhere to be found. Not care that he’s AWOL. Not care that he has a girlfriend. Not care that he left me. Not care that I might’ve pushed him away. Not care that he did not choose me. Not care that he hurt me. Not care that he was my Peter Pan. Not care that he was everything that I wanted. Not care that I wasn’t enough for him. I JUST DON’T WANT TO CARE ANYMORE. I DON’T WANT TO CARE ENOUGH TO HATE HIM. I DON’T WANT TO CARE TO HATE HIM WITH ALL THAT’S IN ME. I just don’t want to care anymore. I don’t want to cry when I get drunk because thoughts of him haunt me and that’s the time I become vulnerable. I don’t want to be like this when for God’s sake he might be ten thousand miles away. I don’t want to be sad every time it rains just because I feel alone and I feel like giving up on Peter Pan ever finding me when he was once my Peter Pan. I hate the fact that it’s you I’m thinking of. That it’s you I end up talking about, or thinking of. I hate you. I wish you could feel the hate resonating from within me that hopefully it reaches you then maybe, you can make it up to me.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008 @11:44 PM
I hold my life as if sand in my hand. (Wow, that rhymes.) It's slipping fast and steady from my grip and then all will be left are some grains stuck in my palm.
I am slowly withdrawing from people. I talk to fewer and fewer people. I spend less and less hours in school, in crowded places, outside my house. I find myself with nothing to say, nothing to do besides what it is that's necessary.
Everyday, life is sucked out of me by the people around me. One day, I'll drop dead. Or until I get a sip of life's zest, will I post again