I always thought that Love would come to me wearing a suit and tie, holding roses, smiling from ear-to-ear, pushing his hair back shyly to ask me to be his girlfriend. I always thought that Love would leave a basket full of chocolate-dipped strawberries at my door whenever we have a petty argument. I always thought that Love would smell like vanilla everyday, because he knows it's my favorite scent. I always thought that Love would always try to impress me with his quirky facts and his secret stamp collection that he hides from his friends. I always thought that Love could cuddle with me in bed all day, rubbing his nose on my face as I try to fall in a blissful sleep, knowing he's beside me.

But, Love came to me, hiding cowardly behind a text message, asking me to be his girlfriend. Love would force me to apologize for something I did not do, Love could last days without uttering a word to me, not unless I admit my mistakes. Love smelled like beer and cigarettes, even thought Love knew I hated him for consuming such toxic things. Why would he let these things destroy him when he knows very well that I want to preserve whatever beauty he had left? Love never listened. Love never wanted to do what I thought was best for him. Love stopped trying to impress me when I said yes to him on the 23rd of June. He would come to our dates dressed in a white shirt, worn-out shorts and flip-flops. Love would tell me how many cigarettes he had smoked, how many bottles he had drunk, and how many failing marks he had in his university. Maybe Love wanted me to cure him, maybe Love was trying to tell me it's impossible to fix someone as broken as him. Love would force me to stay up with him over the phone, as he drunk his way to sleep, leaving me hanging to whatever knives and daggers his mouth has released.

I don't have anything to write. My Commnication Skills professor taught me that free writing is the best way to develop one's writing skills and I'm training to do it more often. I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write. She said that it doesn't matter what you say and what you write as long as your thoughts keep on flowing, if the thoughts get clogged up in your brain just write I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write. I like this concept because it exercises my mind and I like that it helps me I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write, it helps me think more freely and honestly I don't feel pressured at all because I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write I don't have anything to write, because I am free and I am liberated to write anything and everything that comes in my head and it's amazing, sometimes the results I get are really I don't have anything to write I can't think of an adjective, are really surprising because I didn't know I could write or think like that.
Free writing is so cool I hope I develop this soon

This is just one of the many times when I'm so inspired to write but I have nothing to write about. 

So here is something I wrote without stopping or even thinking. (I should do this more often)

I'm stuck. I don't know where to go, I don't even know where to start. I'm trying to become who I want to be, but the problem is, I have no idea who, or what. So I'm trying to wing everything I do now that I'm in college, since college is the perfect time to find yourself, after all. But I'm scared. What if I keep on trying and trying new things until I end up in the wrong place? What if there's no turning back from this point? I'm scared to go on, I'm scared because I don't even know where I am and who I am right now. All I know is that I'm stuck and fucked up. I want to let go of these feelings in my gut but how will I when I don't even know what these feelings are? I feel so empty inside and so unexposed to the people and things and the infinite knowledge around me, I have no idea where to start. I want to change but I have no idea what to change in me. I'm so fucking terrified of myself, I don't even fucking know who I am right now and what I'm doing all I know is that I'm doing what I'm told to do and I'm doing what I know is right but I know that I'm not doing anything for me and it's fucking scary and I'm fucking terrified. I want to pause and reflect but I don't even have fucking time for myself. It's horrible and I hate it I hate it I hate it. I want to go back to wherever felt like my home or wherever I felt like I truly knew myself. 

People will always tell you that rejections are part of life. Those words have been said a million of times already that I chose not to listen anymore, not because I didn't believe, but because I thought I knew how to handle having the door shut in front of you.
Boy, was I wrong.
I thought I knew how to accept the fact that I am not cut out for something, like not winning a contest, or not getting into my dream school. It happened to me, it happened to everyone. Rejections are normal, rejections will always be around the corner. I get it. We all get it. We all know the drill.
I thought I am an expert in swallowing my failures since I have been through a lot, but no words can encourage me that not getting into the publication is okay. 
This is my first ever heartbreak, and it's kind of hard to deal, but

UGH I CANT EVEN FINISH THIS BLOGPOST FOR MYSELF THIS SUCKS SO MUCH

And I know very well

How it feels to get your hopes up

And only getting it torn down

By someone you love

And I know very well

How hard it is to forgive

Someone you may never trust again

With her "I will's" 

And pinky swears

But I know you very well

And you know me

And I know that this poem 

Sucks

But you know that

For you, I will try.

I'm sorry.

I love you. 

Goodnight, my sweet
rest your almond eyes
The sun will come tomorrow
forget the pain
forget the lies

Goodnight, my sweet
rest your almond eyes
one day I'll wake up
next to you
and that would suffice

Goodnight, my sweet
rest your almond eyes
one day I'll be there
when you're crying
I'll be there when your pillow dries

Goodnight, my sweet
unclench your scarred fist
one day I'll be there
when all the pain
and all the lies
turn into mist

I think I need to set goals this summer, so I wouldn't wind up complaining and blaming myself for spending  two whole months doing nothing productive. And I can proudly say that I did well last summer, I achieved almost all of my goals, and I'm more than willing to set new, and more challenging ones.
I am shamelessly admitting that I want to become the person magazines challenge me to be. (Be brave! Be ready to take risks! Don't be afraid of change! Yada yada) It's a short life, after all.

1. I challenge myself to strive for a slimmer, healthier body.

-And how can I do that? I don't have to torture myself in the gym, by running on boring treadmills and breathing in the smell of sweat and manly tears. I can walk my dogs in the small town I live in, I've been residing in my town for almost 7 years now, and I still haven't explored it, I mean really explored it, at all. I guess it's also a nice way to say goodbye to my town and to my dogs before I leave on the 24th for college. 

-By the time I get to Manila, I'd probably jog along with my siblings, or cruise on a Pennyboard which my mom will buy me as soon as we get there. I don't think skating will help me get slimmer but at least I'm outdoors, and that counts right? 

    

      2. Continue playing football

-I'm just glad I get to continue playing football in Ateneo this summer, it's one of the things I looked forward to all year. I love being in my dream school and being around with great people.

      3. Prepare myself for college

-I need to think of who I want to be in college, without lying to myself and others, before I actually step into the biggest change in my life. So far, I have no idea. I do want to grow out my hair, shamelessly wear my glasses again and be really active. So that's a first, I guess. 

      4. Write more, read more

-Reading wouldn't be a problem, but I think I need to take reading into a whole new level, I don't know what exactly that means, but I'm in the process of figuring that out. Writing, though, would be a bit of a challenge, what would I write about, for starters? I outgrew fanfiction, (hopefully not, though!) and I feel like poetry isn't for me, (but I'm still trying), God, I don't know where I would be in my writing. 

I want to reinvent myself. I want to turn into the person I could never be when I was in high school. I want to isolate myself from everyone once in a while, without the feeling of being judged by my-so-called "friends". I want to be able to feel secure on my own, without the hands of my extrovert "friends" around my neck.
I want to go to museums, antique stores, libraries and bookstores without thinking that my "friends" would get bored. I've never been exposed to different people when I was in high school, so I was stuck with people who never knew the real me, who joined whatever gimmick they had in mind, because, what choice did I have? I didn't want them to hate me for not going with what they think is fun. But don't get me wrong, I love them, I just don't love what they love, or what they do. I felt so trapped whenever I was with them.
I felt so small, so shallow.
This time, if I'm going to reinvent myself, I have to choose the people I'm going to spend my time with.

I'm finally graduating high school. I don't know if I should be relieved or scared, because at this point, all I could think about is who I'm going to be in college.

Will I be in control of my change? Will I even notice my changes? 

I don't want people in my past to see me differently after a few months or years, and if they will, I want them to see me differently in a good way, of course. But how? Should I let go of myself in the real world? Should I keep to myself and stay on the safe side like I did in High school? Nothing's wrong with taking risks...but there's nothing wrong with being safe, either. 

I have no idea...where...I'm....going....Fuck. 

I want to inhale every word
and savor every syllable
of every literary work ever existed.

I want to take pride in every friend I have made
and in every place I have been
I want to show the world my battle scars
but at the same time hide them behind my sleeves
afraid that someone might steal my adventures

I want to stick my nose
in these buckets full of serendipity
and tuck myself in bed
with a longing for more
more
more

You don't understand. There are some things in life that you love so much, you cannot bear to see other people love it too. You don't understand because you have never loved anything as much as I did. There are things you can share with people, and there are things that you can't. You are one of the people who only likes things because it's "in" or because you think it'll make you a cooler person. Well, news flash, it won't. It will only make you look more desperate to climb on top of the social ladder. People like these are so frustrating. Find your own passion! Find your own talent! Find your own hobby! It doesn't matter if it's cool or not, jesus please.

I crave to be part of your adventures

and yearn to be part of your life

But you push me away with your tidal waves

when I know you're made of ripples

I crave to be part of your adventures

and yearn to crawl into your bed

but you choose to be with the lions

when you could have been with me

I crave to be part of your misadventures

and yearn to hold you when you're broken

but you push me away with your tidal waves

when I know you're made of ripples

I crave to be part of you

be your limbs when you can't reach

be your eyes when you can't see

but you choose to be with the lions

when you could have been with me

I feel like I am the most unwanted person here, and I feel like I'm easy to replace, easy to forget. And I think that it's the most painful feeling in the world. I don't like being the second choice, but in my four years of high school, that is all I ever felt.
My friends never give importance to me, well at least I don't feel it. It feels like they're treating me like a person who's just there. Someone you can approach when you have nobody else to be with.
And it's sad because I can never tell them how I feel because I am not sure how they will react to it. Will they give me the attention and love I want or neglect me even more?
And I'm scared because when I leave for college, I don't think I will even cross their minds, when they will be crossing mine all the time.

What did I do to deserve this? I try so hard to be liked. But even my best effort is not enough. I'm not sure if I'll be anyone's first choice, ever.
Hopefully I can find friends in college who will appreciate me better.

I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen to me in the future. I'm not talking about college, or work or family. I am talking about myself.
Will I still be the same wide-eyed (or not-so-wide-eyed) girl who finds the smallest peculiar details the most fascinating things in the world?
I have been so preoccupied with school and responsibilities that I haven't been even trying to spend time with myself, to indulge with the things I love doing. I have turned into the person I hate, the person who puts Algebra and Physics first, rather than the more wondrous and bewildering things I find in my fiction books. I know in the back of my head that numbers and units are far more important than turning my back on the world and locking myself in my room and reading a nice work of fiction. But I know in my heart that these are the only things that will make me truly happy.  
I don't want to turn into a corporate zombie in the future, doing paperwork, finishing files and documents, but I know that these will help me get through the wear-and-tear of life. I want real paperwork, I want to get ink stains on my fingers and clothes from all the writing, I want to get paper cuts from all the reading and revising. I want manuscripts stacked on my table, and an understanding boyfriend who will deal with my sudden nervous breakdowns.
But I know these will never happen. I know I'd end up choosing the easy yet the wrong path, because this is how the world is now. Artists are unappreciated, while accountants and engineers are worshiped.
I guess, I do have an idea on what is going to happen to me (and the world) in the future.
And it's downright depressing, I tell you.

Strength (Inspired by Every day by David Levithan)

I saw your strength
from the very first day
I met your eyes
but you never met mine

I wake up everyday
hurting
you'll never know me
you'll never know my strength

but I try
I try for you
just for you to meet the eyes
that never even existed

here I am floating away
from the girl
whom I thought
will never see me
from the girl
whom I thought
will never see the light
within a stranger

but she did
but now I'm floating away
from the life I borrowed
just to know her
just to know her strength

and now that I know for sure
that she is strong
and that she has met my eyes
even though we both know
I will never be able
to look at her Sea of Blue
the way others do

I honestly don't know where I'm going anymore.

I'm feeling the most intense wanderlust tonight. I just want to get up, leave my bedroom for once and explore with the people I love and a good 'ol lomo camera.
I want to go where the breeze is cool enough so I can get lost in my thoughts and laughter, so I can get away from everything, from all the pressure society is giving, I want to go somewhere and forget other people  exist except for me and the people close to my heart. I want to forget that there are elements out there in this world, that could hurt us in anytime, in any place, in every way possible.
I want to go somewhere and forget all the negative things floating around in this beautiful place, hurting all the beautiful people. There is something out there, maybe not anywhere near me, maybe beside me right now, that can prove to me that the world is not entirely a horrid place to live in. I believe that these things exist. And they exist for everyone. And everyone deserves a glimpse of whatever it is.

Ugh

         I want to write about every little detail about how you walk, talk and act. I love how you catch your breath when you laugh, how you intentionally make your voice sound cuter when you talk to me over the phone, and how sometimes, when you think I'm not looking, you dance in a silly way, or prance your way to your classroom. I love the fact that you are passionate about music, you don't just simply listen to them, you live them. I love how you randomly sing songs whenever you're talking to me over the phone. And how you force me to sing with you. And we end up singing songs from the 90's all night and it's fucking beautiful and it's a different feeling. I love the fact that you read books, and how you somehow relate yourself to the characters in them. I love the fact that you're a guy and you're proud that you read Nicholas Sparks books and you admit that you cry over them late at night. I love your curly hair. I love how incredibly attractive you look whenever you wear your Star Wars t-shirts. You are one of a kind.
I hate the fact that you smoke, but love the fact that you're not proud of what you are doing.
I hate your high school friends, sometimes I think that they are not for you. I think you deserve better. Because they will never see you the way I see you. They only know you as the guy who smokes, the guy who agrees to drink with them occasionally, the guy who cuts class to skate, the guy who listens to metal, and the guy who cries when he's drunk.
But they don't know the guy who drinks milk late at night, the guy who is in love with his dogs, the guy who laughs at anything, the guy who loves 90's music and K-Pop girl groups, the guy who loves his older sister more than anyone in the world, the guy who wants to be an engineer and an artist at the same time. The guy who drew a lion cub when he was asked to draw a cat, the guy who likes Math, the guy who gets so nerdy when it comes to game consoles and the latest gadgets, the guy who fell off his BMX and thought no one saw him. They don't know the guy who can make the corniest jokes seem funny.
They don't know the guy who can say "I love you" so perfectly that you are almost convinced that you love him, too.
I just wish people see you the way I do.

Blur

I only read The Daily Inquirer for one main reason: Young Blood. Ever since I was this oblivious girl in elementary, I have always loved reading Young Blood articles. I never fully understood most of them back then, but the use of words and the sentence structures of every article impressed me. Young Blood articles convinced me into wanting to be a writer.

So here I am, trying oh so hard to fulfill that dream. And I am not going to lie, it is very difficult. Wanting to be a writer in this mathematically and technologically inclined generation makes it very hard for me to accept comments like, "You wouldn't garner any money when you take up writing as your passion and profession". I know what I got into, I knew it from the very start. I always knew that people who turn their passion for literature into a profession almost never get into really big jobs. I've seen it in real life, I've seen it happen.

I must admit, those courses which promise a stable future can be really tempting. But giving in to those temptations will be useless for me because I do not have the skill nor the talents to even survive in those courses. I only know how to write, and that's what I want to do. 

Young Blood saved me again. Just when I felt like throwing my dreams off a cliff, another Young Blood article enlightened me. The article's entitled as "Why Literature?" 

Link over here: http://opinion.inquirer.net/45641/why-literature

Young Blood articles are almost always about young people's passion for literature, books and writing. I love how they write about their everyday struggles in being a lover of words. Usually people think that engineering students (etc) carry all the weight in the world, but they actually don't. They always get positive comments like, "You can do it! All those hardships and sleepless nights will all be worth it in the end."  and in reality, those comments almost always come true. 

In reading so much Young Blood articles and in meeting so many passionate literature students, I can now assume that they struggle a lot, too. Mentally, physically and also emotionally. Mentally because writing is tough work, once you're out of brain juice when writing a 500-page paper due tomorrow, you have no more alternatives. Physically, because hello, writers get sleepless nights, too. Mostly because of an intriguing book or a triggered thought that you can't seem to stop thinking about. And emotionally because they always hear people say "Why literature? There's no future there." and what's utterly damaging and heartbreaking is that it's almost always true. 

I admire the people who take up a course because it's what they are really passionate about. I salute people who are brave, because I am never going to be as brave as them. Taking up something that won't assure happiness in the future is a courageous act. But what is happiness when you're not doing something you actually love?

I'm still waiting for a sign to really take up literature in college, but I think my inability to do math and my limited knowledge about computers and technology is already a good enough sign for me to take up literature. I'm not looking back. I've closed all pathways and ignored other options, now I've only got one road ahead of me, and this time, I know what's on the other side. And I'm ready. This is going to be my first ever leap of faith. 

Something is missing, I know it. I just know it. I think I might need an adventure. I don't have to go to Paris or the Amazon or anything. 

I am looking for adventure in other people. You know? Ugh, I don't know either. It's like, I want to find something in someone and be so intrigued that I dive into that person's life and write a chapter in his book. I want to be that cliche coal miner who sees something glimmering inside a dangerous cave, and he goes inside that cave without caring about the deadly creatures that might be inside just to see what that glimmering thing is.

I need not to find adventure in myself, I need to find adventure in others in order to feel complete, in order to fill the hole that is bothering me every night. And I need someone as adventurous as my brain to fill that hole.