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Office Poem [28 Sep 2016|11:16pm]
While I choke on the thinnest layers of dust flying about,
Let me just be clear that my mind is now a haze:
murky with blurred out memories of your face
thick in the heavy load of your promises
afloat amidst what-ifs and what-couldves
tainted, bloodied, a work of art.

While I try my best to get outside my head,
Let me just be heard, once, twice, with resounding echo:
Feelings don't fade as easily as they write about.
Love is exactly what it is - chemical reactions.
And as long as I'm alive
So is my hope
of being with you.
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Doomed at love, for life. [15 Jan 2016|02:47am]
[ mood | confused ]

Tonight, I shed a few tears upon the realization that I'm still the same hopeless romantic.

I mean, my romance, or my ideal at least, is literally a hopeless case.

I'm going to say it here. I am utterly in love with someone I literally can't be with.

This person of interest has drawn out of me a kind of love I never thought still existed. After my first break-up, I thought I wouldn't be able to love someone else again. So I now have a boyfriend, and sadly, he loves me as obsessively as I love this other person.

The thing is I don't want to abandon my boyfriend. Yes, I don't love him as much. But we're good together. Like, I can tolerate him. I like being with him. He's very caring. I can imagine going long-term with him, but I can't see myself as his wife. Because, well, I just agreed to becoming a couple out of sheer curiosity. I actually felt no spark. And I haven't really felt that spark, if not rarely. He's just there for me. I'm not sure if I'm there for him. It's like I can drop out anytime I want. The problem is, he could die of a heart attack if I did - literally.

And then there's the person I've been really, madly, deeply in love with for quite some time now. I'm still hoping that this is just juvenile infatuation. I don't know how to explain this without looking like a bitch. I'm just really, really into him. It's like: "That's HIM. THE person you've been looking for all these years. AND, of course, because you're meant to suffer a life of eternal loneliness, you literally CAN'T be with him."

I value my principles. I don't want to make a mess. I am deeply, madly in love with a person who doesn't know anyway. We're friends, but that's just it. I can't even touch him. It will be against EVERYONE if I do.

So there. I love my current partner for his kindness and sheer dedication to our relationship. I do love him, but there's no deep romance involved. At least, for me. It's like being with a best friend you occasionally kiss.

But this other one. I'm sort of sure I'd live a sad life for having crossed paths with him. That I've actually met him, and knew him, and that I actually felt all these things for him, but we'll never ever be together.

Honestly, I wish I hadn't known him. It's a big burden in my life right now. It sucks ass. It sucks so much. What can you do if the love you have is something you can't even express? If the person you'd dedicate everything to is never going to ever know about the mountains you'll traverse, the tears you'll shed for him, nor about the sweet, sweet words you've described his being with?

I wonder if I can ever get out of this situation. I am in a rut. And given that I've gone through such a one-sided set-up for 7 years, I'm thinking maybe this will last a long, long time.

Why am I always so full of love for the wrong people?

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Tula? Kanta? [25 Aug 2015|12:39am]
Pagnanais na hindi ko nais
Ngiti mong nakakainis
Wala ng kailangang mamagitan sa atin
Pag-ibig pa ba 'to kung tinitiis?

Haplos na laging hinahanap
Ikaw na nga ang pangarap
Iilang saglit pa lang magkasama
Masasabi ko ng ikaw ay tadhana

Kung puwede lang sabihin ang pangalan mo
Bawa't segundo, ibubulong ko
Pero buntong-hininga lang ang kaya ko
Hanggang pagmuni-muni lang ako

Pahingi na lang ng yakap
Galing sa 'yo, o pangarap
Dampi ng iyong mga labi
Mula ngayo'y itatanggi
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Hi! [11 Sep 2014|10:40am]
Just checking :)
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Hello [12 Nov 2013|10:24am]
It's been so long since I last posted anything in here.

I'm in my 3rd job. Still a copywriter. Well, I can't do anything else. For some reason, I've come to terms with this profession. And it's become something I can see myself in for years. I think that's a good sign.

On other news, yes, I'm on the market again. Ha. Ha. Take that.

I am lost in a storm of nihilism and fatalism, but I am constantly reminded of what I can do to this earth.

Noblesse Oblige :)
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Update [06 Mar 2013|01:54am]
Hi people!

Just an update. This hopeless romantic has finally met someone she can love.

He's older... but he doesn't look that old. Smart, thoughtful, funny, the envy of other guys.

I fucking love him. I am seriously so happy.

Like, even if the day turns out really bad at work, just talking to him will save it.

I don't know how this will end up. I just want to enjoy this lobe we share. Love for all things curious. Love for hope. Love for each other.

Had I known that it felt this good to love and be loved back, I could've gotten myself a boyfriend back when I was super depressed. But then again, being a depressed boyfriend would've killed the relationship in its infancy.

I love the guy. He's called Jonathan. But I call him mine. Wahahhha cheesy shit is cheesy!

Good-bye friend! Until our paths meet again!

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

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[23 Aug 2012|12:24am]
[ mood | Yes, I'm angry at a kid. ]

There's this neighborhood kid who came from Japan and is here for another day on vacation. When I last saw him, he was still a baby.

Yesterday, I played with him like there's no tomorrow.

Today, we got to play a bit, then he intentionally punched nanay in the face. He punched a 69-year-old lady in the face!

How is this? I don't even.

I just told him to say sorry and he insisted that he didn't want to. That he wanted to go back home with the fruit he picked up.

What the fuck was that about?

He's so violent. It's creeping the fuck out of me.

So I left him there on the road (but he is within view and earshot of his family at home)...
Now I fear for my dog's safety. He might make Hansel eat something poisonous or something. I don't know. Violent kid stuff.

I hope Hansel doesn't fall for his tricks.

But otherwise, he's a really sweet kid. He's 5. The next time I see him, maybe ... maybe that's the last I'll see of him. I have no intention of ever seeing him again. I know - childish. But he ought to know better than that. He is not just a kid anymore. 5 years old is not a kid anymore. When I was 5, I had enough empathy to recognize the gravity of anything I've done against the other kids. Or to my parents. I had guilt back then. I won't dismiss this as something children just don't understand.

I hope he thinks things over. I also hope he'd have a good childhood. Hitting a helpless old lady in the face is really not... isn't really looking good at all.

Where the hell have the children succumbed to?

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Pressure rising [20 Jul 2012|09:01pm]
[ mood | i don't know how to feel. ]

It's been going on for weeks. I seriously need a break. Just a day will do.

I need to stop thinking about things at work. I have grown to hate thinking. Thinking. One of my favorite things to do. And the writing that comes with it.

I just want to stop for a while. Just stop thinking for a while. I want to revive that zest for sharing thoughts, emotions, and images through words. I need to remember how it feels like, being responsible for what people see everyday. What it feels like to influence their mood and their actions.

I need to realign with myself from 3 years ago. That Az ever so eager to harpoon people with shocking ideas and realizations. That Az that wanted to remind people of the things that really mattered.

Why have I suddenly lost interest in writing? Now now, when it has become the core of my job! Not now when I'm in my most coveted entry-level position! Not now!

Maybe I'm just blowing things out of proportion. I do like writing. I love it. As much as I love looking at paintings, sketching in vain, and getting high on music.

I have become empty and lifeless. What the hell. The only rousing emotion in me is an awkward kind of temporary hatred. I kinda hate my boss right now, but everyone knows I can't hate him. He's my mentor and he's helping me pull through. I could only let off a sigh as a sign of disappointment - not in him, but on me. I just don't know why I can't seem to fit his standards, why I can't write the way he wants me to. Why can't I produce the smart, witty things he does? Why?

And he keeps on telling me, be the poet first before the advertiser. Be the artist first before the businessman.

God knows I am a living testament to that credo. I hate commerce and the only thing making me sound business-like is my lack of emotion to these things called products.

It's really, really hard to pretend that I give a shit about these things. Too mundane. Too worldly.

Hey, but that's what I've gotten myself into, right? Advertising. Worldly things galore.


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The rare joy of reading [27 May 2012|06:50pm]
Like most young adults of this generation, I hate reading. Admit it. You'd rather hear someone rant about the cancer of society on television or bootlegged documentaries instead of actually reading essays or articles. I've hated reading since I was asked to read words whose letters didn't reflect their basic phonemic counterpart. Maybe I was programmed to read hanggul or something. I'm not a fan of silent e's.

But there's this prolific writer called Anne Rice. Yes, she may be overrated, but I can readily testify to how good an author she is. Or.. her writing simply fits my taste.

All I really want to say is I'm reading one of her books again in the same addicted trance that every vampire chronicle book has lured me into. I hated her stand-alone "Violin", only because I hated how the main character was trying to be too romantic for her own good.

I'm reading "Blood and Gold."

There. Only the classics and Vampire Chronicles books can make me like reading.
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I am just starting as a writer, [18 May 2012|11:42pm]
but I feel like I'm falling short on my expectations.

So there's this young-ish CD at my workplace. You could say he's smart. He has the confidence that he's smart. People think he's smart. And yeah, he's a good writer.

So I checked one of his blogs from ages ago (yeah, stalker skills) and saw that about 6 years ago, he already wrote really well.

And even farther back, he's been published and stuff. Things that young writers, or those aspiring to be, have achieved maybe during high school.

And what of me? The only times I was ever published was when I passed this poem bashing the status-quo back in 5th grade, and that was for the department's student publication. The other time was when I joined this creative writing elective and we were really required to pass several poems for a folio published annually.

I'm not even sure if you could call me a writer. I am a writer by profession, but all I really do is think up of things people would probably find interesting and try to make copy as poetic and straight to the point as possible.

I don't even consider myself a writer. I merely type what I think. That's just it. It's spontaneous. I only review the things I write and give them some thought when at work.

But for things that don't need anyone's approval, things that don't need anyone's review, it's just pure bursts of thoughts channeled through my fingers and this obsolete laptop's keyboard.

I have stories to tell. I have them here in my mind. I just don't have the motivation to actually write. I love creating things. I love creating art. I love creating stories. It's a disadvantage at times. I tend to be too pessimistic, because I could see a whole succession of unfortunate events unfold in my mind upon encountering a random mishap. It's fucking me up, but I enjoy my slippery slope mentality. It's one of my sources of entertainment.

I still am determined to become a real, published writer some day. I don't want the world to miss what's been happening in this little asylum in my head. I just want to share my world. I'm not really forcing people into it, but everyone's welcome to take a peek and even drown in its poison.

in a nutshell:
I see really good people, and they're fucking good, it's discouraging. But that doesn't make me any less motivated to become at least a decent writer.

LOL writer daw!
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[12 May 2012|01:00am]
[ mood | cynical ]

I don't think I'll ever have a boyfriend.

Stalking my crushes on facebook... There's enough insanity to last me 3 lifetimes. I'm a crazy bitch. I just can't do anything about liking them. I just can't make a move.

The only time I finally had the courage to actually express my fondness for someone, I got rejected flat out.

I really don't think I'll ever have a boyfriend. And I do not doubt this one bit.

I guess I can survive life alone. (In the mortal realm at least. I know God and the Universe are always with me)

Why isn't anyone actually fessing up to me? I've had that twice before, but that was when I found this emotion useless! Now I have too much love and no one to give it to.

Fuck this shit.

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A crush so strong, it's no longer just a crush! [30 Apr 2012|11:32pm]
oh joy.

So lately, I've been crushing on someone else I shouldn't be really crushing on. Long story. And I shouldn't share anything about it online.

Anyways, so there. I have this developing crush on Unknown 1. I was listening to a sort of lecture after lunch, and as it was the best time to get some shut-eye, yes, I was tempted to sleep... right in front of the speaker. What's new.

So after standing up and in the middle of dragging myself back to my workplace...

A wild WALA appeared.

My face was all like ;A;

And I made weird shrieking sounds. More like a whelp.

I sawwww himmmmmm! I thought I'd never feel anything for him again, since it's been more than 2 months since I last saw him. Along with the shock, this sudden gush of longing caught unawares saturated my consciousness!

I think I still like him- in a fangirly way. :)

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the afterthought [21 Apr 2012|10:35pm]
I'm a big afterthought.

At children's parties, I'm the last one that gets the goody bag. When strolling in parks, I'm always at the back of the group. When making lists for some activity, I'm always the last one on the list.

It's not like I'm trying to be invisible to most people. I just don't talk a lot in some circles. Maybe that's why they forget about me. It's not really a problem for me, but recently, it has surprised me how totally opposite of this set-up my work life is. At the agency, I actually start conversations. People actually remember me. It sounds weird, but I hope you can see the picture. I'm happy that my current office is so friendly. :)

Too much happiness in this chapter of my life. There are blessings after all! I thank the universe and the maker for letting me experience these things.

But in some aspects, I am STILL the afterthought.

Let's not talk about that now.
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[18 Mar 2012|11:51pm]

I'm a little sad today. I don't know why.

Maybe it's my cynicism kicking in again.
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Hatred has been my pass time for the last 12 hours. [11 Mar 2012|04:03am]
[ mood | bitchy ]

I have been irritated by the incessant coughing of one of Nanay. I just really hate it. All that icky, gurgling noise from trying to clear her throat. All that going and coming out of the washroom to spit the funk out. All that not sleeping this late (it's 2am). To add to that, I had to upload a shitload of photos in my facebook account just so my mom could show she's been to fucking Hong Kong, where most people live in cruelty.

And then the internet's been so fucking slow lately, and there are about 600 ants by the stairs. I poured alcohol all over them and threw bits of lit matchsticks all over just to burn them good. I really hate them. I have this principle of not hurting other beings, no matter how small, but their reluctant biting whenever I simply pass by them has made me snap. SNAP. Snap.

I am also equally irritated by how the people from my previous workplace are all fun and games now that I'm gone. I still try to communicate with them, and it's always me initiating the conversation. They never fucking remember me. Like I never happened. Like all those shitty days never happened.

I also laugh at how mundane and unimpressive my previous workplace crush (the fat one) has become. I mean, now that I look at the pictures I would swoon to back then - nada. No effect whatsoever. I'd just be looking at some fat dude with an attitude problem. What the hell was I thinking? And to think, he was the only guy I ever confessed my feelings to? What the fuck? I think I regret even liking him. He's a fat dork with no proper sense of relating to people who don't want fucking trouble. He always is in a hurry, and he acts like he's all important. He's a big douchebag and I am utterly surprised I even liked him!

Also, slowly realizing that my more recent crush doesn't really think I'm any more than a previous office mate. That's it. Just nothing. A special tie with him will never work. My obsession with him has also significantly diminished after that trip. Before the Hong Kong trip, I was always thinking about him, when I had nothing else to think about. During the trip, my focus was on savoring the experience, letting my consciousness simmer in the Hong Kong atmosphere and culture. And now that I'm back, I only remember him when I think about liking someone. Dafuq?

At this point, I'm certain that I'm not capable of loving or being in a relationship with someone. I can't bear having to look over someone else. My own self is enough trouble. I don't want to please people, and I don't necessarily want to be pleased by anyone. I'm just alive, and I believe we are not required to actually go through all this romanticized shit. Maybe it's really just isn't for me.

I seriously think this life has been too long for me. 23 fucking years. Almost 24. Still nothing significant contributed to society except for paid taxes. I hate taxes. I've been working for a year, and I still have no tangible savings. This is shit. I need another job.

I'm working full time as a writer, but my brain isn't working all the time when I'm at work. The process of thinking up of concepts, words-smithing, throwing the bad ones out and recreating your defined parameters for the requirement DUMBS ME DOWN LIKE CRAZY. I have to say though, I never get bored with what I do now. It's just really confusing sometimes. But hey, I only work for minimum wage. I seriously need another job!

So I asked my sister if I had a chance to be a model. She said, sure. I just have to be thinner, and I have to do something about my uber-pimplified face. Or, I can write some stuff, sell them, or maybe try to have them published. I don't know. Or should I draw some more and sell my stuff? I CAN'T EVEN DRAW SHIT ANYMORE!

Being poor really sucks.

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Writer's Block: Every Four Years [01 Mar 2012|01:36am]
How are you celebrating Leap Day?

I stalked my favorite stalkee on facebook and got his pictures from a friend. :) GREAT DAY!
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Lately [29 Feb 2012|07:49am]
I've been quite happy. Not just happy. I am at peace. I have never been this at peace for a long time, and I'd like to cherish every moment of it.

Every randomly blank moment, it's either I think of that guy I've been slaving my mind into fantasizing about or I breathe deep and feel the moment of peace. It's just that. I just love how this period has become so contradicting to how life was 3 years ago. I didn't think I will once again live like this.

Back in my days of self-diagnosed depression, I thought I'd never see life in this deceptive light. I thought, now I know how bitter life can really be, I could never return to my happy, care-free self.

As much as it was a mistake to think that I'd be happy all the time, so is it a mistake thinking I'd be sad for the rest of my sorry existence.

I'm slowly unraveling my interest and possibly, passion in writing. It has only been about 4 years ago when I decided to include being a writer in my plans. Now, I can see it all falling into place - my job as a copywriter, my incessant love for words and verbal painting, and the tricks in my mind and in the subconscious of the universe that have been taking so much of my attention.

On another note, I smell like my dog's pee, thanks to this hoodie I'm wearing.

I have been reading this book - actually, a collection of short stories by Debra Dean. I didn't know her until I bought this book. Crisp, 10-paged short stories depicting a small but interesting aspect in the mundane lives we lead. I love it, because it's a break from all this reality, and I get to finish the piece in less than 20 minutes.

Reading this book somehow made me want to write short stories too. But I'm not sure where to start, and with what plot. I have recorded a lot of lean plot plans in my journal or maybe in one of my little notebooks, and I don't know what would need to be typed down soon.

I wonder if I'd even become a writer of fiction... professionally. I mean, I could live on that thought, but I don't think I could live on what little dough that'd produce. Being the quintessential starving artist is an alluring idea, but it's not practical. Not for my family. Nor for my tastes.

I admit - I have succumbed to the bourgeois lifestyle I have often criticized. I criticized myself that much even back then.

Here's a little something from Florence + The Machine

Good day and good night!
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I think I like someone [25 Feb 2012|02:48pm]
So I think I like someone. Real bad. And that could only mean bad.

In the two other instances that I've liked someone this much, I have mustered the courage and the boldness to express my feelings for the person in a way or another. For the first one, I did it through email. For the second, it was a face to face thing. All that love poured in front of them, and I have never experienced any in return. I am used to rejection - all my life, and it doesn't really hurt anymore. That's exactly why I am totally ok with confessing my feelings. I have thrown my pride away and I don't care the slightest bit about getting rejected.

It's like writing or making art. You make it, then you show it. Then, you don't necessarily look for attention. It's just there for people to enjoy, and that's exactly why you made it. For people to appreciate, but they don't have to necessarily appreciate you.

But why am I this hesitant to confess my feelings for my new crush? He's not actually new, and he's not really a crush. They say, if you've been thinking about that person for more than 2 months, then it's probably love, not just some sort of infatuation. So I guess I've been in love with him for about 2 months.

What's strange is I have sort of wanted to expect something in return. If I were to confess to him, getting rejected would really hurt. I mean, it does, but I think if I will be rejected by this specific person, then I'd go into some emotional coma for a year.

So I will not do any confessing or anything near the deed.

I will just wait, and rot in vain, thinking about what could have possibly ensued had I been true to him about my feelings.


This is not helping.

I have dearly loved several people, and I have never been loved in return. I have lost trust in love itself. What evasive nature! How fickle-minded. But I can't help but be fascinated at how it has shaped countries, molded worlds... ideas.. all that shit.

Love is the one thing I will never understand. But I have my whole life dedicated to finding out more about it.
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[01 Feb 2012|06:59am]
I have gained about 2 kilograms over the week.

One of my officemates is leaving.

I silently cried like a bored ginger, lying flat on the car back seat on the way home from a shoot.

I was crying, because it has been long since I last cried like that.

Things are looking well at work, but not in my personal life.

The house is livelier with two cousins staying over. Fun!

Reject logic.

I hate having to talk too seriously about trivial shit like my preferences. Just shut the fuck up!

I don't like my hair.

I'm typing this on my office PC.
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Playing with a woman's heart is a capital sin [25 Nov 2011|12:36am]
And should be punishable by law.

So there's this guy at work who, in the previous week, has been pseudo-flirting with me. Note that he's married. Note that he looks like Joseph Gordon Levitt. And most of all, note that he must be the most charming guy I've encountered in my whole life.

There are times that he'd look at me straight in the eye, like he's sending some invisible fairies to drug me up or something. I can't help but stare back. He has pretty, old Hollywood, piercing eyes. Just thinking about them right now makes me swoon. Ew.

And that week when I was forced to be with him, for the first time, I felt like I was in a relationship. He was pestering me sometimes though. He was acting like he wanted to do something drastic, you know, while we're away from prying eyes and staying over at an isolated beach resort. Something to that effect. After realizing this, I decided to suddenly distance myself from him, because, well, I was sort of feeling the same gravitation. That didn't mean well. He's married for chrissakes!

During that time, he had this puppy-dog act all day. I think it was cute, but it was sometimes annoying. I mean, "not here! People - our co-workers - are watching!" But seriously, the fact that my other co-workers were with us might have been the only layer in between my sanity and indulging into a weird relationship with this guy.

After that week, back at the office, back to reality.

I hardly talk to him. Precious.

But, like I said, his having played with my emotions and my awkward reactions... that was just utter shit. He had me torn between my impulse and morality. I'm a hopeless romantic, and at this post-adolescent age, I'm prone to jumping at just any experience of intimacy, since I haven't had any.

Everyday, I secretly yearn for more encounters with him. More short, deep conversations with him. More meeting of the eyes. I know I won't be able to do that, and that it'd be bitchy of me to actually flirt with him. But that's it. I'll have to settle for just imagining some ideal, single guy treating me well as he had.

Cute guys should never attempt to be like this man. It hurts people.

/spinster rant
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