Pretentious Bitch

I don’t understand why you refuse to trust me on things. It’s probably not a matter of trust really, as someone once told me, but I guess it’s also my fault that I refuse to tell you anything but really, how can I when every I do try to tell you, you burst on a ball of pure repulsion? How can I sum up the courage when the last time that I did, you refused to listen and tell me that it’s alright, instead, you accuse me of other things? Since then, I’ve refused to tell you anything worth telling you about because you yourself have lost my trust. It may sound a little bit selfish for my own taste but I can assure you that you have not gained any of my trust and although it may seem to you that you deserve it for reasons that you alone can comprehend, I am not willing to grant it to you any time soon.

I’m not angry, I just feel so frustrated at the thought that after all this time we are still at this dilemma. I find it a little funny though that we both grant each other the benefit of the doubt but refuse to truly and sincerely give the trust necessary for this. Know this, however, that I am not the person you think I am. I’d like to correct you and tell you that you do not know me at all. It’s not only because you don’t try but also because I don’t let you and I’m sorry for that. However, I can’t seem to wrap my head at the thought of letting you in because every time I try to or am close enough to letting you peek, there’s something between us that pushes the effort. It’s a fundamental force that I’m afraid I will  never understand and so I guess until then, we will be pushed to do things out of doubt.

You have your faults and I have mine. We’re like a happy marriage that would not admit defeat.

Lonely Home

It’s funny how all the things that I’ve planned to say just got obliterated into a pile of dust that got swept away by the winds. Then again, my head was spinning early on tonight and it seems as though I had just experienced a hangover despite the fact that I was not even able to be anywhere near anything that resembles alcohol. Moving on, I cannot deny the fact that what I’ve been publishing for the past month or so have been pure crap. However, I cannot say that I have not been writing. To say the least, I’ve developed the habit of writing letters to a certain someone. And yet, I never sent them for reasons that I would like to keep to myself.

I’ve come to a conclusion that the internet is truly a destructive mechanism that is thrust upon us. Disguised as simplified means of communication, it becomes or drug for it seems as though it is our only outlet for our thoughts and basically, our whole being. We let ourselves be enveloped by it as we begin to have conversations, supposedly done in person, through programs such as messenger and facebook chat. To some extent it does make it easier for everyone. I’ve come to realize, however, that it overly simplifies everything. As we reflect more of ourselves through blogging and the like and we make conversations and further get to know people through instant messaging, it seems as though we have forgotten how to truly speak. To truly say things that we mean. We hide behind the closed windows that are our computer screens and we speak our mind because burning bridges is as easy as blinking through the internet. Why, you ask? Because we are not inclined to make it easier for them to understand. Because it’s so much easier to pretend and to lie about everything when you are not face to face with another individual. They will never suspect anything just as long as you know your grammar and you don’t mess up with the settings of “permanently offline”. In short, it’s so much easier to escape from the obligation of trying to be nice or trying to seem as though you are understanding and you, to some extent, really do care.

I rant, I know. And I’ve come to a conclusion that I should re-learn how to keep thoughts, especially sensitive ones that don’t really matter to anyone else but myself, should be kept in the confines of my mind or on paper or somewhere where no one else will really find it. I hate the idea that while I talk  about things that I think are significant or worth the talk, someone else would rather be somewhere else listening to someone else. Most of all, I hate the idea that while I think that someone cares enough to listen, they listen because they’re nice enough to keep up with my shit.

I do not like being a burden.

Hey You,

Please stop making me feel as though I am being avoided because I want to hate you for it but I seemingly can’t find the strength to because all my energy is worked up on missing you. Stop trying to make me feel special at some time then suddenly be as cold as to make me feel like you hate me and never want to talk or see me again. I want to stop missing you during those days when you’ve grown cold towards me right after the bittersweet days of having you close because sometimes it’s so overwhelming that I forget to focus on the things that I should be putting much effort on. Instead, I’m hung up waiting for you to show yourself and try to bring back what was momentarily ours.

If you want a bite of my heart just take it already and stop taking a bite then leaving it to rot while you wander off to some distant land in search for other hearts to taste. Or maybe you aren’t even in search for other hearts, you just want her heart in particular. Fuck, if you want her so bad stop coming back to me because I’m starting to need you more than I should. I’m sick and tired of trying to convince myself that it means nothing to you and therefore, should also mean nothing for me. But no, instead, I am left wanting more.

And now you just shattered the glass that supposedly keeps me from being vulnerable. You’re toying with me again; giving me all these bullshit excuses that my stupid self accepts. Please don’t come and go like all the others because my tired, lonely heart can’t suffer another round of being taken for granted.

Fated to Pretend

The morning begins by checking your phone: 2 messages. One from him and one from someone else. You wonder how he managed to get up before you and you think, it would’ve been better than you mentally torturing yourself that he decided he didn’t want to tell you what happened. You think that it probably is better than he has longer days than you because then you’d be spending less time thinking about everything that makes your head and your heart hurt. As opposed to him who doesn’t have to go through the day wishing someone would ask how your are or have to deal with the pressure of being a daughter.

The morning continues.

You open your eyes, quite unsure of whether to get up or not. You feel the hunger but you also feel the faint fatigue consistent throughout your whole body and the sting of your tired eyes. The ring of your phone shakes you from your reverie. It’s him again and teasing is ensued but the moment, just like all those other “moments”, doesn’t last long. You begin a small argument with him winning just because he refuses to not be impossible and you, due to your own impossibility, refuse to give in despite the fact that you’ve given in long before the morning even began. And from that moment you are reminded of just how much you miss those short but sweet moments (him included).

Finally you go down and yet, you regret to do so because of things you yourself cannot comprehend. Sometimes, even a home is not a home when each morning you are reminded of just how much you do not want to deal with the terrible circumstance of being a daughter regardless of all the benefits that come with being one. Other times, you are just reminded of how much the cons outweigh the pros in, sadly, more ways than one in a household like yours. You try to pretend that it is enough but the nagging feeling of nothing will really be ever enough prevents you from accepting it and moving on. Nothing really is enough for you and instead, you accept the loss. You like running, long drives and roadtrips because you have a deep desire for escape and it is sensible. It is sensible to escape because everything that keeps you from leaving is also the same reason for your drowning. However deep in the water you are, you don’t escape for fear that by the time you come back there might not be any water to drown back to again.

You Find Out How Much You Can Take

I know, more than anything else, that none of what occured the other night (or should I say morning) meant anything but damn, I can’t help but feel a little hopeful because of it. And because of that night and the moments that followed it shortly, albeit temporary, has been bothering me for days now. I honestly don’t understand how he could be so sweet at one moment and then make a total jackass of himself (at least to me) at the next. Really, I would have preferred he continued being an asshole so that I can continue feeling nothing but that night. That stupid, although very enjoyable, evening presented a variety of random confusing events that has led me to eventually write this.

You’d think he was so sweet and caring and he probably really is but I hate it, I just hate it when I start expecting and then something happens and all my hopes are shattered. I hate how I miss him when he’s not here and when we’re not talking. I want to stop looking for something that went wrong or something that I misinterpreted along the way. After all, it is I who has been assuming all this time. Most of all, I hate how he inconspicously crawled his way back to me with all the sweet gestures and the caring facades. Were we just drunk? I’d hate to think so because really, I’m pretty sure I was nowhere near being drunk.

I just don’t understand it; and the thing about not understanding is that control is not within my reach. The thing about not being in control is that I feel weak and vulnerable and that’s how it is with him. I feel weak and vulnerable and I just want him there but when he’s not, it gets so hard and I feel so alone. All my life I’ve been independent and the best part about it is that I’ve learned to be alone and now that he’s here, making me feel that I’m not and reminding me that he’s always there for me, I’m afraid I’m starting to forget how it is to be alone. And now that he’s gone and I’m back to being alone, it’s just not the same because I’ve unlearned the very thing I have mastered before he came.

Di inaasahang ikaw ang makakapansin
Bigla-biglang nagbago ang ihip ng hangin
Bulong ng puso na baka ito na nga
Yun pala’y panibagong bulag na pagsinta

 Hanggang kalian ba balak paasahin
O baka naman isang ilusyon lang ang aking damdamin
Pangarap na isang araw mapapadpad din ako sa iyong langit
At makikita mo ako sa isang bagong ilaw 

Tumitingin ngunit hindi napapansin
Kailangan bang isigaw sa tulad mong manhid
Ang lahat ng hinanakit dala ng aking pag-ibig?
Malaman ko nalang naihandog na pala sa iba ang pagtingin

 Sana’y di nag-antay, umasa ng walang humpay
Akalain na ako’y may pagkakataon
Nasayang lang pala ang aking panahon 

Aanhin pa ang pagluha kung sa simula pa
Ay di mo na ako nakita?
Mapaglaro ang tadhana

Tahimik na binibigo ang mga tulad kong sawa na

No Erasures And More

Sometimes it’s too easy to expect things from someone you’ve grown accustomed to. Essentially, it’s normal to expect when the relationship between two people is concrete and clarified. However, at the event that the relationship status, as others may choose to call it, is not determined nor is it blatantly obvious, then certain expectations cannot follow through. Expectations can happen but it would certainly be more fair for both parties involved that expectations be absent in the realtionship.

Perhaps the most terrifying thing I fear as of the moment is that I would begin to ask more from this person, who, in normal conditions and in reality, is really nothing short of being just a friend. I hate the tendecy that I’ve acquired over the past few weeks that I automatically contact and/or notify him about almost anything and everything in response to my need of telling someone. Oh dear, I do not want to turn this into something that it is most certainly not. The nature of this whole situation is, oddly enough, similar to that I’ve encountered two years ago. This event particularly having the other party ignorant and neglectful of my side of the story. The feeling, as it turns out, was simply never mutual.

Currently, I am falling short at my ability to control myself for the following reasons: 1. At the event that I do successfully control my urge to extend my thoughts to him and therefore, in effect, create no bridge where assumptions may freely flow, it hurts me to know that the other party does not make the effort to do the very thing that I am trying to repress. Am I delusional to even think that he cares even at the slightest degree? Or am I simply letting myself get carried away by the thought that I now have a constant ready at bay? And 2. It seems that the attention is seemingly reciprocated. Am I flattering myself of the attention or am I simply seeking more of it? I don’t want to turn out to be such a user. He doesn’t deserve to be in my web of unneccessary stress. Nor does he deserve to waste his time trying to respond to my random whims. I feel awful that I should burden him in the first place but I can’t help but be extra open to him because he listens. Damn him and his great listening skills. And then he actually goes and plays along with every whim that I present to him.

And now I’m having the urge to seek his attention when it is, according to the rule, that I only try to contact him twice. Fuck this need to be needed.