Have a Break, Have a Kat Kat

break. darn it. i haven't been able to go online in a long while. *sighs*

oh well. will update soon. : )

July

It rains really hard in July. It’s like, depression month.

I’m not just talking about tropical depressions. Just a few days ago, I was with my best friend. She asked me to meet her because she was sort of always depressed lately. Honestly, I didn’t know why. Although I think it’s about her ex, I’m not really sure.

[I have just recently omitted the juicy parts of this post, so it's no longer interesting now. It's not like it was interesting before, though. Anyway, I am making this blog sort of "known" to the world. My world at least. So it's better to leave out anything that might cause a ZOMGWTFBBQ kind of reaction. Lol. - October 16 2007]

I understand my best friend for wanting someone who can help cure her depression. And I think being her best friend is not enough for me to be able to help her. Honestly, I sometimes think the term best friend doesn’t really apply to us. Maybe it’s the distance that has been keeping us apart ever since we got into college. Yeah, sure, we still see each other and share secrets and do all this stuff friends do, but… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just expecting too much from her. But then again, maybe best friends don’t really exist.

I feel like the world is turning its back on me. I only have a few good friends left. And next to my family, they mean the most. I don’t know if they are aware of that, though. Honestly, right now, I feel like avoiding them. It’s not like I always get to be with them. It’s actually very rare. Especially now that July is bidding us goodbye and is waving at us through the heavy showers. My friends are busy people. More often than not, they are always too busy… for me.

I don’t have a fucking right to be upset or jealous about anything. But I am. I really am.

The rain’s here again. Gaea is mad. The mango tree outside our window is dancing in frenzy, like those women during the Tadtarin. And deep inside me is a depression slowly forming in a fury. It is raining in my head. In my brain, it pours.

**

A few hours later, I am a mess. Inside me is a flood that overflowed right out of my eyes. Fuck all these ironies of life. Life’s a bitch. But then again, maybe this is just a test. Of what, I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t want to find it out. Because I might just fail, as I always do.

*

I’m overreacting. Honestly.

Black Smoke, Black Smoke Burning in My Stupid Brain While I Think I’m Fuckin’ Insane

(Title courtesy of Radioactive Sago Project’s Black Smoke Blues)

I’m going insane. I have so much to do in school, at the dorm… When this semester began, I thought it’s going to be a lot of fun. Well, I was wrong. My mistakes are piling in. And it’s only been what? 2 months?

I don’t know what I should be doing with my life. I want to write. I want to write a book. I want to write literature. I want to write poetry. I want to paint. No, before I can paint, I must learn how to do it first, so I should change my previous statement to I want to learn how to paint. I want to make a film. I want to marry a homosexual male. I want to go to Manhattan. Whatever. I want this. I want that. I fucking want too much. The problem is I’m too much of a fucking coward that I never actually get what I fucking want.

(Latvian Boy is to blame for all this fucking.)

I have a written report due tomorrow. I’m beginning to hate CW 100. I think my professor is expecting too much from us. I didn’t even know that it was about short story writing when I enlisted. I don’t read much. In fact, I can’t even write a good fucking review of a fucking book. Shit.

The environment I grew up in is to blame. Pampanga sucks. It’s so fucking mainstream.

Bitterness.

I can’t think of anything good to write. If you have read my post entitled Trying Out Fiction, you would see just how bad my writing is.

Gets a rope. Hangs herself.

Fuck that.

I need to smoke. Unfortunately, I fuckin can’t. I’m at home. And home has a No Smoking policy that I can’t break. Not again. I remember when I was in fourth year high; I hid a pack of Capri in a drawer where I kept my underwear and my mom discovered them. My dad was furious. I promised not to do it again. But then, who doesn’t break promises? Not me. Then I met the guy who was to be my second boyfriend. He asked me to quit. I did. Well, sort of. ‘Cause every time we have a seriously huge fight, I console myself with cigarettes. And when we broke up and took a smoker for a boyfriend, I reunited with the vice. And it feels so fucking good. It fuckin does.

I’m talking shit. Maybe I should just write that report for now.

This is really depressing.

I Am So Beautiful, You Can’t Complain:// A Bad Case of Vanity

Let’s meet.

Sure.

Now.

Okay.

Hey.

Hi.

Great. You’re here.

So… what is it?

Listen.

I’m listening.

I love you.

I know.

And?
And what?

You know… and?

I know. I just know. There’s no and.

You don’t fuckin care?

No. Should I?

Shouldn’t you?

*shrugs*

(This conversation didn’t happen in real life. Although something like it did, between me and my ex.)

***

Nobody deserves me. No one can make me change my mind. Only I can. I am the youth Narcissus, loving only himself and eventually ceasing to exist because of it. But he lived on as a flower, a beautiful one.

I am Narcissus. I will die as beautiful as I am now and live on as a flower.

**

But you do understand that by beautiful, I don’t mean physicality, don’t you? If you didn’t quite get that before I practically shoved the spoon into your mouth, you can fuck off and die, ugly bitch.

*

JK.

Flightless:// Deleted

I understand now that I don't need wings to fly. I am neither bird nor butterfly.
I am human. I don't fly. I float.