This on top of all the feelings i have tonight. god damn. break drown all over again.
this is the part where
you will devour me alive
and i will let you
OMG. :”“”“> My crush followed me. Like wth, he’s my inspiration in writing like omg again. :”“”“> I’m not expecting this! What did I do to deserve your follow back? *tears*
De, yung totoo, follow-unfollow lang talaga siya kasi medyo papansin sa’kin. #truestorybro
you lash out words like i have no right to use them; like you own them and no such word i say in my defense will righteously give me the benefit of speaking for myself. so i hold my tongue, lie through my teeth and swallow the bile that’s burning my throat. you lash even more when i keep my words to myself. this is what i think is safe, something that will prevent us from hurting each other. it’s because i want to be so cautious in dealing with you that i’ve come to hold myself responsible for all the tears and hurt i’ve caused you; that i’ve come not to care if i get less than what i give and somewhere between the line, i know this thing has its faults. whenever i assure you no harm is done, i mean there is, but i trust myself that i could get over it. because i foolishly thought that avoidance will set someone free from all the doubts that is being suppressed inside. but i don’t want to be a burden so if i appear so strong, it’s because i have to. but they are here inside. they wait to be expressed in uglier ways. and i think it all happened few days ago.
i blame myself for most parts but there’s a minuscule of what’s shattered that is capable of repairing and of gentle sticking but you never bothered acting on it. i guess, i am not worth it. i wish i could say it back to you. i mean, i could but it would be a lie. and i’ve done so much that i don’t think a pathetic lie will do me any good at this point.
you’re right, i should have told you things. i should have told you every inch of what’s wrong. i should have told you that i want to be badly needed and loved and cherished and appreciated and respected and accepted for who i was, am and will be. i should have told you that i fear losing you just as much as or maybe more than the fear you feel of losing again another entity. i imagine you saying you will lose nothing, that you can go back to the old routine of not caring, not giving a damn and the easy life of absence of attachments. but what about me? it felt like the ship sank and you decided there’s none in me that’s worth saving; that’s worth the hardship of gaining back the momentum against the force of the sea.
i wish i didn’t believe your letters. i wish you never wrote them when all along, you forgetting about me is this all easy. i wish i lost my copies of them but they are here with me; bits of assurances that we were happy, beautiful and so sure of our feelings.
Anonymous asked: I want to know you. I want to befriends with you. I want to be close to you. But I'm shy. And I think you're shy, too. (well based on some of your posts, I think so) So nganga na lang tayo pareho. -☠
Shy? Hahahhahahahahahhahahahahaha. Wow.
Tonight, over a plate of an abandoned trip and candlelight misery, let’s talk about falling. And who gets the more painful bump because you never told me the schedule of your flight or if you ever planned on staying.
I was seven when I had my first library card. By day 183, I was able to fill all the spaces with titles I could pretty much classify in three categories. The librarian’s neat cursive revealed 89 fairy tales out of 150 titles, the remaining being random volumes of kids’ encyclopedia and Animorphs Series. I had the best of both the idealistic and real world with drizzles of the extraterrestrial.
As much as I’m very familiar with the blueprint of a reading room, it pains me not being able to decide on which shelf I should put you. Or if I really want to keep you at the first place without me turning acidic together with the age of your pages. Perhaps, you are my best read because darling, you made me cry. I didn’t just hold you close to me and smell your pages. I invited you in and tasted your lips and wandered to the delicate folds of your brain. You invaded me and fed me with your words with your edges grazing on the trail of my spine traversing through the vulnerable pulsations of my treading and trembling fingers. You asked for starred reviews and I offered the universe.
It may be fleeting but you were able to take me to places and made me yearn for more. You were more. You were certainly real. Just a little swift I wasn’t able to feel the pouring of the rain. You were more of a smog —- partially unreal and just a wisp of a cotton.
In the end, I’ve decided to put you beside a volume of encyclopedia I particularly love. It’s about birds and I’ve read you there too. You are my blue jay, the one with a remarkable memory remembering exact locations of particular strings of emotions whenever you need the drive to strum them so you’ll continue to live. You are my blue jay with your hidden harsh cry I will answer for a lifetime.
Too bad there’s nothing I can do about your departure. This time, you willed to return yourself to your own isolation.
We used to rate our feelings using a 10-point scale. We both scored losing our pets and waking up early in the morning with 10. It became a practice for me, some kind of assessment to gauge you but you’re far too impenetrable for my digging. And so you did nothing because you’ve probably realized too that I won’t be able to understand you when in fact I have accepted you above the scale, not caring if my action is logical or not; not caring if no one understands; not caring if I’ll regret it soon; not caring if it’s possible to love you up to the point the scales can no longer measure nor offer.
It didn’t take 20 years for me to realize this: I am the source of my emotions and people and things and what they do to me are nothing but tricks blurring my senses. I can create or change my emotions anytime. I don’t need a reason to feel good. I’m alive. I get to visit your memory anytime. That’s enough. But this I have realized too: how can I love another when you have become my energy, my fuel? ‘Cos neither can I recreate us nor destroy you. I’m a system of contradiction, of perpetual creation and destruction, but you will always have my conserved and constant recessive portion.
The nights are lethal. Ten o’clock and I’ll feel for you on the space at the side of the wall. Thirty minutes till I give up. Midnight and I’ll close the space conjuring your warmth, your touch, your hint of smile, your scent. Quarter after two and I’ll pray for your safety. Five minutes and I’ll seal it with a tear or two. After three and I’ll see you in a blur. Morning comes and you’re a thousand heartbeats in distance. The nights are lethal because it is when your absence is most alive.
you were stubborn and cold
and needing warmth
and I was a rough surface
taking things like hurricanes
i need you to slow me down
so we’re just fine
sharing the ignited fire
till you call it a night
and head back to nowhere you call home
I can’t seem to remember who asked who for a ride
the how and its pigments splattered at the back of my mind
The when was insignificant but did how long we bind
Desires shouting in whispers we confined
to only us as we surrendered the brakes and braved the tide.
Rushing was never a thing of my fancy
but you were so sure we’ll do just fine and will not weary.
One sad look was all it took for me to answer
I wanted to be with you too and it felt safer.
Months passed by and I started to worry
The giggles broke in hives of okay and sorry
Nights turned out ugly, even mornings a bit hazy.
Darling, you live in your secrecy
and I was too afraid I blurted out a decision for long I can’t carry.
But I love you, I really do and it pains me
that you didn’t stop me while I was all weary
And before I realized what I just did,
you’ve turned your back, broken little boy,
so practiced yet so candid.