emo no more

it's over, the relationship i worked so hard on becoming a part of. surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as i thought it would. in fact, it barely does.

funny. i can't think of a reason why i would work on it so hard and only be too acquiescent to let go. oh i was in love... i think. and would have gladly stuck with the program had he not suggested it. but he did. just after a day of being together. and i was just the one to say, "okay, let's!" i haven't even had the chance to change my facebook profile to "in a relationship."

maybe i've seen it coming. i knew it was all wrong from the beginning. it felt right... but it also felt wrong. for one it wasn't as romantic as i thought it would be, the way we got together. me, being the hopeless romantic and a fan of chick flicks, thought of flowers and shit and some lengthly conversation in a place only we know about. but it didn't. it started with a "try natin..." over a cup of cheap, tasteless tea. in my head i thought, "this is not happening like this." but i wanted it however it's going to happen.

and it did. did being the operative word.

i care. but maybe i should care in another way. it shouldn't matter how. what matters is that i do. even if it's from afar. and i will. after all, feelings don't die with the days, it just takes another form.

blurred ka, pards!

i have been staring at my computer's screen for the last five hours trying to figure how i should start this. i didn't want to write another one of my emo shit. i just wanted to write. but to write i need to feel what i'm writing about. and what i feel is this emo shit. so goes the circle until i figured i'd just start typing until it gets me somewhere. and right now, the tracks lead me to that emo shit.

hai.

that's how i spell that now. it's the "sigh" of text messaging. i used to just say *sigh* but somehow he got me into saying it that way, too. "he" is ben. and he is blurred. in tagalog, malabo. i can go to lengths as to how and why he is but it all boils down into one thing -- i'm more "blurred" than he is.

i thought i wanted to fall for someone. i used to say i don't care if it hurts, at least i feel alive. typical hopeless romantic, i know. i wish i didn't say that. how very murphy's law it was that i really started to care for him and tells me he's not there with me. oh joy. why does it seem like the universe have conspired to make me care for someone who wouldn't feel the same way about me and not the ones who would? happens every time. and it wasn't just with him -- jay, rowen, rick (i can't believe i'm writing about this. this will definitely be private. haha).

the sad part is i've committed myself to waiting. he said i didn't have to. i said i would anyway. how can i not? when i open my eyes in the morning he comes creeping in my head with his goofy grin and that stupid do. when i eat, i wonder if he had his. when i puff out the smoke of my cigarette, i would think of the way he smokes his. and when my head hits the pillow at night (or very early in the morning), i'd say goodnight to an imaginary face of his plastered in my pillow and kiss it. and i would remember his kiss. he wasn't even good at it but damn it, i wish i could have his lips again.

i am hopelessly in love.

pathetic. blurred. malabo.

i guess it's true what they say. love is indeed blind. or maybe not. i'd like to think love sees... and just learns to accept it. it's not blind, the bad things things are just covered with thick haze. kaya blurred, pards..

somthing Hanes.

It's the cold. There's something about a cold wind that makes one vulnerable to some emotions you wouldn't think exist on a warm night.

Between the sheets where you're all curled up and your body warm, the cold wind outside somehow still find it's way into your gut. Then you shiver. It's the kind of cold your cup of coffee couldn't drive off and your sweaters could keep out. The kind you can't puff out with a cigarrete smoke. Colder than the other side of the pillow. It's the maddening feeling of emptiness.

So then you start thinking about the one thing that could make the cold go away. That something... that someone... cozily tucked in his bed while you try to fight off the cold with thoughts and hopes that one day he will come around. The waiting is killing you but you do it anyway. You feel like it's your duty although nobody put you on the job but yourself. But you couldn't quit because you want him to feel that you're waiting because you're hoping that he will realize that and then come to. So you wait.

Hopefully.

And you wrap yourself with a blanket and curl up in a ball. Cold.