I admit, I over think. I over analyze. I take what could be something simple and mess enough with it in my convoluted mind so that it ends up being extremely and intricately complicated, to me at least.

Life shouldn’t have to be this complicated. In fact, life is startlingly simple. It is just such a flaw in some people, myself included, that I make things complex enough to be problems when in fact, they are as plain as black and white.

It hurts my heart so much to think that sometimes, the people you love are the cruelest people you will ever meet.

It’s early morning. The sky is still dark with remnants of night, the air cold with a December bite. I see you off towards the side, and my heart soars at that sight. Then I see the girl next to you, and don’t need to look lower to see your hands intertwine.

It hurts my heart.

Not that you’re with her.

Just the fact that we’ve always been strangers and after all this time, I’m still that random girl pining from afar.

It’s been a long while.

Since I’ve last posted in my personal blog.

I’ve already preempted the third year of college being one of the roughest, hardest and most time consuming, so I already started queuing posts on my main blog around once a day, occasionally going on there to do a mass reblog once in a blue moon.

Sadly, that leaves my personal blog and more importantly, my writings neglected.

I’ve actually been quite depressed at how being in a pre-med course manages to suck the creativity out of me from focusing on all things science and medicine. Studying about the effects of certain increases or decreases of protein, glucose and whatnot in the urine to the rest of the body along with the signs, symptoms and treatments can really take a toll on one’s creative process.

But it’s currently Christmas break, and I’ve already decided that my motto for 2013 is “innovative balance”.

It’s time to change, and time to improve; time to study well, learn more and have both my brain and heart flourish.

I won’t ever make the mistake of sacrificing my literary passions for my scientific ones ever again. 

I wish it were easy to flip off feelings that were never meant for me, nor meant to be felt by me.

11:22PM

The streets are quiet when it nears midnight.

The only sounds I hear are the clicks of the keys on the keyboard and the quiet hum of the fan as it spins on it’s fastest setting.

I look down and see the damage I’ve done.

Ugly.

Painful.

Hurtful.

Words.

All scribbled on my body after reaching for the cutter and failing more than once to produce a single scar. Be it the fear holding me back, or simply knowing better, but I just couldn’t press down hard enough to draw blood.

I couldn’t very well purge as I was wont to; I knew nothing would come up.

And so, I thought of the next best way to release all that I’ve been holding up ever since my father spoke to me earlier that evening.

Labels.

Branding myself with words I deem deserving, all the while thinking of things I didn’t deserve.

Hating myself for stooping so low, hating myself for how things were.

Hate.

How I wish I were someone else. Anyone.

Perfect.

So since I couldn’t cut to let it out, I decided defamation of what I hate most was the next best thing.

You’d think this would make me feel better.

Only now, all I feel is empty. Blank. Numb.

But planning.

Best laid plans to fix what I hate the most, in any way necessary.

Necessary sacrifice, in a sense.

After all, the end will justify the means, eventually.

Even if the means have to be my best kept secret.

I’ve never had a relationship in all the years of my live thus far, yet I do have a lot of wonderful guy friends in my life. But I often find myself at a rather ridiculous and pathetic instance wherein I feel as though I have a crush on them due to their actions which are, in retrospect, completely friendly.

So, I have problems.

Does this make me extremely sad or just pathetic?

Maybe both?

A yearning for a relationship so badly that I perceive even the most friendly actions as more than they are, over-thinking them and reading into them to the point of exaggerated infatuation that probably isn’t even real, perhaps?

I really have problems.

Dendenmushii, I NEED TO TALK TO  YOU.

deaf. dumb. blind.

I’m often accused of being deaf by my mother.

It occurs when I listen to music on my cell phone with both buds of the earphone stuck in. The music all too often drowns out everything else; the sound of classic oldies music playing in the car, the noisy background of cars and people on the jeepney during a commute, multiple conversations around me in whatever place I choose to reside in, and inevitably, questions my parents may ask me if the occasion calls for it.

I’ve tried to curb this habit of mine, especially when it causes friction between me and my parents. I’ve been threatened to have my cell phone thrown away, that I would eventually go deaf from all the music I’m listening to.

While I do listen to music as it is one of few pleasures I luxuriate in, if not for the appreciation of it, I often use it as a way to just get away from everything.

It’s my safe, comforting wall that separates me from the world around me.

I don’t have to think the thoughts constantly vying for my attention, I don’t have to think about my feelings over so many things that just make me feel worn out and sad. It may be escapism, but it’s helping me cope, in a way.

Deal with things without actually dealing with them because they’re out of my control.

Rather than idly stand by and uselessly watch things fall apart, disintegrate before me because I have no power to change or do anything about it, I’d rather just not think about it.

This may not be healthy but it’s helping, a lot.

Between facing problems that I can’t solve with circumstances that I can’t change, I’d rather be deaf, dumb, and blind to it all.

Some call it being selfish; I call it getting by.

In Retrospect; Parents.

Today, my parents had a fight, although it was mostly my father getting angry at my mom over something incredibly petty. Just because something didn’t go his was exactly as he wanted, he reacted like a child and literally forbade my mother from coming into their room for the entire day, until now.

My heart is hurting so much for my mother; partly out of sympathy for having to deal with such immaturity and selfishness, mostly because I keep thinking about all the times I was such a little selfish bitch and gave my mom so much grief.

Thinking about how she has to deal with my temperamental father, all my previous actions seem like the shittiest icing on the cake.

On that thought, I just want to treat my mother the way she deserves to be treated. No matter how many times we clash, I have to learn how to be the daughter she deserves to have; one that supports her, helps her, loves her with all her breath.

My mother deserves so much that I gave; and it’s about time I did something about that.

Parents, man.

Why can’t you just get it done? Your dad always does what you ask of him; it’s considered done. Why can’t you be the same?

News flash, mother. I am not my father. Neither is my brother.

I know that I am not the first teenager to experience this. Having to live up to unrealistic expectations, having to deal with overbearing parents about how high they want you to jump and you just can’t make that cut.

On that note of getting things done, I do get things done, thank you very much. It may not be as instantaneous as my father would like or would have done, but it is getting done. Over something as petty and as little as music he doesn’t even urgently need but simply wants for listening pleasure, I’m fucking appalled that he has to bite my head off over it.

Sometimes I wish I could just confront him about it and say, you really aren’t even mad over it, are you? You’re using me, once again, as a scapegoat for all your frustrations with other things that have built up.

I wish I could just take it in and swallow it down, but I’m sorry if I happen to choke on hypocritical actions.

As usual, I have to keep silent. We live in a society wherein parents have absolute power over their children; this surpasses the test of time, and no matter what age you are, your parent’s word is law.

They are always right and you are wrong. No matter how illogical, impractical; THEY ARE RIGHT AND YOU ARE DEAD WRONG.

Great world to live in, yeah?

Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life, but define yourself. - Harvey S. Firestone

This quote means EVERYTHING to me, for reasons that I cannot expound online. Reasons that I rarely speak of, reasons that I rarely think of; it’s an issue quite delicate and just the right amount of complicated for me to push it into the deepest recesses of my mind but not outright ignoring it.

It is my proverbial pink elephant.

Just in the peripherals of my thoughts, never intruding but meaningful enough to make an impression.

The person who told me this quote is what complicates things the most, I suppose. At the time of the telling, I was near to tears and so was that person.

That person was saying all that could be said and at the same time, telling me everything I needed to hear without saying anything at all.

All the mystery is quite dramatic and over wrung, I do admit.

But some things I cannot quite say out loud; I cannot declare just yet.

Maybe, in the future. To the right people, who would understand and give more than just words of sympathy. That, I do not need.

What I need most is the simple understanding; kinship.

We are a people different; jaded.

At the moment, I am surrounded by the most caring, wonderful people in the world that I could possibly ask for, yet none of them would get it.

No one is bound to me by the same history, the same story told in a different verse.

Perhaps one day, I will find that person.

And with that person, I will find a measure of peace in the midst of the chaos.

For Denise M.; So long, but not farewell.

The hours to your leaving are an ominous countdown that beats hard upon my heart.

In all the months of my knowledge of your departure, I have not once paused to dwell too deeply upon information that is breaking, if it has not already broken, my heart.

I have shed tears in the moments wherein there is a lull in being busy. Those moments of nothing are the worst for me. It leaves space for my thoughts to take reign and force my attention to the inevitable;

you, my closest confidante, my soulmate, my buddy in pain, are leaving.

You  will no longer be a simple text message or a quick speed dial away.

I will no longer be able to see you nor converse with your freely, no matter the hour as long as one of us is awake.

I will no longer be able to rand and rave about my weird, eclectic interests, knowing that een if you don’t really get them or have the same passion for them like I do, you would still attempt to participate; that you would show interest and try to understand is just evidence of how much you truly get me.

There are a million feelings that I cannot give justice to by writing them out, because words can be lacking and just end up dulling the gravity of their true meaning.

Nothing I could ever say or write would give justice to exactly how much I will miss you.

For you are a part of my everything, and nothing will ever really change that. It is a fact in itself; I will miss you now, tomorrow and all the days until we meet once more.

You are my soulmate, my person, my one and only buddy in pain.

Missed.

Loved.

And forever in my thoughts.