JanCato @jancato - Tumblr Blog

Im so scared jfc. Im so fuxking scared. I want for it to just be over. But I dont want it to happen, because im scared.

Wala na Szass tam na

Epic Prep

My dear, we are mortals. We die, that’s what we do. Unfortunately, our love is also mortal. It, too, can also die. What ever we do, time is always fleeting. But I’ll be damned if I let a moment with you pass me by without cherishing it.

I remember a couple of years back that a friend pissed me off because she chided me about being in a one-way relationship. She was just trying to help, but I didn't really need people pitying me; especially since I've already devoted myself to doing everything I could with my unrequited love. I ended up sorrowful after that. She was right. But I still didn't think my actions then were wrong. I know how it feels to be alone. I know how it feels to be persecuted, to feel isolated, to feel distrusted, and to feel unloved, so I do my best to never let people I love feel the same. I just hope people would do the same someday. I think people never will though. I think through the countless mistakes I've made, and among the hundreds of people I've hurt, I have lost the right to feel the things I have tried my best to make others feel. So, I just need to suck it up. It's my fault anyway

shakugan-archive

jancato

Sums up my recent wishes

Y'know, maybe it's just the part deep inside me, acting up. I think deep inside, I still find life unbearable. Deep inside I still wanna die. I wanna experience life, but it's just too much most of the times. Your presence made it so much better though. You made it so much more bearable. But like how the phase is fading, I think so is the effect. It's not your fault. I really think you're the best the world has to offer. I think you're the only one who could've made me feel this way. I think this is the peak of my happiness, and the farthest I could get away from my thoughts to kill myself. It's fading, but that's how it is. Maybe my actions were just the repressed parts of my getting a grip. I know that you're the only one keeping me firmly here. I can't stand the thought of you grieving over me. I can barely stand knowing you're sad. I can't die while you still like me, and so my shadow is doing something about it. It's trying to push you away. Deeds implicit in what I do. I'm hurting you, as much as I want to blame it, it's all my fault. But maybe, just maybe it also has a hand in it. It wants you further back... The scary and sad thing though is, I think it's slowly becoming successful

Suicide note

Don't you dare cry for me, Don't you dare weep. The idea of me hasn't died yet, I merely went to sleep The darkness was inviting, It's promise so grandeur. It promised peace and quiet, More peace than ever before. I didn't want to hurt you, But I don't want to hurt either. This compromise is easiest. It makes everything lighter I know. I know. And I'm sorry. -D.A

She was sad that I won't open the stars

A couple of months back, my girlfriend gave me two jars filled with origami stars as a gift. If you know how origami stars are usually made, you'd know that she used so much strips of paper and a whole lot of effort. It was so sweet, because inside each of the stars are short messages for me. Only for me. The idea of having been the subject of so much great thoughts is very heartwarming. I kept them all exactly the way she gave it to me. Safe, protected and secured. When she saw it in my house, she asked how many of them did I open. Of course I told her, as proud as I could, that I opened none of them. She got a wee bit sad at that point thinking that I did not like it. She thinks I did not appreciate the gift. I did. I love it, actually. I never got around to fully explaining my unwillingness to open them all and read them, partly because I wasn't fully sure myself. I think now, however, I can finally put parts of it into a comprehensible explanation. My take on it is heavily contextualized on my perspective of how humans tackle different emotions. After a certain period of time has passed when a person first encounter a feeling, he/she usually tries to figure out the "Why" of the emotion; and when this happens it usually just ends up with the same old "it can't be explained" thing. But that only comes after much thought and deliberation, not to mention questioning and nagging. That method of inquiry is fine because it does not have a long lasting effect. A very satiating answer is worth the trouble, after all. Seldom do we encounter a scenario wherein in order to determine and rationalize the meaning of an emotion, we need to destroy something. In hindsight, it might be simply because life is too lenient on getting us involved, that it made the interaction and relationship between two people repairable. We get so used to being able to enjoy both getting to the bottom of the "what" and the "Why", and maintaining the relationship, that we often tend to forget to just appreciate it without the "what" and the "Why" the beauty of just feeling it without going through a rigorous but entirely fruitless process of trying to learn how some things are incomprehensible. We fail to value and honor what is already there. The stars given to me evoked a lot of emotions. Love, happiness, excitement, but most of all curiosity. I'll never give in though; because unfortunately, in order to learn what the stars contain, it is destroyed in the process. I'll take a page from what the majority of the people disregard. I'll adore it the way it is. The message, wrapped and hidden, may be left unread; but certainly not unfelt.

Dear god I try too much. This blogging thing may really not be for me. lololol

I think the pain in good byes is in the assumption that it could’ve last.

This summer

We often spend too much time gazing into the horizon that we neglect the wonders just hiding under the ground we are standing on. We forget that the large expanse of opportunities right under our noses are just as great as those in far off places. This summer, I got to experience these opportunities first hand.

I started my summer with a simple plan of getting a job to fund my whatever the hell I think would be fun to have. Nothing long-term. Just one to make the best use of my time. I thought it was going to be easy. I mean, how hard could it possibly be, right?

In the midst of looking for a job with the little credit I have to my name, I decided to settle with being a customer service representative. It was an okay job with an okay qualifications. All I needed to do was speak in English in an accent supposedly hard for my race. It wasn’t for me. So I ran right away for the chance to earn my own money. I mean, again, how hard could it possible right?

The first step was to apply for the job. I just needed to be at the right place at the right time. Sitting in the air-conditioned lobby, the contrast in the temperature of the room from the outside was made very much apparent by the gleam of the sun. It was the best place I could’ve been to escape the heat. It wasn’t that hard then. I got through everything barely breaking a sweat. The surge of energy from doing something new and exciting definitely overcame the hours I needed to spend being in line. It wasn’t so hard then.

I endured difficult task of collecting everything I need for my employment to be processed. I don’t know if I was just lucky, but contrary to what everyone is saying, it wasn’t that hard to get all the legal documents from their respective government offices. Sure I had to waddle through the lines, but I didn’t breakdown emotionally like everyone else attested they did. It wasn’t so hard then either.

Getting in to the company was easy. Training to become a well-respected employee, now there’s the challenge... Or so I thought. It also wasn’t too difficult. I already know almost every skill-based lessons they had to offer. The knowledge-based ones were all fairly simple enough to understand as well. I was renowned in my class for doing something I’ve been doing my entire life. Learning. It offered some sort of a challenge, but not too much.

Last weekend I notified my coworkers about my intent to leave. No heart-felt tears or sobbing from my fellow classmates. Just some stern “good luck” and the occasional “we’ll miss you”. Nothing too special. At first I didn’t even feel anything about it. All according to plan, right?

The gravity of the situation was first revealed however when I notified my supervisor/ trainer. I felt the immediate irreversability of the situation as if it could’ve gone any other way. As if It wasn’t already decided from the start. It’s hard to leave something you’ve worked so hard for, regardless of how long you’ve worked hard for it. The burden of the decision came crashing down all too suddenly at that moment. I felt sad.

I found out where the difficulty of this adventure laid. It was, where it has always been. At the end.

No matter how hard it is however, life moves on. I’m now more ready for more adventures.

How she killed the poet in me

I never really thought of myself as a good poet. Other people used to tell me that the things I wrote were good, and that I should publish. I got around to publishing two or three of my piece on newspapers, but even then I still never thought I was any good.

I really just liked writing poems. They felt like extensions of my feelings, immortalized in ink and paper, and open for the world to critique. It felt good hearing compliments, and motivating whenever I received bad one, because no matter how isolated I thought I was I felt relevant whenever people read my poems.

I wrote about all sorts of stuff. It ranged from the beauty of silence, to the warmth of noise. It included the eerie feeling of being surrounded by people, and even the shades of light in open spaces whenever no one is around.

I tried to explore every part of the spectrum whenever I wrote a poem, but It always returned to one main, lingering topic. The things I hated. I never was a lucky fellow, I always fell in the extremes, never in the middle, never in the comfortable spots; and I always write about it to compensate for the anxiety, to romanticize the situations.

That all changed of course when i met her. I’d tell you that it’s the most perfect story of boy-meets-girl, but I’d be lying. It was awkward and very cliche, but it’s how I met her and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Yes, she’s the one that killed the poet in me. After we met, I lost my reason to write poems. I even lost the sense of value I had for poems, pens felt numb afterwards. She killed the poet in me, but that’s okay,Somehow, I don’t need anymore extensions of myself anyway,

because I found the perfect one.

tacotenshi

I have never known what the “I’m feeling lucky” button on google does

jancato

It makes you feel unlucky by directing you to wikipedia instead of other, more reliable website

#notwikihate maybealittlewikihate

why are you so hot

An influx of body mass tends to make one’s body excessively hot. Long story short, I’m fat. Hahahahaha

lunar-pantheon

everyone who reblogs this will get the undertale character theyre most like based off of their blog description in their askbox

tumb1r-core

Fuck it

abbix-arts-and-memes

oh. I wonder

jancato

hmmm

What if... -Your death reflected your life

What if your death reflected your life? Would you have a peaceful death surrounded by your family and loved ones on your death bed? Maybe you’d explode into little you pieces because all your life you’ve rage about petty things.

Now, imagine living a life actively fighting against all the injustice in the world, and advocating for the oppressed. I’d bet that’s a sure ticket to heaven, but you’d die bloodied and beaten by all the evil you failed to combat. Would you still be so noble, would you still care for the less fortunate?

Conversely, imagine living a life of evil wherein you think of only what can benefit you, or even go to the extents of thinking how to destroy others completely while in the process of getting what you want. Of course, you’d die being stripped of everything you are, alone, deserted, and desperate. You’ll find yourself trapped by the same misdeeds that you have committed. Talk about Karma, eh?

But then, it would seem there’d be no way to get a peaceful death. Good or bad, you’d go down the same way. Not unless you become neutral. You become apathetic to the things going on around you. You make no mark in any field, and you leave no mark in any thing. You would be a nobody, someone who never existed; worse there will be no excitement in your life, just surviving with maybe a few laughs here and there, but no fight to keep the fire alive. Would you sacrifice a good life for a good death?

#foodforthought

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