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I could feed you a couple of songs that describe how I feel about you. how i feel about us, the non-existent US (fuck. thinking of the word ‘us’ even feels like i’m making a fucking sin), how you made me feel soft kilig for 39 days…i had to stop counting the next days and weeks that went by because it’s just so wrong. in my world, it was never right to continue falling for you now; you said so yourself that you first met her, and that you’re attached to her. if you think that i understand, trust me with this: it would take me a couple of septembers before i wake up and get the fucking truth behind the reality of what was done to me.I could serenade you with the songs that makes me think of you. of your damn straight nose. of how you caught my attention with your shyness, silence, and your laughter (i like hearing you laugh, you sound like you’re choking, can you even breathe?). of the times when your friends would tell me of the fall of my fucking handkerchief. of how warm your hand feels when mine would accidentally brush against it, how your mere presence, chairs away, warms my system. of whenever i hear the word ‘focus’ and instantly hear your voice in my mind. or that one saturday where we questioned our roots and i was thinking, "God i met this guy and we could possible share the same blood. but we met for a different reason, right?" <h2>how you got me the day you held that damn guitar. holy fuck.</h2>i could turn on the radio and request the songs that i'm hoping to feel with you. that i would really appreciate it if…if we could dance, even for a last chance? i don’t exactly know where it will take place, i just…only want to waltz with you. i want a waltz with you. i’m still hoping for this moment to come. that sometime in the future, i will remember two people drowned in the same feelings (even if it was only pansamantala. a pair of shadows trying their fucking best to dance, just to feel. just to…slowly feel.i had to stop hoping. i had to shut down the hopes. i have to. i need to.i could skip the songs that trigger every emotion that could possibly make me look like a fool again. but am i still not looking stupid here? did you really like me back? have you ever forgot her even for just a fucking second when you look at me? did you hold on to her while i was there? did you even take me seriously? did you even like me for real? you’re not worthy of my words, but i had to write this down because i need to calm the closure between myself and the music that lured us. yes, it was never between you and me. it was the music. think about it. remember the time when we played the damn piano for two fucking hours? i got selfish for once, but i could cry of happiness. He made that day possible despite the mistake.i’m drowned to guitarists but it was only to you i got attached into. what an asshole you are. why did you invade me? how could you influence my music? why do you have to possess a good taste? how could you be so caring? how could you be so kind? who are you to make me feel this way? i’m hoping for this certain playlist to end. i’ve been damn praying for it. if i could just cry every fucking night to delete you out of my system, i will do it despite my pride. <h2>i hope that our music will end sooner so i could smile for real this time, even if it’s only in my ears will i be able to hear the “end;” the finality of this lovely but lonely phase in my life.</h2>but i think it ended already. i just got a fucking strong case of l.s.s.

i'm drowned to guitarists, but i'm only attached to you.

I could feed you a couple of songs that describe how I feel about you. How i feel about us, the non-existent US (fuck. thinking of the word ‘us’ even feels like i’m making a fucking sin), how you made me feel soft kilig for 39 days…i had to stop counting the next days and weeks that went by because it’s just so wrong. in my world, it was never right to continue falling for you; you said so yourself that you first met her. and that you’re attached to her.I could serenade you with the songs that makes me think of you. Of your damn straight nose. of how you caught my attention with your shyness, silence, and your laughter (i like hearing you laugh, you sound like you’re choking, can you even breathe?). of the times when your friends would tell me of the fall of my fucking handkerchief. of how warm your hand feels when mine would accidentally brush against it, how your mere presence, chairs away, warms my system. of whenever i hear the word ‘focus’ and instantly hear your voice in my mind.<h2>how you got me the day you held that damn guitar. holy fuck.</h2>i could turn on the radio and request the songs that i'm hoping to feel with you. that i would really appreciate it if…if we could dance, even for a last chance? i don’t exactly know where it will take place, i just…only want to waltz with you. i want a waltz with you. i’m still hoping for this moment to come. that sometime in the future, i will remember two people drowned in the same feelings (even if it was only pansamantala. a pair of shadows trying their fucking best to dance, just to feel. just to…slowly feel.i had to stop hoping. i had to shut down the hopes. i have to. i need to.i could skip the songs that trigger every emotion that could possibly make me look like a fool again. but am i still not looking stupid here? did you really like me back? have you ever forgot her even for just a fucking second when you look at me? did you hold on to her while i was there? did you even take me seriously? did you even like me for real? you’re not worthy of my words, but i had to write this down because i need to calm the closure between myself and the music that lured us. yes, it was never between you and me. it was the music. think about it. remember the time when we played the damn piano for two fucking hours? i got selfish for once, but i could cry of happiness. He made that day possible despite the mistake.i’m drowned to guitarists but it was only to you i got attached into. what an asshole you are. why did you invade me? how could you influence my music? why do you have to possess a good taste? how could you be so caring? how could you be so kind? who are you to make me feel this way? i’m hoping for this certain playlist to end. i’ve been damn praying for it. if i could just cry every fucking night to delete you out of my system, i will do it despite my pride. <h2>i hope that our music will end sooner so i could smile for real this time, even if it’s only in my ears will i be able to hear the “end;” the finality of this lovely but lonely phase in my life.</h2>but i think it ended already. i just got a fucking strong case of l.s.s.

I’m drowned to guitarists, but i’m only attached to you.

I could feed you a couple of songs that describe how I feel about you. How i feel about us, the non-existent US (fuck. thinking of the word ‘us’ even feels like i’m making a fucking sin), how you made me feel soft kilig for 39 days. . .i had to stop counting the next days and weeks that went by because it’s just so wrong. in my world, it was never right to continue falling for you; you said so yourself that you first met her. and that you’re attached to her.

I could serenade you with the songs that makes me think of you. Of your damn straight nose. Of how you caught my attention with your shyness, silence, and your laughter (i like hearing you laugh, you sound like you’re choking, can you even breathe?). Of how warm your hand feels when mine would accidentally brush against it, how your mere presence, chairs away, warms my system. of whenever i hear the word ‘focus’ and instantly hear your voice in my mind.

how you got me the day you held that damn guitar. holy fuck.

i could open the radio and request the songs that makes me want to hope. that i would really appreciate it if. . .if we could dance, even for a last chance? i don’t exactly know where it will take place, i just. . .only want to waltz with you. i want a waltz with you. i’m still hoping for this moment to come. that one day when i grow old, i will remember two people drowned in the same feelings. a pair of shadows trying their fucking best to dance, just to feel. just to. . .slowly feel.

i had to stop hoping. i had to shut down the hopes. i have to. i need to.

i could skip the songs that trigger every emotion that could possibly make me look like a fool again. but am i still not looking stupid here? did you really like me back? have you ever forgot her even for just a fucking second when you look at me? did you hold on to her while there was me? did you even take me seriously? did you even like me for real?

you’re not worthy of my words, but i had to write this down because i need to dot the closure between myself and the music that lured us. yes, it was never between you and me. it was the music. think about it. remember the time when we played for two fucking hours? i could cry of happiness. He made that day possible despite the mistake.

i’m drowned to guitarists but it was only to you i got attached on. what an asshole you are. why did you invade me. how could you influence my music. why do you have to possess a good taste. how could you be so caring? how could you be so kind? who are you to make me feel this way? i’m hoping for this certain playlist to end. i’ve been damn praying for it. if i could just cry every fucking night to delete you out of my system.

i hope that our music will end sooner so i could smile for real this time, even if it’s only in my ears will i be able to hear the “end;” the finality of this lovely but lonely phase in my life.

but i it ended already. i just got a fucking strong case of l.s.s.

in cases i get loud turned 1 on FEB 7 <3

#tumblr birthday #tumblr milestone

And because a lot can happen and change in four years, i dedicate my book of life to the people who lingered: here’s to my family (Nanay, Tatay, Allura, Mama Nini, Papa Moy, Edloy and Yuri); to my friends (clingy, joker, possessive, aalis, others); to my classmates (esp. VI-Tulip, IX-Prudence, X-Rizal); to my peyborit guros (mommy Weng, sir Ferds, teacher Alice Baligod); to Glee club (#orthodox); to Argentina (my pusang gala); to ate Nicole Samonte (you don’t know me but I love you!!!); and to God. . .you all are my weakness, strength, and source of inspiration. You are my watershed. :)

#dedication

. �L�r��k . dy>g�r�� . dy>g�r��

#pepe dedication

[071516] IN THE MIDDLE OF STUDYING (OCCASIONALLY FEELING SLEEPY) ECONOMICS AND EATING CHEEZ WHIZ SANDWICHES, I THOUGHT OF..

Sometimes, in the middle of watching random TV series I get attached to at times like this when I’m alone at home, and the lead character would say something like, “Wag mo sanang masamain ito ah; pero hindi kasi kita feel kasama eh.”, I would think of you.

Not because I’m doubting the possibility of us (even if I’m convinced that this is just one-sided), but because the mere thought of you being the one who I will be spending my life with from the moment we turn to the point of our life where the mature versions of us would think of wanting to build a family, I could imagine myself thinking back of that particular line and us being together.

The selfish thought of you being with me for the rest of my life gives me.. an outpour of comfort. I’m aware that this is just a question and a wishful thinking of a 15 year old girl, but can someone blame me for feeling this way? I don’t really give a damn.

Because blast it, feel kitang kasama.

#ae #ofus

late night sketchesi miss my best friend

Hi, Monica!

I finally found a safe place to vent out something about you. Wala, um, I just miss you so much I badly want us to be classmates again. But I’m not sure if things will be the same again. Hell, I

don’t know. If we want to, it could happen.

I’m really confident on the fact that even if I don’t tell you my replies using my voice, even if I always make excuses, even if I’ve already mastered the art of palusotlogy (lame I know), you’re

still... here for me. You see, I’m not an

easy person. I’m not the funniest person to hang out with (I’m not even katawa-tawa at all) -- I know I’m not because I’m always aware of myself.

So aware and overly conscious with myself that I’m already drifting away

from you; how are you’s, what did you eat kaninang luch’s, do you even think of me when you’re with your friend? But I didn’t dare to ask. Gano’n ako eh. I’m shy and coward like that. And lately, I’ve been dealing with my own issues the same as the situation of us. Like, I’m so

messed up. I am.

I hope though, that in the coming days, weeks, or months, I will be

willing to fix this up. Even if we don’t tell it vocally, even if we are a city away and section away from each other, our friendship has become a hassle, right?

Friendship should be a kind of relief, a breath of fresh air, and the likes. But I’m starting to be

scared we are stretching far away from that.

#confessions #friendship #sketch #vsophile

late night sketchesi miss my best friend

Hi, Monica!

I finally found a safe place to vent out something about you. Wala, um, I just miss you so much I badly want us to be classmates again. But I’m not sure if things will be the same again. Hell, I

don’t know. If we want to, it could happen.

still... here for me. You see, I’m not an

easy person. I’m not the funniest person to hang out with (I’m not even katawa-tawa at all) -- I know I’m not because I’m always aware of myself.

So aware and overly conscious with myself that I’m already drifting away

messed up. I am.

I hope though, that in the coming days, weeks, or months, I will be

willing to fix this up. Even if we don’t tell it vocally, even if we are a city away and section away from each other, our friendship has become a hassle, right?

Friendship should be a kind of relief, a breath of fresh air, and the likes. But I’m starting to be

scared we are stretching far away from that.

#confessions #friendship #sketch #vscophile

insane---world

twistedlybeautifulmess

Nostalgia. Downpour and a tear-stained face. We regret the chances we didn’t take.

#nostalgia

When you miss CHEESE STICKS more than your barkada. Mwahaha

#meryenda #cheese sticks #high school life

aabyni

Found magazines + thread work from a few years ago

twistedlybeautifulmess

I think this is cute

there will be those days when some words will come out of you, maybe it was there --at the back of your mind for a long time, and it won’t hurt to vent it out. It’s perfectly fine to write it down. :)

#a taste of poem

I somehow blame hormones for this, though a part of me still feels guilty for having it labeled like that. If I'd go a little deeper I won't even be able to dig 2 feet below the ground, because there's a high probability that I, a dreamer and one-fourths Danielle Steele (or hopeless romantic), am positive that I am only freaking in love with the idea of how everything turned out like some blockbuster hit romcom movie. The feelings of the actors hit me, but at some point it felt wrong on md. That sugarcoated words don't work on me. I need it real, not surreal.

Because when two pairs of eyes meet it will never be the same between the two of them. So she chose not to look. She damn chose not to.

Disconnected

It all started with a broken promise. Of all days, why February 11? That was my fucking day. I hated the way you said to me, "I don't remember promising anything last year", should i have recorded your voice that day? But that's shitty and it only happens on crappy stories. Funny how I feel this way when me, too, have broken a lot of promises before. Is this karma or something? Because I'm feeling it all the way to my thinnest gut. I feel a connection loosen and i feel as if i am disconnected from the world, too. I feel like leaving this world for a while. Forget about noli and physics shits.

Ugh life

i was asked - no, the whole class was asked to create our own novel based on the book Noli Me Tangere. I got busy over the past few days, and I was even assigned on our bulletin board and to make 2 powerpoint presentations and stuff so I wasn’t able to do it. Then just a few hours ago, i decided to kick out my dizzy self and read the first chapter. i got many ideas but i don’t think i can somehow pull it off. truthfully, i don’t want to include a single kabanata or two in my own nobela that i would feel uncomfortable in. so i finally mentally made up a desicion to not include the first chapter in my nobela. cause i don’t really feel comfortable about the topic. the only thing i can rekate it with is something that deals with social issues and stuff. may be i will include that but definitely not on the first chapter! ugh.

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eleven o'clock nerd.