summer oh eight

The colors of this year’s summer were family, friends, water, sand and sun.

 Eunice, one of my closest buddies, smiling away as the sun magically kisses everything in this white heaven, Bantayan Island, Cebu.

 A calm morning greeted us on the way to Cagayan de Oro City. 

 Surigao City tricycles.

A quiet afternoon in Bantayan. 

I failed to go bungee jumping or sky diving or tried to discover my own secret recipe. But at least I spent most of the summer with laughter, love and a few sunburns.

the era of unrequited love

"Don’t miss that one shy star up in the dark abyss just because nearby ones are shining too brightly at you, blinding you," she said.

"Why are you telling me that?" he asked.

"Well, you just missed it."

the era of love

I used to think it’s overrated. That love. But heck, it’s a dang good feeling when you’re on it. You start accepting, become less unforgiving. You give more, understand more. Smile often. In short, you become a monster better than your usual old self. 

It’s like it wouldn’t matter to you if you’re an eggplant or whether you sound like an eggplant because you’re seeing the world in a different light that’s not really filled with butterflies and hearts - more like fatal throbs, dumb smiles and highs.

Anyway, tonight at 11:01 pm, with all my Ecology papers screaming at my desk, and with a body that almost feels like it just came from a plane crash, I am writing away here - eras shy from the last time I posted - and dedicating a song to one super cool guy who is definitely could possibly be causing all the fuzz. 

This is a cover song of Anyone Else But You (originally by The Moldy Peaches) by yours truly. I should be embarrassed. But tonight I’m happy to be an eggplant, so.

Anyone Else But You (Cover) - Kimimoi

wipe ‘em tears

sometimes you have to sit alone in one corner and cry
because you feel belittled, hurt and abandoned.

you are not abandoned, but you feel abandoned.
you should not feel belittled but you were belittled.
you are hurt but not angry.

but you hate.
you hate it that you don’t know how to get angry.
and you only know how to cry.

for some crazy reasons,
the world will never be always your friend
sometimes. just some glorious times.

but other times, such as today
people hurt you
intentionally, selfishly, accidentally.

the thing there is people hurt you.
and your heart can’t really understand much
whether it was intentionally, selfishly or accidentally.

it doesn’t.
it only understands hurt.
and that’s pretty much the thing, really. :/

misses. missing. missed.

So you wake up and realize there’s this bottomless pit inside you that’s eating your morning, or perhaps your entire life, away. Something you cannot fill. Something you cannot touch. But it’s there. Burrowing. Hurting. Gripping you. Plus, it doesn’t help when you have Iron and Wine strumming about stoned hearts and other inevitable sorrows of the human soul, at such a nostalgia-infested moment. 

You’re missing everything. Everyone. You miss the past. You miss the future. And you’re even missing the present. 

Two nights ago, you learned that you have a new ticket to deathville. And god, this little thing right here, it’s not even about that (ticket).  It’s not even about anything. Or that’s what you’re telling yourself. 

Haidee’s gramps died yesterday. Kuya Vince is trapped in Bangkok. There’s this guy you can’t get enough of. Your abdomen has gone ecstaticly in haywire.  Fought with your mom because you were both scared and pressured over the ticket (which could be nothing big a deal, really). Watched Gael Garcia Bernal in one of your recently seen weird films (The Science of Sleep) and cried for some outrageously weird reason. Your grades are depressingly disappointing. You’ve gone distant to a close friend because you’re an occasional asshole.

What else is there? Something else is there. And you can’t really just decide to tell everything about your recent life. 

But right now, all you want to say is that people should be allowed to mourn over unnamed things.  And that you don’t have to kill them asking for reasons why. Because life can simply be a semi-bitch just like that.

Current Mood:  Nostalgic