back from nowhere

getting rushed to the hospital for hypertension stage 1 is quite weird… i men, that’s a so-so Grey’s Anatomy rip-off, or so i think… anyway, it’s been ages since the last blog entry made it here… have i been busy? yes. have i been lazy? yes. i’m tired but not yet the time to rest and play… i have been talking nonsense here. i lost my phone and i’m still grieving.

lie about us

sembreak saw me like a display in the antiquities department of a sullen gallery. it was dull and lifeless, almost like a leaf clinging for life in a withered twig. anyway, enough of tropes, i’ve vomited enough metaphors to make an anthology of insane poems. i’m such a liar. super! gahd! how could i, a mere mortal, perfected the intricate and highly demading art of pretense? hahaha! and i so enjoy every moment of doing it. the rush is so fleeting. they say, liars go to hell. well, to hell with them!

but i’m never happy. i texted Glenn a few nights back. it’s almost high noon. my InBox is so empty.

days from now and we’re back to class. the liar fatale is back. for more.

the dominatrix has landed

have you ever experienced being with a mass murderer of joy? someone beyond our definition of K.J.? a total b***h? that you feel your nerves burning, inviting to slit open that creature’s throat and sprinkle it with salt? well, i just did. and i just let that freakazilla ruin my happy moments for the second b****ing time around.

why don’t you just curl up and die?

die!

the price of shame

On the 11th night of the 10th month of the year, I fell into temptation and did what its commission suggests.

Late that night, I wallowed in sin.

Shame.

fear itself

Last night, my ver dotting friend MR told me to just be careful. I asked her to further elaborate what she’s telling me. She quipped and said she can’t do that precisely because she’s close with the person who’ll do the threat. To add to my mysery, I asked Henri for some help but he just said that he won’t meddle in my affairs because he wants to graduate this semester and gave this advice, "just don’t go home alone".

So much for friendship.

I’m scared, really. Is this the end of it?

What have I done? Or if I really have done something, might as well tell me.

terminal stage Cyriliosis

for days now, people from across My Space (and that’s Beacon and ADU clique) have expressed their aghast due to the tart taste of my blog entries. it’s not the usual themes of fledging homoerotica but the terminal affliction of this rare viral infection called Cyriliosis.

symptoms include constant sending of mushy quotes via sms bereft of replies; telephone sado-masochism where you utter formal courtsies and all you here on the other line is the clicking of a mobile phone’s keypad or a PC’s keyboard or recently masama ka man talaga kuya… makahiya kaya… crap. i wish i’ll just start writhing and foaming in the college garden, it’s less of a torture.

why does Henri have to insist that i delete my blog entries for the sake of Mindanao’s debate community? (he reminds me of Hermione blabbering about international magical cooperation not Harry) or that it’s causing trauma to Smirk. whatever. and rumor has it that it’s mutual? ah! how i wish..

i just want to ask, how selfish can one be?

i don’t go prancing around telling every soul i meet that i have feelings for him, it’s precisely unnatural for me but i tried. and now Harry is trying to silence Bellatrix from expressing her love for Voldemort! (hey! how did this crap get in here?)

i’m sick and injured. there’s no doubt i’m dying. Science has no cure for this sickness, i would even try lead-contaminated China-made tablets if it can end all this foolishness. it has got me suicidal (LSS again?)

for YOUR information, i’m already been vaccinated against unrequited  love. it won’t affect me anymore.

but i guess, it didn’t provide any protection against Cyriliosis. :’(

spell LOSER

It’s exactly seven days past since my birthday, for the benefit of those who deny they know the date, it’s the first of September. A certified Virgo. Hear! Hear!

Well, it’s not that I wished people remembered it but I was glad enough, my closest of friends did, none opf my love interest did so but why bother. On the pretext of bothersome, I just had my worst birthday in recent memory. I placed last among the AdZU contingent in the 16th MPDC and a terse Joey Neil made me end the night all the more sullen. But I guess, the heavens have pity, they made me the best laughing stock in Mindanao euphemized as the Best in Public Speaking. Shame! Shame!

Whatever! It’s not that I have to ponder on it forever but it does, excuse the term, sucks!I could have faired well if not for the momentary seizure of getting infatuated with this Rupert Jason… ugh.. do I still have to continue? Or maybe the audience has gone tired of this malignant affliction of mine. Fine then, let’s go the twist of the story, he’s gay. Flirting with an aphasic debater named Justin. Another twist, he greets Emann and Espie the required morning curtsies for aquaintances, both of them, except me. Do I have to text him first? ugh.. Do I sense desperation, Madame?

Henry and Al arrived at school yesterday, virtually celebrities in their own right. Yes, I am proud of them not for the sheer glory of association but I really know them, it’s quite different from just having known them from that nationally televised ANC debate. And how about me? Nada. The hanger-on have not.

Last night, just last night. Emann: Cyril do you feel something or anything about Marion? Cyril: NONE. End of story.

Spell LOSER please… M-A-R-I-O-N.

stoned cherries

i have been bothered by these latest string of unfortunate events that seemingly tries to dissipate the entrails of my anatomy. in short, i’m damn tired! ugh… and i feel lost… these rainy days keep me aflutter with ennui… sish.. why do do i insist on using highfaluting terms? i got two out of ten in a Philo paper for doing so! i guess, i’m just stubborn. i don’t intend to brag my sophisticated lexicon.

i miss him. i miss Cyril for heaven’s sake. i went home yesterday and the heavy downpour made everything seem forlorn. could you imagine what i did? i sobbed for crying out loud! goodness gracious people seem perfectly apathetic these days they didn’t bother if some psycho has managed to sneek into the ferry… no man has ever made me cry (and crazy it seems) this way before. Henri, the usual villain, said that we’re both poor and falling for Cyril would not give my story a redemption. the hell i care.

what am i blabbering about? i can’t blame Cyril for all my misery. it’s my fault anyway. end of story.

all good things (come to an end)

I’ve chosen the title of the latest song that has infected me with the dreadful LSS (the middls "s" is not for "sex" for goodness’ sake!). The reason why? I honestly don’t know why.

Cyril has obviously smirked me to nothingness. As if I did not anticipated it. I admit, I clung to a precocious thread of hope, that maybe, maybe he would be the one. Well I guess the bubble was pricked quite early. Poor him, the victim of my unrequited love. At least, to the very end, he listened, I just don’t know if there was a twinge of sincerity in his response or I just imagined it. The answer is left for amused guessing.

Why Cytil? I mean, he does not, not even an iota, meet with my standards of a sensual lover. But, I guess, my lust has dissipated to love… now really… I think I’m in love but who cares? I doubt, he really does.

I knew it when I feel it, was my marvelous response.

I confessed, in utter dramatic stupidity, that I love him and the best way is to forget him (Marion? Is that you? Yes dear.) just to save the remaining fragments of my heart from becoming powderized. I even suggested we play pretense that’s nothing wrong. Oh well, my favorite line comes to mind, "All the world is a stage and all the men mere actors." The catch is, who gets the top plum… laughter please.

At the end of the day, inches before midterms and my scarred face heals, I still love him…

Honestly.

resurrection

After an eon of hibernation, I have ressurected from the morose grave of my mundane life. Well, if you ahve noticed, one fiend friend of mine, in maybe a homicidal tantrum, extinguished all of my existing posts, leaving me bereft of the only source of essence –expression.

Oh well, all good things come to an end, as they say (or was it Nelly Furtado who said it?); it seems I owe a lifetime to this profile of mine. To be honest with all the interlocutors of mine, I have not acquiesced the inclination of expression in the online world but such is the rule of life, be en vogue or be bogged out. I prefer the earlier.

So much have transpired ever since: eyebrows that spelled disaster, a new love with Voldemort’s twin and just recently a parody in Beacon… ugh.. Life and stress. Beautiful.

On the more positive side, I miss home and the people who before the eyebrow crisis were on the brink of evicting me ( ala Big Brother). But I eventually made it home. Happiness.

I feel vibrant, rejuvinated and extremely confident but nonetheless the natural me, doubtful… how ironic… I have fallen madly in love with Mr. Smirk (he smirks a lot) and the mere attempt to forget me, makes me hypocondriac and utterly nonsensical… To my dear audience’s information, he’s just as freshman. Talking about corrupting minors.. should i burst out laughing? I guess not. I love him. I know it when I feel it.

I have ressurected from the ennui of my memories.

It’s showtime (I’m no Margarita copycat).

P.S.

The unspeakable Pupung has left me aphasiac for the last semester. Really.