a personal anything-under-the-sun journal of a seventeen year old colegiala who finds summer by day and stars by night
For the past months, I have been begging people to slap me in the face and gag me with a spoon everyday just so I can stop floating. I never realized that the plot twist was: the hardest slap in the face and the strongest gag I could get was from my own doing.
Seeing your face, etched pixel by pixel, made me ponder: was this what I was fighting for?
Before, it felt like a pretty good reason. It was a no-brainer back then. But now I’ve wasted every pretty damn good day (and weather) over something that seems so stupid, coming from a different perspective.
I couldn’t bear to live through seeing myself being so desperate enough to force spherical self into a cuboid opening. It doesn’t make sense much—I’d just feel (and look) pretty stupid fighting for a lost cause.
Of course, being a wonderfully made creature of womanly nature, I have to suffer from the roller coaster rides of my mood and feeling. I’m pretty sure I won’t sustain feeling this way when I wake up again tomorrow.
Predictability has gotten the best of me—I’m betting half of my life I’ll wake up tomorrow hastily preparing myself because I already started the day running late. I spend most of my mornings sitting on a chair wishful thinking. And then I’m going to shower in the evening trying to sort out feelings only to find myself having a reshuffled board when I wake up again in the morning (if I do wake up).
Ahh, but the feeling of hope—when you know somehow you get to jump away from the monotony little by little. I see little shifts, little improvements. Little, but improvements nonetheless.
When the warmth of the sun creeps into your skin and flows through your veins—that’s when it’s summer. And there is where I will wait for you.
It’s me again. I was back reading on my awfully melancholic words. I find that the hopefulness in my new found tone makes me fidget, somewhat uncomfortable.
I’m not a master of moving on, even from feeling hopeless to hopeful. It takes baby steps, I presume?
Nonetheless, I do feel hopeful. Summer is coming, and I don’t need to brace myself for it. I am excitedly ready for it.
Ahh, hello. It’s been far too long, wouldn’t you agree? I had to log in again—thatlong. I haven’t had the time to get back to my leisure writing. To be quite honest, I still don’t have the time, but I had to make it. I need the pleasure of being able to “think out loud” again.
The sweet, loving taste of being able to tap my fingers to a wonderfully strange beat I have started being unaccustomed to sends me exhilarating. This week is quite hyped up, especially if you’re being called the love week. Just to join into the bandwagon, I have decided to rekindle my (first) love and come back here, a place that welcomes her prodigal daughter.
Much has happened since my last sighting (writing). I’ve been through hoops and leaps the past two months, and I’m starting to find my way back to the rail. It’s been emotionally exhausting, I give you that. But nothing says freedom quite like this. Then again, I can’t say that I am free.
I’m bound in many ways. I know I’ll get there, eventually. Now I just try to dodge bullets and balls. I don’t believe I’m quite headstrong in matters of the heart. I do believe, however, in waiting it out.
I find myself longing for the sweet embrace of sunshine on my legs while I walk on an adventure with summer in my pocket. I’ve been starting already, actually. Strangers are company too, yes? Looking forward to summer is what I’ve been doing on my free time—when I wait out a jeepney ride, or patiently wait for my order in a restaurant.
There’s nothing else to do but quietly see how the future turns out. My heart may not yet be liberated, but I feel free flying into the warm summer crevices of my mind.
I can’t wait to come back.
I am the resident summer girl.
It’s a very cruel feeling—the emptiness you feel when you are reminded of how unloved you are.
Getting a planner and/or journal was always part of the welcoming of the new year before. Now though, it’s scraped off the list because I don’t get to finish it anyway. Mid the year, or even most of the time when summer hits, I forget I have one, including my doodle planner from last year.
I’ve recently resorted to using my iPod’s calendar as a planner because I’m too OC when it comes to writing my entries. It has to look perfect or I’m not going to like writing on it anymore. (I don’t know, I probably have a disease.)
The closest to a journal I have is this blog. I really don’t write regularly and as well when hand written. The idea of having one is tempting, but when you know you can’t finish it why go through the trouble?
Thinking about it, maybe I should try getting an academic planner that starts on June (or August, has the announcement been finalised?) so I get to use and finish it. We’ll see, maybe I’ll get one this year!
Speaking of classes, I still haven’t done shit for tomorrow. I’m just babbling here, trying to jumpstart my brain into academic mode. Too hung over the Holiday vacation!!!
Ho ho ho I’m so going to regret this.
You are my weakness. You make me want to leave everything behind and just do it. You make me want to forget everything. You make me reckless.
You have the power to take control of me, take advantage of me. I don’t know if I trust you enough to give you that power.
Scrap that. I don’t trust you enough to give you that power, but I give it to you anyway. That’s what scares me the most. I’m putting myself up to danger when I don’t know if someone will save me.
But you make me feel alive. You make me want to love someone I “shouldn’t”. You make me drunk text at 3 in the morning, wishing it was you I was sleeping beside instead.
You make me feel infinite.
…Is that a good thing?
My dream come true;
The nightmare that was you.
…I’ve lost thrice more than I could handle. Somehow it feels like this loss is the highlight of my year. The fact that I had to gain thrice more this year doesn’t make up for the fact that I lost them. Stupid me for thinking I could take it all back. For the things I have lost, at least there are lessons learned in exchange.
…I have food in my plate more than I can chew. To be completely honest, I know I’m not going to be able to perform well than I usually do this semester. Juggling a full load plus co-curricular activities is a feat especially if you want to be stellar in both. In life, something’s always got to give.
…I have experienced a wonderful start of the year, and only if I had known the end of my year would have a lesser fate, I would have cherished each moment more.
…I have been more indecisive than usual. I feel disappointed that I wasn’t able to improve on my self and my dissatisfaction. At least, I knew the people who would stick with me nonetheless, and that I now know the consequences behind my wrongdoings.
…I have a lot to contemplate about—there are many aspects in a person’s life. There love and social and academics and self…and there’s always something you fail in and there are some you succeed in. This year it felt like I lost in life—the entirety of it.
I feel bad that we conclude this year by remembering the last quarter of the year. To be honest, I do remember the first few quarters to be much happier. I always had the chance to write the things I felt, jot down the things I am most blessed about, but I never did.
This year, it was always about me taking granted about the blessings I have had. It’s time for me to lay in the bed I have made and repent on the things I have done.
But you know what, despite the bad shit I have done and experienced this year, I wouldn’t change a single thing.
This is life—there are lows and highs. 2013 might have belonged to the lows of my life, but 2014 might have a different fate for me.
After all, it is written that Leos will have an adventurous year. Let’s see how I can come up with it.
I’m wishing you all a wonderful 2014. Let’s continue being stupid and reckless and carefree! What else does a girl have to do?
PS. I am so ready for you, summer!
I thought lonely and depressing Christmas’ eves come after college, when you live on your own and there’s no one to celebrate it.
Apparently these happen after broken ties.
Merry Christmas, anyway. Good thing there’s alcohol…only there are 2 Tanduay Ice bottles. Make do, I guess.
Some part of me believes I’ll relive “My Best Friend’s Wedding” after a decade, if I ever live long enough lol