the emo machine

I don't know what I really like about you. You are the average guy, nothing special, wears the typical UP attire (shirt, jeans/shorts, slippers/sneakers), and you are not popular. Or maybe you are, but not that popular. You're like that. And i hate you for being like that. Have you been popular, or if you go to school in a car, or if you treat the library as your home, i wouldn't like you like this. Sometimes i wish i wasn't aware of your existence at all.

You are the reason why my blog becomes an emo machine. Whenever I write about you, it'd always be something sad, or sloppy, or just plain dramatic. I wasn't like this. Until you came. I don't really know why I'm going crazy about you; hell, David Archuleta is waaaaaaay better than you. (Tee-hee, I love him <3).

I don't know. Maybe you should stop looking at me with your eyes like that. Hide yourself under a rock. Don't go to school. Hell, it's just impossible for me not to think of you. It comes naturally, as if thinking of you is responsible for my breathing. And you are not even aware that I like you. I know this wouldn't be the last time I'd write about you. i hope you know how much I hate turning this blog into an emo machine, but it will be, as long as I like you. :(

blame it on gravity

I saw him at the bus station again. Maybe he’s trying to get my attention but I pretended not to see him. Why the sudden ‘shy mode’? I don’t really know. I noticed he’s carrying this all so girly, pink shoulder bag and at first thought, I thought he owns it (it’s not impossible). But hey, of course it’s for someone else. Whoever she is, is she so lame she can’t carry her own fluffy, lightweight and cutie-cute shoulder bag? Duh. I don’t get it why some girls let others carry their own stuff when they have their own hands and the energy to do it. OK, enough of it.

The other thing is that he did not got off his stop. He got off my stop, but he’s with someone else. So he probably accompanied that girl until she gets a ride home. And he isn’t carrying the posh shoulder bag anymore, that girl must have the least energy to carry it.

Hey, why am I feeling this way? I thought everything I felt for him ended on that graduation day a year and a half ago. But I can’t help but feel a twinge of hurt upon seeing him with someone else. I felt tears burn the back of my eyes. He seems to be happy with his life, and all I want is for him to be happy… but why can’t I be happy too?

For that girl who he’s with: You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted him to be with me. Take care of him for me, because I never got the chance to.

~*♥*♥*♥*~

I’ve always hated gravity. It’s the reason why I can’t fly, and because of it my tears fall.

~*♥*♥*♥*~

if not of your smile...

I’d be over you.

~*♥*♥*♥*~

Yesterday, I arrived at the university earlier than expected only to find out I don't have the first class. Aira and I stayed at the library to kill boredom and a four-hour vacant period. I tried to read my history 4 handouts but listening to my iPod seemed to be better. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I saw him standing near me. I thought he’s going to talk to me as he started to come nearer. I shoved my head between my folded arms. I don’t want him to see me with my hair like Einstein’s.

After a few minutes, I looked around to see where he sat, but he wasn’t there. Maybe it was just my imagination.

Maybe he was just a part of a dream. Just as he always have been.

~*♥*♥*♥*~

I love arcade games. They release the stress in me. Being inside a toy store makes me happy. Even if it’s just pressing try me buttons and fooling around stuffed animals, I still love the feeling this place gives me. I love seeing action figures, checking out new video game titles and making a mental note for the nth time that I should save up for a 99-in-one game cartridge for my Gameboy Advance SP. I still smile widely when I remember my 10^th birthday, when my mom bought me a Britney Spears doll at Toy Kingdom, and they played the birthday song for me.

I want to be a kid again. I want to turn back time when all I want is a polly pocket and another Barbie doll.

~*♥*♥*♥*~

This is what I’ve doodled on my history 4 readings after seeing him, in my dream:

Akala ko… lalapitan nya ako. Hindi pala. Hanggang ngayon patuloy pa rin akong namumuhay sa ilusyon. Hindi ba ako titigil? Hindi ba ako nagsasawa? Hanggang kailan ko titiisin na tignan siya kahit alam kong hindi niya ako pwedeng mahalin? Hanggang kailan ako magiging biktima ng maamo niyang mukha? Patuloy pa rin kaya ako maniniwalang may pag-asa pa? sa kanya ko ba ibibigay ang buhay ko kahit hindi niya alam na humahanga ako sa kanya? Mauubos ba ang mga taon ko sa UP sa paghanga sa kanya?

Ang sagot: Oo. Hanggang katapusan.

~*♥*♥*♥*~

For My Favorite Model

I was not a good artist, nor I am now. But you were the one who inspired me to draw: The geeky, unruly haired, thick eye glassed and silent you. That person inspired me to draw as I familiarize myself with how I feel for you. You were the reason why I bought a sketch pad and a set of pencils... I just want to capture how you look in paper. You look really good. I always want to do a sketch of you in your still and solitary moments. I love the moments I had with my pencil, eraser, and paper which slowly gains life as it starts to have you in it. You were my favorite model.

Your eyes… they are the ones I love the most. Even when behind those eyeglasses, they have this sparkle that makes me want to take care of you. I would love to draw them, but they’re so complicated I do not know where to start. I am afraid that when I start to sketch them, they would not reflect how they look in real life.

But that "you" left. It left me with someone I did not almost recognize. The things I loved about you were the ones you changed. It is as if you are not the one I used to draw, the one who I used to admire, and the one who, in his silence swept me off my feet. They say you look better now, without your eye glasses and your hair fixed neatly. But I love the way you look before.

I miss the old you. I miss the geek you once were, the glasses you once had. I miss you who I used to draw; the one I used to dream of.

But I still like you. I love you. Always.

PS. pardon my grammatical errors.