Oatmeal Raisin Cookie

The more I talk to you, the more I realize how scarred I am.

I am sorry that you came along at a time when I badly need to be taken care of.

I never imagined that things would turn out like this. I never thought that someday you will come along. I should've waited for you instead of putting myself out there and getting hurt. Then you wouldn't have had to bear with me as I disgustingly lick the wounds of my past.

Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for putting up with the emotional wreck that I am, and for knowing that I am crying even when you can only hear my voice. Thank you for offering to call me when you know that I am really getting emotional. Thank you for being sensitive enough to know that I am not comfortable with a certain situation, and for telling me not to be sorry. Thank you for setting your confusion aside to console me and tell me that you would not do anything that the ghosts of my past did. Thank you for still wanting to talk to me, everyday, even when a lot of our conversations suffered because of my flashbacks. Thank you for putting a conscious effort to free me from the shackles of my fear. Thank you for treating me very gently and kindly, and not shoving that effort down my throat and telling me that I need it.

Thank you because you keep filling my list of why I should always make an effort to keep you.

Thank you for letting me know that even after all these struggles I have with myself, you still think that I am worthy of you.

I thank God for you. You are the best gift that I received this year.

I met a stranger who made me realize what I have been missing all along.

We met each other in a very unconventional way.

Right then I knew you would be different. The Chocolate Chip Cookie among the pretentious Oatmeal Raisins. I approached you because your email signature quotes a line from a song on the Submarine soundtrack. I love Submarine. I love that song. You seem to be a very interesting person.

We chatted. The only identity I knew of you is that you will be celebrating your birthday in three days, and we are three years apart. You study Criminal Justice. I didn't know your name and where you live. You didn't even know how I look like. You only know that I have a nice smile, as you told me.

We talked about music and we ended up discussing our favorite bands and you suggesting your favorite albums to me. I have always been one to end conversations with strangers easily, but it was different with you.

That conversation was followed by another. You were from the southern part of the US, and you were surprised when I told you where I am from. "Wow. I didn't expect that. Are you a transplant, just like me?" Apparently you thought I was also an American with the way I talk to you. It was kinda funny. "But our countries really have strong ties." you added.

We talked about a lot of things, from vinyl records to sheepherding drunk people. Both of us are the sober ones in a party. I never imagined putting the least bit of effort to sustain a pointless conversation with someone I don't know. I must have been out of my mind to even agree to talk to you on the phone. It was a bold move for me, as I hate my voice and I don't want others to hear it, especially when they have the option not to.

But you looked forward to it, and we agreed to talk the next evening. I liked the sound of your voice. It gave me a soothing, calming feeling on a night that I had to take a sick leave because of a fever.

We don't know what to talk about, so I suggested that we play the 20 questions game that I got from a Palanca literary piece. We took turns in asking and answering questions about each other. In that moment, I felt like an onion being peeled off to the core as I reveal things about myself.

"How nervous are you right now?" You asked me.
"Very," I answered.

As we went through the game I realized that this is something I haven't experienced until then. It was the first time that I stayed too long on the phone, talking to a guy about random stuff. This is what I have been missing, during all those nights that I thought watching a Killers concert on my iPad is the best way to spend the last moments before I fall asleep.

"Tell me something you would only tell a stranger." I said. I never knew you would tell me something so intimate that it made me guilty that I asked for it. I felt trusted as I heard the happy-sounding guy I was talking to earlier become a bit more fragile.

"Do you have a photo that is more revealing... of your face, and not just the lower half?"

"Well of course, of course. Okay I'll send one to you. Later."

To be quite honest I thought we would not reach twenty questions. We only need two to be bored. But we even exceeded. I think we reached at least thirty. It lasted for an hour. The only people I talk to on the phone for an hour is my mom and my best friend.

And now, you.

The call was cut short when Yahoo became wonky. "You should get a Skype." You jokingly told me.

"I have Skype!!! You just don't ask me!!!" I answered back.

"Well I'm asking now."

It was only then that I knew your name. I have told you a lot of things about myself, and I know a lot of things about you, but I just knew your name. I knew your name because Skype told me.

You said you enjoyed our little game, and added: "You were so nervous. It was cute."

I melted.

"Why wouldn't I be? But seriously, thank you."

"For talking? Or for the compliment?"

"Both. But mostly for talking. And your patience."

I sent you a photo, revealing my face. It was the first time that I revealed my face to a stranger that I met on the internet.

"Haha, look at those cheeks. :P Cute."

I blushed and hated you at the same time.

You asked me what time I go home and what time do I fall asleep. I know it's because you look forward to talking to me again. I answered, because the thought of it makes me happy too.

"Must be difficult to adjust to." You said.

"I'd like to think that the perks of living on a different time zone outweighs the hassle, though."

"To be fair, it's easier to talk to you. So there's that."

OH. MY. GOD.

"Would you like to talk again for a bit? On Skype, this time? With a little surprise, perhaps. Call me."

I did, and you were on video. This guy, who was at first a stranger from the internet is now a living, breathing being in front of my eyes. As you said hello, I wanted to jump through the screen and give you a massive hug. You kept me company the entire night that I was sick and showed yourself on video to make me feel better. It did.

We talked for a short while, and then both of us had to go.

"I hope you don't regret wanting to talk to me." I said.

"Your accent is cute. I'm sure I won't."

You think my accent is cute. I never knew I had an accent. And I never knew that anything about me would be labeled as "cute".

"Haha, Okay. I think I'll just take that as positive."

"It is a compliment."

"Thank you. Well I have to go now. I'll catch you again sometime."

"You need your sleep. And you certainly will. :)"

(WHAT IS PBB TEENS. GUYS. COME ON. OMG KILEGZ.)

I felt the dead butterflies inside me come to life again. They were fluttering so wildly that I felt like I need to vomit. For real. It was the first time in a long time that someone put a smile on my face as I sleep.

______________________________________________

The next day, you Skyped me the moment I got home from work. You showed me your favorite records, but unfortunately my internet connection is getting in the way of a massive sparks moment. We had to settle with voice chat.

We don't know what to talk about, exactly. There was a lot of dead air but neither of us is hanging up. One just asked the other if a question comes up. Then dead air again.

"Why don't you answer your own question yesterday? The one where you made me tell a secret I haven't told anyone else."

"Ah, yeah... Something I would only tell a stranger."

"Or someone far away."

You don't think of yourself as a stranger anymore. And personally, I don't treat you as one either.

I told you my greatest fear. Your assurance that it will not happen is very soothing. I secretly wished you will be the one to keep that fear from happening. I felt the sincerity in your voice.

"How many strangers have you talked to online?" You asked.

"There were two others. But you were the most awesome."

"Why is that, precisely?"

"Because you know how to sustain a conversation."

"Haha, it's very evident on the amount of dead air as we talk right now."

"Well, we have a lot in common and that always gives us something to talk about."

What I didn't tell you is that even in that silence, I am happy. I just listened to your breathing. You gave me the certainty that there is someone I can talk to, even if that person is half the world away. You made me feel how it is to have someone waiting for you to go online.

You made me realize that all I needed is someone to listen, and you are that someone and more.

_____________________________________________

I never thought that something I dreaded so much would give me so much happiness. I never thought that this kind of happiness used to lie in a stranger's hands. I never thought that talking to you would be something I'd look forward to when I get home. Maybe we can talk again sometime?

"Haha, certainly. I'd like that."

Now you know John Mayer's lecture on his introduction to an acoustic version of "Love Song for No One"? If there is one thing you should know in conversations with potential sparks, it is to NEVER, EVER underestimate the power of "I'd like that."

And I know that this "I'd like that" carries a lot of potential for us.

It's been more than two years since you knew how I feel for you. I hope you know that I am still waiting for your response until now. Even if it gets harder every day. Even if it seems you already forgot about me.

I love you, and I don't want you to go down in my memories as a heartless human being who doesn't know how to care about other people's feelings. I still believe you are not that kind of person.

When the time comes that I'd look back on today and you'll be just another part of my history, I would like to feel the radiance of your smile and the electricity brought about by your long, slender fingers brushing ever so slightly against my skin. I would like to take in your scent that still lingers in the air. I would like to wrap myself with the warmth and masculinity of your voice. I would like to laugh heartily with you at the stories we share and create weird inside jokes. I would like to romance the thought that in a world where we are being trained to be busy with matters of consequence, time stopped as I was granted the honor of your life shortly intersecting with mine.

Even in my memory, I want to still be in love with you.

There is always that one question that goes unanswered whenever I think about what happened to us. We used to be friends, we used to be happy, and we used to be the ones, maybe even the only ones who believed in each other when the going gets tough. When I talk to you, my heart pumps out renewed strength that courses through my entire body, making me believe I can do anything.

This is us now: not talking, not catching up, no nothing. We have reduced each other from being friends into awkward strangers--just one of the names that sporadically show up on our Facebook news feeds and contact numbers on our phonebooks that neither of us even bother to dial.

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I know we share a lot of interests: we both like a great chunk of music's spectrum, we both like 30 Seconds to Mars and Oasis, you are the only other person I actually know that likes Kasabian, we both enjoy going up a mountain, we both like Chuck... The list goes on.

I admit that you are the reason why I liked the last aforementioned two, because you seem to really enjoy them. It is my way of widening a part of my world so that it overlaps more with yours. I experienced and greatly enjoyed going on a hike up a mountain and the taste of victory upon reaching the summit and viewing the city that surrounds it. I also took pride in being able to sleep in a tent while heavy rains and/or strong gusts of winds threatens to topple it down, and standing on God-given view decks. I fell in love with Chuck Bartowski, who, incidentally shares one of your names. I remember very distinctly that you have the Buy More logo as your display photo when we became friends on Facebook. In a lot of ways I saw myself in him: a guy working a low-paying job who fell in love with someone way out of his league. It's the switched-gender version of you and me.

I went to a hike up Mt Manabu last weekend. I can’t help but remember you every time I walk through the woods. The memories of you are strongest when we talk about each other’s love lives during socials. When that topic comes up I just look up to the starry sky, for that is the only part of the universe where we are together. My heart then utters a prayer that you’ll be sitting in the grass beside me the next time I go on a climb.

But that is the next thing to impossible. I love you so much and I really want to be with you in becoming one with nature, but I am afraid to say this to you because there have been one too many times that you turned me down. Did you know that I intended to invite you on that particular climb? I really was, but then a lot of memories surged back: Paskuhan 2010, the week before you enter law school, when The Avengers was showing in theatres, and the Kjwan gig just recently—different occasions that I wanted to be with no one else but you. I thought that no matter how many reasons I present for you to join me, your reasons to decline are far greater; although I feel you only have one—and that is because I am the one who invited you.

Well, who am I to you anyway? Why would you even trust yourself to someone who loves you so much that (maybe) it reached a certain level of creepy?

Maybe this is all we will ever be. I just cannot grasp the fact that someone who even used to ask me how to court a girl will just drift away like that. I cannot help but hate myself, and those times that I told you over and over that I love you are the greatest mistakes of my life. We would’ve been friends until now. I wish I just settled to just being your friend, no matter how much my heart yearns for more, and no matter how much pain I undergo every time you talk about those girls. Those girls. Not just one girl, but three of them. Three! And none of them was me. Why would I even think I’d stand a chance?

Maybe if I just settled with being your friend, I would’ve had my chance at showing you how happy you would be if you choose to be with me instead. Or if not, burying these feelings in oblivion would’ve been easier. Maybe I would’ve grown callous of the pain that I just start treating you as a friend. I just didn’t realize that the way you’re drifting apart from me now would be a thousand times more painful.

I thought the pain would be over if I tell you how I feel about you. Instead I was introduced to a higher level of torment: the one where you have said everything you need to say, to the point where you turn your soul inside out to release the truth that smothers you… and then you receive no answer. Not even a goddamn recognition. Not one fucking word. I have experienced rejection a lot of times before, but the most painful is where you have said everything that there is nothing else left to say, but still you are left hanging and you start to wonder if what you gave will ever be enough.

That’s just so heartless of you to not value other people’s feelings. It’s alright if you don’t consider me as a friend anymore. I just hope you see me as another person standing at the same level as you are. I am still someone who expects an answer when they ask a question. By the way you’re treating me right now, it is as if you are trying to tell me that falling in love with you is a sin and this excruciating pain is the price I have to pay.

But like what I said at the earlier part of this letter, I still believe that you are not that kind of person. I still believe you have a reason why you are doing this.

I am afraid that this love I feel for you will be replaced by hatred in the future. I fear that I will realize that the love I offered and hoped you will reciprocate is nothing but an idol I set up for myself.

I really, really love you.

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There is always that one question that goes unanswered whenever I think about what happened to us.

Is this what I deserve for having the strength, just for once, to fall in love with total abandon?

Sampung Taon: The Kjwan Experience

One of my resolutions for this year is to explore musical styles, learn about music, and most especially, to support local bands. I can pretty much say that I've been keeping up with the first two, by taking a class on Rock Music History and being open to suggestions on what to listen to. However, local bands are out of my radar most of the time. I only discovered two that I really liked so far: She's Only Sixteen and Progeny (check them out).

First Encounters

My college friends have supported Kjwan since I can't remember when. They've been regulars at Handlebar and Saguijo and wherever that band plays, EVEN DURING the time that we were doing our thesis. I know that band is good, and I know a few songs but I never called myself a fan.

But this is about to change on the night of August 9, 2013.

I Needed A Break

I've been working the night shift for the past two years and I just wanted a Friday night out, so when I saw the poster for Kjwan's 10th anniversary, I instantly knew where I'm headed to. I knew my friends were going and they are. I don't have a phone right now, so we just arranged to meet at Handlebar.

Things didn't go out as planned, however. I waited for them but they didn't come, because they became sick later that day. They contacted me on Twitter but I didn't get the message on time, and I can't be reached through phone because I haven't got one.

I just found myself entering the bar, clutching the CD I bought while waiting for them and the posters that came along with it.

Megaphone

The vocalist hasn't even started playing but I knew that this is gonna be awesome. Marc Abaya, the vocalist, picked up a megaphone to sing through the verse and I never saw anyone do that before. The sound produced was reminiscent of a Strokes song from the "Is this It" record.

"The boy who made Kjwan whole again"

At this moment let me just insert my favorite part of the night and of the band. They've got a new drummer, and a hot one at that. Eo Marcos is previously with Salamin, the band of Gary Valenciano's son Paolo, and is now with Kjwan after "a long courtship" as Marc would put it. He's a hottie cutie patootie (yup I also didn't know it was possible to be both) who just smiles and looks around and/or wiping off sweat in between songs, but he's so intense behind the kit. You can actually see his facial expression change the longer he get into a song.

It's not like seeing Mick Jagger, but...

A great surprise for Philippine Rock and Roll fans and for all the people in general, is when Marc told the crowd how big an influence Juan dela Cruz Band is to them, and went on to introduce Joey Pepe Smith to jam with them! I was so starstruck when I saw him that I just said "Oh my God" while getting goosebumps all over my body. It was a fangirl moment I didn't really expect. Classic.

"All you motherf*ckers better be drinking tonight!"

Marc would talk to the crowd in between songs, asking for a smoke or another glass of scotch, acknowledging friends who came, and bantering with the band. Many a time he got his bandmates (particularly Boogie the guitarist and Inky on keys) to drink alcohol while the people cheered for them. I also can't remember how many times he thanked the crowd for coming.

I knew now why my friends love this band. They've got charisma, they act on stage like how they would off it, and they knew they'd be nothing without the people. Playing a 22-song gig for free is enough proof for that.

Instant convert

Towards the end of the set I am an instant convert. I stood there, still holding the first volume of their fourth album and the posters that came along with it, quite thankful that I didn't have a phone on that day. Had I known that my friends aren't coming, I wouldn't have too--and heaven knows what I would've missed.

I somehow felt guilty that I haven't supported this band early on, when I used to see them on MTV Pilipinas. However, I know that this band isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Like what Marc Abaya said over and over in that anniversary gig, the most annoying thing you can ever ask a band member is "May banda pa ba kayo?" because a band is supposed to just keep going. For Kjwan, the past ten years is just the start. 

They capped off their set with the song, "One Look". This is the only Kjwan song I can sing along to, and it's the song they hate (probably even to the hate levels of Radiohead towards "Creep" or Led Zeppelin towards "Stairway to Heaven"). But heck, I don't care. I still sang as Marc gave the anthemic chorus for the crowd to sing, already looking forward to the night that I'll see this band again.

For my Jane

Back in my happiest era I used to believe that Maroon 5's best album is Hands All Over. Now that I am a bit older (and sane), it's Songs About Jane.

Songs About Jane is an album of sadness on different shades.

One of my favorite songs off that album, Tangled is a song about how one lie led to another until the singer can't get out of the mess he made.

Hands All Over is this crazy, danceable album filled with songs about love, sex, and basically, putting your hands all over someone. It was my life's soundtrack during my happiest. They were the songs I listened to when I was so happy and in love. I even suggested that he give that album a listen and he did. He even asked me what's my favorite tune. It was Stutter.

Now I can't even bear to listen to any song from that album.

Look at me then! I was a twenty year-old about to finish college in the best university in this country, who entered a job where I was a stellar employee, and was madly in love with the best love I (n)ever had.

Then reality struck.

I was too happy flying over the moon to even notice that I was falling down. That there will come a time that I'll get too tired and just stop. Stop being crazy about my job, stop giving a damn about the world, stop explicitly communicating how much I still want to dance with him to the tune of that album.

Now look at me, wallowing in back episodes of Sherlock on weekdays and vinyl records on weekends. Typical life of a lonely person.

I've been listening to Songs About Jane a lot, but only now have I met "Jane". Jane is that person who we let go but shouldn't, that person who we try to move on from (but apparently couldn't), that person who went away for no reason at all, that person who don't see how much love we have to give, that person who we'd love to take on a Sunday morning drive, that person who we choose to stick to even when things are going crazy. Jane could be a single person, or s/he could be a mix of different people we met in the duration of our short, crazy lives. Like what happened to Maroon 5, Jane is that person who inspired you to pursue what you are doing right now. S/he is who made you that way.

This is the reason why I love Songs About Jane: because it's written like a love-letter, or a break-up letter, or a mixtape made with tears and heartbreak, depending on how you look at it. It's like, "Hey Jane, you tore my heart, spat on the pieces, and threw them out of the window... but I still managed to write an entire album about you." If that's not true sacrifice, I don't know what is.

Now I'm sitting here thinking of my Jane. He who I wrote one too many letters for, he who inspired me to do what I do now, he who I would still choose to be with even when things are going crazy. He who went away with no explanation at all.

Kevin. Kevin is the name of my Jane.

I have come to realize that no matter how much you love your company and the people in it, you will still grow tired and yearn for your first love.

I have also come to realize my fear of being stuck with what I have now and not being able to marry my passion. I fear making decisions that I will regret forever.

So earlier I made a lockscreen photo:

Pardon the expletive, that is just to emphasize the intensity of my desire for what I really wanted to do.

Writing, Music, and the so-called "financially unstable path" I'll get back to you. And we will prove them wrong.

I am starting to forget bits and pieces of you and I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

The other day I was talking to my cousin about you and I was surprised that there are some anecdotes about you and me that I can't remember in detail anymore. I forgot how old are your sisters, and the reason why I remember you when I hear Aaron Carter's "I'm All About You".

Maybe I am finally starting to forget you and I didn't know it would be like this. I didn't know that no matter how hard I try to guard these memories, they will still be taken away from me. I am still not ready to let go of the things I knew and loved about you. I don't think I'll ever be ready to let go of the way you touched my hair, or the way you smiled at me, or the way you made me laugh.

This is one of the most painful things that I have come to realize so far--that there will come a time that I will forget the sound of your voice, and heaven knows that that is one of my greatest fears. Right now I just know that it's a bit low pitched, and I can still play it on my mind but it sounds like a cassette player running out of battery. Does it sound a bit like Benedict Cumberbatch's? It is a bit low-pitched but it's not that low... Or is it?

I hope I can write an optimistic ending but with each passing day my memories of you are slowly being replaced by the things I pretend to make me completely happy, when in truth I am tired of being alone. I miss you so much that it hurts so bad. I miss you so much and I feel so stupid because no matter how hard I tried to say it, the message never seems to get to you. People close to me see that my heart is steady, but only two of them* know that I still hurt so bad that I can't sleep properly. Right now I am torn between what I feel and all the shit you did to me. I am afraid to forget the things that made me love you, but I am also afraid of being treated like crap again. I don't know what is more painful: enduring the way you make me feel stupid every time I try to tell you how I feel about you, or forgetting the sound of your voice along with all the reasons why I loved this very person that treats me as trash right now.

I am not sure if you will get to read this, but I hope you do. John Kevin Charles Pastor, I really hope you could remind me of the sound of your voice again.

*those two being my Lola A and cousin Racquel

Why I hated 30 Seconds to Mars

I  put the 30 seconds to Mars discography on shuffle and came across a beautiful song titled Alibi. It's my favorite Mars song, in fact, i love it so much that I thought to myself "This probably sounds good on vinyl"... so I ordered a picture vinyl of the This is War album from their website. (It is the most expensive spontaneous thought I've ever had so far). But I was right. I am currently listening to it now and thanking the heavens for conveniently making Alibi the first song on side D.

I just landed myself into the Echelon, which is the organized fandom of 30 seconds to Mars. So organized that they have a name! (I was thinking of the name for Kasabian fans, and I remembered there's none haha) Seriously, this fandom feels like a mafia. More appropriately, a cult.

But before that landing into the Echelon was a struggle. I first encountered 30 Seconds to Mars in a discussion with my friend Kevin, when he entered it as a query in whatthefuckshouldilistentonow.com. They had a concert here in 2011 but I can't be arsed. I remember saying to my cousin, "I can't seem to find respect for [30 Seconds to Mars]." Here are my reasons why I didn't like this band for a long time:

1. "30 Seconds to Mars is an emo band." Also lots of screaming which is too loud for my liking. Apparently I haven't listened to Alibi back then.

2. "Jared Leto is an actor. And what, he's trying to sing?!" I never knew it's possible for an actor to be an extremely f-ing good singer and songwriter. Hey, don't blame me, I'm from the Philippines.

3. "The frontman and the drummer are brothers. You can't have brothers in a band, that's Oasis." We all know that Oasis wins any given day.

4. "They look like they're trying too hard." Remember the time when Jared had a mohawk and dyed his hair in a funny sort of way?

But those days are over, people. I think I'll treasure this fandom more now that I have realized that the band is so damn good, because I really tried. In fact I think they are now officially in my definitive top 10 list of greatest bands ever (even if they're American hahaha). You know what made me listen to Mars? Watching Fight Club. Yup, it's weird I know, but Jared is one hot space monkey.

PS. In other news Blogger is being an evil little psycho villain for not letting me set my default font and resize photos. I HATE IT

Strange Days

The last thing I remember is being controlled by my friends to my room and falling face down on my bed.

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It was your birthday the day before. I sent you a greeting via text but I thought you were too ungrateful to say thank you. Or maybe you just didn't receive it, after all I'm living in the blind spot of cellular networks. I sent you a message on Facebook instead, you said thanks, gave me your new mobile number, and told me about your new job. All is cool.

------

My high school friends planned a get together. I offered our place so I can do whatever the fuck I want without having to worry how to go home. We ate, we drank, and got extremely fucking merry. It was as if tomorrow we will die.

-----

That girl probably didn't even know when your birthday was--she just greeted you because she saw in her timeline that you were thanking people who greeted you. Then you said you want her to go to your heart? Fuck that lame pickup line. I am a fan of Sherlock and I find this situation rather amusing and annoying. I have arrived at the conclusion that you publicly display these shit to hurt me. And that is never cool.

It's crazy that you act strange around people the way I act strange around you. But I guess you're batshit crazier for doing that to hurt people.

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The moment I saw a box full of booze, I instantly knew that this is gonna be a long night.

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I didn't even care what I was drinking. All i know is that everything seems nice when you've been alone and sad for a long time. Spending a night with my friends is a break from talking to myself. I see the words in the sky that I want to say to you but I am already too numb to.

I think I already had way too much but I don't care.

------

I was talking about you and how you hurt me, and the ways that I probably hurt you too without me being aware of it. I guess we will always be like that. You will always be the person that hurt me the most, the one who will continue to hurt me, the one who was *this* close to being the one. And in many ways, maybe I am that person in your life too.

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One of my friends excused himself for a while to make a phone call. Apparently he and his girlfriend were celebrating their second anniversary. It was all cutesy words and music and stuff that we overheard. I used to want to do those things but now they repel me.

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Now I am listening to The Doors, writing this blog, and believing that I am completely sobered up. For the past two days I didn't have to worry about my insomnia because El Hombre took care of that. I just had to nurse a massive hangover the next day. In those hours my head was too painful to care about you.

Now I kinda understand why sad people drown their souls in alcohol.

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I woke up with my gay friend on my bed the next morning. I think I missed out on a lot. I slept the entire day. My head is throbbing like fuck.

I puked and flushed my dental retainer on the toilet. Damn.

I took a sick leave yesterday to take care of my heart. Or maybe just some time on my own is what I really need.

When I went back to the office everyone was asking me how I am feeling. They were asking me if I am okay. Some are even delighted to see me! Isn't that awesome.

I guess life really is beautiful if you know where to look.

I am KC's Tiny Heart

Today I am having my first sick leave ever.

I wasn't really very sick. I've been having an upset stomach and minor headache since yesterday and I am afraid to eat anything because I am too lazy/tired to barf it out afterwards. I don't know what caused this, it's been a long time since my stomach has been a hyper acidic piece of organ randomly floating in my body, but that's kind of how it feels like today.

For me this is more than just a sick leave. This is a manifestation of something more going on inside my head. Maybe the emotional turmoil is just too much to take that I am starting to become physically ill. Once again you have affected me in a way that's beyond the threshold of my tiny little soul.

Your photos are up again on Facebook. Congratulations on your face. Congratulations to your parents for having such a pretty son. Congratulations for still having the same effect that you did to me three years ago. And congratulations that another chinky-eyed girl noticed that angel face of yours.

Forgive me because I loved you even if I am not chinky-eyed. Forgive me if I want to kiss that face of yours and at the same time destroy it, Fight Club style.

I am KC's misplaced jealousy.

I actually think that your photos are meant to put me on an emotional tsunami and it actually did. I just filed a sick leave just to take care of my heart. You win. Those photos are everything that I want to forget. Your piano, a jacket (probably smells as good as it did before), and a car that looks like it was about to fly (with the help of jetpacks of course) and break into the second floor of a building for a high-end car show. Those photos are so... You.

I am KC's unwanted memories. I am KC's lack of will to forget you.

I am KC's rational self and I am telling KC to move on. There's no need to wait for an answer or any form of communication from you because it will never happen. Nothing shouts closure more than your lack of desire to communicate even though she told you she loves you twice (even thrice if you read her well enough). But KC won't listen because it's her nature to hold on to something familiar for as long as she can, and right now there is nothing more familiar to her than her thoughts of you.

I am KC's desire for a closure.
I am KC's complete sense of disappointment.

I am KC's crushed heart. I am KC's doubt in the power of love and everything she used to believe in. I am KC's mind that you have transformed from a starry-eyed hopeless romantic into a monster who shut herself down from the very ideas she used to write across her heart.

I am KC's love slowly turning into hate. I am KC's fear of love slowly turning into hate.

I am Glad I Asked That Question

I am glad I asked that question.

Yesterday my church had a Love, Courtship, and Dating seminar. During the time that I was a staunch believer of love a destiny, I don't miss events like this. Yesterday, however was different. I had thoughts of not attending because 1) I'd rather sleep and then watch Pawn Stars and 2) I thought I knew everything I need to know about love. They'd just tell you the usual: don't rush into things, if your heart is broken there's someone better, yadda yadda.

I only attended because my favorite pastor is the speaker (well not really my favorite "Pastor", if you know what I mean haha). It was a fresh revelation to me, and a lot different than those LCD talks I attended before. He presented the realities of love and the responsibilities of life and presented them in a light way. There was a Q&A at the end, and it was also a good thing that I was forced (kinda) by my leader to ask a question.

"What if a Servant of God falls in love with someone who has a different faith?"

I thought I already knew the answer to this one: "don't." And then goes on to quote 2 Corinthians 6:14--"do not be yoked with unbelievers".

But he gave a fresh perspective on this: the reason why St Paul said this was because there are unbelievers even inside the ministry during that time. "Believing" is not about what you tag yourself as--it's about your relationship with God. One may say that he is a "believer" or a "Christian", but does not look and act like it.

Being born-again is not about what church you are attending, it's about accepting The Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior. That's the basic premise of being a believer. The pastor added, and I quote: "I have Catholic friends, but they are Born-Again Catholics."

What he said lifted a burden off my chest. Thank God for pastors that understand. :-)

"Kumusta love life?"

Whenever I am having a conversation with a friend, family, or an acquaintance that is cheeky enough to ask, this is my most dreaded question. This question has come a long way from being the one i am always hoping someone would ask to being a question that I hope would never be brought up. It has been two and a half years.

Now that i have realized it, i never had a decent answer to this question. For the first part of those two years, i had been giggling like a schoolgirl whenever i am asked. I think of a conversation we had recently, what i think of as your lame pick-up line, and how i prevented my stomach from exploding with butterflies. Then it came to the phase when that event happened but we're still okay. Then the phase when you're in law school making it the perfect excuse why we never talk anymore--"ah, he's in law school so he's kinda swamped right now" then referring to a "recent" conversation that happened two months ago.

And now this phase. When it's time for that question I hear a shrill sound inside my head, like a boxing match has been declared as over and it's time to leave. "Kumusta love life?" Unbearable silence. Crickets.

Recently my ex-boss asked this. He knows about you. i told him I've been in emotional limbo for the past two years, so he said that i should talk to you and ask you out and it doesn't matter who makes the first move--it's better than waiting forever and getting nothing. I should make sense of this pointless waiting. Either your heart is broken or you'll be happy. Simple. Rather than breaking your heart every day because you don't know the answer.

I just hesitated to say: Believe me. I've been trying to know the answer for what seemed to be like forever.

Lots of people ask me this hastily, but there are also those people that ask out of genuine concern. Lola A would ask: "Kumusta na sya?" and with the silence that I give she already knows the answer. She knows that you made me happy so she'll say she's praying for us. Ninin, meanwhile is entirely different. She'd ask for details and ask me what I'd do next. I'd tell her i don't know. She'd then hug me virtually and say I know how you feel. She's the only person I trust enough to believe what she said is true. My ex-roomie Erin is another.

Yesterday Ninin and I had this conversation again. She asked: "sya pa rin?" And I said, "Never namang nagkaron ng iba eh." Half of me pities my self for not having moved on while the love lives of the entire world's populace have gone through a lot. The other half commends my self for being strong and showing that I don't give a flying f*ck despite the fact that I still cry whenever I write things like this.

I don't know what this question is made for. It's just fishing for information on someone's private life. For me it's torture in the form of words. It's a question I avoid like the plague.

But deep inside and in all honesty, God knows how much I also want to have a proper answer for this question. An answer which i am also sure of.

Maybe my exposure to optimistic pop music caused me to be like this. The Beatles told me that all I need is love. Jason Mraz's I Won't Give Up is my lifelong anthem. Westlife told me that love can build a bridge between your heart and mine. What I didn't know is that telling someone that you love them can also bust that bridge up.