We’re on the middle of our conversation when I noticed the glow in his eyes as he keeps on talking about the best days happened during his high school years—the same glow I visualized as my cheeks kisses the brown table and I’m staring at him; he’s doing the same way. Is love bloom?

This time, the glow I’ve seen is not compassionate as it could be; it hushes forbidden spells and secrecies, and it’s not calming ’cause the chill mends my bones way up to the death and afterlife. He’s like Pluto—a cold, icy dwarf planet farrest to its neighborhood and very distant to telescope’s eye. Dwelling with blueprints and lost souls, I gave my purest tons of heart out in exchange of pounds of brokenness and pain… finding my company filing for bankruptcy since the time I invested was wasted with the man I once thought a paradise but a man of heavenly hell.

Everything shrinked after I smoothly waved him a goodbye… and I guess his expensive perfume won’t make its smell on his clothes last long—the same way I visualized our story as my feet kisses the marble-like floor and I refrain myself from staring at my back; he’s not doing the same way. Is love bloom? Yes, it is… but our love withered and got rotten after, just like his nuances in making promises.

A faith turning into something I murdered in my mind
A desk once served as a hideout underground
A barricade of nuances commanding what heart feels
A motorcycle claspering indenial secrecies later turned into a magical blab
A dance for the first and last time with a song accompanying yells and teases
A spot where two joints meet and keychains’ a jealousy
A lusciously mad machine thirsty for weekdays
A diary where pages nor chapters not exist
A film restoration
A story with unclear beginning, no indefinite ending
A remarking history of unmovable pain and sick laughter
A careless hand touching tattooed wrists made with gel pen
A reporting unintentedly reimagined to be a romantic show
A series of unfortunate events
A dream of hows arousing inside my navel
A soul sleeping when the party has just begun
An affection mixing affliction, forsaking rejection, renewing the meaning of realization

A tree
A sadness
A comfort room
A withered mind
A stroke of pen
and
a name starts with letter A

January 1, 2021
2:04 AM

Everything feels like it’s safe to greet this night (or day) a “Happy New Year”, or so, I can’t withstand what 2020 has brought to me, like, I got to commemorate all of my sudden grief once emulsified under one roof from March when COVID-19 pandemic struck until December with full of tragedies and hopes happened. It’s like, everything’s safe at least (for now)… but I’m not rooting for what the next days will bring to me ’cause I’m afraid to expect even like it’s not possible for tragedies to happen again. Sadness do kill me from time to time, and, there’s no reason at all for me to say that I’m happy, ’cause in reality, I am not.

Like, for how many times do I let myself be guarded with such sayings like “everything will be okay” if every single day, bullshit strikes all over the place, and what only my eyes can see are toxicity and imperfections, and I’m about to suffer and bring these things I swear I don’t want to carry ’em ’cause I’m tired. I’m tired of seeing same faces with same attitude ’cause it makes me sick. I’m tired of having this pretentious smile when deep inside I’m always grieving and I do want to quit. It’s just I can’t breathe and there’s nothing all I can do but to keep my eye straight to the bullet and just leave those trances out of me, like, there’s a hundred chances for me to die early. Honesty, the reason why I still have this gist to live my life is just of being afraid to be gone while everything’s not fine, for at least, I need to surrender what life God has brought to me since He can’t answer my questions and I’m in doubt, like, I will not experience myself to be happy and to be loved again. It’s a miserable thing I wish I could escape from this body, and wish for flowers to bloom right after I passed away. And, to think I’m saying this on the first day of the new year goes like, I want it to be ended fast and vast, no questions asked.

Waking up every single day turns out to be a burden. Yeah, really… everything has changed. I’m afraid to take one step, 365/365 if I feel like I’m dying even on Day 1. I forgot how to smile. I’m overfilled with darkness. Pain is my salvation and Earth is a distraction.

There are no places to hide. There are no spaces to settle back. I think it’s the fate who attracts me into revolutionary fall and I’m out of the loose and my pigments can’t be rubbed to someone’s face again. It’s a shame.

I do know exactly what will happen after a day, or even this year. All I need to do is to keep my mouth shut.

I came into having this note that I should settle down for good, like, we’re embracing the upcoming new series of our lives—and I guess having these dark-toned thoughts from yesterday is not a perfect idea to color the future deeply than what is should. Sometimes, I’m lost and I knew exactly where’s the map to bring myself back again, but that’s what I do not want to do. There’s more than searching for a time capsule buried in a forbidden land for hundreds of years. There’s more than learning histories of love when we can’t understand until now why we should find and ask for love. There’s more than of giving yourself a turning point or revoking your card or effing do wickedness or be mad of what stupid world and stupid people wants you to be. Hey—stop chasing over someone out of his priority ’cause you’re not his liability; you’re beautiful to do such awful thing.

You should not love him. You should not love yourself. You should not love your imperfections and your flaws ’cause they’re the reason why you’re crying and about to all day long, the way you should not go with the flow with the river of life ’cause living without a plan is a soldier with shield and without a gun. (Said Mr. Bumper, and I’m against of what he said.)

What I should note then to myself is to settle down for good—not settling for less; not settling to uncover stress. Like, I’m in the new series of my life.

A new decade.

New hope.

New frustrating moments.

New questions without exact answers.

New psychopathic turn-aways.

New normal, and new abnormal.

Endless fights.

Winning battles.

A pair of scissors.

And ounces of hate stored in a jar.

‘Cause that’s what real life wants us to be. All you need is to settle against fakeness. The world seemed disingenuous but we can be rare and real—and I guess only few can understand.

April 7, 2021

7:54 PM

So, it has been a long time since I created a Blog after revamping this Site and just compile it into a mini book series called “YOLOista Tada” (if you want to check it out, you can visit my wall on Wattpad by checking out this link: https://www.wattpad.com/800374380-yoloista-tada-the-kabolangan-stories-of-a-boring).

2020’s a tough year, isn’t it? Well, I do still see 2021 as the next chapter of 2020, though. Being stuck in our houses for a year together with your toxic family and neighborhood, and dealing with them every stupid, single day actually made me feel like I want to just leave my sentiments for me to die early. I cannot go outside since it’s Enhanced Community Quarantine in our province… they extend, extend… and extend! I’m not that sure of the things that will happen after a month or two, but I couldn’t help myself but to cry while thinking when will COVID-19 pandemic stop.

I’m already tired of doing the same thing every day, and I wish I can go to other places like the way I used to do before to unwind and chill even for a while, but… ugh! I want to disappear, right now!

I also feel like I’m getting weird as the day pass by. I do stupid things ‘stead of being productive. I haven’t started anything yet, it’s already one year since the nationwide lockdown, and my graphite pencils are not still sharpened. I actually made a sketch of Ariana Grande last October, but, I’m not that satisfied; my drawing sucks. I just wish I can go back to my high school days when I used to be inspired on different things, like, they’re the subject of my landscapes, or I gotta draw some funny caricatures of my classmates and teachers who I found so cruel to me.

I actually miss the days when I yell to my classmates to greet them “good morning” though I’m 15 minutes late and my teacher in Introduction in Philosophy will stare at me for about 5 seconds and she will let me in inside her class afterwards. I hate the crowds during breaktme, but this time, I feel like I want to go to our canteen and just order spaghetti while beating the heat and other students from different grade levels will then turn into a bunch or cluster of lice, and… lo! WILL SHOUT TO GIVE ME A PLENTIFUL OF SPAGHETTI WITH EXTRA SPAGHETTI SAUCE!!! Arrrrrgggghhhh!

I also want to go to the places I visit after school, like in my classmate’s house, patios, Booksale, Miniso, school grounds, Alfamart… ugh, I also miss my friends! I actually asked Jemima yesterday if we’ll be going to Clark for me to join her for her on-site interview in Concentrix since she’s looking for a job… but her schedule’s full ‘cause she’s also busy doing schooling. I also miss Jaelene, huhuhu. I also miss eating cheesecorn with them or Cup Noodles while we’re in Alfamart, and we’re digging up some junk foods and artificial fruit juices or yogurt. I miss listening to my friends’ stories with their exes, and I’m kinda also tell a story of mine but it’s all about my crushes and how I became stupid because of ‘em.

Lockdown’s a total mess, hay-ya. I wish everything will be back to normal. Today’s world is a #newabnormal, anyway.

(I’m so sorry if my wordings were like… eh, I’m not good at making blogs!)

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton