(this is a long-ago letter in my Multiply account. I do not need to elaborate to whom I dedicated this letter to..)

To R,

The last time I saw you was sometime in the last quarter of 2007. We just smiled at each other and exchange a few words. I was then thinking of our last meeting before that, where we updated each other with plans and goals for the next months ahead. You even reminded me of our arranged gift-giving for the holidays. We were happy, then. Or, maybe I thought that we were happy. I don’t want everything to be clouded by my insecurities and regrets, but I still want to believe that we were happy.

That was our last meeting.

A few months later, I can now hold my head up high and think of you with a bittersweet smile in my face. The defuncted gift-giving no longer happened, and I no longer cared to point it out. Okay, maybe I still do. But sue me, I am so proud.

Sometimes, I would pass by a certain place and remember the fun that we had together, the conversation that passed, the songs we both shared. Those were the times that would provide me with a bittersweet smile in my face. I wouldn’t deny that I would be overwhelmed with regret and depression everytime I think of you. I was always filled with ‘what ifs’. What if I just give up my pride and maybe we could just go on with what we’ve had all along? What if we hadn’t had that second-to-the-last meeting?

No matter how many what if’s I write, of course I could never turn back what has happened. No matter how long I stare at your profile and will you to think of me, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t have. And who am I to hope anyway. For years I have known you and accepted who you are. I have learned to cling on to whatever friendship we had shared. It was friendship, right? Or am I just imagining it all along? You did enjoy being with me, right? I haven’t forced you. Maybe I did, but you know you always have the last word with everything, and I am your most willing disciple.

There were moments wherein only my willpower is the one that prevents me from saying ‘hello’ to you. I know you are just a click away. But I won’t. After all, you haven’t done anything to bridge whatever the gap that has develop between the two of us. Our relationship seemed to have been in a standstill for the last few months. Do you miss me? Do you miss laughing around, fooling around with me? Because I do. I doubt if you even think of me. But I hope that you do, I hope that somehow our friendship meant something to you.

But despite everything, I am greatful for getting to know you. Despite our continued ignorance of each other, I clung to the memories that we’ve shared. Bittersweet as you made me, I know that I still hope for you to go on with your life, to find your dreams. I hope that you find the inspiration that you have always sought, the passion that you always complained to be missing. I wish that you would get along with your environment. I still wish you this, despite the fact that you haven’t even bothered to wish anything for me.

If by chance we bump into each other again, I would still end up giving you a smile. Maybe a few words or two. I have no idea what you are going to tell me. I don’t know if you are still planning to continue what you had said to be the late-holidays celebration. Maybe you would surprise me. You’re good at that, at surprises.

If by chance we won’t ever meet again, I still want to wish my hopes and wishes for you to be granted. After all, you are a dear friend.

And I am missing you, really.

When people would ask me about my lovelife and learn that I am still the same, that is, still single since birth, they only have one comment. Don’t worry, it will come, you just have to wait. I want to scream at them, I went to say stop it. Don’t comment about my status. Don’t tell me to just wait. I would rather accept a no comment reply, or I would rather have you change the topic than giving me that pathetic answer: Don’t worry, it will come.

Because it is the same comment that I receive from people, over and over again. The same comment that I want to haul back at their face. They do not understand me, my situation. They, for me, are the Others. They are content with their own lovelives, bashing all over their boyfriends, their dates, their affairs. They must have forgotten that no-so-long-ago, when they are nothing but a single chick like me, they moan and whine about the unfairness of their own lovelives.

But the moment that they have found their own respective partners, they turn to me and say, it’s not a big problem you know. So why the rush?

Fuck.

I want to ask them, have you went an operation lately that the anesthesia they have provided you caused selective forgetfulness? Have you forgotten the endless nights you’ve spent calling me on my landline, ranting to me how pathetic you are because your beau is not giving you the attention that you crave? How you promised that one day, when the time has come that you would find a boyfriend, you’d help me find my own?

Why then, when you had already left the singlehood association, when I am relating to you my own pathetic grievances about my lovelife, would you turn to me and say, just wait, okay, it will come? Why do you berate me when I tell you about my pathetic existence, and even had the nerve to tell me that I should not dream of having a boyfriend because it will only provoke tears and pain?

Yes, I am angry. Because people tend to look at this situation in a nonchalant way. They would say that it is not really a problem. They, who are happy to snuggle in their own comfortable lovelives. They, who have someone to hook up with every Friday, or every weekend. They, who have that special someone that they need to look up to during valentine’s, christmas and even new year. They, who have someone whom they could call and rant their own personal problems with. I am not saying that having a significant other is the perfect solution. Of course, there are problems that can be encountered also. But look on the bright side. You have someone.

Think of that single person who visits the club on her own, dressed in her best dress, sitting in the bar, trying to look calm and poised, when all the while she was praying that there would be a man who would be brave enough to talk to her, or buy her next drink. Think of that single girl staying at home during weekends, curling infront of her television, watching endless episodes of her favorite series, or romance movies, crying her heart out, memorizing all those sappy love quotes and feeling like the movie is written in accordance to their situation. Think of the business-minded career woman who, because she cannot change her lovelife, decided to concentrate on climbing on the executive ladder, to show the male population that she is unaffected, that she is powerful. Think of the woman who suddenly decided to go to the gym, or to social gatherings, because she might meet her partner there. Think of the single girl who cries to bed at night, who spends the last remaining minutes of her day asking God to show her the man that was meant for her.

You don’t know don’t you. All of you in-a-relationship friends. You think that every single girl in here is happy, while in reality, we are all looking for that significant other. You don’t understand the emotions of a single girl when she would rant to you her depression, her never-ending questions as to why she is still in that status. You have no idea about that, of course. Because all of you are too wrapped up in your own personal affairs to contemplate the feeling of loneliness, of despair, or being alone. Of course, the moment that your relationship begins to crumble, the moment you are dumped and hastily returned back to singlehood, you decided that you feel their pain after all, the pain of being alone, of being single. You decide to mingle with your single friends, because they knew how it is to be alone.

So, the next time you ask a single girl about her lovelife and she replied on the negative, do not say, it will come. Just don’t comment at all. You are rubbing pain in the wound you know. Or better yet, just change the topic, if you do not want us silently wishing your relationship to break apart.

 

 

 I choose to privatize this entry for the sole reason that somebody might get hurt with this.

 So here’s the thing, I do not want to hurt somebody with this entry, it’s just that I intend this as a mere observation only. An observation which I haven’t shared to those concerned, lest they would get hurt with it.

 When the rich and famous encounter problems, I guess they sort of go crazy, or wreck other people’s lives. Okay, I’m talking here about the sort of Paris Hilton, Britney Spears type. The Booze, the pills, and money are overflowing. Gimiks everyday, all night partying, going home in the wee hours of the morning quite wasted. Sometimes even involving themselves in an accident in the freeway. Oh, maybe even forgetting where had they parked their automobiles last night. Not to mention several packs of nicotine.

 They’re rich, and they’re famous. They think that just because they have that money, some of them are not in the corporate world, but are literal bums for the matter, they have the right to do this.

 While in reality, they are no one but parasites to their families..

 I mean, who would like to forever shelter a wasted person who has no direction in his or her life but to be seen in the hottest club scenes in town? No one. Erase that, yes there might be someone, but please. Grow up. It’s okay if you are only in your teenage years, but if you are already approaching thirty?! (rolling my eyes..) Good riddance, just f*cking grow up.

 Face the facts kiddo, your parents are not going to support you forever. One day the karma is going to be go back to you, ten times fold. Be responsible enough for your own actions.

 For the other party concerned, you too,should need growing up. I mean, please. You are not exactly setting a good example to the young ones. You are the only one they have. I am not condemning you being in the hottest events in the metro. All I am saying is, be more responsible than what you are right now. Quit the pills, quit the booze. It’s not as if you are not responsible enough, for you are, and I salute you for that.

 Your world are so f*cked up, and that’s scary.

 Hoping that your type would find their senses, and be responsible enough for your ages.

I attended the wake last night for Ernesto Santos. He was my lecturer for Math 64, the course I took the summer of 2001-2002.

He died last friday, June 20, 2008. Some of the Math people had said that it was due to kidney failure. A few years back, he already had a kidney operation.

I just learned the news thru one of my contacts in multiply. Instantly, I sensed my desire of wanting to be there. Scratch that, the need to be there. Even though he might not remember me as a student, even though Mrs Santos might not recall my face from one of the hundreds of freshman college students that she has thought Math 17, I felt that I had to be there.

And so I came.

Never mind if I had no blockmate whom I could snag to come. Oh, a friend asked if I have plans staying there for long, and if I did, she would have followed me there. But never mind if I realized that some of the Math people on the wake were not my close friends, nor my crowd when I was college. But still, I needed to be there.

I needed, to pay respects to one of the most respected professors in the Math department. Even though he might not remember me at all, he had been a part of my college life. I remember the three and a half hours of my first summer class as a Math major in UP. We had weekly exams. We would go to school every day, five days a week, at seven in the morning, with only a fifteen minute break. It was not an easy course, and when other people would have the summer of their lives resting and lounging, we racked our brains, with calculus.

I remembered my classmates and I wondering with awe with the ease that he had when he does a perfect circle, without even using a string to do so, the dotted lines in the chalkboard that he seemed talented in, and which it took a lot of trials for us to figure out.

He was one of the known (or was it the original?) Voltes V team: Mr and Mrs Santos, Sir Agapito, Sir Noli, and Hermosilla (hmm, did I got that right?). He had this strict demeanor in him that would make one ordinary student frightened (?) of him, but it was always bordering with respect for this professor. Some Math faculty had commented on the jokes that he used to give whenever he was invited to make a speech in the department. Jokes delivered, with a still, serios manner, but would make the audience laugh despite themselves nonetheless.

I seldom write entries like this, but as one of your math students, I’d like to dedicate this entry to you.

Thank you Sir Ernesto R Santos.

 

I did the unforgivable.

While I hid his site from some of a close friend who asked the url address, I never had a chance to refuse my officemate’s request on seeing his blog. I wasn’t able to use my excuse that that site is too personal, or too emotional, for him, and yes for me.

I wasn’t supposed to discover that blog. It was for his personal and private use. But since he has already posted a link in it in Multiply, I figured, well, he created a link there, so maybe it’s okay to browse there every once in a while.

And I allowed his site to be condemned by a third party.

Whenever I feel depressed, or in a desperate need of uplifting, I try my best to find a really really good book. And his blog entries lately made me comment to an officemate of mine how I wanted to buy a book, like right now. I said that when we were going to the Patio to buy lunch.

During lunch time, my officemate asked me for the url of that account, so she could visit it. And I was not able to refuse her.

She read the entries which caused me pain for the past few days. I cringed. This is bad. This is to personal for him, too emotional, and too hurting for me. And yet, here I was showing it to a third party who don’t even know his name.

Her reactions to the posts were an ego-burst for me. “Duh, men..no, not men, boys..”

“They never grow up, this is full of OA..”

I told her, had she learn my private blog, she would condemn me the same words that she has condemned him. BUt she replied, “but you are a girl, we tend to be too emotional. Boys tend to be too OA..”

As an unconcerned third person, her verdict was, that he wasn’t liked by the girl. For a mort hurtful term.. “nandidiri sa kanya ung girl” let’s ace it shall we, when a girl learns, or feels that a guy likes her, if she doesn’t like him, she will draw a big fat line, she will ignore him, as if he doesn’t exist.

Which is basically what I have done to some guy just a few months ago. I ignored his advances til he felt like crap.

My officemate said, the entries are nothing but a gramblings of a guy who is ignored by a girl whom he loves, and that he felt that much cravings for the girl because she could never be available for him.

To make the most of her blunt scrutiny, I then asked..”So what am I? An ego-booster?”

She replied, “Maybe, he really is for friendships ake, but yes, you are his ego-booster. Since he can’t have the girl that he likes, he’s obviously going after someone who is crazy for him, and you’re letting him getting it. You’re not contradicting his advances you know. You are encouraging it.”

And so I was like, woah, that was a snap, a painful snap in the side of my head. I was snapped back into consciousness. Her words might be hurtful, she might not have known him at all, but her meaning went straight home. Why would I pin for someone who is for another person? He is making a crap out of himself. He has to move on. It’s trashy, men, Boys are not supposed to be like that.

“But he is, and he is never that exact person. “

“Exactly, which is the reason why you should think of this as nothing. He just can’t over the fact that he’s dumped. Do not dwell on that. Like move on?”

I got the wake-up call that I needed. Yes he is in love, but just like me, he was pinning over someone that he can’t have. And so what if he really like that person? There is no way she could like him back, he was honest about that.

And I cannot do anything about it, right? Except pretend that I do not care about it all. So he’ll be using me as an ego-booster. Let’s see.

Through my officemate’s view, I was awaken to my senses. Haha, at least for the time being.

My officemate remarked, “Till next blog..”

That’s right. Because I’ll be following the chronicles of his infatuation, and thanks to my officemate, I managed to see the situation in a different perspective.

 

 

I told a friend yesterday that from now on I shall be censoring my entries in my Multiply account, which I had been thinking of doing for the last few months. Because, well, the entries here can get a little too trashy sometimes, particularly when I am in the mood to just rant. And my rants can be a little too emotional, really.

But heck, why would I want to do so? That was me, then. I was just being truthful with what I write. I never kept a journal, and my blogs seemed the perfect outlet for me. I have always been an aspiring writer, so even though my compositions can get too bummed out sometimes, its my way of expressing out myself and my anger.

Where is this going? Nowhere it seems. As like my previous entry here, I am still in a state of shock. Damn. Of course I have known it all along. And damn me, it was a hammer that I keep on thumping in my head. I’d like to quote Meredith Grey when she has said “Why do I keep on hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so damn good when I stop!”

I am being masochist. I love dwelling in the pain, and the hurt that it forever causes me. Nah, this is just the weird personality of me speaking out, the weird, crazy, insane and bummed out me. But really, the pain I keep on inflicting on myself seemed to deepen my wounds, which in reality, have never ceased to heal.

The last few months have been a whirlwind. There were news that I have heard from friends that took me by surprise. All the while I keep on asking myself, why only them? Why can’t anything new happened to me? I was in a position where in I am currently experiencing a mid-life crisis. Funny things is, I am just 23.

Damn. I need a distraction. I was too engrossed with catching up with other people’s lives. In doing so, I see myself being frozen in time, and I hate being so. I questioned my position for being so. It’s not as if there were no distraction that passed by. There was, for a time. And I am honest enough to say that I have been a little too distracted, and tempted, that for a time I thought that this could be the one who will take away my hammer.

Come on, I am just sidestepping the real reason why I suddenly decided to write this entry. But, I am honest enough to accept the fact that I am still on the stage of denial (and endless hoping) in thinking of it as otherwise. After all, how could it not? I am just here, sitting in my own comfortable couch, when the world suddenly decided to spin, and I was caught off-guard with its turn.

But with each passing day, I am learning to accept the inevitable, which I should have learned a long long time ago, which I refused to accept because my hammer really is a good hurting device. Really, I should have moved on a long time ago. And yet, condemn me, I did not.

Sorry Cha, I was paranoid. And I was too hard-headed for my own sake. Should have listen to you, should have just ignored those blinking orange lights and go with the green light.

I revel in the pain, because I thought that when the hurt is too much, it will then become a tingling, almost enjoyable sensation. But it did not. And it can never be. So, the thing is, since there will be no one to come to take away my hammer, I will continue hitting myself with it, until I finally get into my senses, realize that I have hurt myself too much. It will, I hope, come to a point where I can no longer accept more pain and more hurt. It will come to a point where I would realize that there is no one who can pull this hammer away from me. It has to be done by myself alone.

Until that time will come, the hammer will continue hitting me, until I force it to stop.

I hope it would be anytime soon.

 

I have an entry like this one in Multiply, written almost one month ago, that is pertaining to another person. He was the one whom I now consider as a summer fling. Looking back, he was indeed a summer fling. It all started in an overnight swimming, and had ended in another overnight swimming too.

I would like to say that I haven’t got any hard feelings for him. I would like to consider him as a friend who occupied my thoughts for the better two months of the summer of 2008.There were no hard feelings for the little flirtation that I had engaged with him. Never mind if he had a girlfriend, never mind if I spent the better half of my monthly cellphone allowance just so I could reply to his everyday messages. At least he had distracted me.

I now write this entry, not because of him. But because of another person.

Of course, who am I talking about this time? I won’t say a name, nor a clue. But for those who have known me for quite a time, they would know who he is of course. Let’s just say that he is that one person who will always be a big part of my life.

He never walked out on me. But literally, he was away. And I chose to distance myself away from him for the main reason that I do not want my whole world to revolve around him, the way that it did exactly one year ago. I had been in heaven-and-hell the whole of last year. I was thrown into a roller-coaster ride that I had willingly climbed myself into. It was exhilirating, and destructful at the same time.

I tried my best, not to contact him. Last year, I couldn’t resist the urge to invite him out on a movie, on a dinner. I cannot resist the temptation of even sending a forwarded message to him. I was that infatuated, that crazy.

That was then. Of course, I could still feel the urge to do so, every once in awhile. But his being away helped me cure this addiction, this insanity. I was forced to look at myself, and realize what a fool I have become. I do feel the same way for him, of course. I don’t know how long I would be like this. And yet, at least, now I am slowly coming back to the surface. I now figured, I have already collected my broken pride.

During the last quarter of last year, I have done things, said things that I wouldn’t have dreamed of saying and doing when I was young. I opened my heart and mind to the consequences, let my innermost feelings be exposed. It took me quite a long time to find myself together after my revelation. I was in my most-downing moments. I never thought I could be myself again.

But I did. Even if that person (to whom my entry of the same title in Multiply was dedicated to) and I no longer communicate with each other, I would be forever greatful to him, for he had helped me in picking up the pieces of me. He helped me, with his attention, his flirtation. I was for a time, enarmored by him.

Now back to the other guy, I dedicate this entry to. He was, and always is, a good friend. If comes July and he would decide to contact me, I still wouldn’t know how to act around him. Maybe I would remain the same of course, while in mind there is the thought that despite my friendly attitudes, he have known that I have fallen in love with him, even after all these years.

But, even if we still see each other, I am now wary. For underneath my apparent enjoyment of being with him, was my knowledge that he had already fallen in love with another, and that I no longer have any chance with him, no matter how hard I pray and will for it to happen. It is the tide, I cannot swim against the flow.

He was in love, and I believe he still is, to a girl whose identity I might never know at all. In my mind, I hoped that it was me, but that is only the crazy part of me, hoping to find the needle in a haystack. It could never be me. The painful part is, he has hovered his affections for her for the same number of months that I still haven’t move on, the same number of months wherein my pride has been shattered.

I vowed that I will move on, but pardon me if I would dwell on those moments wherein I cannot help but take pity on myself. And yet somehow, I know, little steps at a time, that I am moving forwards..

I know I have already said this a gazillion times before, but perhaps I will never fall in love again with the same intensity as I have fallen in love with him. After all, this was been seven years and counting. There are bitterness inside me, I know. But there is no longer regret. I have done everything I could. If fate would not let me be together, I am at least thankful that it has given me the opportunity of getting to know him.

Yes, he was my almost lover. He never knew that of course. But for every little meeting that we have, every dinner, every exchange of news with each other, I have always hoped. Now, I shall throw this hope to the winds, because that is all there is, false hopes.

But still, let me say this.. “I have loved you…and thank you..,”

Speaking of Dreams, I am going to write here about my dream last night. I am on the verge of being in control right now. So far, so good. I have not shed a tear last night., and if this is going to take one little bitter step at a time, so be it.

Back to the dream. I dreamt last night. I haven’t been thinking about him for a long time. Yet in my dream, I remembered vividly everything. I remembered how he looked like, his smile: those thin red lips of his smiling. I remembered his bod, and it won’t help that in my dream he wore a sleeveless sando that showed his perfectly muscled torso.

In my dream, he had been looking for me, and I was with my high school friends, asking them to help me escape from him. I hid everywhere, but he have the means of having a friend who had a motorcycle, whom he backrode in.

Still there? This might sound a little crazy, but in my dream he tried his best to find me, which did not occur because I tried my all to hide away from him, right to the point wherein my high school friends decided to tell me that I have to face him right then and there.

And so after a couple of hide and seek, I did show myself to him. And I vaguely remembered how I must have felt when he had smiled at me.

I told my friend yesterday that he did indeed have fault on me, and yet I haven’t erased him in my contacts in Friendster. Yes, I admit that there was a time wherein I have been so crazy about him. He was this guy, after all, who had made me smile for several months.

Honestly, I wanted to remember how I did fell for him way back. He was this guy, whom I had considered to be way beyond my reach. And he was, literally, way too out of my league.

What the hell am I doing? Yesterday I read his blog stating about his dream with a girl, and now this? I am writing an entry about a guy? Ha…Let me, please. It’s okay. I am in denial. I know.

Back to the dream. In my dream, he asked if he could see me regularly. I think he must have asked if we could, get together sometime. And I was happy. Because I vaguely remembered how he was so excited because I agreed on dating him.

Now where is this going? Nothing perhaps. But I just want to write a thing about it. And, at least, make a reminder that even in my dream, some other guy had made me smile.

Thank you.

I have created several blogs in different sites in my seven years of being a web addict. I have my private, semi-private and my public blog..So what is this anyway? Would this be any different from my motime? multiply? or blogger account? Ha, I don’t know!

I am a blog addict. I never keep a diary, nor a journal. Or maybe, I did. Erase that, I do. There were some scraps of notebooks being left around in the house wherein I poured some of my innermost and most embarassing (and hell-raising) secrets indeed. Just hoping it wouldn’t be read while I am still alive.

So, what do I do now? Aside from the fact that I just created another blog in this world that I have no idea what I would like to put..Hmm..since I can no longer access my blogger account, might as well put some of my posts there here..

Admit it, I am just on the verge of being a stalker mode again.So what? Condemn me.