Sabi nga nila: Emoterang Frog.

Ito yung mga panahong gusto kong uminom sa isang hotel. Yun isang kwartong may veranda. Tapos mahangin sa labas. Sa ilalim ng napakaraming mga bituin. Malamig, mahangin tapos si Eraserheads yun background music ko. Tapos mag isa lang ako. Nakatingin sa kalawakan, hawak ang bote ng San Mig light sabay inom. Tapos iisipin ko lahat ng mga problema ko. Ang kinabukasan ko, ang karera ko, ang pera ko, ang likhang-isip na pera ko, ang bar, mga nanakit sa akin, ang mga taong sinaktan ko din, ang mga taong nagpaiyak sa akin, ang mga taong pinaiyak ko din, ang nangako sa akin, ang mga taong pinangakuan ko din, ang taong minsan kong minahal, ang taong di ako minahal, ang taong umiwan sa akin sa ere, ang taong iniwan ko din, ang taong nagpatawa sa akin, ang taong di ko kayang patawanin, ang taong pinagnasaan ko din, ang taong ugh...wag na lang..., ang mga taong di naniwala sa akin, ang mga taong pinaniwalan ko masyado, ang mga taong akala ko hanggang sa huli makakasama ko pa din, pero mukhang may kanya-kanya na ding mundong ginagalawan at balang araw kakalimutan ka din...

Ayun, sa dami ng gusto kong isipin mukhang kulang ang isang gabi at 3 bote ng San Mig Light na kaya ko lang inumin. Pag lumampas ako sa tatlong bote, baka katukin ko ang mga taong naka check in din sa hotel at baka isipin nilang immoral ako haha.

Ayan naman kasi ang sakit ko. Isip ako ng isip. Kahit hindi dapat pinagtutuunan na ng pansin, gusto ko pa din isipin. Ampanget lang di ba? Masakit sa ulo. Nakakatanda ng sampung taon.

Tumawag kanina ang isang kaibigan ko. Inaaya ako sa Rockwell, birthday daw nya. Kaso nga kakambal ko sa mga panahong ito si Juan Tamad. Gusto ko ngang uminom, yun uuwi ng bahay ng basag. Pero tamad din akong magbihis ng magara,magsuklay at magpaganda. Gusto ko lang uminom ng kape, nakapambahay kamukha ko si Inday, at humarap sa computer at magsulat. Ng walang kakwenta-kwentang bagay. Bakit ba? Walang basagan ng trip. Gusto ko lang makipag-usap sa sarili ko. Buti nga hindi malakas  ang tinig ko e.

Eto na sa sana yun parte ng panunulat na ito na magkukwento ako ng drama. Yun mga karanasan ko sa buhay. Yun mga hindi ko karanasan sa buhay. Eto na sana yun parteng kukuha ako sa kaibuturan ng puso ko ng emosyon at isasaletra ko. Ang kaso, nakakadiri na ako. Emotera. Oo nga pala, hindi ako si Nora Aunor sa mga pelikula, yun babaeng inaapi at pinapaiyak. Lumang tugtugin na yun. Ako si Darna.

Tingin ko lang.
Mas mahal ko ang sarili ko na masayahin ngayon. Yun  marunong ng lumaban. Yung hindi kinikimkim lahat ng galit. Yun may pait pa din sa puso, pero dinadaan na lang sa dasal at pagtawa at harinwa'y balang araw makakalimutan ko din ang mga bagay na nasaktan ako, at marunong magpatawad.

At tingin ko, mas mahal ako ng mga kaibigan ko ngayon dahil mas stable na ang emosyon ko? Ewan, tingin mo?Aaaay wag na lang.

So ayun nga, mabalik ako sa veranda sa hotel. Hawak ko pa din ang bote ng San Mig Light. Mahangin. Malamig. Gusto ko sanang umiyak. Kaso naisip ko. Tangina! Kadiri ako bipolar na nga, iyakin pa. Di na.

Ayoko.

Echusera.
Emotera.
Yuck.
Itigil na yan.
UNGAS.

When I Grow up I Will Want you.

For example:hahaha!

HUG-WHORE

This is an open letter to my future boyfriend/flame/fling/fiance/husband or whatever you may call it:

Dear You, (for lack of a better name hihi)

  You are one lucky son of a bitch exclamation point!!!

   Imagine bagging me, the last girl standing. Either you are one lucky son of a bitch, or you've done something really good in your past life to earn this good karma like feed the people of Somalia, or you just didn't know what really hit you. Ha-ha!

   So I'm in my room bored outta my wits and I had to decide between popping my zit or writing you a letter. The first one was really gross and painful so I decided to write you instead (yes, writing you a cheesy letter isn't gross and painful-just one degree less than that.) So I decided to write this just to inform you how lucky you are, to warn you of the days to come, to tell you who i am ,and who i am not and just how lonely your life could be without me to fill up your days and even your nights. Yes, that's how you spell Confidence.M-E. Me, honey, all me.

   You are lucky because:

1. I am not ugly. Not gorgeous, just not ugly. Simple as that.
2. I have a brain. I'm not brilliant, I just happen to talk some sense. You know, not just a one-liner jejemon talk, but a complete sentence with a subject-verb agreement even my grade school teacher can really be proud of.
3. I read. I am the way I am now because I read a lot when I was growing up. From Sweet Valley High, to Komiks to law books, yep, I read. Well, I'm not exactly rich in experience but the things I learned, I learned them through reading. Would you care to strike a conversation with me? Oh honey, don't worry we can politics and Piolo Pascual in the same breath.
4. I run. I care for my body because I want to look and feel good about myself, and for you. I don't want you to be looking somewhere else when I talk to you. I want you to look me in the eye, not look into someone else's breasts. Well, ok fine you can look at someone else's headlights because mine aren't exactly huge, just try not to feel someone else's breasts for that matter would you?
5. I don't like malls, I hate shopping. Well, ok hypocrisy and all. I hate shopping just because I don't have shopping money and I am loathe to think that I can stand there lost in the sea of LV's and Chanel's and my head would throb from the pain of not buying anything!  But, but when I do have money I still hate shopping just because I just do.
6. But I love doing the grocery. I love grocery stores. It's a total turn-on, pardon the French hihi! When I was a kid I've always wanted to own a grocery store where I can play both the role of a cashier and security guard. I like the security and the comfort the grocery store gives me like I'd never ever go hungry. Aaaah, you say that's mendicant psychology. Maybe it is, oh but you love that about me!
7. I am funny. Which, by the way made me fall in love with you because you're funny too. But sometimes my humor borders on the sarcastic, so pardon me if I throw biting remarks at you. Think of it this way, foreplay baby! Kidding.
8. I write. And I promise you I'm gonna write you often. I'm gonna send you BBM's, text messages, email, YM about the most mundane, absurd things like how I like it when you smile for me, like how I love it when you put your hands on the small of my back proprietarily, like how I love it when the sun hits your hair. I'm gonna put letters in the most unexpected places just for you, and you can betcha my ass some letters will even make you blush. Ugh, are you scared? Now, I'm stalking haha!
9. You're lucky I don't cook because if I did I'm pretty sure you'd be really fat by now. Ha-ha! Fine, I thought I can get away with not cooking for you. I'm gonna learn-learn to cook the best dish God intended a woman to serve a man: ADOWBOW!  (no pun intended.) :)
10. I'm charming. If your Mom doesn't approve of me ,(but of course she will!) but in case she doesn't I will charm my way into her heart. If she still can't fall in love with me, well, she can go screw herself. I still want you though.
11. I have a brother who I take good care of, and so that's a preview of how I'm gonna be taking good care of you too-only not in a brotherly fashion. :)
12. I have a Mom who is dying for me to give her a grandchild. Don't get me wrong. Eventually I would want to have kids too. Preferably within wedlock. But let's not talk about kids, que sera sera...
13. I have  a good command of the English vocabulary so when I introduce you to my friends I'm not going to merely refer to you as my boyfriend. I'm gonna say "Meet ___, he's Rich!" See, my Thesaurus is up to date. I'm kidding I told you I was funny! And then when we fight you wouldn't only get to hear English cuss words, but you're gonna hear a lot of expletives even Manay Lolit Solis would shudder to hear. Plus the fact that I can cuss in Filipino, English, Ilocano and Ibanag. Take your pick honey. I never said I was born a lady.
14. I am a HUG-WHORE. So anytime you need human warmth and human touch, honeeeey, let's get physical?! (yes, hear me purrr!)
15. I am clingy when I want to be clingy. But I am also independent. Lest you go thinking I will be destroyed and break down in case we break-up, no I won't. I've lived without a man in my life the past 32 years, what makes you think I can't live without you? I'd cry, I'd be devastated. I'd put ASSHOLE in your middle name, but given time I will move on. Because I am strong and independent
16. I have great friends who love me and I like spending time with them. Before you go thinking you can't stand being with whiny bull-headed women , nope, you won't be invited when my friends and I go out. I can't share them with you. Our time together is sacred, besides, you don't really want to hear about their babies and their sex lives do you? And I expect the same from you. You can hang out with the boys. You can go drink with them, if you decide to go whoring with them, at least try to get protected. And I do expect you to go drinking with the boys, so never expect me to report to you what drink I had too. Do not expect me to tell you all my whereabouts, but don't worry, you're probably going to see it on Facebook anyway.

          FYI: Yes I drink, but not that much. Just when I feel like it which isn't most of the time. When I drink I
          dance wild. Errr, lucky you.

     17. I'm not a shoe person. So lucky you! But I have a thing for bags. Unlucky you!

     18. I'm very jealous but I tend to keep it to myself. But sometimes when I can't, expect me to throw
          caution to the wind and to tell you to fuck-off. Lucky you, that can probably feed your already over-
          sized ego.
     19. You're my first boyfriend/fling/flame/love of my life. So don't go breaking my heart.
     20. You're lucky I'm crazy in love with you. And when I say I love you, there's only you- you
           lucky  son  of a bitch! :)
          
                                                                                                        Love,

                                                                                                        A.











 






  

CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE DRAMA QUEEN



WARNING: This is a confession of a teenage pudgy drama queen who's really queer. So unless you want to remember what a nightmare your own high-school was, stop reading this rubbish. This isn't for you, go read your own copy of Johanna Lindsey, Cosmopolitan or FHM, because I'm telling you, I don't paint Megan Fox in your dirty imagination with this post. Capisce? :)

For some people, high-school was a nightmare they can't bear to remember. For me, it was bliss. :)


High- school in the province was fun. I lived by P18 a day in school and my huge appetite couldn't handle the stress of a measly sum so I always had headaches because I was always hungry and I was poor. Ugh, go figure! My sunshiney , bubbly 10,001 words-a-minute gave me some kind of "popularity." That and the fact that I was talented, and i hang-out with the coolest kids in school. (Yebah!)


One of my fondest memory in high-school was performing infront of a crowd to the tune of Smokey Mountain's "Paraiso" doing a music-in-motion. Yours truly was the lead. I was dressed or undressed to the nines. I played the role of a scavenger ergo taong grasa and i rocked my dirty-foul-rat-infested costume!Oh by the way, did i mention i was an exhibitionist? The icing on my cake was eating spoiled spaghetti beside a dead bird during the performance. Yes, i lived-up to my role!I had to, i was the best actress! Nyahahaha!


It was also in high-school that I had so many crushes, Oh dear gaaad I was such a whore?! I'm kidding! I had too many of them I can't remember their names now, or why for the love of God did I went gaga over them?


But there was this one boy. His smile was the cutest. I was in my first year, and he was a senior. He was tall, fair-skinned and he had the nicest dimples when he smiled. But he wouldn't even look my way nor give me the time of the day because he was too engrossed with his own lovelife that doesn't include me. (this is the moment to play Taylor Swift's high-schooley juvenile songs) But then one day he did, notice me, I mean. It was, i think, in the afternoon after class. My friends and I were hanging out in the hallway when he passed by. He , of course , wouldnt look at me. (By the way, I was short, 140 to 155 lbs, fair skinned, obnoxious, bully and well, I wasnt exactly a Miley Cirus look-alike then) My friend and I were walking along the corridor when bam! my cute heavy ass and I were on the floor. I was sprawled all over FROG-FREAKIN-STYLE! for the world to see! He was right in front of me, and Lord knows I flashed him my yellow-colored So-en panties!I wish i could have flashed him my gorgeous smile instead, but nope, not me, it had to be my panties. Dear Lord, why didn't you just kill me, or better yet, why couldn't i have worn sexy black panties instead?hahahaha!Boofreakinhoo!


Fastforward to the JSProm. I didn't go on a diet for that. I preened and I preened infront of the mirror, but to no avail, I didn't lose weight. It was a great night, aside from the fact that I had to ride the tricycle to get to the School gymnasium. No, don't be snob and judge me and my lifestyle then. It's not jologs, instead let's use the politically correct term, yes, it was very "down to earth," darlings. When i got there the air was filled with anticipation. The girls looked a lot like baby Debbie Gibson, and the boys tried hard to catch some of Vanilla Ice's coolness. Haha! The young couples stayed true to love, they danced and stared long and deep into each other's eyes, drinking at the sight of their partners, promising happily-ever-after. And I? Well, I sat there in my frilly lacy dress looking like a beautiful wallflower. I vaguely remember anyone asking me for a dance. Either the boys were too busy chasing after their crushes, or they had no taste, or...or they were busy in the boy's room staring and admiring how good they looked in their dress shirts and necktie. Teeeheee!


So yes, I would grudgingly admit I was that wallflower in high-school. But lest you go crying for me Argentina, no don't. It was a drama-filled four years of my life, but one I wouldn't trade, not for anything, in this world.


So many things have changed after high school. Many have gotten married, and those that aren't are trying desperately to convince the married ones that we, our kind? We are fabulous without the diapers, the dirty socks of the husband on the floor, and without the fear of infidelity breathing down our necks.


I'm still that girl in high-school, a klutz, hypocrite, loudmouth and a lot crazier.


But...


If you look my way now, I'd PROBABLY look and stare back at you, and PROBABLY flirt with thine eyes. (eeeek!)


If you ask me to perform "Paraiso" again I would probably do it in a heartbeat, one that would make Urian proud.


If you ask me to dance now, I wouldn't only dance the polka with you, I'd give you a pole dance, one that would leave your mouth hanging open. But first, you have to pay for my Pole-dancing lessons! Now, we're talking...:)


If I fall flat on my face right infront of you now, I'd die inside, you'll probably laugh at me, but I'd make sure ,honey, in case I flash again, I'd make sure I'm wearing sexy black panties just so I can save up some of that Ibanag pride!


See, it wasn't so bad. :)

Thank you, 31!

I just turned 32.

I realized 31 had been an eventful year for me. I laughed, I cried (a lot),ran, travelled, skimped, splurged, made new friends, made enemies, made money, and spent it. I guess I survived 31.

I have a lot to be grateful for. Big things, small things, they're all the same. I lived on God's gift and blessings and I want to say thank you.

Thank God I am alive.

Thank God I am 32.

Thank God for my Mom and my brother, the two strongholds in my life. I guess it's true what they say, a mother's love is unconditional. This amazing woman has loved us through our best and our worst.

My brother, my brother who makes us weep with pride. The exact opposite of me. With all his achievements, his ideals, his respect and passion for the law, his love for the women in his life, I thank God for him.

I am not a big fan of my father. I don't talk to him. But for what it's worth, thank you for giving me life. You are part of the reason why I am what I am today. I am far from being perfect, but I think I'm awesome! :)

My family, my great supporters. We have had our differences, but I know in my heart of hearts, they love me.

My friends.

My bestfriend through the years. My protector, my shield, my friend, my nemesis, my shrink. Thank you, for just being there.

My Casa 401 girls. You keep me sane everyday, and when I'm not, you let me be. I know you know I am bipolar. But you seem to take a great hold on me. Thank you Casa, you work wonders. You are my chicken soup to my very disturbed soul, you are my Prozac, my tranquilizer, my drug.

My law-school and college and high-school friends. Evidently, I am not only bipolar, I am also neurotic. Not clinically, just self and friend-diagnosed. You keep reminding me of that fact about myself whenever you get the chance. Thank you, at least I know I am accepted that way because you still talk to me.

It's been an eventful year. Wanderlust was a great influence in my life. It didn't matter whether I had money or none at all. I had been the good escapist with the itch for travelling. Hakuna matata! Thank you seat sales, you rock!

I've always wanted to be a sexy star., you know, like some scantily-clad starlet gyrating her teeny-tiny hips and washboard-abs on some noon-time TV show while young and old men swoon, pant and drool and gets a hard-on. Haha! I'm kidding! I've wanted to lose weight so this year I tried running. Bless the Ayala Triangle Garden where my running career started. I found my other great love. I loved every minute of running. Drenched in sweat and stinky as hell, it doesn't matter, all I know is that I am happy when I run.

Oh and since I am ambitious, I've also joined some fun races and fun run. Of course I didn't place, my legs aren't Navalta's, they're just mine.

Sure enough I lost some weight. But no, I still can't qualify for those noon-time or gag shows. My age does not permit me to do so. Haha! But I'm telling you I can dance, and I'm hot when I dance. Chubby or not. Capisce? :p

My job. I don't really wanna talk about my job except Thank God I have one. And I've met some friends through my work. Ne-va-da babies, you are dear to me.

This year I had also been a Facebook junkie. I found new friends. Oh oh and here's the big part! I also got unfriended because I TALK too much! Well pardon me if I speak my mind, I just have a hard time shutting my trap when I want to make a point regardless of whether I am right or wrong.

I also missed acting. I was once good on the stage wayback in school. I wasn't only good, I was once great.I don't know if I'm still good at it now. It's my fault, I never really pursued it. It was all about the money. I know I will regret it for the rest of my life. But I will always love the theater.

I also discovered two things about me. I'm a flirt when I want to, and I'm very jealous and territorial in all things. And I don't like it about myself.

I also made some enemies. You just can't please them all.

I had an interest in photography, but photography and my bank account had no interest in me. Pffft!

I had also been smitten for a while, and then it was gone too soon before I could even blink an eye.

But it's alright, I had lessons learned.

1. know the difference between being friendly and being flirty.

2. If you don't, don't be afraid to ask. Study.

3.know when lip-service is being given. don't swoon over it.

4.it's true that things may not turn out well for your bruised ego, but it's ok. Put on a quick smile for the camera. One, two, three, say SHIIIT! :) no I meant Cheese.

5.Forget about it and now at least you know. And then pray that you never lose faith in man, woman, love...especially MEN.

I still want my tattoo. But I'm afraid! ;p

To my friends who will be reading this, there you go, you say ah-ha! You know me, what I can't say out loud, I write about. You may or may not agree with the way I put things but that's ok, we don't always have to agree with each other. Thing is, I know you love me. :)

So there, that about sums up my 31.

Help me, stay with me, laugh with me,laugh at me, cry with me, cry over me,fight me, fight for me, hold my hand, hug me, drink with me,drive me crazy, drive me wild, run with me,run beside me, pray with me, talk to me, care for me, love me as much as I love you, at 32.

Happy Birthday Sisa Girl, Betty Boop, Gege! Long live the Bitch! :P

BOOB-Tube Boo-Boo'es

I went shopping yesterday. For someone who is not a big fan of shopping (except when it involves shopping for food!),I had quite a nice time buying some stuff for running. I needed some dri-fit running shorts, socks, and a sports-bra, you know the bra that would work wonders and support my very, verrrreeee flat boyish chest.

So why do I need to talk about my non-existent chest? Well for one, it's just breasts. Two, I'm shameless. And three, yeah, I'm just really shameless.

So I picked one, medium-sized, but this sales-clerk looked me over, wise-ass and all, and bluntly said "No Ma'am, small ka." Not because I was small or of petite frame, but because them babies are just really, well, small. Maybe, extra-small would even do? Haha!

I took no offense for it. I am not under the illusion that my babies would ever be a Nicole or even a Pamela. They're just well, mine. :)

You see, not that I like wearing low-cut dresses or tops. But if it's there then I'm ok with it. I don't ever have to feel self-conscious, my bra can do the peep-show for all I care! Because no matter how hard you stare at it, my cup size won't ever grow big overnight. No matter how long you ogle, a cleavage won't ever pop-out to tease your dirty imagination.

They're just breasts. No big deal. Well, yes, some starlets would probably drop their skirts for anyone who would sponsor their boob-job, transvestites would blow big bucks to get them done or through the pill, and I think that's great. They're happy that way, plus the fact that their men are happy that way-you know, filling them up, I think.

And then there's the entertainment industry which sells beauty and vanity to the highest level. People, especially men, may snicker, jeer, guffaw or ogle, but what the hell, what do we care? It's their boobs,and it may be spectacular! So I say, you go girl!

What about those women who are stricken with breast cancer? I know of some friends and family members who were stricken by it. It had to be removed to prevent the cancer cells from metastasizing. I feel for them, and I admire their courage.Losing a breast to cancer will not make you any less of a woman.

What about women with small breasts, like me? Oh well, Like I said, there's not much to see down there. Accept it. If you can't, get a breast implant. If you can't afford a breast implant, drop dead. If you're too scared to get it done, shut up.

But as for me, I'm gonna have to live with my breasts and my small-sized bra. Oh and in case you were wondering, no I didn't buy the sports-bra. Ha.Ha.Ha. :)

SPEECH...POWER!!!

I love my friends. I know their faults, but still I love them. But there are limits to loving a friend. There are certain rules, both written and unwritten, where you set boundaries. There are certain ideals where you don't meet eye to eye. You may fight about it, but then you make up afterwards.

A few days ago, in one of those social networks, I stumbled upon a video posted by a friend on her wall. It contained a video of a harelip cleft palate child who was singing. Of course, his speech can not be understood. The person responsible for uploading the video wrote a disclaimer. It said that the video was not meant to harm or mock the child, but merely to showcase his "talent." Bull.Shit. I am known to be feisty and emotional among my friends. I do not deny this. When I saw that video, i was outraged. How dare that person. Shame on him. I don't know why my friend posted this on her wall. I can't read minds. But it was insensitive, tasteless and tacky.

I feel every child who has gone through or is going through the pain of being ridiculed in public because of their speech defect. I was that child too. I remember, way back in gradeschool, I used to go home to the arms of my Lola crying and weeping my 10-year old lungs because my schoolmates and my neighbors tease me "ngo-ngo" and mimic the way i talk. During parties, I get treated like dirt, I get the ugliest gift best suited for the ugly girl. I don't get to join the chorale, because, of course, who would understand "ing-el Ells?" Everything changed when my Mom enrolled me in Speech Power. I was that mousy, shy, scared little girl who had no self-confidence when I got in the program. Two months after, I came out a different person. I was still shy and scared and mousy, but my speech improved a lot. From then on, I spoke to my heart's content, 1000 words in a minute, 5,000,000 words per mile. Haha! :)

So there, I feel you, babies.

And in my own way, I will champion your cause, our cause. I won't stay quiet when we get ridiculed. It doesn't matter if I lose a friend for it, because, maybe she was never a friend in the first place. I will fight them, come hell or high.

Smitten: A War

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."

-- Gilda Radner

The thing with me is that I am totally dense when it comes to relationships and men.Yes, I did go to school with boys, rode in cars with men, drank and cursed with them but I am still at a total loss when it comes to their kind. So yes, I don't know when to take them seriously, and when to say it's all a game.

I didn't know that they can make you feel like the sun shines and sets on your ass one minute, and they can make you feel like an aging junkie the next. Yes, without a warning. I didn't know that they can pay you lip-service like a hustler one time, and then drop you like a hot potato the next. Yes, without a warning. And just when you think you are beginning to fall into that trap, bam, they're gone in 60. Yes, still without a warning.

Or maybe it was all my fault. I had this picture in my head of a lovestory that was more meant for the big screen than in real life. That i had these illusions that maybe, just maybe, there could be a chance. I don't even know how it started or why, but "our" story ended so bad...it ended when it has not even started.

Fine, my bad. My fault. I should have known the written and unwritten rules. Rule number 1: Never take a player seriously lest you want a broken heart.

But do let me be juvenile for awhile. I've been itching to say and throw spiteful words lately I just might die if I don't get to say it. I think a man would really prefer to be with someone with a pretty face and a warm hot body than be with a smart mouth and a witty brain. I mean, really, if I were a man I would do to. There'd be a soft cushion to lay my head on, rather than an overthinking brain, right? Who wants to go to bed with a brain and have clinical sex with it? Certainly, not even I would. If i were a man, I would want to go to bed with endless smooth legs. But come to think of it,sooner or later, one way or another, you're gonna have to have an intelligent conversation or at the very least a decent conversation with a woman. You know, a conversation that wouldn't have to include a "wahahaha", "jejeje" or a "toinkz" in between every sad pathetic sentence.
It is kinda sad to lose over someone who you think is beneath you. Ok fine, I am being an intellectual and social snob. That's because I am. Plus the fact that I am hurt. Fine, there, I said it. I am. I have a bruised and crushed ego that wouldn't accept the fact that I've been fooled. And here I am, vulnerable as a lamb, claiming to be smart, when I, clearly am not. FUCK. ME.SHIT.

Next time, oh no, there will be no next time I hope. I hope I'd be smarter than my age. You know, one who wouldn't swoon over a sweet word and a sweet smile. Lesson learned.

Sabi nga ni Bob Ong:
"Hindi porke't madalas mong ka-chat, kausap sa telepono, kasama sa mga lakad o ka-text ng wantusawa eh may gusto sayo at magkakatuluyan kayo. Meron lang talagang mga taong sadyang friendly, sweet, flirt, malandi, pa-fall o paasa."

Yes...my bad.