Then it is impossible to look into your subconscious.

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Why am I so obsessed with you?

You. I hate you (given this situation only).

You just don’t… you just don’t do that.

You just added a big big big point to why I shouldn’t ___…

When you do something I dislike so much like what you just did, you become such a bad person in my eyes. Such a jerk. You just don’t do that to me.

I start questioning myself. How can I even have feelings for you?

That was really, really rude. That was just wrong. 

Should I even tell you how annoyed I am one day? It’s going to be awkward, you’re going to feel so weird. It’s not that I would force you to do something you don’t want to do, but you don’t just change the schedule when everything is already set!

The more I shouldn’t ____…

The more I really shouldn’t. In fact, it was that ___ time of last year when suddenly, every single day, I would have a problem with you.

What on earth?

How can you have the nerve? How can you just suddenly change it? Are you just that stupid?

And do you think asking “Is that okay?” is going to make me tell you, “No, it’s not okay,”…?

And to think that if you knew about the truth behind me, you’d turn so conceited about it.

So… Wow. That’s just great, thanks a lot.

Thanks a freaking lot. What have you ever given me in return? Friendship isn’t an equivalent exchange, but this is just annoying.

(I need to find more friends, fast.) 

So, what’s up?

A certain project

Since I stopped being a class president in first year, I stopped stepping up. I stopped being in charge. So, from being used to being the leader, I stepped down, to being used to avoiding the leadership.

Then yet again there was no other choice but for me to lead.

I was really pressured before my group met up, but when we did, I was relieved. It was just because I felt that I was so responsible and that people would look to me and I would have nothing to say.

But they just kept talking. I’m glad I’m with idealistic people.

Class secretary

Even if I haven’t given the class directory that’s been long overdue, I still do my best anyway. I should fix our calendar, though… I’m still the same kind of person who doesn’t want to be judged, so I have to fix all my tasks…

Still the president of an independent amateur choir

We have a plan. I arranged the whole medley though it doesn’t have much blending. We need to practice, though. We will perform this. I’ve been passionate (my seatmate called me obsessed) over this performance, and I hope that this will really be a success.

Wrote an opinion column released four days ago

I just felt more iffy every single time I reread it. But I felt better when people gave me positive comments. But it hasn’t been read by “dangerous” people yet. Deep inside I’m just scared. But I’ve been told that “as long as I can stand up to my own opinions and what I write”, I should really be fine.

Struggling to kill expectations

When I know something good will happen to me, I overthink. I overthink really often. And when it’s something like that, goodness. I’m expecting so many good things to happen and I’m fantasizing and I need to stop. I’m just going to get disappointed and feel heartache.

ACET this Saturday

I’m sorry but I didn’t care at first, until my plans for that day ended up having something my mom would consider a distraction from ACET’s end until the end of a night musical. That’s around 10 hours. So I decided to really study just so that my mother wouldn’t tell me that I got distracted. Wrong motive? Without it, I might not try as hard. They don’t offer Accountancy courses anyway (I really should have written Management Engineering first).

I still react the same way.

Maybe on a different degree. Maybe not as much. But I haven’t been subtly startled like that in some time. Most probably because I was so secure.

I can just be so insecure. Security is so important to me. Security is linked tp control. I just need to be in control with at least myself.

I have no desire to control other people, but it might be a domino effect from wanting to control what happens to me, yet at times I let Fate decide.

I felt it a while ago yet I can’t completely describe it as I try to recall. I would describe it as ache, but it was more of a surprise. Something unexpected? 

Definitely a sign of insecurity.

I think of consequences right after something bad happens to me too often. Come to think of it, do I also overthink when good things happen to me?

What if you drift again since the number of your acquaintances increased yet again? What I’m really just here when no one is left?

If I did the same to you… No. We’re different. You probably won’t react the same way. No, you won’t.

Emotions can be so unpredictable even when you think you know yourself too much already.

At least, with regard to the people involved, I’ve been able to try acting normally.

You don’t even have to be the direct cause of my being startled. It can be as bad when it’s just initiated by other people (like just now). But everything is still directly linked to you.

It’s because you’re the only one.

Just watch me find more people to be with and I might just overcome these reactions… in the future… if I actually wanted to.

I haven’t felt this kind of bitterness in a long time.

I’ve even gotten goosebumps.

It’s a form of sadness that pushes me into the pursuit of finding out: who, why, how.

I still feel these things.

And I’m turned into selos mode.

It isn’t heartache… A little heartbroken? Not really a crack.

It’s probably when I don’t know something that I get somehow hurt.

This hurt, or this sadness, it seems like an emotion without depth. 

I might be a control freak and I might be manipulative, but I don’t want to lose this grip.

Necesito evitarte mucho.  

Seeing you with other people just hits me. I’m supposed to hold that big space, yet I feel like that space has been taken away from me.

It’s as if I always need to know. 

It’s really funny how I’m more affected with this compared to… that. Illogical.

I just…

Don’t want anyone like me to get that near to you.

I hate you. (Parent-sensitive readers… Don’t read.)

How dare you throw away my first Chatime cup.

How dare you do anything. How dare you even breathe.

I loathe every single drop of saliva that sticks to my cheek when you traditionally show affection and I hate, hate, hate that custom so much. I only return it to be customary. I hate it so much.

You go against all my principles and you are the epitome of the male species with whom I would never interact.

And yet I told you that I loved you on my 17th birthday and you still fucking tell me that I don’t love you and I shed so many tears and I told you I wanted you to a better person ‘cause you’re fucking rotten.

Don’t use health as an excuse ‘cause that makes you so weak then in all other aspects. If I had a health condition (yes, I know I cannot say much, I know I have no right since I don’t actually go through what they experience, but I can still feel), I would use it as a source of strength to accept whatever comes. I’d actually appreciate the extra care given to me.

If you can’t be a doctor, why not be someone else?

If I couldn’t work, I’d take up Music and be a conductor. If I couldn’t leave my house, I would stay at home making crafts or sewing. If I couldn’t move, I’d still do something. 

You possess no honor at all. 

I would commit suicide if I end up like my mother, ending up loving someone like you, ending up marrying someone like you, rotting with you.

When have you been like a father to me? Just when I was a kid?

When have you been able to protect me even if I did not need it?

When have you been able to provide financial — provide anything?

You consume everything else more than I do. Sometimes, I have to eat unhealthful things just so that you would lose the opportunity to consume them. You take away many of my things, and think that you can replace them when in fact it’s the very act you do and my sentimental value for the object and not the very material thing that matter.

They say that it will all come back to you. Every second spent with both of us alive, I understand that my hatred would pierce into his soul, yet he is alive. It may just be like a dramatic ending — I might just one day be good enough to accept everything.

But let me be.

I can’t be perfect. I’ve gathered enough confidence myself already. I can sing solo, I can sing in a choir, I can write (in certain styles), I get high grades, I can report, I can (can) be friendly, I understand good morals…

Everyone has flaws. There are people who may be entirely good, yet they don’t realize their flaws.

The meaning of my words would never get to you. You never understood the gravity of my feelings. You would smile, laugh, brush them off with pride. It makes me more irritated.

You complain that I don’t share stories with you? What did you do in the past whenever I would share stories? You would always say something negative!

You only have yourself to blame! 

You make promises yet you end up breaking them. I would want to record your promises so I could rub them into your face.

You don’t deserve to see the fruits of my labor. You don’t deserve to see me perform. What have you done?

You see, I would call you useless. I would be cruel.

I am a cruel, horrible, daughter of a father. Just one time, one time, I saw you haggle and I saw little good in you. Years ago.

I need you when I need my cellphone repaired, or something is wrong with the technology in the house, or when I need a companion in going somewhere (but I avoid it the most).

You can’t blame me.

And I refuse to be the one to have to make extra efforts.

I’m not an actress. Now, I need to rehearse for my part so my true self will be hidden.

It was always okay when our communication wasn’t personal. All those shocking events you shared to me? I was screaming in my seat.

How am I supposed to act when you tell me this supposedly climactic story of yours? I can really guess! I can tell what it probably is, and I don’t think it will get worse than that!

I picture the moment that you tell me.

I don’t know how I’ll be able to stand it. I don’t know if I will. I don’t know how to contain it if I let out the smallest reaction that shows my true reaction.

But I have to stand it. I need to contain my reaction. I need to really act, to really pretend. I really have to.

It makes me ask myself why I still hide all of this. I could have said the truth in a playful as if it doesn’t matter (but it really matters).

I still care and I still love because when I love anybody, it overflows. Under this stern veneer, I could care for a person so much.

Is it really just because I don’t want you to hurt?

Or is it because I don’t want to hurt?

Is it because I’ve gone through enough heartache, that it would be throwing those aches away if I told you?

Your situation now. I really, really, really can’t tell you. I shouldn’t. It’s going to ruin your life. It’s too late. The timeworn truth could have been your good news back then, when ironically we weren’t as close as we are now. Now that we are on this degree, this would be bad news. This can destroy.

I’m sure that I was at least almost over this last summer. Or was I escaping the problem instead of conquering it? It came back. I just suddenly felt that… I wanted it back.

And I had no idea at all what would happen, of course. You just have no idea.

Parts of your life… They aren’t merely your story. They’re part of mine, too, and you have no idea at all.

I need to stop fantasizing that what I see and don’t like now is just temporary, and that it will “get better [for me].” It is good that I have been living in the present, but my mind needs to stop fabricating figments of my future.

The things you tell me… They aren’t just your stories. They are ingredients to my emotions. 

You say that you have been put into a complicated situation. Do you know how it feels to need to change your very personality and attitude? Do you even know how I do it? Neither do I!

I’ve become very numb. I could even be blind. I could be ignorant. But I am sure that there are many walls around my heart. 

This experience, I have been telling myself that it made me strong. But the next happening, it’s making me numb.

I am numb because I may not know what I feel, but I know what I am supposed to feel. I think about what I should feel, yet it seems to hard to discover what is really being felt.

I become happy at certain times but I shouldn’t because I am just misleading myself. This is like precision vs. accuracy. All close together but far from what I may desire.

When can I just move on? This can go on for years. It really can. But that wouldn’t be so pleasant. It will be reaching 2 years in some months.

Freedom from the very chains I placed on myself. How would I have known that always finding out the answers to what I asked… can be dangerous for my heart?

I’ve come back to thinking about you on my car ride back home. And it needs to stop.

…You are my friend. If not, all of this could just be all right. I could just ignore it all. I could forget I care.

Will I break down one day? Will I ever tell you the truth? Or will you do something that would trigger me to tell you everything? It’s not something you can just brush off. It’s serious… for me at least. If I really told you everything.

I live in the present so that I wouldn’t predict the pain of tomorrow.

I haven’t been posting anything lately. It’s probably because of the format I made a point to follow — a very comprehensive title, a boldened and italicized one-liner, thena really meaningful post afterwards. I haven’t been able to do that because I didn’t have the same drive to blog. [late post]

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My thoughts are a tad bit scattered. And to think I won third place (Filipino category high school division) for a national opinion writing contest.

I’m trying to write this opinion column which was somehow due last week.

I had been wanting to write it for years, and I have been trying to write it…

I just couldn’t.

Last weekend, I spent two and a half days trying to make it exist. It was blank first.

I find it so hard to write since… I realized that I’m suppressing so much of my voice. I need this message published. But I need to regulate my voice because I’m sure that one attack against the ____________, my article is out. Being so euphemistic is hard…

Therefore, I will dump my real opinion here as much as I can. Then from there I can work on the real one and fix it.

“It is our duty as men and women to proceed as though the limits of our abilities do not exist.”
- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin SJ

“Ability is of little account without opportunity.”
- Napoleon Bonaparte

We are unlimited. But in the school where we are, we don’t have opportunities.

Is there really something more important than developing the students’ talents and skills, aside from honing them in knowledge and virtue?

The inifinitude of one’s abilities must not be limited by the absence of opportunity.

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