The Walk to Your House: A Short Story

I knew it was a bad idea to head out my house at twelve in the morning just to see how you were doing.
I forgot to grab a jacket and scarf on the way out, and was walking down the wet pavement with nothing but flip flops and shorts, and a t-shirt too. I should have changed, I told myself. I should have thought about myself before I did anything for you. But like everything that involved you, my body went on autopilot, desperate to please you, desperate to be with you.
So I wrapped my hands around my arms, hoping that they would suffice as substitutes for jackets or cardigans or other clothing used for warmth. My cellphone juggled in my bottom's pocket, holding the text message you sent me ten- no, five- minutes ago.
"Where are you? Let's talk."
That's all it said and it was enough to make me leave everything I was doing- to jump off bed and sneak out of my house. To forget what happened three months ago.
I thought we mutually agreed that we'd never talk to each other again after what happened the past few months. Like how you said you needed space and how I lied that I needed some too. But then you send a text like that- who do you think you are, to send texts like that to people you haven't talked to? Who are you to tell people what to do?
Like everything that involved you, I was an idiot. Like how I gave you cash when you were 'running short', or when you needed that ride somewhere and I was your plus one, when really, all you needed was a ride. I'm still trying to find out how I fell for it though. Maybe I was blinded in more ways than one, or maybe I was just insecure and happy that someone finally noticed me.
Maybe by doing all those stupid things, you would consider me worthy of you.
Maybe, just maybe, you'd want me back after this walk to your house.
I let out a sigh, and pushed my hair back. I was halfway there. It wasn't a long walk. We used to walk to each other's houses and climb up our bedroom windows, sharing secrets that we promised we'd never tell anyone. Then the visits slowly disappeared. We'd then agree to just meet up midway our houses, the waiting shed by the bus stop, every nine in the evening. That was our routine, until  it became just my routine, you giving out excuses that you had homework, or that you were tired. I was tired, and I had homework too, but I was there. So why weren't you? Until now, I still don't know.
Before I realized it, I was standing in front of your porch. Your lawn, to be exact. I could feel the wet grass on my feet, mostly because I was wearing flip flops, dammit. Your bedroom window was the only one with a light that night. Your parents usually slept early, exact opposites of you.
I was contemplating if I should climb up your window, like the way I used to three months ago, when you were sick with fever and feeling lonely. But then again, I remembered that there was a reason why that happened three months ago, and why that can never happen again. I punched in your number in my phone, my fingers automatically finding the keys that made it. I never really forgot it, though I convinced myself I did.
It rang multiple times, until the operator told me that you were busy. So I rang again, and again, and again. And still, you didn't pick up.
I rubbed my left eye with the back of my hand, as I could feel the tears coming in. You used to say that you hated it when I cried. I sighed again, and sat on the pavement, not caring if my bottom was going to be wet. I was cold, from being practically naked in the cold spring air. You weren't going to pick up my calls. And even if I was in front of your house at 12 something a.m., you weren't going to come out of your house and welcome me in like you used to.
Then I heard something open, and you called out my name. I turned and saw you at the front door, smiling at me.
You invited me in. You acted as if we haven't been not talking for the past three months, like nothing happened. But after you gave me a cup of hot chocolate, you asked me "Why are you here?"
And I, being the idiot that I was, showed you your message. "Because you said so," I replied.
I could see your face turning red for me, and then you looked away. "That was supposed to be for someone else."
I knew that was coming but I came anyway. I wanted to tell you that, but I didn't because I was stupid and young and desperate. Instead, I smiled and thanked you for the hospitality, and ran back home, and hid under the blankets, telling myself that tonight didn't happen.

And then I woke up.

An Excuse for Inactivity

I haven't written for about 6+ months, which is kinda weird seeing how this blog is almost a year old and barely has ten posts in it. So much for being a keeper of everything that's changed.
I've somehow convinced myself that if I got a journal I could make it a more private way of holding my thoughts. I did get one though, and I even wrote on the first few pages. I haven't added a new entry for about three weeks. I don't think that's very good if I'm making keeping track of my thoughts regularly as a New Year's Resolution.
The thing is, I keep telling myself that I'm just being lazy. But there are times when I do take an hour to sit down and put my journal and a pen in front of me. Nothing comes out. I pick the pen, open the cap, and flip to a blank page, but the pen doesn't come in contact with the paper. Is that laziness? I don't think so. I've already put it out, but I'm still hesitating to bring out whatever's in my head.
I've considered a lot of things that have given me this writer's block- probably stress, or maybe I'm too tired. It's only recently that I've admitted to myself that I'm afraid of putting my thoughts down.
Probably it's funny, how putting down how you feel can be so frightening. It's supposed to be therapeutic, so it's not supposed to scare you, right? But the thing is, I find it scary. The thought of immortalizing the dirtiest, darkest parts of you on a piece of paper or on a blogging platform is probably one of the biggest things that can make my chest feel heavy and make me squirm in my seat. Maybe it's because when it's all in your head you can convince yourself that you've confused your feelings with your imagination-probably with a TV series or a depressing book. When you write it down, there's no turning back. You've verified and acknowledged that these feelings are real and that they exist somewhere deep inside you. You cannot deny it- it's in your nature no matter how hard you try to hide it.
I'm not sure if I should apologize or not, and if I do to choose to apologize, who would it be? To my readers? To myself? I don't really know a lot of things anymore. I'm at this point in my life where I don't know where I'm going and who I want to be. I don't really know who I am anymore. I've lost track of the goals I've set in mind, and I'm not sure that my thirteen year old self would be proud of me.
So much for keeping track of everything that's changed.

Time vs Distance (a poem)

Time vs Distance

Time is more cruel than distance

as distance can be overcome

But time can never be brought back

Time slowly eats away

the people we once were.

Time changes us, 

Distance does not.

Time, the wretched human concept, 

Has created a distance

that no boat can sail,

that no bird can fly,

that no horse can gallop through.

Time has changed

what has become

of you & I

-P.A.A.G

On Computers

As I'm writing this entry, I am sitting in my school's computer laboratory, leeching free internet. Apparently, the only reason why I'm writing this is because my university blocked the other fun websites and the only thing enjoyable to do is to write a blog post. To be honest, the mere thought of using flat screen computers equipped with the latest software excites me. I blame my high school for giving me this feeling.

I don't hate my high school. In fact, it was a very good school for my little island, and it gave me very fond (and not-so fond) memories that I will probably cherish for the rest of my life. However, it was quite financially deprived, and had to find ways on how to maximize their budget in order to give quality education to its students. I'd like to believe that they stuck to the 'quality over quantity' mantra, but I guess when you're running an establishment, you have to make sacrifices.

Apparently, they chose to sacrifice our Computer Science education.

The computers in our computer lab were not of the best quality. They were ancient, boxy machines with screens that somehow seemed to bulge a bit. The keyboards were of horrible quality, with the keys so hard that you had to jab them with your finger before a character appeared before you. The software, although supposed to be fast, hanged up and had numerous glitches. I could write about all of the struggles I experienced with computers there, but then that would be too long, and besides, we somehow managed to get through with it anyway.

Probably staying in a room full of lag-y, boxy computers made me long for a computer whose screen wouldn't turn yellow after five minutes. Probably looking at something that was big and ancient made me appreciate the ones that were thin and sleek.

But maybe that's just me.

16 Things I Should Have Done When I Was Sixteen

I was watching The Pacifier and then there was this scene where one of the kids is part of The Sound of Music. He plays Rolf and then sings a line from 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen'. Listening to the familiar beat of the song actually perked something inside me, like it was something I should remember. The song was basically a soundtrack of my last six months being sixteen, and almost every seventeen year old girl quoted a line from that song in their Facebook profile picture that celebrated their seventeenth year on Earth.

Which makes me ask the question: Was I too excited to be seventeen that I forgot to enjoy my sixteenth year on this planet? Maybe I was, or maybe I wasn't. I don't know that for sure. But I will post sixteen things I'm sure I wish I did back when I was sixteen so that some sixteen year old girl will try her hand on these things (but it's alright if you don't, though I'm sure you'll wish you did when you're seventeen).

1. Wear trendier clothes. Because when you're sixteen, dressing up like a ten year old is not the least bit cute. Nuh-uh, not at all.
2. Watch American TV shows like Glee, The Vampire Diaries, 90210, Pretty Little Liars, Revenge, and the list goes on and on and on...
3. Get piano lessons. Just because.
4. Learn how to socialize with others and not stick to the room's corner/wall/couch/soft drink dispenser.
5. Learn how to eat like a human being and not like a dog disguised as a person.
6. Buy a shoulder bag then learn how to look good with a shoulder bag. If you're going to stick with a backpack, you HAVE to wear only one strap and make the other dangle from behind. Wearing both straps will make you look like a nerd. Also, do not put much inside your bag, even though you know your bag is capable of carrying a number of things. A bulky bag makes a nerdy and awkward student. You do not want to be nerdy and awkward.
7. Finish one big tub of ice cream. By yourself. Brain freeze is acceptable.
8. Wear a bikini because when you're old you'll have wrinkles and then wearing a bikini is just darn disgusting.
9. Talk to boys. Gosh, they're not some foreign, alien creatures. They're just the opposite sex.
10. Sing 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen' with me as Liesl and a guy friend as Rolf. On video. No ifs, no buts. If he refuses, then friendship over.
11. Spend less time on Facebook and more time having fun.
12. Join Sinulog and have fun with the street party and get paint and dirt all over me.
13. Have a karaoke contest with friends.
14. Tell that one person you like since forever that you like them and not care if they'll reject you or not. If they like you, it's cool. If they don't like you, it's cool.
15. Have a Disney Princess and Nicholas Sparks movie marathon in one setting. 
16. Trust someone. Don't overthink, don't overreact. Let them take care of you, and if everything goes wrong, it's OK. It happens, life happens. It's better than haunting yourself with the possibilities.

The Janine Tugonons of the World

A goddess. That's what Janine Tugonon is to most people in the Philippines. She's both beauty and brains, having placed first runner up in the Miss Universe 2013 pageant, winning the hearts of Filipinos all over the world with her witty response in the Q & A portion, photogenic face, and- let's admit it- her super hot, ultra mega sexy body.

But even though she is a goddess, she dated a mere mortal. An ordinary guy, who wasn't really what you would call the most conventional type of handsome. Yet they were together for a year. It was like a Cinderella story, only male version. Cinderello. Hahaha. Okay.

But their seemingly love story came to an end when an international band member of The Script, probably Janine's all-time favorite band, came to the Philippines for a concert. Being the big The Script fan that she is, she obviously went and even met her idols! What's more the lead singer asked for her Twitter. Aw, how cute. 

Janine then breaks up with her boyfriend because she and her idol are sending each other direct messages in Twitter and she realizes that she's more attracted to her idol that she met only once than the boy she's been with for one year.

And that was how their unconventional love story ended.

I'm not going to chastise Janine's actions that much. Most of the people in the internet have, and I think this Facebook page's photo perfectly expresses what I really feel of the issue (it's in Filipino though, so if you can't understand Filipino you could always use Google Translate or whatever). I guess I just can't really be mad at Janine because of two reasons.

1. I don't really know her except that she is a beauty queen and a goddess.
2. I know people who are like her. She's not the only one who's like this.

People judge Janine for what she's doing to her boyfriend, but I think the main reason why she's receiving so much backlash is because they realize that they have met somebody similar to her.

There are girls (and boys!) who make you feel like you're the one, but leave when they've met someone better. They break your heart into tiny little pieces, then crush them on the ground, then expect you guys to still be friends. They tell you about their latest eye candy how wonderful, loving and cute they are together without even batting an eyelash.

They tell you they love you, but you know that deep inside they love themselves more. And you can't do anything about that. You're the one who'll have to love more because they know that they are wanted. They know that everybody loves them. You tire yourself out trying to catch up to their needs and expectations, only draining yourself out dry and realizing that your efforts have gone to waste.

You can't really win when you're in a relationship with one of the Janine Tugonons of the world. 

It Will Pass

Just because you'll try to understand somebody doesn't mean you always can. There will be a time when you will get tired of understanding others when no one understands you. You try to give without asking anything in return until you're flat out empty and drained physically, mentally, emotionally.
So you try to understand them some more, giving out a piece of yourself every time you do, hoping that someday, someone will understand you the way you understand them.
But that never happens. And you've given yourself away so much that you've become a ghost. A ghost of a person they used to know. You can't regain what you've lost. So you deal with it, hoping that it will pass.
But will it?