No I won’t say a name and no I won’t ruin anyone here. I won’t get down to the specifics but I don’t want to sound too vague.

This is the story of a girl who fell in love with the printed word and spent her weekends inside her room, reading. It’s just a simple account of how she missed everything else while she memorized biological terms and solved numerous Math problems. She found contentment in fictional characters and experience in her studies.

She forgot how things used to be when she would laugh along with her neighbor and hang-around the flirtatious tennis player who then moved away to another apartment. She forgot to keep count of the guys her neighbor would get a crush on.She forgot how fun it was to cross the street and do a vertical on her neighbor’s wall simultaneously with her. She forgot that life outside her room still goes on even when there’s a big test the next day. 

we think too much when we’re alone. 

Some old conversations ring in your ears. The whispered criticisms and insults seem louder than what they had been. The empty space beside you in your bed seem as endless as the abyss in your dreams.

And just like that, you’re sitting up on the edge of your bed, crying softly—afraid people from the other room will hear you and ask you what’s wrong.

The worst part is you don’t know the answer either. It’s like you’re a living emotional wreck and no one must ever know that side of you.

When I eat a lot, my Mom will give me a long self-deprecating lecture about getting fat. She’ll go on and on until I couldn’t bear it any longer & I’ll leave the room.

But when I don’t eat a lot, she’ll be all confused. 

“Why’s there so much rice left? Has Hazel eaten?”

My Dad’s the same. He always catches me “sneaking” in the kitchen and grabbing something from the fridge.

He’ll be all, ”Getting more snacks again?”

And then when I don’t get to dinner immediately, he’ll be all, “Hazel! Get over here and eat. The food will go cold!”

“Dad, I’m still full. I’ll pass.”

“Nonsense. Get over here.”

Everyday. Everyday.

A while ago, I re-read my diary and found these quotations.

It’s really worth it, you know. Writing every once in a while in a journal. When you look back to it in the future, you’ll remember what made you who you are today.

Writing gives voice to a different side of you. I’m not a very dramatic person in real life. I prefer the easy-breezy life while projecting the happy-go-lucky disposition.

I’m not saying I’m against sentiments & drama (we need those). I’m just not a fan of it.

But when no one’s around…certain thoughts or invocations just pop out of nowhere. And if you don’t write it down you might forever lose them. I mean. Come on. Your pen can’t judge you. A piece of paper can’t criticize you for it.

You can be whoever you want to be when you’re writing. Even if it’s just for a while.

I really think you should go buy a notebook and start writing. =) That’s all I’m saying.

If there’s such thing as a frustrated writer & artist, well, why not this? 

For who-knows-how-long, my dusty-ole-nylon guitar had sat in my bedroom floor out of tune. Sometime ago, I was able to tune it. But I guess Bad Spirits drop by my bedroom every now and then because when I tried to use it again, it sounded like I was scrapping metal against metal. (Horrible)

Then finally, some guy borrowed it and tuned it. THANKS I wasn’t as good as you, you know. Hahaha.

So good ole nylon guitar & I sang songs from scrappy hit magazines and chords from my assignment notebooks. I close all the openings (e.g. doors and windows) of my room every single time. HAHA. The insanely awesome concert I was performing might leak out.

Then sometimes I feel like my voice sounds really crappy. There are times that I reach that high note…and then there are times that I look around me in case someone heard the seemingly “wailing” sound I made. (Then I clear my throat.)

 I’m a frustrated musician. 

My guitar goes out of tune. My timing sucks sometimes. I shun high notes from time to time. I can’t memorize the lyrics and chords of most songs.

Because sometimes, I just sing and play for the fun of it.

Either that or I’m bored. XD

Someone I know relays their mind-sweeping, heart-palpitating, life-inspiring love story again.

Last time, it was my long-lost friend. We were at UPLB, sitting among the benches of Freedom Park. There, she told me about this guy who’s a head taller than she is; owns a car; very cute; and loves her for who she is. I cant’count the number of times I squealed and gave her a playful shove.

And then just a moment ago, my cousin told me the truth about this “Red” (nickname) guy. I treated her Slurpee and we kind of just hang-around 7Eleven while she told me their trip to Tagayaty, the flowers on Valentines day, the long talks and car rides...how she was falling in love with him and yet she was in a relationship and the guy was in a relationship too. Like why can’t you two be together? :|

I listened to each of them—saw the sparkle in their eyes, the blush on their cheeks and the easy smile on their lips.

I couldn’t help wishing…hoping…that someday I will look in the mirror and see those things too. :< 

(Source: thatcrazyrockstar)

Ever felt like there are too many people around you and half of them are strangers?

Well. I don’t know about you. But recently, that’s what I’m feeling like.

OUR HOUSE IS A MESS.

Really.

I hate it when people show up. Long-lost relatives. Parent’s friends. Little kids. Charity keepsakes. AND you know. They sleep over your house. Eat your food. Talk to you like you two are close and all you wanna do is hide in your room & watch a movie forever.

UGH.

OO NA AKO NA MAARTE.

PERO DITO AKO NAKATIRA. :| How can I feel comfortable here when there are strangers sleeping in the sala? o.o

I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. I mean…he never left or anything. He’s still right where He is. He still loves me.

But I miss those times when the first thing I’ll think in the morning was: Yey. Another beautiful day. I’m still alive. Thank you, God.

And then I’ll read this Daily Bread and a passage from the Bible. Sometimes I’ll spend minutes staring at nothing. Thinking of nothing. Just reveling on the peace inside me and the comfort of knowing that God will guide me on that day.

But now? I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’ve been very lazy lately. The only thing I read is novels, ebooks and blogs. The first thing I think about in the morning is what food I shall eat. The last thing I think about at night is the movie I watched.

Posting this rant here in tumblr…it helps.

Sometimes, there are truths in life we’re afraid to admit. And because we’re afraid to admit them, they become a vice—an addictive habit you can never get rid off.

(Source: thatcrazyrockstar)

Because sometimes, I do.

And being self-effacing and self-deprecating.

It’s a tiring thing to do.

(Source: thatcrazyrockstar)

I look happy but I’m really really sad.

(Source: thatcrazyrockstar)

I clicked offline. 

And if you noticed that, I don’t care. I’m not in the mood to flirt with you when we both know it’s pointless.

Sometimes I feel lost.

I feel like life is some sort busy highway full of precautious forks and customary sharp curves. One thing will lead to another and next thing I know I’m stuck in the middle, not knowing what to do. 

Except to cope with who they are today and try to relive the memories of who they used to be. :| 

Ang love pala parang Nanny McPhee.

(Source: thatcrazyrockstar)