That moment of your life when all you want is to be with that person who always lingers on your mind.

To fill those spaces between my little fingers by his. To feel the touch of his lips to my cheeks. To wrap my arms around him, so to feel home when I’m around his. 2 hour-drive and more than 50 kilometers worth everything. 

How I wish that I wake up each morning with him. To be with him more often. I miss him so bad.

Don’t count the miles, count the I-Love-Yous

sisikatdin:

CROSS OUT THE THINGS YOU’VE DONE throughrose-tintedglasses:

Graduated High School.
Kissed someone.
Smoked a cigarette.
Got so drunk you passed out. 
Rode every ride at an amusement park.
Collected something really stupid.
Gone to a rock concert.
Helped someone.
Gone fishing.
Watched four movies in one night.
Gone long periods of time with out sleep.
Lied to someone.
Snorted cocaine.
Failed a class.
Smoked weed.
Dealt drugs.
Been in a car accident.
Been in a tornado. 
Done hard drugs (i.e. ecstasy, heroin, crack, meth, acid).
Watched someone die.
Been to a funeral.
Burned yourself.
Ran a marathon.
Cried yourself to sleep.
Spent over $200 in one day.
Flown on a plane.
Cheated on someone.
Been cheated on.
Written a 10 page letter. 
Gone skiing.
Been sailing.
Cut yourself. 
Had a best friend.
Lost someone you loved.
Shoplifted something.
Been to jail.
Dangerously close to being in jail.
Had detention.
Skipped school.

Got in trouble for something you didn’t do.

Stolen books from the library. 
Gone to a different country.
Dropped out of school.
Been in a mental hospital.
Watched the “Harry Potter” movies.
Had an online diary.
Fired a gun.
Gambled in a casino. 
Had a yard sale.
Had a lemonade stand
Actually made money at the lemonade stand.
Been in a school play.
Been fired from a job.
Taken a lie detector test. 
Swam with dolphins.
Gone to sea world.
Voted for someone on a reality TV show.

Written poetry.
Read more than 20 books a year.

Gone to Europe.
Loved someone you shouldn’t have.

Used a coloring book over age 12.

Had surgery.
Had stitches.
Taken a taxi.
Seen the Washington Monument.
Had more than 5 IM’s/online conversations going at once.
Overdosed.
Had a drug or alcohol problem.
Been in a fist fight.
Suffered any form of abuse.
Had a hamster.
Petted a wild animal. 
Used a credit card.
Gone surfing in California.
Did “spirit day” at school.
Dyed your hair.
Got a tattoo. 
Had something pierced.
Got straight A’s.
Been on the Honor Roll.
Known someone with HIV or AIDS.
Taken pictures with a webcam.
Started a fire.
Gotten caught having a party while parents were gone away.

I didn’t expect him, didn’t even ask for him, but I guess the Man Above knows the best gift to give, way much better than what I wanted. 

A phenomena of not even trying to love or beloved. everything just happened without pushing forces, It has its own ways and mysteries that I can’t define. I was in the moment when love was just an insanity and fantasy that people create.That it is something unreal. 

I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart
But you came around and you knocked me off the ground

You and I went so natural. Like we’re connected by some forces from this planet and universe. And of course, if it wasn’t for God, there’s no us. A sweet disposition. 

He’s everything.

Is it ironic or contradictory to say that I’m not materialistic but I want lots of money? I mean I want money not because I want to buy Iphone 5 or the latest Android phone or gadgets in the market. I want money not because I want lots of designer clothes, bags or shoes (though it’s good to have some).

I want lots of money because I want to climb the Mt. Kilimanjaro, Go skydiving (Even though I’m afraid of heights) have my majors in film-making, performing arts (particularly musical theatre), conservatory of music, fine arts, and architecture. To Experience the love of Eiffel Tower, the breeze on the top of the double-decker bus (sorry, that thing simply don’t exist in my country). To watch band concerts and musical plays. To meet new people and learn from them (I’m really hungry for new knowledge). To have my own English cottage with library and music room, plus a fairy-tale-like garden that I will call my STRESS FREE ZONE. 

To have healthy foods in my fridge, such as my favourite fruits. To experience the world and what it can offer if there’s no limit or money is no matter. I crave to live my life to the fullest and to experience things that will make me know more about myself. You see, money hinders me from having and doing such things. I want to be rich, I want money, not because of luxury and power it can bring, but because it enables me to pay the bills of these amazing shits!

Life is really one strange mystery. There are things that a life-span can’t explain nor understand. Like time and space are just product of our illusion and how real those things are. Time, time, time. Tick tock tick tock. It’s so strange how things seems to go slow when you’re trying to make it fast, when you look forward, when you’re excited for an upcoming event. Just like when we were kids, we can’t wait to grow up. We can’t wait to experience what it feels like to be tall and be an authority. We look forward to that. We’re so excited in every birthday we had. But on the other hand, time runs so fast when we want it to slow. Christmas smells different, and as if it feels like yesterday, when it just passed a year ago. A decade feels too close, but the fact is it’s too far beyond. And sometimes you just want to breathe and pause everything for a while as if you can negotiate it with time, with the universe. Then for one tiny little shit, all aspects of your life turn out to be in misery and desperation.

Let go of time past and keep moving forward. Yeah, you’ve heard that on Meet The Robbinsons, really inspirational, but only few who made it. Because admit it or not, it’s hard to let go of something that really made an impact to your life, it’s hard to move forward when you have regrets, it’s hard to let go of the pain, but more than that, it’s hard to let go of your glory days because you know to yourself that you can no longer relive it. In consequence, those shits leave us anxious, trapped, burn-out, and fucked-up. We’re lost and we don’t know where to go. Plus people keep on telling you to do this, do that, certain kind of thing, but in the end, it will turn out to be a noise in our heads. Well fuck that! Really, fuck that. Those shits turn out to be a command rather than a piece of advice. 

I’m sick, tired, anxious, trapped, and fucked-up. I don’t know where to go, and what to do. I got nothing, just myself and ideal thoughts. It’s hard to breathe when you don’t have any resources to do so. It’s hard to get some goodnight sleep when you got troubled thoughts because you cried yourself to sleep at night. 

I really  believe that in the end, everything is gonna be okay. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end. 

———————————————————————————-

I know that around the world, there are people who feel the same shit. The same misery of the unknown thing, The thing you can define but you know to yourself present. Aging never feels this hard. I just realized that it’s one childish thing to stay on the same ground instead of keep moving on, and I never truly realized that I’m still not over my teenage days. I’m freaking aging, and I feel anxious about that, anxious about missing every little chance and opportunities to do what I really want without being afraid. I never thought I am this coward. That I used to let other people decide on my life rather than to push what I really want. 

I’ve got troubled thoughts and self-esteem to match.

The Only Exception by Paramore

Okay let’s talk about “Only Exception”. Pretty cool, eh? My friend and bandmate, Johannah told me that if she’s gonna dedicate song to me, it will be this song. There’s no romantic whatever between the two of us. She just said that she think, if ever I’ll have a relationship with someone, he will be my only exception. I guess she said that because finally, the time come that I let someone in. She also said that I’m full of emotions that I’ll be really sweet and passionate about it…about him. 

To be honest, she’s the only person, who knows barely about me in this planet sees me that way.Most people see me as argumentative and sarcastic “potential-lover”, and yes in some little way, that’s me as a person. But as a lover thingy? I don’t know. 

Honestly, I’m sweet, and I’m not selling myself out. I’ve done stupid and crazy things because I’m blinded by my emotions. Things that breaks the boundaries of my exceptions. That there’s a part of me that I still don’t know. But as for know, I’m becoming a little more wiser. I want certainty before I give in. But how do I know, life is full of uncertainties. 

I don’t know why I’m feeling this. I tend to underestimate myself, feeling like I’m my own worst enemy, I’m not good enough and all the other shits. I’m trying to be better, but nothing makes sense. Hovering the sadness with sham smile. Darn, for how long this melancholy will stay. 

Surrounded by pretty, skinny girls, and it sucks how they eat a lot and don’t exercise, but still can wear clothes in perfect fit. I feel so insecure, and it’s pathetic. Nothing works here for me. I feel trap. I am trapped. 

I’m no suicidal. Perhaps, just to coward too kill myself because hell is a lot worse than here. 

I wan to be free from all these shits. I hate it.

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of the little god, four cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. 
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

-Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Essay on Wonderful Tonight:George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and me

by Pattie Boyd with Penny Junor

The moment I handed the book, I’m hundred and one percent sure that I wan to purchase it and I’ll regret it id I’ll let it slip away. Guess what? I got more than I bargained.

Pattie Boyd, one of the prettiest faces in this planet. I can’t help to feel insecure on her. Her beauty creates passion to musicians like George Harrison and Eric Clapton that made them compose wonderful and heart-melting songs. But reading the book gave me more than that. Her autobiography makes me look closer and understand deeper what a woman named Pattie Boyd is about. The book is accidentally inspirational

A beautiful woman who is perfect in the eye of most of us have this insecurities and self-esteem problem like many of us, and have experienced hardship that per haps, none of us have ever been.

I’m a fan of George-and-Pattie loveteam, and for me there are the perfect two. Such lovely couple together. But after reading the book, it really breaks my heart. How Pattie Boyd and George Harrison never stropped loving each other. That if Pattie just chose to stay and make things up with their marriage, then probably they grow old together, and George died on her arms. But I can’t blame her for leaving George. Shit happens. Lessons learned.

“When I left him (George Harrison) for Eric, he had said that if things didn’t work out, ever, I could always come to him, and he will look after me. It was selfless, loving, generous things to say, and it had always been tucked away at the back of my mind”

                -Pattie Boyd

It truly breaks my heart and leads me to tears. George is better for Pattie than Eric. Yes, both man brought her sadness and misery, but for me, George made her a lot happier than Eric. She never treated her as mess whom he had to get over with. But if it wasn’t for Eric, she wouldn’t be braver woman, and wouldn’t be able to know what she’s capable of other than being a wife, a model, and a woman of these men. I admire women like that.

On the other hand, I don’t like Eric Clapton. I believe in his talent as a musician, songwriter, and as I honestly admire him for that. And truly I adore his writing skills. So poetic. I can’t ditch him about his talent and contributions. And for that, I can’t completely hate him. But cheating on your wife days after your marriage, being an alcoholic and putting the woman you love in misery, having a kid with your fans, while your wife is so depress for not being pregnant, is really not reasonable.

“I regret allowing myself to be seduced by Eric and I wish I had been stronger. I believed that marriage is forever, and when things were going wrong between George and me I should’ve gritted my teeth and resolved that we could come out smiling in the end.”

In totally, her life inspired me. We’re all fucked-up after all. Even the most beautiful woman have imperfections. But that’s not the point. How to make life even better despite the ups-and-downs- twist-and-turns of faith is what matters. To know more about ourselves, that there’s a world out there waiting for us, but we just keep on settling down on what we usually have. And it’s not about getting old, but it is rather growing up. To know more, to explore more, to learn more, to fail, to take risk, to enjoy.  Just like what the Dalai Lama said “If we lose, don’t lose the lesson”

“But if I had resisted Eric, I would never have known that incredible passion—- and such intensity is rare. I would never have been the inspiration for those beautiful sings. I accept that I paid high price, but it was in proportion to the depth of the love he and I shared.”

Thank you Pattie Boyd for sharing your life, making us closer to you, and somehow the people around you, especially The Rolling Stones and The Beatles. You truly are an inspiration.

Sometimes, the closest people you have are the harshest people in your life. They say mean words, accuse you with things that they know nothing about, and as if it’s okay to do so. Make believe that they know you better, well in fact, they know nothing about you. They just know that mistakes and stupidity you made, and use that to condemned you forever, as if you’ve done a sin that even God can’t forgive. I hate it when people look at you as if they’re something holy and never sinned. Come on, we’re humans, we do silly things, we’ve made mistakes, we learn, and move on. Why some people can’t take that?

I feel so down. I’m carrying a weight of trouble thoughts in my mind. And the people I’m living with in every single day of my life… I don’t know, they’re not so good. I feel so alone, but I’m with this loud crowd of shits. I’m trying my best to live the best I could with my life, I’m trying to correct some mistakes that I know I can still work on, and let go of those I can’t fix. Shit happens, lessons learned. But people still digging up your past and pull you down. They’re not helping. And to make things clear, I’m not a hypocrite who always tells the world how best I am. How great I am. How God-fearing person I am. I’m not a self-righteous person! I show most of my scars than hide it.

I just need peace of mind. I’m still looking for it. It’s too expensive that I can’t even afford it. 

Christmas Lights by Coldplay

Just because it’s Christmas season, and most of individuals want warm arms to wrap around them (or the other way around),I just want to spend a night, having a cup of coffee, watching the stars and Christmas lights shining, feel the cold December air (if it’s really cold, anyway), and watch Home Alone, The Holidays, and Love Actually.

There was this kid na naging katabi ko sa computer shop. Nagpaturo siya sakin about something kasi may topak ata yung computer na napwestuhan nya. Then nung naging okay na, he said “thank’s” in the coolest way that a kid could ever say, and I’m not exaggerating. 

Nakita kong puro about wrestling ang laman ng browser nya. Tapos may Rey Mysterio whatsoever siya sa Youtube. I saw myself sa kanya. Yung ako nung bata pa ako. Nagrerent at naguubos ng pera para sa aking obsession, wrestling.

Tinanong ko si bagets, “anong laban yan?” 

“Luma na ate” sagot nya.

Natutuwa ako sa kanya, kasi yung pagkahumaling nya sa wrestling, di lang simpleng panunuod, sinasabuhay nya. Ako yun dati eh. Nung bagets pa din ako. Kung baga, ako bumibili ako ng magazines, nagbabasa ng updates sa wwe.com, inaalam ang mga buhay ng mga favorite wrestlers ko, nakikipaginteract online sa mga WWE fans. 

Sa totoo lang, di ko masyadong feel dati yung bata kapag nakikita ko, kasi medyo pilyo. Pero nung nakita ko na may common denominator kami, at yung common denominator na yun ay nagkaroon ng malaking impact sa buhay ko, natuwa ako sa kanya.

Ngayon, tuwing nakikita ko siya, dala nya yung dalawang championship belt nya na gawa sa cardboard at tinataas nya yun sakin, as if isa ng siyang WWE champion. Nakakatuwa. Natutuwa ako sa kanya sa mga simpleng dahilan.

Siguro, if it wasn’t for wrestling, di ako magiging interesado sa punk music. Tomboy na ako bata pa lang ako. Mahilig ako sa mga bagay na panlalake, larong panlalake. Ilang beses na din akong napaaway sa lalake nung bata ako. Violent man sa pandinig, whatsoever, natutuwa ako dahil once upon a time, ako yung batang binabayaran pa yung kapatid, makasingit lang sa TV. Yung naglalaro ng SmackDown sa PS. Yung naghahanap ng rare WWE magazine. 

Kaya ako nahilig sa punk ay dahil kay Lita. Siya na siguro ang pinakaimpluwesiyal na babae sa buhay ko. If it wasn’t because of her, medyo iba siguro ako, though may cool music playlist din naman ako dati. 

One December afternoon, while looking for DC comics and other stuffs to buy in a bookstore, I’ve seen a 100% perfect guy.

He’s not the every woman’s dream guy, and not even close. He doesn’t stand out in any way. He wears school uniform. His hair is kinda long and wavy, tan-skinned, and little taller than me, about in his 5’7 height. But I know for sure, from that side of paint section of the store, he is 100% percent perfect guy for me. I’ve seen this scenery on my head a thousand times, and the burn inside me is something I can’t define.

We all have this preferences about our favorite type of guy— one with clean fingernails, build-up muscles, bland tone of voice, the one you surely say yes when he ask you out on dinner. I have my own,too, of course. Sometimes, I find myself enjoying some guy with structured jawline and a goatee. 

Maybe somehow her 100% perfect guy have the same characteristic of her type. Much as I like structured jawline, I can’t remember the shape of his, though, of course he had one. All I can remember for sure is he’s not this world’s concept of beauty. But for me, he’s perfect.

“I met my 100% perfect guy” I told someone

“Is he good-looking”

“For me he is, had wavy hair, though he doesn’t have goatee and messed-up aura”

“How do you know he is 100% perfect guy?”

“He’s handing this classic books, you see. I think he’s going to purchase those. Then got sketchpad, and sort of painting materials”

“I see. So what happened then? How did you notice him?”

“I was in the paint section, looking for paintbrush, then here he comes next to me, looking for the same thing. And I was like ‘darn, not near me’. And I know that I will never gonna see him again”

“Too bad. Maybe try to come back to the same place, if he’s meant for you, you’ll see him again.”

“Serendipity? Nah, I don’t think it’s possible. I just let him slip away. I should’ve taken risk. I should’ve asked him. Talk to him.I’ve got nothing to lose.  But I just let it go. I feel so stupid.”

The sadness continues and I don’t know where I actually got those fields of melancholic emotions. Maybe I do, but I’m not just that certain about it. 

I’ve been singing Thin Air by Keane for 24 hours now, even in my sleep. I’m not a big fan of the band, in fact, I know just one song by then before. Somewhere Only We Know, which is for some reasons, made me cry. Sometimes, I’m thinking if I’m really an onion-skinned person because I cry easily. I cry reading book, I cry listening to music, I cry watching films, and I don’t know why I get too attach with such things.

I just figured out that I somehow trapping myself in this situation. I have nothing, and I can’t escape. I’m looking for an escape. School is one thing. Why do I give valuable time to people who don’t care if I live or die? Said The Smiths. Why do I? I’m better of myself. I’m a freaking island. But then, I still want someone who will open-mindedly understand. It’s crazy as it sounds.

May isang tao from somewhere in this world ang nagtanong sakin kung alam ko daw ba yung Yamato Nadeshiko, itago na lang natin siya sa pangalang, David Garcia Jr.

David Garcia Jr.: Alam mo yung yamato nadeshiko?

Cherish: Oo, bakit, anong meron?

David Garcia Jr.: Kilala mo si Sunako?

Cherish: Oo, bakit ba?

David Garcia Jr.: Ikaw yun eh. (Sabay nakakalokong tawa)

Di ko alam kung compliment o anong punchline nya kung joke man yun. AT di ko alam kung panong naging ako si Sunako. Wala lang.