the problem is

that i know no one is ever going to take me seriously. i'll always be the annoying fat fag, and he'll be the cool hipster-y person who takes amazing photos and isn't fat.

so yes, i will claw at anyone who attempts to come near him, because he's the last person who will take me seriously. and when he finds someone else, i will be left alone with the son of henry kipping, dying from despair because my cousin did not come back for me.

for a while there i though i was leonor rivera. i'm fine now.

For the jerk who kissed so well, he broke my heart.

After a long time
that was the first time
that I felt my lips
melt into another's

As you grabbed my hips
and I scratched your back
I could feel my soul
leave my body behind

I felt it, your tongue
sliding over mine
and when you bit me
I almost cried

when I got home
I smelled of smoke
and of frying fish
and of desperation

     for the jerk who kissed so well, he broke my heart

From the notebook

As of now, I don't think I'll ever see him as less than "the boy I loved with all my heart." I can't be friends with him, and I don't think I'll be able to move on from him. I mean, he's Yohan. The Yohan.


As I write, SNSD's Time Machine is playing in the background. You can just go ahead and Google the lyrics + translation.

It was, simply

It could have been a metaphor for something like

Maybe if you try too hard, you end up on the ground. Hurt and alone, and with a whole lot of noise blaring around you. If you wait for something so specific, so improbable, and then put all your strength into it, you end up with nothing. Nothing but pain.

but I'm sure it's not.

Or it could have been a sign. A sign of things to come. I will get hurt with the things I love the most.

but I'm sure it's not.

It was, simply, my knee snapping as I danced to Girls' Generation's latest hit The Boys. And me falling to the ground with the girls still screaming in my ears.

I'm a Carrie, for sure.

It's unfortunate that the only time I write here is when I'm feeling upset over something Yohan-related.

I've always had this dilemma in all my relationships. I feel upset over something, something that's not easily fixable, and I can't get over it. So I give myself two options: 1) suck it up and 2) break up. I usually go with option number 2, but evidently, I've been going with number 1 more often in this relationship than I have in all my other relationships. Combined.

And he tries, I'm sure he does. It's not all his fault, really. We're just two different people, and we have to get over our differences to make this work. And we do. We actually do. I just wish that the differences reveal themselves not so often and frequent. Give me some time to get used to things I don't like, please.

I've been watching Sex and the City the past week. Idek anymore.

Fellatio during class? I wish.

I kept running my hands through my hair, parting and gathering. I never did grow out of that incriminating habit of sticking to one. Except now. I cocked my head left and right, letting my hair fall to the side, strands cascading over each other. I shifted in my seat and focused on one thing, tuning everything else out. That single voice that's been trying to make me listen to it for the past hour or so. The shuffling of papers as everyone else pretended to read. I shifted in my seat, adjusting myself. The middle of the day and I feel like this. Typical.

I ran the tip of my tongue over my canine. I have just one, in-between the incisors and the molars, on the right side. My mouth felt empty. At that moment, and a couple before it, I yearned for him inside me. I wanted him in my mouth. As soon as that thought came to me, nothing else was significant.

Just the head would be nice, but the whole thing would be exquisite. It really is magical how a few simple sucks and strokes could get him clenching his whole body. And the taste just before he erupts... Divine.

Alas, I couldn't comfort myself. I couldn't escape. Fortunately, in a little over 36 hours, I'll be with him. And I can suck him all I want.

Philippine Literature: A History and Anthology

Dati, dala ko 'tong librong 'to araw-araw. Kitang-kita ang mga sugat sa binding nito, ebidensya ng madalas na pagbuklat. May isang pahina, kalahati na lang ang nakakabit. Masyadong mabilis ang paglipat, kaya napunit. Sa pahina ng mga nilalaman, makikita ang maraming sulat at highlight. May mga check at crossed-out na entry, simbolo na tapos nang basahin at aralin. Natapos ang subject at nakapasa ako.

Kaya ngayon, patungan na lang siya ng bentilador.