Is That a Hat?

Today, my dad asked me something that surprised me so much I had to make him repeat what he said. Never in my whole life was I asked such a question (from my parents), and it brought a deluge of nostalgia and longing inside me that I thought I was gonna cry right then and there.

"You stopped drawing, have you?" He asked without any malicious tone. He was simply asking me about my previous "hobby."

My face was blank, but inside me was a torrent of emotions that I have locked in the deepest part of my heart (or mind, or soul) threatening to burst out. I can't believe that after years of trying to fool myself into believing that I shouldn't waste my time doing things I have no business dabbling into - coz I'm a talentless wimp, thats why -  that a single random question could still hurt so much.

I swallowed. I said, "Yeah, I stopped. Years ago." Then I went inside my room.

In my bed, I thought of how I used to be. My child-like passion for everything beautiful. I used to draw bad drawings and think that they're world-class. I used to dream of playing the violin. I used to play with my keyboard all day long, making up my very own notes because I can't read musical sheets. I used to write stories. I used to learn about new words and foreign phrases just so I can use fait accompli when a situation calls for it - it's funny that I only get to use that phrase to describe my life. I used to lock myself up in my room and dream of foolish dreams that only dreamers could ever dream of. I used to read books and imagine myself doing exactly what the characters courageously did.

I wanted to shout and cry and tell my dad, "Yes! I have stopped doing that. For years! You just noticed now? I have stopped doing what I love. I have stopped drawing. I have stopped trying. I have stopped being a dreamer. I tried living normally. Whatever the fuck that means."

Yes. I grew up and got duped into living how society wanted me to live. And after years of wasting valuable time, I am just starting to open my eyes and realize how wrong I was. That this kind of "living" is not really living. At least not for me. The moment I forgot about my dreams, let my creative juices dry up to the last drop, the moment I decided to be a mechanized adult, was the moment I stopped living.

I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could time-travel so my present-me could tell my past-me to never fall into the abyss and forget about my soul.

I wish.

But, it's never too late. Life begins at 30.

I could still start fresh. I may be lagging behind, but it's never too late to choose another fork and run in that direction.

Never travel in a road that has been paved for others. Create your own path. Hack at those weeds in front of you and just make your own road. Whether it's the road less traveled or god knows what, just make sure it's your own decision and not something dictated upon you.

Also, never stop re-reading The Little Prince.

Never forget your dreams. Be who you really wanna be. Live.

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Cerebro

"I don't belong here."

A white screen of smoke obscured her face that for a second I thought I just imagined her talking. She said it so softly I almost thought she was commenting about the weather, or something absolutely irrelevant. For several seconds I just stared at her, watching her intently, but always never guessing what's she's thinking.

We've been friends since forever, grew up together, but I still don't know her. We're best friends, but I know nothing - only what she chooses to divulge.

She's an enigma. I don't know if I'm fascinated or scared. I take a sip of my cold beer.

Plaster a sign on her forehead that says, "I'm an alien, an outsider, a weirdo. I don't belong here, goddamn you all!" and a passerby would just think she's joking. She looks absolutely normal and happy.

But I know better. She can be the most inquisitive and concerned human being when the situation calls for it, she can be as lively and goofy as a damn kid high on sugar, she can be breathless from an intensely animated storytelling and then lapse into a catatonic state the next minute, oh and she can listen to your stories for hours - smile plastered, nodding at the right moments, laughing at the punchlines - and you'll never guess that her mind is blank... Or thinking about ginormous black holes. She's a chameleon, a mime, a great pretender - because in reality, she's not here.

You know how I know?

The Monster Within Me

I'M A MONSTER.

I would wanna kill you someday, you know, full-on murder. Assassination. Blind homicidal rage. Sometimes, I imagine myself stabbing you in the neck with a big glass shard, feel your blood drip all over my hand. Warm, wet, sticky, red... so red. Tasty.

I'LL DRINK YOUR BLOOD!

I imagine staring at your eyes while the light in them slowly dims, feeling your pulse gradually weaken, listening to your heart until it beats no more.

Oh, I'll surely get off to your weak pleas, your pathetic whimpering, the fear in your widened eyes, the trembling of your thick lips. You're pathetic. The thought of your begging makes me wanna prolong your agony. You'll make me so happy! You reek of fear - thick and cloying. That makes me so inspired!

Am I a monster for wanting to kill you? Do you deserve to live?

What did you say? I'm horrible? I should die? Oh ha ha ha, I can't breathe! Stop, my stomach hurts! Stop, that's hilarious! Me? Die? Honey, I'm already dead. You can cut me open any way you want and you'll see nothing inside. I'm dead. I've been dead a long time ago.

You, on the other hand, are not dead yet. But you will be.... soon. I'll make sure of it.

DAMN RIGHT, I'M A MONSTER!

I'll peel away your skin, inch by inch. Slowly, perfectly. Have you ever peeled an apple? Tonight, you'll be my juicy, pretty, red apple. Call me Snow White, coz I'm gonna take a bite and taste you. Except that there's no curse from an evil, narcissistic queen. The only thing cursed here is you.

I'LL EAT YOUR FLESH!

Are you afraid?

Which do you fear more? Me or your impending doom?

Speak clearly. Don't babble! Answer me, what's the purpose of your existence, aside from annoying me?

Sometimes, I wanna hang myself  just so I won't see you anymore. I don't wanna feel you, hear you. I don't want to succumb to your deathly grip anymore. You took over my life, controlling me, drowning me in fear. Not anymore. I'm in control now. Ya hear me?!!

The things I wanna do to you. God! Not only will I skin you alive, I'll also rip your innards out! One by one, I'll cut your limbs. Hack, hack. I'm gonna make sure the knife I'll use is not too sharp. That's how much I love you. I want you to feel the pain. Pain is good, right? You haven't really lived if you haven't felt pain. Right? Yeah, that's what you told me before!

Oh wait, I'm not done yet! I'm gonna eat your organs, of course I'm gonna share, you gotta have some too! And when you're drained of your filthy blood, I'm gonna bathe in it Bathory-style!

Are you still unsure of your fate?

YOU'RE GONNA DIE!

HAHAHA!

I'm a monster?

You got that right.

I'll fucking kill you and I'll enjoy every goddamn minute of it.

SOMEDAY.

Not today. I can't live without you. You've been with me for so long, we have breathed the same air, thought the same crazy ideas, made the same mistakes together. In fact, you're the one who made me do all those things. You're also the one who kept me from living my life. You're the one reason why I am who I am right now. You're my shroud of darkness. You're my twin.

You're my demon.

I hate you.

No, I can't kill you yet.

I'm scared.

I'm not ready to step out of the darkness and into the blinding sunlight.

I love you.

Don't let me go.

I'll kill you some other time.

Please don't leave me. I need you!

Photo credits:  exodrug

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Welcome to the Dark Side

I see your brain, with grooves and all, an explosion of colors instead of a boring grey hue. I can only imagine the things that go on inside your mind - a party of thoughts and ideas. The potential is limitless. You could conquer the world. Hell, you could build a rocket if you want to.

But wait, what's that dark cloud swirling around your brain? A thick smoky wall of darkness that's preventing your good colors from spilling out? It's overpowering your mind, the colors are barely showing. The colors are trapped. How can you get rid of it?

Untitled

I simmered for a while, with what I don't know.
Then I felt a glimmer,
of hope? Nah, just a random, vague shimmer.
I let it cook, just watching it boil.
bubble bubble, it said.
I took it out of the oven,
fresh from the pot, I tasted.
What the hell.
My tongue got scalded.


Never again.

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Ignite

Pen in between teeth,

Legs under the sheet.

Dark thoughts swirling. 

To entertain? 

...Contemplating. 

Back, against the wall,

Eyes adrift. 

A pack of Pall Mall. 

Heart skips a beat. 

Ah forget it.

Give in. 

Light a stick. 

Words being sifted, 

tongue almost tasting them. 

Choke. 

A cough? 

No. 

Words being held back. 

One last hit, 

The glow slowly fades. 

Symbolic. 

Die just a little bit, 

with every cigarette stick. 

How melancholic.

Painting by YukiCryHikari

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WRITING PROMPT #1: The Scream

Writing Prompt:  You've been given a pencil, a sharpener, and a piece of paper. What are you gonna do with them?


Years ago, I would have sat down peacefully and wrote something. Anything. My writings bore me but they cleanse my soul.

Now?

I'm gonna sharpen that pencil, slowly, thoroughly. Then I'm gonna stab your eye with it, repeatedly. Over and over and over. Squish squish. Blood squirts all over, cheesy stuff drips all over your face, staining my pencil. You scream like you've never screamed before. In pure agony. Your annoying shrill voice drowns out my laughter. Squirt squirt, your eye socket fills with mush. I wanna tell you a funny joke about vitreous humour, but you're too busy crying tears and blood to get it, I'm sure.

So I sharpen my bloody pencil again while I stare at your pitiful face.

Table Manners Matters, Bon Appetit!

Lay her down - the bed or the floor,
or slam her body against the wall.
Brush her hair gently away from her face,
or grab a fistful of it -- Ahh, that sweet grimace.

Kiss her face, her lips, her earlobes.
Feathery, spine-tingling kisses all over.
Watch her expression's subtle change,
Feel her shiver under your gaze.

Caress her throat.
Bite her, mark her.
Down, down, she groans.
Worship her breasts.
Feed your urge to suckle.
Suck her nipples until her knees buckle.
Down, down.
Her skin is on fire.
Unrestrained desire floods her.
Watch her squirm.
Mindless mumbling.
Moaning obscenities.
Lower, lower.
Feel her legs tremble.

Watch her open up.
Unconsciously, involuntarily.
Touch her ever so lightly,
Feast your eyes as she spreads her legs widely.

Smell her.
Taste her.
Feel her.
Devour her.
Make her go crazy.

Look up.
Look in her eyes, tell her what you want.
Look in her eyes as she stares back,


That primal desire - animalistic, raw.
Ignite it with your greedy mouth,
Hear her moan.
Let her rub herself against your face. Violently.
Let her beg. She's at your mercy.
Let her lock your head in between her legs,
Your face buried deep.
Let her flood you with her sweetest nectar.
Drink, like you're in a desert and you're thirsty.
Lick. She's a popsicle dripping in a hot car.
You're a slave to her pussy.
Lick. Just lick.

Feel her succumbing,
feed on her.
Feel her submitting,
open her up.
Eat her.
C'mon, lick.

Violate her deliciously.
Intrude.
Enter.
Explore.

Fuck. Don't stop.

You still have your pants on.

It's gonna be a long night.

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Manalig Ka Lang.

Minsan, darating talaga sa buhay ng tao na iaalay mo na lahat ng meron ka sa kung sinong santo man ang pwede mong tawagin dahil nasa isang sitwasyon ka na sobrang hirap at di mo na alam ang gagawin mo. Yung feeling na atheista ka pero bigla ka mananalangin sa diyos na maykapal na sana.... sana....

Natigilan ako sa pagmumuni-muni dahil tagos sa eardrum  ang boses ni manong barker na nagtatawag ng pasaheros.

Iced Tea, Cigarettes, and Death

A gust of polluted wind blows in her direction, reminding her where she is, her soft black hair swaying gently across her face.

She looks around her without really looking, and her mind barely registers the people bustling past her. After several minutes of mindlessly staring at strangers, her eyes finally focus on her fingers – or what’s in between them— and she smiles bitterly. “My only companion in this world,” she mutters under her breath, “the best... and the worst.”

She puts her “companion” in between her moist lips and sucked in hungrily. She sighs inwardly as she feels the wonderful sensation only her menthol cigarette could ever give to her. She knows she should quit. Everyone tells her to. She chuckles darkly as she finds that amusing. Yeah, everyone. Well, where is everyone now? She is in the middle of a busy crowd and yet she has never felt more alone. But she’s used to it. That’s why she still hasn’t quit smoking. Because who the fuck cares? She doesn’t. That balding man in the wrinkled suit doesn’t. And that one picking at his nose obviously doesn’t too. She gazes at the approaching waiter whose only thing he probably cares about right now is refilling empty glasses. She feels a little envious – how simple life must be for this guy, no great expectations, and no one expecting him to do anything but refill glasses and not break anything. She stares at the waiter’s calloused hand as he puts iced tea into her glass.

"Thank you." Mr. Iced Tea Guy gave a tiny nod at her almost inaudible words. He left her immediately. There are napkins to be folded.

Bakit Nga Ba Wala Akong Boyfriend? A "Liwayway Rant" Special. Be Warned, MedyoBitterOcampo.

Medyo nababadtrip nako sa mga taong tanong ng tanong kung bakit wala akong boyfriend or kung kailan ako magpapakasal. Medyo lang naman. Ganon ako ka-understanding! Kasi kahit bordering on pakialamera ang level ng mga dora the chikadoras sa paligid-ligid, eh naiintindihan ko pa rin sila. Bakit? Kasi naging mababaw din ako dati. Naging judgmental din ako dati. Nag-aassume, feeling superior, nangengelam ng buhay ng may buhay. Thank god dati lang yon! Eh kumusta naman kayo mga chikadoras?

So bakit nga ba ang hilig ng mga pinoy na mag-overstep ng boundaries? Tipong pumepersonal level na kahit "hi, hello" lang ang timpla ng conversation."Wala ka bang boyfriend?" - as if pag meron akong boyfriend eh makakatulong ang sagot ko sa buhay nila. Makakakain ba kayo sa Army Navy pag sinabi kong "oo, ang sweet nga namin ng boyfriend ko eh!!"

Siguro sa iba eh walang malisya ang mga tanong, may masabi lang kumbaga. Pero di niyo ba naiisip? Na kaya maagang natututong maglandi ang mga kabataan ngayon eh dahil kahit 10 years old pa lang ang bata, and opening ni Kumare o ni Tito/Tita kapag nakita eh "Kegandang bata! Siguro may boyfriend ka na noh? uyyyyy!" LOL. Gusto ko kayong i-hadouken lahat! Yan lang ba ang ineexpect niyo sa mga tao? Na ang ultimate goal ay mag-boyfriend... tapos mag-aasawa... tapos mag-aanak.... (pwede ring ijumble-jumble ang cycle.) ... tapos ano? Nga nga? Try niyo kayang itanong for a change "Meron ka bang natulungang tao ngayon?" o di kaya naman "Paano ka makaka-contribute sa ikagaganda ng society natin?" ganon! Hindi yung pinupush mo pa na magpacute at mag hanap ng boylet/girlalu! Ang babaw lang diba? Di ba kayo nahihiya sa mga sarili niyo? Ang galing niyong pumuna sa ibang tao. Eh kayo ba pinapakialaman ko kapag hanap kayo ng hanap ng jowa. Palit ng palit. Status pa ng status sa facebook - may foreforever pa kayong nalalaman at sinasabayan pa ng hashtag true love, with sweet pic na kahit langgam magkaka-diabetes sa sobrang kasweetan. Tapos ano? Di pa man nakakalabas ang bagyo for the week eh break na kaagad? Then hanap ng bago. Masaya na kayo non? Tuwang-tuwa ako sa inyo gusto ko kayong i-hug, wait for it, - sa leeg.

Should we only love cute purebred dogs? How about the mutts? SHARE THE LOVE. (with UPDATES)

*To those who just wants to read the updates about DOGstoevsky, please scroll below*

I love animals more than I love people. Just this this morning (like ten minutes before I had to leave for work), my friend tagged me in a post and wanted me to watch a video of a dying stray dog that was granted his wish (I don't know how the animal communicator figured all that out though, maybe it's magic!) and I urge you to watch it.

Long story short, after crying my heart out, sobbing like a lost kid in a carnival, I put some dog food in a container so I could feed any stray dog I see - and quickly left the house. I don't want to be late for work, and I had to go someplace first. You see, last week I kept seeing this sickly and terribly emaciated dog on my way  to work - it's truly gut-wrenching to see him like that, but as you know life you can't always help every animal. I've been meaning to feed him since seeing him the first time but circumstances always prevented me from doing so (meaning, I'm always late for work).

The video I just mentioned (if you haven't clicked the link yet, I'm on my knees... watch it) opened my eyes and heart just a bit more. I have to do something now. I have to stop thinking and dreaming, and just do something. The first step is always just a teeny weenie baby step but it's also the most important - this morning I decided to get out of the jeepney, when I saw the dog in his same place (under the tricycle) looking weaker than ever, and feed him! It may not be as grand a gesture as building an animal shelter or whatnot, but like I've said, the first step no matter how small is the most important. I approached him, slowly so as not to startle him (he only managed to raise his head and his upper body) but when I whistled and said in a soothing voice "Here doggie, c'mon eat!", he tentatively sniffed around the dog food as if it's the first time he smelled food, and to my joy he started eating piece by piece. It's a kind of happiness I can't explain. I wanted to stay there just to watch him eat it one by one, but I'm running late for work. I managed to take some pics even though the people passing by were looking at me curiously. As if feeding a hungry dog and taking a picture of him is something weird and frowned upon. Should we always only take pictures of cute dogs? Should we only love cute purebred dogs?

I hope that one day, all of us realize that these mutts or strays should be loved as if they are our own pets. When I was feeding this dog, despite the poor condition he's obviously suffering, I still saw something in his eyes - a spark, like that of a slowly dying ember, but still there nonetheless - it's like I saw his soul (yes dogs have souls! Don't argue with me -_-) and all I saw was kindness and loyalty and the need to be loved & sheltered. It's heartbreaking. I wanted to take him home and bathe him and feed him as much as I feed my pets. But in reality, I can't always do that. I can't adopt every poorly-fed animals I see especially since he has an owner (and a terrible one!). What I can do is take that second baby step and bring him food and water tomorrow. And I'm looking forward to it. :)

UPDATES:

Why CHOCOLATE is GOOD for the HEART

So I was on my way to work, walking (the only exercise I get to do), when I saw an elderly woman scavenging a pile of trash. I have already walked past her, because admittedly I have become one of those people that have gotten so used to seeing such extreme poverty and can turn a blind eye & justify it with the phrase "I pity them, but that's life, we all have our own problems to deal with." (and no I'm not proud of that), but this time something made me stop and look back.

Kristen Stewart's Sex Poem... And Why Not Caring Is Important.

What seems like a jumble of words randomly taken from a dictionary, some seemingly made up, is actually a poem made by our resident brooding Hollywood A-lister, Kristen Stewart. This is probably one of the weirdest poems I've read, but definitely not the worst. People are too harsh. C'mon, is it really the worst? You guys still haven't read mine. LOL.

Some poems are straightforward, some are more abstract. KStew's teeters on the crazy, hazy side. And I love that! I love crazy! God knows what she means with this poem, but I see sex, and lots of it! So here's my tongue-in-cheek take on: 

My Heart Is A Wiffle Ball/Freedom Pole

(by Kristen Stewart)

I reared digital moonlight

You read its clock, scrawled neon across that black

Kismetly … ubiquitously crest fallen

Thrown down to strafe your foothills

…I'll suck the bones pretty.

(moonlight, crestfallen, black - can that mean sadness or depression? Ubiquitously, kismetly - fate, both of them are sad. Thrown together into a moment of shared emotions. Leading to KStew, uhhmm sucking something, some kind of errr- bones? hehe.)

Your nature perforated the abrasive organ pumps 

(nature - man's biology. perforated - entered. abrasive organ pumps - what a sexy euphemism for the female genitalia. hahahahahaha O_O)

Spray painted everything known to man,

(sprayed all over her "walls." As probably quite a few men have known that particular abrasive wall)

Stream rushed through and all out into 

(seriously, do I really have to explain this?)

Something Whilst the crackling stare down sun snuck 

(they were making love until the crack of dawn)

Through our windows boarded up

He hit your flint face and it sparked. 

(I thought she was talking about Rupert Sanders. But she said he sparked - fairy vampire. That means Edward Cullen of course)

The Legend of the Killer Cockroach & the Madwoman's Plight

I was abused.

Emotionally... Verbally...  Psychologically...

Abused as a child.

By my parents.. By my relatives.. By the people who raised me.

And now that I’m an adult, those traumatic experiences are still affecting me tremendously.

LOL. No I wasn't. I was just being melodramatic. =P

Flashback to late 80’s - early 90’s. When I still weighed like a cotton candy, sported bangs and ruffled/laced psychedelic clothes, pulled off tantrums in an irritating but forgivable way, and just annoyed a lot of people with my utter “spoiled little girl” nature.

I remember, whenever I do something naughty, my babysitters would always scream “aro ayan nayng ipas!! ('look there's the scary cockroach!!')” or “sige pag emuku pemintwan, puntalan naka ning ipas! ('if you disobey me, the roach will pay you a visit - and you won't like it!)” IPAS. IPAS. IPAS. COCKROACH. COCKROACH. COCK-FREAKIN-ROACH.

For the rest of my childhood years I’ve been constantly reminded that some ipas would crawl from under my bed, into my mouth/nose/and other orifices, and gnaw at my brains & intestines, lay their eggs on my ears, and then eat my soul (lol, pardon the melodrama).

No wonder I turned out like this.

Fast forward to the present day. At twenty-e — one.. at 21, I have this INSANE fear of cockroaches. Give me headless horsemen anytime, hovering coffins, blood-thirsty vampires, or rabid dogs, with open arms I’ll sacrifice myself. TOTALLY INSANE. But one freaking roach. I’m dead. Paralyzed. Mind blank. Heart beating faster than a Tiesto mix. Dizziness to the point of disorientation. Neurosis. One freakin cockroach could kill me. The only thing I fear more than a cockroach is a FLYING COCKROACH!

Sinong nagsabing MATABA ako hah?!?

(Posted this on Jan. 4, 2011. LiveJournal account. As much as I hate to admit it, I have grown bigger and bigger since then. -_- )

PORKet ba dumagdag ako ng "konting" timbang (mga 22 lbs lng nmn ah. UPDATE: nadagdagan pa ng another 20 lbs haha.) eh mataba nako?

PORKet ba umuusli at nakabuyangyang ng bonggang-bongga ang tiyan ko, nakaupo man o nakatayo eh mataba nako?

PORKet ba lumaki ng "konti" ang mga braso ko (at iniisip nilang ng-gy-gym ako. body-building kumbaga) eh mataba nako?

PORKet ba halos lahat ng kaibigan ko ay pinapag-gym ako eh mataba nako? (concerned lang sila sa health ko. gusto lang nila akong maging fit.)

at PORKet ba inadjust na ng mama ko ang hook, butones, at kung anik anik pa sa lahat ng mga uniform ko dahil ang sikip na sa tiyan ko, eh mataba nako?

HINDE. CHUBBY LANG AKO.

Kasi nmn mali yang term na mataba eh. Tumaba pwede pa. At least yon parang feeling ko konti lang ang tinaba ko.

Tatanggapin ko pa yon ng buong puso. Kaya sa lahat ng nagsasabing "ang taba-taba ko",eto ang mga tanong ko sa inyo.

• pag ba sinabihan ko ang kaaway ko na "you're such a bitch!", ay masasabi ba niya sa akin na "kung beach ako, salbabida ka!"? HEHE. HINDI SIGURO. (jez, tnx for the borrowed banat :P)

• pag ba sumasakay ako sa pedicab eh sinusumpong ng asthma o kya nmn eh pinuputukan ng ugat sa paa ang padyak driver? HINDE.

• pag ba sumakay ako sa dyip eh iniisip ba ng driver, barker, at mga taong katabi at kaharap ko na dapat pangdalawang tao ang bayad ko? HINDI RIN SIGURO.

• pag ba magtatago sa likod ko si Chokoleit eh matatakpan siya ng bonggang-bongga? HAHA. HINDI RIN.

• pag ba umupo ako sa isang upuan eh lumalangitngit ito ng walang puknat? NOPE. I don't think so :P

• pag ba hinamon ko ng away ang lalake, eh papatulan niya ako dahil feeling niya ka-level ko lang siya, kung katawan at lakas lang ang usapan?

• at if ever man pinatulan nga ako ng lalakeng yon at bigla niya akong sinuntok. pag ba nakahandusay ako at biglang napabilak, at tumaas ang skirt ko eh biglang tatalikod ang isang umuusyosong lalaki dahil diring-diri siya sa nakita niya? at hindi man lang ako agad tutulungan ng iba dahil alangan sila na baka hindi nila ako mabuhat? HAHAHA! HINDI AKO SI NYMPHA, mga kapatid.

• pag ba pinaupo ako sa elementary school arm-chairs na dikit-dikit ay hindi ako kakasya, at mangangailangan pa ako ng monobloc? HINDI NAMAN.

• pag ba dumating sa point na kailangan magkandungan, eh ako pa ang magkakandong sa boypren ko dahil hindi kakayanin ng powers niya na kandungin ako?

• and last but not the least, kung mataba ako, edi sana malaki din ang boobs ko! PERO HINDI EH! Ang saklap diba? mas malaki pa ang tiyan ko sa boobs ko.

at yan lang ang point ko mga friends. hindi po ako mataba. Tumaba lang. :P

Gusto ko lang talagang magsayang ng oras, at sana nasayang din ang panahon niyo sa pagbasa nito, haha!

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An Illicit & Explicit Longing

The thought of your sweet scent makes my mouth water... makes me sigh with longing. Touching you with my fingers, oh those memories of me playing with you right before I put you in my mouth. The way you light up as I suck on you, devour your essence, clouds my mind with bliss and contentment…


I shake my head as if that will make me forget. Forget how being addicted to you made me feel. How insanely dependent I was on you. I ask myself how something destructive can feel so good inside of me? I close my eyes as another thought fills my mind. Another weak moment in my past. A memory of intense pleasure building up, making me feel breathless. I try to keep you inside me, but that sweet release is inevitable. The moment I feel you escape my lips I know I want more. I take another hit. Yes! I already feel satisfied and you’re almost drained, but it’s not enough for me. I want more.


I capture you again in between my trembling lips.


My body relaxes as my lungs fill with your sweet smoke… Ahh, yes. That sublime feeling…







I miss you menthol cigarettes.

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Meeting Santa & Satan

(A repost from my LiveJournal account. Wrote this years ago.)

Thinking about random stuff...

What if I went to North Pole? 

It will probably go something like this.

(dreamy music. enter imagined scenario)

After a tiring but incredibly enjoyable tour of Santa's toy factory, a snowball fight with the elves, & a fun sleigh ride with the reindeers, relaxing in St. Nick's fairy tale english cottage while sipping a cup of good ol' hot choco drink courtesy of Mrs. Claus is very much appreciated.

ME:  So Santa, why didn't you give me a present last christmas? I was a good girl, you know.

SANTA:  (with his booming voice & all his jolliness) Ho, Ho, Ho! No you weren't.

ME:  What?! Yes i was.

SANTA:  Ho, Ho.. So you're gonna insist on playing this jukienice character huh? ok, let's see.. (he got his famous LIST).. hmm.. you don't pray at night, you don't do chores, you drink, you broke practically all 10 commandments, you s---

ME: That's not true! I've been good!

SANTA: (still ho-ho-hoing) You lie, You-- ahem, do you want me to go on? I mean I'm just getting started. This past 2 months you broke the record by being consistently on top of my "naughty" list. You're a bum, you took v---

ME:  OK! I get it! No gifts for me, jeez! (I said good-naturedly as I drank my not-so-hot hot choco)

SANTA:  Ho Ho Ho! I'm just saying, you know! I mean, you could go to Hell for --


I didn't hear the rest of his sentence...


.. because i was again thinking.. Wouldn't it be COOL if i went to HELL & "chilled out" with dear old Lucifer?

Besides, it's so freaking cold here I can't even feel my tongue. Plus, the effing merriness in this place is too much for my pessimistic nature. blaah.

So from North, I went South. Way, way down south...

Cold With Dread

It's 5:30 in the morning, and it's chilly. Really chilly.

She wakes up but her mind is still trying to drift off to sleep. She feels like she's been drugged. She rubs her hands & arms vigorously, trying to make herself feel warm - it's no use. Through droopy, sleepy eyes, she scanned her room out of habit and sees nothing but darkness, except for the hypnotic light from her computer monitor which is the only thing alive during this time. Everybody is still sleeping. Yet, here she is, awake and asleep at the same time.

She knows she has to do it.

She has to do it.

But could she?

Dread filled her as she thinks of what she has to do soon. Goosebumps crawl all over her skin as her icy hands try - unsuccessfully - to keep the evil cold from engulfing her senses. She lets out a deep, depressed sigh as she stands up.

She has to do it now.

Dragging her feet like a zombie, she walks towards the bathroom door, her hands stopping inches from the seemingly gleaming door knob - hesitating... Dreading. Breathing in deeply, she finally opens the door.

Another sigh.

"Here we go..." She muttered darkly.

Uncertainty fills her mind. Her body recoils from the task that has to be done but her mind keeps telling her to do it now. Pull the trigger. Plunge the knife straight to the heart. Cut the wrist and watch the blood drip. Whatever you have to do, just do it.

She has to do it. She keeps reminding herself.

She trembles involuntarily as she touches the cold steel.

NO. She can't do it!

It's too cold!

She turns her back from the shower, turns off the light, and closes the bathroom door.

"I showered yesterday anyway." She justifies to herself.


DISCLAIMER: the madwoman always showers before working. LOL.  =D 

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Fifty Shades of LIFE and why living feels like torture.

Life is a bitch. There's no use sugarcoating that. Because no matter how much you pretend that life is beautiful and easy and worth all the obstacles you have to endure all your life, the sad thing is, Life will make sure you don't forget that she is one helluva sadistic bitch.

She will whip, smack, punch, bludgeon, and strangle your fast-waning hope & positivity until you are in the brink of soul-death - gasping, begging, whimpering, slowly fading.

Until she gives you another glimmer of hope. A tiny sip of rejuvenating water. A false vision that everything is gonna be alright. To give you a surge of energy to continue living,  to fight another battle that life will give you, to believe that we can do it. We can survive it. That everything will be better if only we remain strong and steady. Yes Life whispers to us and urges us "just a bit more, almost there, it will be okay..."

And then as any two-faced sadistic bitch, the moment you think your goal is within your reach, SHIT HAPPENS. Life yanks you by your collar, pulls you back, and chuckles cruelly, teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling with cruel glee, and tells you in your face "Not so fast, fool."

*repeat torture*

Then life gives you another glimmer of hope.

Then you stumble (or pushed) into another big pile of crap.

The cycle continues.

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