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Desperately Wanting.

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Haaaaaaa! I found his blog. Pakshet. Thanks, Kerry . It's actually devoid of any pictures, design or tools, just entries. Actually the surprise was that he has one, but now that I've thought of it, why not? I like the way he writes. And it's wonderful that he relates so much about himself without ever really revealing anything. Talk about intellectually-stimulating. *grrrrrrrrrowl* Fuck. I've been owned. My friends know that I've this thing for cute men with glasses. Well, not really geeky but men who actually look and are smart. Not just some wannabe geek. He was this guy in the office that I've been eyeing: tall, nice fair skin, broad shoulders, wavy hair, beautiful eyes with long lashes behind the glasses. Never noticed him before until that one time in March in the pantry when I was having merienda with Lucio and he came in for a drink. I think Lucio noticed that I was looking too hard at the guy that he called him by his first name and made small talk. I...
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Of Shots and Lost Causes.

J: (swallows the tequila with a grimace) You made a mistake. You made a wrong choice. Live with it. Masyado ka kasing passionate eh. Tsk. (pours me a shot) I-shot mo na yan. Me: Ang dali ah. (looks at the tequila shot with disdain) You know, gusto ko lang i-share sa'yo; I read somewhere that anything less than mad, passionate, extraordinary love is a waste of time. And that there are too many mediocre things in life to deal with BUT love shouldn't be one of them. How true is that, 'no? And I believe that, I do. That's what I've been doing: when I fall in love, I make sure it's mad, it's passionate, and it's extraordinary. (shoots the tequila and looks for a chaser that doesn't have scotch in it) Hindi naman mali yun, diba? J: (Takes the shot I hand him and looks me in the eyes) No, it's not wrong. You just have to know when to stop loving, when to stop being passionate. (lick, shoots and sucks) And you don't have to explain yourse...
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Down and out.

When I got home from work today I went straight to my room, locked the door and laid on my bed, not bothering to change clothes or take off my thick boot socks. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, my room full of light from the window. I felt tired. I felt... lost. I felt cold, too. Dazed, I looked up at my air conditioner and found it be on. Weird. I don't remember turning it on. My head hurt. I sat up and grabbed my fleece blanket from the end of the bed and curled myself up underneath it. I snatched my teddy bears from their pedestal at the top of my bed and hugged them to me. Usually hugging them bears would comfort me, lull me to sleep, or better yet help me vent whatever frustration I had. But it was different this morning. There were no tears. None at all. It worries me because I cry a lot. Crying gives me the release I need. Somehow it lessens the pain and clears my head. A cleansing ritual if you may. And now, the tears don't come at all. It's scary because all ...
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