maybe that way, I'd learn how to control my shaking.

I no longer know how to trust you ---even if your doin nothing wrong. i cant convince myself that you're all mine, that every minute that you're away is a truthful minute of nothing but me and loyalty. it tears me up, knowing that I'm not safe with my thoughts and your 'semi-assurance' of a 'seemingly forever love affair'. lying next to you feels like a head trauma. i cant hear myself, i cant feel you, i can no longer see the same old you i fell inlove with (and worst, i cant hold on you without thinking that your here coz you simply 'got used to Us ---no more love, just a habit of shore).

i cant even trust you when you're around MY friends, everything seems to be a blur of you hitting on them or vice versa ---at least thats how it works for me and my brain. I cant really feel you, i can no longer feel myself. i want my old self back, i want the old you i fell inlove with. i want the old you. =(

I really love you, but as the song goes: "You can't play on broken strings".
i cant convince myself, so after this, after you wake up, i'm going to do what's necessary.

"He brings out the kid in me" ---this is the line that has been clinging over my head for the past few days. its like another 'feel-good mantra' or 'calm-me-down wussa' spun like a broken vinyl; left to remind me that there's still innocence and honesty in this world. yes, you remind me of chiklhood (of naivete, innocence, honesty and everything care-free in between). you remind me of trust, and of fidelity ---something I've lost hope on a long time ago. you remind me all of this when i look into your eyes. your eyes mixed with longing, happy smiles, and pure honesty ---those eyes i fell inlove with. i love it when i look in your eyes. it calms me and at the same time it makes me feel small. it calms me coz i know that i've found a person worth looking straight in the eyes and say that 'your pure' but at the same time makes me fee small coz i know that i used to have those eyes (i used to, not anymore). Thank you for always making me feel special. =) You're the last person i'd ever wanna hurt (seriously). this past few days has been an epiphany in a form of you. you just dont know how thankful i am that i met you. i may not express it all the time (i've recently found it hard to express my true feelings freely) but you're very special, and you deserve to be treated as one. thank you Guilly Boy, I Love You. ---AISHITERU AIJI. (dated: 10/27/2008)

and his reply to me feels empty now (just another empty set of words):

celebi..... gilboy ko pala.... hehe... nkow di ako magsasawa na makasama ka...khit pareho pa taung bad breathe evrytime na gumigcing tau....kiss pa din kita.... lalong di ako magsasawang lagyan ng notes yang mga gamit mo para alam kong mauus lagi ang asawa ko.... paxencia na...tinagalog ko na lang kc bka pag ininglish ko...bka mawrong grammar pa ako tapos icorrect mo pa ako...hehe...peace...nipapatawa ka lang ni guillyboy... sana di ka sakin magsawa magpaxencia khit madalas me nagtatantraums...korek ba spelling ko???hehe...sana di ka magsawa khit unti-unti na akong tumataba...kahit minsan lier ako...sori...sana di ka magsawa khit dumdami na pimples ko.... andito lang ako lagi sa tabi mo kasama ni reddy and reddy ursa... MAHAL NA MAHAL KITA!!!!!!=P (dated: 12/24/2008 06:29 PM)

its sad that everything started from nothign and ended in nothing.

i guess its true, I got the curse of the Truth. it's just like what Sylvia Plath once said: "The Truth loves me! the truth comes to me." ---it always plays in my head when i unintentionally (which is SO more often than you think what should be coincidental) find out something that shouldnt be known. like for example, how he claimed that he was 'Raped' by two guys a year ago which turned out to be a week ago; or how he continuously deny that he never had any 'relationship' with the guy he claims he was 'raped' by (which eventually turned out that everytime he goes to my place his second stop is their place which is 5 blocks away from ours); or how we started out so happy until i found out that i was only his paramour (back-up) for the past few months until he decided to end it with him; or worst of all, how i started looking into his eyes with pure elation and innocence before and now how it fades into absolute meaning of LIES and DECEIT.

all thats left of me now is nothing more than the "Play of Knowing and how you'd use it to your advantage"

this is the state that i initially Desired for; and now I'm not quite sure if i really want it.

(See its been so long since my last post--- Lame)

this is your queue to make me stop. make me stop with your touch and assurance that i'll never be just another doormat just lke to everyone else. I'm so tired of being hurt so please this is your queue to take me and never let me go.

then maybe, just maybe, this time, I'd know when, where, and how to stop.

as for me, i'll be discovering this newly adapted form of stoicity.

(Coz in some ways, i really cant believe someone who considers me as a mere back-up)

JUST ANOTHER BACK-UP. another fallback. another consenting paramour.

“I don’t know how to.”

It ended there, in an awkward and abrupt way. I knew one of these days someone would be telling me this and I’d be replying in a monotone, stoic manner. It’s always been in a loop —as if telling me that this isn’t in duress but in a willful submission. I guess I don’t love myself that much; I love everything too much except for myself. I’m your true-blue emo-masochist. I’ve been thinking to myself, is this really what I’m meant to do? Have I been destined to hop endlessly from one scene to another in search of contentment (or at the very least, understanding)?

I don’t know what to write anymore. I don’t know what to say. I wanna write about happy memories, but it seems to have passed into another liquid state of amnesia. I wanna write how I meet you (how the smell of Lacoste and Ice-blended coffee sticks to my memory like gummy bears in between my teeth); how I like it when your body twitch in perfect motion (as if in a dance) when you sleep, or how your innocent eyes assures me (for awhile) of certain hopes, promises and dreams; or simply how you hold my hand in public not caring what other people would say —but all seems to be a futile attempt to create a makeshift memory of me (you).

In the office, I’m branded as a SLUT (coz I think that’s what I’ve always been telling them). I guess I’ve always wanted to be seen as one, just to hinder people from hurting me more and more. Yes I am a slut; I have every right to be one especially when I’m hurting. I have every right to mend myself in a way that I know, in every possible way to help me cope-up. I put on this mask to help me survive, never showing a weak spot that they could target. I guess only a few people really understand (understood) me; and when they do, I just drive them off with my smile. I was once told by my officemate:

“You are not a slut. You’re just insisting that you are coz you know deep inside that you want something else other than just sex. You have a very big heart that when you’re hurt you don’t even want people to worry about you.”

I don’t know where to stand now.

Look, Look, Look... im now Animated. KAWAI!!! haiaiahia!