Throwback Thirst Day

over the past couple of days different parts of me have been collectively inspiring me to message you and tell you how much i miss you. 

there is a cacophony of various whispers in my head.

different versions of: "can we sleep together again?" and "can i kiss you?" and "can i cuddle with you?" would echo back and forth your brain as it gets louder and louder down to your chest.

then at the chest area you will experience that loud bang. that loud thud. that loud motherfucking blow of emotion that you don't want to feel. well shit like those happens.

and really, even as i am typing this i am so tempted to grab my phone and send you a message but i guess my fear of another NO and rejection from you is stronger nowadays.

it's like the other day when one of my recent crush told me out of the blue this statement:

"as much as i like you because you are so handsome, smart and really charming, i want you to understand that i will never pursue any romantic or physical relationship with you."

his statement totally crushed me. not because i like him so much that i felt so fuckin rejected but because hsi statement resonates so strongly with what you always tell me:
1. that you do not reciprocate any romantic love from me
2. that despite the fact that you like me, i am smart, charming, etc, you can never be in a relationship with me
3. that i deserve someone better
4. that you can never be committed and monogamous
5. that you don't wanna have sex with me anymore (though you do not deliberately express that)

i miss you. you fucker.  i will probably just keep it here. why? because the probability of you reading my thoughts from this space is zero.  because you don't have the time. because you simply do not care. 




you know what? i should also tell myself to never make plans with you again. the ratio of getting a big no from you is really high. i mean i shouldn't be surprised at this point.

this is me reminding myself to protect myself from any kind or form of hurt from you.

i should probably just erase shit out of my brain.

that could be easy. but the motherfuckin heart is more complex.


never trust a man in fedora riding the midnight train

the back of one of the chairs of the train was tagged with a jagged heart with the words:

"i love you george. i love you my punk!"

it seemed like it was etched by a really sharp object. most probably a tiny knife of sort.

it is short, sweet and motherfuckin memorable. 

i swear if someone would do the same to me, i would melt on the spot like the dozens of ice creams that i have consumed for the past year or so.

the person who did it is brave enough to record his/her profesison of love on teh fuckin backseat of a motherfuckin public train.


a girl on a wheelchair who looks like a more beautiful version of lady gaga (probably because of her nose and eye make-up) boarded the car with her tall friend wearing an all black booty shorts, some nice boots and fitted black shirt.

 a man wearing a fedora followed them.

they all reek of alcohol.

the guy is tall. wearing an all black ensemble with a fedora hat as an accent to his balding head.

i sat a few seats away from them. i was anticipating  morpheus' arrival when an obnoxious fight ensued among the three. 

shouting, bickering and smart-assing happened.

they fought over a pen.

cops came.

lady gaga on a wheelchair and her friend sat beside me.

after the fedora guy left, they both laughed and screamed "never trust a guy with a fedora"


trackback to the amtrak train aka hogwarts express a few hours earlier.

went to the bathroom to relieve my bladder. i was in the middle of peeing when the door slid open.

a family saw me.

they were in shock.

going back to the crazy red line post-midnight trip:

an african-american girl with her girlfriend boarded the train from hollywood. a few stops later, the other girl unleashed almost a bucket of poorly concocted undigested cereals, meet stuff and alcohol. nasty shit-ass fuck. 

my train car became a party car. you can hear cheers. people snapping photos and taking videos of the poor girl throwing up.

while all of this is happening, a tall, handsome manly dude kept smiling at me. he winked before he exited the door. 

i got home at like 2 in the morning.


he who cries over deathcab for cutie's when soul meet sbody while eating ice cream and smoking cigarette must never shed tears for months.

hashtag relief. 


sitting at the bus stop across an abandoned dental office.
the bus doesn't arrive till 6 in the morning.
london grammar serenades my ear as smoke creates this small world of split-second oblivions for me.
i love those moments when you just forget. all of it. 
for that tiny magical split second, all the shits--- gone.
then i get my ice cream, and walk to the park. and eat the whole pint of it.
and light another cigarette as i walk back home to lana del rey's ultraviolence album.


the show

what do you do when your mind assumes the position of a director and plays unsolicited random cuts of memories and imagery from your brain?

enjoy the motherfuckin wild show.

to be fair, it is pretty sophisticated as it picks and highlights a lot of the most memorable pieces of moments from your mind and of course it takes to a ride on a crazy emotional tsunami.

it's crazy how in the past couple of days i have been thinking so much about you. i miss you. i really really do. i just miss hanging with you. getting faded with you. laughing with you. watching movies with you and holding your hand and hugging you. just those simple shit that we share together. i wanna share things with you. thinking about these things and how you now do these things with whoever kills me. i so wanna fire my director of a brain at the moment but it is too powerful.

i so wanna text you and say hi and probably call you just to hear your voice but it scares me. it scares me that it will trigger more feelings of hurt and pain and i dunno how much more pain i can take from you.

i just don't want to arrive at that point when i feel so numb against you. i just don't want to arrive at that point where i despise you and hate you. you know how i strongly feel about you and i still want you in my life so i just don't wanna go to that place if you know what i mean.

even though there is a really small probability that you will read this blog (and i am assuming that you may assume that this is not about you anyway), i am still posting this here in hopes that one day you will know how much i think of you. and for fuck's sake i still care about you and think of you every single day.

i hope this director cut playing in my brain will end soon.



for some weird reason, my nails and my hair grow way faster in america. 

effort, baby


sometimes, even the tiniest bit matters and could go a long long fucking way.

how much effort does it require to send a goddamn text message?
how much energy would you consume to pick up your fuckin phone and dial a number and say "hi how are you doing?"

i mean, sometimes a simple hi or a smiley face would suffice.


of journeys and good luck

i could've texted you but i prefer writing a slightly longer message.

i hope your travels gave you some wonderful memories that you can cherish as you blossom into a more beautiful creature.

i am  so proud of you with all the good things that are happening at your life and with your growth as a person.

you know i will always be proud to have you as a friend right?

oh also, i hope the travels have made your heart happier and stronger and more resilient to bullshits. lol

i wish i can travel soon. i mean, i will. i will be in new york city soon.

and i hope these travels can make my heart grow stronger too.

i always admire you for your strength as a person and your strength in standing tall against all of the shitballs thrown at you by life.

i miss you.

your heart money goodluck charm is working. it is awesome.
thank you for that.

cheers to amazing future journeys in life together!

anyway, hope to see you soon.



ok, lol, bye

sometimes i dunno what to feel about these words


midnight snack

one night i decided to devour three huge bag of spicy chips. one hawaiian kettle corn mango habanero, one bag of takis ultimate fuego and one cheesey jalapeƱo cheetos while watching movies that i think you would love to watch with me. saw alien. saw the fountain. saw lord of the rings and saw life aquatic with dr. zissou. i downed the chips together with the plot of these films with coffee. took e hours to finish all of the chips and films. at the end of the last film

i am still hungry.


what a privilege

it is and forever will be a privilege to have my heart broken by you

i mean, whatever happens, i love you. i always will even if you keep breaking me down into the core whenever you your eyes, your lips, your body, your words and your soul breaks up with me. 

smoking the pain away

a couple of days ago i learned to pick up sticks that were proven to reduce the number of my supposed to be lifetime on earth. it was a conscious decision on my part to try something new, to do something that i thought i would never do and to possibly ignite back the embers of my respect for myself.

each stick burned and each smoke that dissipates through the air symbolizes a transition, an independence from a ruthless state of continuous pain brought both consciously and subconsciously by the world and the motherfucking matters of the human heart.


of being needed and the new peter parker film

one of the most prominent themes of the new spiderman film is about making people feel important.

the importance of being "needed" even in the simplest way is essential and powerful.

i meant to write a longer post about this but sometimes brevity works wonders.

on the other hand, the film needs to be more human, it needs a heart, it needs a deeper story. there is a feeling of disconnect maybe because ob the overwhelming layers of CG. it made me feel as if I have watched a two and a half hour video game.


mula na naman kay lali (tagos puso, para s kaibigan)

Sa Aking Kaibigan

Kailangan kong iyong maunawaan
na naririnig ko ang bawat mong kalungkutan
na sa bawat paghihirap, handa kang tulungan
dalhin mo ako kung saan maaaring magpahinga
itong aking pagal na katawan.

Nais kong pagsabihan ng iyong suliranin
ng iyong bawat inaasam, ng iyong bawat mithiin
ako ay kabahagi ng iyong bawat kalungkutan
ako ay karamay sa bawat awitin ng kaligayahan
'pagkat alam kong sa buhay takot iyong tangan.

Hinihintay kong tulungan ka ay iyong hayaan
ipahayag ang sa puso mo'y mga nananahan
upang pag-ibig ako rin ay iyong maturuan
'pagkat akong minsang tinuring mong kaibigan
sa 'yo mistulang multong aking kaisampalad
kaibigan sa kabila ng pasakit na iyong pinalipad.


tangina mo lang pag-ibig ka

philippine noontime show eat bulaga has been making me laugh like a maniac over the past few days.

i love it when their crew visit baranggays and raffle a lucky winner living in the deep street labyrinths of manila.

their inside jokes tickle me. for some weird reason the organic happiness and laughter coming from the hosts, the audience and the contestants seem to reach me inside me room hundreds of thousands of miles away from the philippines.

i miss my country and their happy people.

i mean, poverty and all shit combined, the philippines is a relatively happier country than america.

watching the show makes me feel like i am also travelling with the hosts who visit different families everyday. it makes me feel like i am a part of them, makes me feel like i am a part of this social learning process.  i mean , you hear the stories, the dramas, the fun, the different family angles and at special cases, you hear something really crazy and unexpected.

i was all sweaty and laughing like crazy watching this segment when the lucky lady contestant in bleached hair dropped a huge bomb that silenced the laughter for a while.

"my husband just died. he committed suicide. hanged himself up our ceiling."

eat bulaga host: "why? how?"

the blonde lady winner narrated the story under the heat of the sun.

there is this disquieting silence that enveloped the air.

"last night we were drinking. he told me he loves me very much."

eat bulaga host: "and what did you tell him?"

"i told him nothing. i mean, i am assuming that he knows it already. i mean, mmm uhmm i can't i mean, lord knows how i feel about him."

eat bulaga host: " why did you not tell him you love him?"

blonde lady winner: (silence)

fuck you love.
< 3


something for the brave, the wounded and the fighters

"You are not brave because you said no, or brave because you ran away, or because you looked love in the face and said 'not today.'
There is nothing courageous about the way you left me, open handed, palms outwards, waiting. I was standing at your door and I was saying 'I will take you as you are if you will do the same for me.' You didn’t know how to.
No one had taught you that wanting someone desperately is like sliding out of your clothes and out of your skin and laying yourself at their feet. All skin and no walls. All soul and no teeth, no metal, no keys. No one had shown you how lovely vulnerability can be.
How proud it is to be naked in front of someone.
Fully clothed, naked.
Arms full of heart. Heart full of rain.
Body like an olive branch, I am telling you that I love you today.
I am telling you that I am not scared to be fragile in front of you. I am telling you that I trust you to look after my gentle.
Keep it safe, don’t keep it hidden.
They say that giving your name to someone is giving them power over you.
I wrote my name on your wrists.
I wrote it in your mouth.
Whispered it into your ear.
I said “here, this is who I am, do what you will with it.
I am not scared. I am not frightened.
” Even then, even after that, in that quiet rain filled room I watched you stitch yourself back up again and turn away, I watched you do it without me.
I kept my hands open anyway, just in case.
Here, the mattress is asking you what you’re doing. Here, the walls have known how you sound when you murmur my name.
Here, everything is wondering where your brave is.
Where has your courage gone? Where is your wolf?
I know that you can feel in colours that haven’t been invented yet. I know that you’re trembling beneath your soldier body.
I would have loved you enough for the both of us.
Until then, I will run through the streets after dark holding a sign that says ‘I SURVIVED LOVING A MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW HOW TO LOVE ME BACK AND IT WAS GLORIOUS.’"

— Azra.T


am i not good enough?

a motherfuckin question that haunts you once in a while.

don't worry, because one day you will meet that someone who will find you pretty enough, hot enough, sexy enough and exciting enough to love you and want you exclusively. :)

of mourning

"why do you cry?" 
he asked.

it took me a while to gather a response.

in that moment my body was drowned with the ocean of heartbeats and lightning flashbacks.

there's that random feelings of loss- and it gives my back chills like an icy wind on a still starless evening.

it feels like a hole has been punched through the hard wall that i built to protect my heart.

thing is i rarely cry. i find it hard to open because i think it makes you really vulnerable to a lot of things.

in that moment, i felt the gush of emotion flowing out of the broken walls of the dam that i built.

"why do you cry?"

it feels like another heartbreak. wait, no. i should be used to that feeling already so it can't be.

loss. yeah, it's more about loss. the fear of losing over and over and over again. the fear of losing someone so special, someone so precious to someone else.

"why do you cry?"

it's because of the fucking memories and all the what could have beens. the things that i could have done with you. the things that i could do only with that special someone. which is just a far-fetched idea.

"why do you cry?"

i am selfish. i want you. but i know that by default you don't really own anyone and can never own anyone because at the end of the day it is you and yourself that matters.

"why do you cry?"
i am jealous. but i know i should not be because we are not in any kind of any romantic relationship anyway.
i hate how my mind think of you doing things to strangers to other people who may or may not really care for you at all.

"why do you cry?"

because i still wish that someday we will be together. and again, given that this possibility is such a far-fetched idea, it breaks my heart into infinite pieces.

"why do you cry?"

because i have never cried for a while. because it always feels like goodbye. although i know we already agreed of not leaving each other. of staying at each other's lives for as long as we can.

"why do you cry?"

the complicated situation

"why do you cry?"

because i am sad. not like suicidal i don't know how to be happy sad. sad because it hits me. it just hits me hard in the core/. and it sucks because just when i got a new life because of you, i felt like i have to lose and let go of another.

"why do you cry?"

i long for security.
i want someone who i can just hold hands with. i want someone who i can spend time with even without talking. i want someone that i can cuddle with.  want someone that i can kiss slowly, passionately over and over again. i want someone whom i can freely express my love with- someone who i can say "i love you" over and over and over again. 

"why do you cry?"

because i just want to feel something real. be loved by that someone who could love me for who i am, accept me despite all flaws and shits.

"why do you cry?"

because I imagine you sleeping with other people, sharing passion with them, sharing a kiss with them, shaing intimacy with them instead of me.

"why do you cry?"

because i don't want to lose faith in love and romance.

though at this point my mind and heart say it is just all a bunch of crap. 

"why do you cry?"

and i am crying as i fucking write this. maybe to let go. maybe to revel in the pain. maybe because crying sometimes make you feel really good. 

"why do you cry?"

i am too scared of disappointment to start all over again.

"why do you cry?"

because i love you.


the person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing.

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