Insane Wonderland

In just a few more hours

2013-03-22T21:51:00.000-07:00

I shall be graduating tomorrow

2013-03-22T07:33:00.001-07:00

Wow, I really messed up this 'challenge', huh?

Anyways, these are stuff I didn't post before:

Friday, March 1, 13

The sky is making me cry.

The shade and hue of the sky makes me think of life as it ends and begins, but the light as it falls from my curtains is evoking in me a somewhat bitter melancholy. This sky is a sky of lovers had falling in love, battles being won, lives being born, of lovers had falling out of love, battles being lost, lives being shed. It is a sky that’s making the reality of this day all the more clear.

Now, more than ever, is the perfect time for this particular sky. It is a beautiful sky, and it is a perfect sky. And today, on the day of the end of my high school years, the sky is the perfect sky of beginnings and endings, and it is making me cry.

(I posted before, just not here)

Well someone my parents knew got kidnapped and he's speculated to be dead now. I've never met him, don't even know his name yet for some fucking reason I'm crying my eyes out because God I don't know. I feel wrong somehow, crying over this person I've never met, never even heard of before today. I just, I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Maybe I'm actually just scared because that could've easily happened to me or anyone in my family. I don't know. Dammit I don't know. I just want to get my hands on those kidnappers and box them and kill or something. Jesus, if you're going to kidnap someone at least get someone who can actually pay the ransom. Where the fucking hell are they going to find that money dammit? Dammit dammit dammit.

(ditto)

Woke up yesterday feeling tired and wanting to die so I skipped school. Later on that day I found out that this compilation thing I need to do is a prerequisite to the formal graduation, meaning if I don’t pass it(technically them, I need to make two), I could still graduate, I just won’t be part of the graduation ceremony.

Did I also mention that the dead line was on Monday? Well, maybe. Everybody I’ve asked has been giving me different answers. Heck even the teacher is confusing me. He said last week that he’ll accept it anytime after the exams as long as it’s passed before the grad practices. So I thought I was good but shit I might not.
I tried doing it anyways but I couldn’t finish it and all it did was make the little episode bigger. Just looking at the papers and all the calendars and journals that I didn’t make frustrated me and made this feeling of dread in my stomach stronger.
Today I had to go to school to take the NAT exam and I was supposed to go to my group mate’s house to prepare for our oral defense but as soon as I went home I just felt so tired and empty and hopeless and useless that I just couldn’t summon enough strength to go out and do something, and it made me feel like crap because hey, once again, I’ve let people down. Hip hip hooray for me.
I was supposed to eat but the more I stared at my food the more I thought that it was the devil so I didn’t. And now I’m curled up in my bed and I’m trying to block out the little movies in my head. Yey?

(yep)

I fell asleep this morning and when I woke up I missed lunch. I wanted to schedule an appointment earlier, but oh well. Then I realized that I forgot the number to her clinic, so I checked the directory, couldn’t find it, and I started freaking out.
When I calmed down I texted my mom for her (the psychiatrist’s number). In the middle of doing so I broke down. It took me about 40 minutes to just write the damn text. I kept crying because it felt like I was admitting how fucked up I am, and I hated doing that to my mom. I hate disappointing my mom, I hate adding to her problems. Fuck it.
So I sent it after some time and now I’m trying to force myself to breathe and not throw up.

Two days till Graduation.

Today we had the Tribute to Parents. As per usual, we all had to present something, usual stuff like dancing, singing, big group number, as always.

The grade 6 students had their dance number after ours(not that I was a part of that-goodness no), and one guy in particular stood out. It was remarkable not because he danced well(though he did), but because when he started dancing I blurted out, “He’s [REDACTED]’s replacement,” which got me into thinking, “They are our replacements.”

It’s heady stuff, realizing that you’re going to be replaced. But as the saying goes, “Out with the old and in with the new,” we shall leave and they shall take our place. Welcome to hell, kids.

While we’re on the subject, I wonder who will be sitting on my chair next school year. Being that we would have shared the same objective point of view, how much will our subjective points differ? Will s/he notice the same things I did? What kind of person would s/he be?

Maybe it’s pointless thinking about that. In truth, we might not even have a shared objective point. I know when I left and said goodbye to the classroom it felt hollow and empty, because that classroom that I’ve pretty much lived in for that short while, a classroom I had been familiar with, a classroom that seemed like home less than an hour before, after cleaning, had turned alien. It seemed that as we went we took back the personality we gave it, and now it was just another room unfamiliar to us, a room stripped of its memories. Going back just isn’t the same, you know?

Maybe this is growing up. I wouldn’t know.

Today

Piracy: because not giving money is much, much better than giving a little, right?

The above statement is stemmed from the common argument for internet piracy that record execs and etcs. don't give back enough money from the sales to their artists, which, as far as arguments go, is pretty weak IMO.

(My stance on piracy: I am in the above average economic class. This means that I am able to pay for my books and whatnot, and so I do, whenever I can. In simpler terms. I buy what I want whenever I can, and I resort to it only when I have no other alternative, because hello, fricking third world country. Some things just aren't accessible.)

I was browsing a second hand-books store when I thought about this. It was having a sale, and as I was looking for good books and failing in such a pathetic manner, I felt conflicted. One, I'm happy that I couldn't find any good books(or at least, books by writers/with themes I like) because that meant that people who bought those books liked them too much to give it away and that I won't be pissing over my idols, but at the same time, I'm still a selfish human being, and I'm sad that I couldn't buy any good books oh no #third world problems #oh you thought just because I live in a third world country I wouldn't be troubled over these kinds of problems? #ha

I ramble.

There are only 5 days remaining till graduation

2013-03-19T07:28:00.002-07:00

And I haven't posted what I should've posted.

I...just am always so tired that I can't write, and when I want to write I can't because I'm in the middle of doing something else. I wrote a vignette or whatever it was but it's not enough.

Nothing ever is enough.

I want to start writing what I've been planning on writing but I have to sleep because I'll be up early tomorrow and I need the rest because it's going to be damn stressful.

Funny how it works, you know? You could spend years on end laboring in classes with only little complaint, stress, or ill health, and now that that's over and all you have to do is practice for at least only 4 hours a day for two weeks and you find that you don't have any strength to overcome that little stretch of time.

Maybe I'm just all out.

~~~

I'm going to write this down right now before I end up forgetting it.

Our graduation song is Believe by Justin Bieber. I know, I hate it too, and I can't believe people actually willingly chose it. I was pissed off and mad when I found out about it.

The strange thing is, when we started learning the choreography for it(don't ask), I stopped being pissed off and mad. No, this isn't because I magically started liking the Beebs (ugh) or because I realized that the song has meaning (hahahahaha seriously stop talking as if you know anything) but because I finally understood that this was what my batch mates wanted, and this was what they needed. And it was one of those moments when I couldn't help but think that I was going to be better than them, that I'm not going to need a song to define myself, nor find inspiration in mediocrity. I decided far before that I am going to eventually be 'someone', but I think I finally realized that I actually had a chance to.

I want to be someone. I want my life to have worth. I don't want to be like everybody else, I want to be someone, someone so great, someone to be remembered by all. It's something that I want so badly.

This is why I'm moving out of this city. My dreams are far bigger than this place, and I'd rather die than have to settle.

I'm alive

2013-03-14T07:08:00.001-07:00

I've been writing drafts and trying to cope.

Try harder.

not gonna do it

2013-03-06T01:40:00.001-08:00

I wonder how pills and ice cream will taste like? :)

I'll get back again

2013-03-06T01:17:00.001-08:00

I haven't been posting because I had my exams and I'm currently having an episode.

I will post again if I don't kill myself.

Still me

2013-02-25T03:20:00.002-08:00

I am stressed and my gut is filled with that awful feeling of dread.

The finals are this week and I haven't done an inch of studying and I don't even know what to study. I also skipped out on my make- up test which means I have to be busy tomorrow too.

I should do my THE homework but I have no idea how to do the last one and I need to compile it all but I need to use a black folder for it and I told her to buy one but she forgot and the stores are all closed and there's a black out. I somehow feel like screaming at somebody and tearing something or beating someone up but I can't bring myself to actually do that; I feel too weak to do something like that.

In fact, the only strength I have left to do is to curl up on my bed and cry.

Right then.

A Countdown to G-Day: Days 38 to 42

2013-02-25T03:02:00.000-08:00

There's that feeling of dread again.

Hello. I know I haven't posted in a few days; I didn't know what to write. Rather, I did know what to write but I knew I shouldn't write it. And so here we are.

Last week was my last week of regular school. This week is my last week of high school, period. Tomorrow is my last regular day of high school. I am graduating. This is really happening. Say what now?

It's crazy when I think about it. You'd think I'd be all weepy now, but I'm not. I'm really happy and excited. Maybe a little sad too. As much as I've hated high school, I'll still miss it.

I like the fact that I'm seeing more of me the me as I truly am. I've missed her; haven't seen here in a year. Is it sad that she's back just when I'm about to leave? Very.

But in any case, I'm graduating. (I hope so. I cannot understand some of my requirements. Pshh.)

God help me.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 37

2013-02-20T06:05:00.001-08:00

I can't think right now so BLUBBER.

Sometimes random in neither funny nor entertaining.

A Countdown to G-Day: Days 35 and 36

2013-02-19T06:06:00.001-08:00

I only have 4 normal school days left. SWEET JESUS THIS IS HAPPENING

Anyways, I've been busy being sick. Again. And school was suspended because of flood. Again.

I've been trying to get people to read my story. As usual.

I don't know why I'm writing this way. Typical.

Yes, I need to stop. Clearly.

Arggh. Obnoxiously.

A Countdown to G-Day: Days 33 and 34

2013-02-17T05:56:00.001-08:00

So I spent these two days writing this story I posted on wattpad. Here it is: http://www.wattpad.com/story/4250362-the-ramblings-of-a-faded-woman
I swear to God I'll make that link clickable when I could use html.

Also, I just read that the term scientist was coined only on the year 1840.
I wonder how they were addresed before that?
- "Look, madam, this person does science!"
- "I know what sciencers look like, George."
- "The science man is looking particularly cheery today."
- "Did you hear about that scientor? Man, the things people are capable of."
And so on.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 32

2013-02-15T05:56:00.001-08:00

I am in a spectacular mess.

I'm supposed to be doing my research paper, but my group mates didn't reply when I asked about it, so I guess that means that they're not doing it. Or whatever. I don't know.

I'd like to be able to say that I had fun, but that would be a lie, and an uninteresting one at that. I did enjoy being on-duty and watching the movie, though.

Which reminds me: Smiley. I've got to watch that. It sounds scary. Mmmmm.

Days 29, 30, 31

2013-02-14T03:41:00.001-08:00

...I'm sorry.

I slept through 29 and 30. When I wasn't, I was preoccupied with obsessing over Les Miserables.
On 29, I had to finish an application for a dorm.
On 30, I had to make a scrapbook. A [I]fitness[/I] scrapbook.

Sorry.

So, random thoughts:

February 14, Valentine's Day. Otherwise known as the great day of hiding.

†

I HAVE 13 DAYS LEFT OF HIGH SCHOOL OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS I mean I'm almost done with high school. I'm reasonably excited.

And sorry. sorry. sorry.

When did the caged bird forget to smile?

2013-02-11T06:07:00.001-08:00

If there was a corresponding equation for everyone, then mine would be a perfect linear equation. However many numbers and variables it has will not make a difference as it will always, always end up being a graph of a straight line, nothing more, nothing less. Everyday will be the same and there won't be any significant change. This life will go on straight and I don't have a say on it.

It will be just that for the rest of my life. It will be the passing of an inconsequential life.

I am living for the weekends. By weekends, I really just mean Friday evenings and Saturdays. Those days are the days that are mine. Those are the days that I can pretend to live in my world, and sometimes I can do it so well I can almost convince myself. But I'm a liar and Sunday always comes, and with the birth of a new week is the death of a liar's pitiful dream.

I wonder if liars really do dream. For having a liar dream sounds almost like a paradox because with dreams comes the fervent hope that these were true. Then again, it stops being a paradox when you really think about it. After all, a good liar believes in the presence of a truth and crafts the lies on the borders of this truth, and a dream is nothing but a deception of a pathetic mind.

But of course I'm only talking in metaphors, words that don't have much meaning and are only just pretensions. And if you sum up my life, that's what you get. One big pretention hiding behind a mask of relevance.

Yeah.

2013-02-10T00:55:00.001-08:00

I already just posted but I have this inner compulsion to erase what I just wrote and start over. But I won’t so I’ll just write.

I lied. I keep on lying. In my own perverse way, I like lying. There is something in a lie that makes it so much more beautiful than a truth.

In truth(ha!), I can’t even tell anymore if I’m lying or not. If you ask me if I’m all right, this will be my internal answer: “I don’t know. I don’t know.” All things considered, I don’t know if I am or not. I think I lost the ability to discern whether these feelings I am projecting are what I feel or if I’m just pretending. I might just be convincing myself that I am not happy because I want a justification for getting help. Maybe I feel that my problems are too little to be sad about. Or maybe they aren’t? Or maybe I don’t really care but I’m forcing myself to because it’s the only way I can prove that I am human.

My parents taught me to be afraid of the Lord. Don’t do this, he’ll get mad. Don’t do that, He’ll get angry. But the funny thing is, it worked. I am craving more of God's anger than of His love, because, shit, how should I know? In any case, I’ve grown feeling conflicted about religion. On one hand, it can sometimes fill me with joy, on the other hand, it mostly fills me with guilt.

It’s a funny thing, guilt. It’s the feeling I empathize with, out of any other feeling. I am an eternally guilty person. I feel guilty just for writing this disjointed essay post whatever this is. And I’m tired, and just a little bit lonely.

A Countdown to G-Day: Days 26 and 27

2013-02-10T00:00:00.000-08:00

Alright. So these are the reasons why I wasn't able to post yesterday:

* I rewatched Les Miserables, this time with a friend. I convinced her to watch it with me purely because I wanted to celebrate the gloriousness of Enjolras' hair. ~~WHY OH WHY IS IT JUST A WIG~~ ~~BUT I STILL LOVE YOU ANYWAYS AARON TVEIT~~
* I was scrambling to find a place to stay in college. This and the aforementioned rewatching of Les Miserables took up the entire morning.
* I wrote two stories. One's still horribly short and, as of now, consists of two sentences and three jumbled words that am still wondering as to how it appeared in the draft. The other one is fairly decent but is still by no means ready to be posted. This was done in the afternoon.
* I was busy doing Chapter 4 of our research paper. If you didn't already know, writing chapter 4 is torture, more so if you're completely redoing it if you're first draft was rejected. That took up the whole night.

Okay then.

~

As for today, nothing much happened except FOR THIS INCREDIBLY PAINFUL BACKACHE THAT HURTS WHENEVER I BEND, ROLL OVER, SLOUCH, STAND STRAIGHT, AND BASICALLY EVERY MOVEMENT THAT ENTAILS THE MOVING OF MY UPPER BODY. But no worries.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 25

2013-02-08T06:13:00.002-08:00

If you ask me for recommendations I will give you recommendations.

I'm a steadfast recommendist. recommendater. recommender. Whichever, whatever.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 24

2013-02-07T06:45:00.000-08:00

There isn't any Nobel Prize winner from the Philippines and that makes me sad and motivated.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 23

2013-02-06T05:18:00.000-08:00

Fangirlisms. It's a thing.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 22

2013-02-05T05:26:00.002-08:00

I can't wait to be old and successful enough to make fun of my current self.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 21

2013-02-04T04:47:00.001-08:00

I am trying hard to keep myself from hoping too much.

Hope is good, hope is beautiful, but false hope is ugly and painful.

I want to be more than I am now. I want to be someone, an actual important person. I want to do so many things. I want to change the world.

I want respect.

One of my favorite(and least liked) hobby is pretending that I'm having an interview after being successful doing something. Usually it's either writing a masterpiece of a book or acting so well I get tons of awards and acclaim. Sometimes it's both. I like it when it's both.

It's one my favorite because it's fun. I like playing make-believe, and it indulges the optimistic girl in me. I love imagining that somehow all of those would be real and true, and that the fantasy world I'm dreaming of would someday be my home.

I don't like it because when it's done I feel lost and hopeless. The problem with playing make-believe is that when it's over you're shoved right back into the real world, which, though you can try to make it fun and as similar to the fantasy world as possible, will never be as good as your dreams. The perils of imagination is that the more and more engulfed you get into your dreams, the more and more ugly reality becomes.

Maybe one day it'll actually happen, the fulfillment of my wishes or dreams. Or maybe one day I'll finally be able to stop reaching out to my castle in the sky and grab the piece of cotton that's easily in my reach. Wishing for the near impossible or Lowering your standards. Live in a fantasy or Face reality.

I prefer the former. Always.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 20

2013-02-04T04:29:00.000-08:00

I'm posting this now because it was late at night when I finished writing this and the wifi was already turned off.

This also happened to be my English assignment.

An Interpretation of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.

Considering the theatrical nature of Freddie Mercury, I find it appropriate to divide the song into different acts.

Act 1

The protagonist is in the courts of the underworld. He is facing judgment and is giving his statement.

Act 2.

The protagonist flashes back to when he tells his mother that he had murdered someone. In truth, he hasn't, and the death that he describes to her is actually his own suicide which he is planning to commit. He tells her this because deep inside he desperately wants someone to stop him from doing it, yet he can't actually bring himself to actually tell her, preferring instead that she'd guess his true intentions. It's either she never guessed it or she did but she was already too late.

He shoots himself.

Act 3

Still a flashback; this time the protagonist is taken to the underworld.

Act 4.

Back to the present. The protagonist finishes his statement and the different factions start to fight over his soul.

Act 5.

Another flashback. The protagonist remembers the events before his suicide, from the time he decided to kill himself, and to the final seconds before he dies. It also reveals that he decided to kill himself in anger but when he committed it the only emotions he felt were numbness and apathy.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 19

2013-02-02T06:51:00.000-08:00

I'm cheating for this one, because this is actually something I just posted on a forum.

This happened last year, when a popular guidance counselor suddenly died of a heart attack. A few days had already passed when this took place. I could remember my friend crying on her desk at one point during that morning, when one of the teachers used his spare time to talk about him, the reception(I say reception because I don't know what's it called. It takes place before the actual funeral) and the guy's son, a little kid who happened to be a friend of her brother's, and spent most of the time during the 'reception' playing with her brother. But I digress. Aside from that, the morning went smoothly. Then came the afternoon class.

I was busy doing an activity so I didn't notice anything until some of my classmates started screaming. I turned my head to see what was going on but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, aside from a few classmates panicking, one of was particularly stricken. I prodded my seatmate and asked what was happening, which he replied by saying the counselor's name. I had half-guessed that it was him 'visiting' us because the stricken girlhappened to have her third eye open(if you can see ghosts people will know about it here), and that made me sure. A few moments passed. Some of the shock faded a bit, and some of my classmates were already starting to discuss about it when all of a sudden the smell of dead roses permeated the air. We were all quiet after that.

She(the stricken girl) told us later that it was him. Apparently she had promised her friends that she'd go to the 'reception', but wasn't able to make it. In the end, he decided to visit her instead.

That's the end of it. I know it's not really scary, and I do have a few more stories(oh the joys of studying in an old Catholic private school) but this post is long enough as it is.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 18

2013-02-01T08:09:00.001-08:00

I am crying right now.

I have been listening to and watching several clips of my childhood. From the Hundred Acre Woods song, to Rainbow Connection, to Perfect.

Who doesn't love that silly old bear? Who can honestly say that they never had their own enchanted place when they were young?

That in itself is heartwarming. But the part where I lost it was the line, "from Christopher's childhood days." There's such a bittersweet and nostalgic tinge to that line. It's subtly implying that it's already done, Christopher Robin already grew up, and these are just fond memories of a happier time. The best part about this, though, is that we aren't given time to dwell on this. After that line, the song quickly rushes to the introduce Eeyore and the rest of the merry cast. It reminds you that however much time has passed isn't what's important-it's the people. It doesn't matter that it's long gone; you'll always have them even if it's just in your memories.

It's a song about rainbows. It's a song about stars. But more importantly, it's a song about hope.

It's about hoping even whilst knowing the futility of it all.

Yes, it's illogical. Yes, it's foolish. Yes, it's stupid. But you know what? I'll keep on hoping.

I love this episode. I love it almost as much as I loved the Last Starmaker episode.

I LOVE this show. And this episode was the best way to end it.

You've probably been through that lady. She might've been your parent, your teacher, whatever.

All she wanted was you to be perfect perfect PERFECT. She'd make you feel so scared. So scared you couldn't even do anything about it. She'd make you feel so guilty. Guilty for wasting her time, guilty for wasting your life, guilty for being worthless, guilty for existing.

All you wanted was to please her. So you'd try and try and try even though you were slowly losing yourself in the process.

Do you get over it? Maybe. Maybe not.

It's hard.

It's a constant struggle. You have to continually fight the voices in your head.

You have to keep on trying to convince yourself that you're not worthless.

You will always hear the words, "You're not perfect."

And you aren't. You never will be.

But in the end, life isn't about making everything perfect. It's about making everything beautiful.

You are beautiful. You are unique. Your life has meaning. You are not a waste.

You're you.

A Countdown to G-Day: Day 17

2013-01-31T05:13:00.000-08:00

Someone once said that all our lives are stories waiting to unfold.

I don’t want mine to be a love story. I don’t want to have the defining characteristic of my life be the fact that I am in love with another person.

I want mine to be a tale of a girl who finds her meaning, her self worth. I’d be alright if it ends in me not finding it-because the mere fact that I am strong enough to try to save myself from myself is enough for me. It’s all right to hope.

If my life was a love story I won’t have time for that. The presence of another person complicates things. How will I be able to find myself when I’m busy catering to someone else?

Another thing with love stories is that they discourage a healthy change. I want to change into a better person. I want to get better. But if the main focus of my life was a relationship, then how will I get better? Any person who falls in love with me is crazy. But it takes an especially deluded person to fall in love with a person like me as I am now. Because that person wouldn’t want me, just what I represent. A sad and unstable girl who sees life differently. That person would either want to change me or make me stay the way I am.

(In them form because why not?)

Change: They would treat me like a doll and mold me into what they want me to be. I will never find myself.

Stay the way I am: They fell in love with the ugly me, and would want me to remain as the ugly me, because the ugly me makes them feel good about themselves. I will never find myself.

I also run the risk of projecting myself onto another person. Not just myself, but all my hopes and dreams. And I’d want that person to be perfect and always hold up against my impossibly high standards. Say that person is you. You’re just a person, you can’t possible be able to live up to my idea of you, and that would crush me and I’d hate you. Because you’re not just you, you’re also everything else that has ever disappointed me. I would become bitter and try to crush you as how I perceived you crushed me.

I might also depend on you. Not depend in a “I trust in you” way, but depend in a “I would cling on to you” way. I would be a parasitic worm, leeching off you, taking, always taking, but never giving.

I’ve never been in a relationship, and I probably never will, because I’m sane enough to know that my mental state is not healthy, and I probably will never be able to get better.

But if my life was a story, and it was the kind of story I like, that wouldn’t matter. I’ll never try to find my worth from other people, and I will try my hardest to find myself and get better. If I get even just that, then I will be able to die knowing that there was meaning in my life.

When it all comes down to it, I’d rather find meaning than find love.

P.S. If I ever do get into a relationship I am already asking for forgiveness from the other party in advance. And time. And space. And hugs. And books. Mostly books.