To Saint Nicholas of Myra

Dear Santa,

What's up Sir Nicholas? Hope you're not too busy. So according to my contrived delving, you will in no possible terms ignore any white flag that reaches you. Well you see... I have not been and in which case I verily mean never had been a believer, ever. I'm guessing I just always loved Christmas, every snowy-bejeweling sprinkled molecule of it. The tacit awareness set aside. The anticipation for food, gifts and of course, chachiiiing. There is just something in the impending cacophony of squeaky laughs and giggles from little sugar-hyped rascals. Yeah well who else? It is the infamous, ineludible agitated ninjas ermerging during this time of the year, including yours truly. So let us cut to the chase shall we?

Well mister santa sir, I am proud to say that I have been a really really REALLY bewitchingly good lil' girl. Well atleast I try to be. So I'm assuming and truly hoping that I'm in your nice list. HIHIHI I know, I know. I should not be getting above nor ahead of myself. But really now. I have been extremely good my ENTIRE life. (well of course acknowledgements to all drunken and hormonal actions done hihi) This is my first and *fingers crossed* not the last time asking you. So what the blushing nose reindeer! Here goes nothing!!!

by the way, these are clearly 19 years too late. So it better be good. Kidding :)

A box of the best tasting chocolate I could possibly ever EVER devour.
A top of the line knife set (Henckel or Wustoff to be quite specific) bag included
Another box of chocolates haha
Best EARphones made (can't stand headphones ughhhhh) I repeat, please oh please, no big-ass headphones
Two pairs of vans (Men's US 7, Women's 6.5)(gray orange-lined, the other one hmmm surprise me!)
A set of charcoal, graphite pencils and a drawing set
Skylight confessions, Illumination Night and the Third Angel books by Alice Hoffman

And now for the more over reaching gifts,
A 13" Macbook air
A white iPhone 4s or after whatever upgrade Apple has, no surprises, miraculousy whipped up in just a matter of nanoseconds!
Courtside tickets to the impending 2012 NBA finals
A fairy god mother (Cosmo and Wanda would suffice)
My mother's perpetual peace of mind
Papa's health
Adine's career success
World peace
The end of world hunger

A little over 19 things collectively, but hey, my smile is priceless! :)

The End

She's Alive!!!

Yep.. It's official. I am verily the most unstably stable person alive (Why yes Internet, I believe this is yet another paradoxical statement). Sorry to say, but the facts must and shall be blurted out with all hard on conviction. An adamantly embossed label might as well be zapped right in the middle of my forehead saying "Beware: ridiculously too fickle to fiddle".

I can now understand how the perks and chirps inside this head are wound up. Little cracks and twists here and there. Not exactly an impervious labyrinth to get lost in, but actually really quite close. You see.. Any normal human being couldn't truly, even inside different realms tested, would be able to decipher the rather absurd complexities I have. These what may seem to be absurdity now, are the very things that mold me to who I am. It's what makes us who we are, who we'll be.

So instead of isolating myself from this world, even from all its cruelties, I should learn to face it with my head held up, handsfree. Defense mechanism off, no masochistic ammunitions in hand whatsoever. I must slowly peel off the armor I built. Learn to trust and feel. LIVE.


Life is testing me. It's testing my families' capability of surviving this fucked up event. Myself as a daughter, even as one struggling individual. Something this big should have been taken care of a lot sooner, a lot quicker. It had almost devoured all of us completely, unnoticed. I am really scared. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough. Strong enough for the three of us. Help us dear God. Help me for my family. I forgive mama. I cannot even imagine hating her. She's my everything. Cliche as it may sound. But I would die for her, right here, right this second.

I love you, ma. So for now... What's for dinner?

The Walking Dead

Is it possible to feel both the anguishes of pain and the numbness of the cold at the same time? They say that the cold numbs you. It tricks every single vein into transporting the signals of pain straight to our credulous minds and then sends it out through the nostrils instead. A sort of deranged yet still an entertaining way of looking at it, right? Though despite all my efforts in rationalizing these in my quirky ways, it still hurts. Burns and fades the numbness' miracles.

I had no idea the coldest could ever be colder. I am not talking about some lover's love here, Internet. I have been clear to have been over that. Though it still exists, I can no longer pretend and mock you guys with the bigger issue, the entire picture.

I have a father. A living, breathing biological "papa". Though what seems to be perfectly "normal" to me turns out to be a helluva lie. I was entrapped by crudeness, the warmth that was deprived from me. I was lurking in a jacked up fairytale I creatively made up inside this humongously callow head. It could have been either an accidental feat or a humored coincidence. Who's to decide?

I cannot bring my self to lay down each and every word, the unfortunate truths.  You may think I am some strong weirdo for carrying all these right above my bruised shoulders. You are dead wrong. I'm weak. Unyielding but vulnerable. I keep everything in. Not giving any shit about the possibility of exploding. The dilatory fact that I will eventually burst into sad, insignificant particles carelessly diffusing in the air.

Make my heart beat. Convince me that I am in fact, breathing and, well... Alive.

FOODGASM

Have you ever doubted yourself? Yeah I know, I know. What a moronic question, right? Obviously. In this damned universe where nobody is ever good enough to be something... (apologies for the sudden apprehensive bitching) We ALL do. Every single day, maybe even every minute, perhaps even per nano second. Why do we have to be so hard on ourselves? And let me tell you Internet, torture-filled, pure agony HARD. Why cause such pain to ourselves then? Why of all people, we ourselves bring us all these fucking pain?


I would like to think that I am gifted with the amazingly cliche power of clairvoyance. Or I pressume something like that. I can see the future. A blurry sight but somehow a clear view in my own way. Or may I pressume again... I can freely choose to see the things that I want to see. Quite frankly, too fucking much of it. I know who I am. I have known every microscopic root and reason of my still occuring evolution since the day I was yanked out of my mother's belly (I believe my mother's womb is the safest place on earth and the beyond which made me not want to leave that perfectly cushioned cage of muscle and tissue). Heck all the causes and the unmistakable conciliatory effects of my existence. I know what I want to be. Though despite this egotistic perspective, what truly is behind and what is efforlessly hidden is a scardey-ass that obsesses in pleasing everybody else rather than herself.


What do I really want? What am I yearning for? Freedom?? Happiness?? Oh good Lord, how I pray for such unreachable things. I am stuck. Boxed in the sharp unfathomable corners of a god-forsaken place masked with an ingenuously deceiving term, a "classroom". *Deep breath*

I want to be more. Learn more. See more. FEEL MORE. I had become as numb as a botox-battered temple. I am astonishingly getting in the hang of fooling the people around me with cracked smiles that I can't help but shiver from my own fear of luring myself in it too. I am a good person. I can attest that with all the remaining debris of my heart. Or atleast I always try to be. In every single way, form and every possible thought of any saint wannabe. I don't belong there. I really don't.


Now the gazillion trillion million dollar question is.... What the hell am I going to do with my life? I graduated highschool with honors. Won chess tournaments across districts like a barbie cloaked hustler. Became bestfriends with mathematics. Gained diamond worthy friends. And now, the reflection I see is a sullen shadow, barely making an image, in her third year of college, exuding a constipated confusion-infused look, not even knowing how or for even how fucking long she has been cold and lifeless, she wants nothing else but to be alone and do absolutely nothing, in translation, just allow herself to rot until she transforms into plain old house-dust and waits to be sucked into a 10000 peso vacuum. Yep. The Ultimately Pathetic Filipino-Chinese Dream.


Food is what drives me, it is what rattles my core. I know this sounds crazy but this is what I want, what I NEED. And I'm good at it. You can fucking bet I am! But I want to be better. Be my BEST. What the hell is so hard to understand?


I am now in my 3rd year of college, taking Entrepreneurship major in Culinary Arts. And so far, whatever it is that I learned in the past 2 years of my saturday classes that I've been taking (since in weekdays I do not have any other choice but be a regular student and study all those business stuff), I can absolutely learn in a couple of days of serious delving. (And I am being kind) AND FYI, I still have about 2 years left after my 1 year internship. Talk about wasting both MONEY AND MY PRECIOUS PRECIOUS TIME. Time that I feel like keeps on rapidly slipping away, without my conscious presence. Believe me, if I'd stay longer than this coming semester, oh god forbid I am going to slit my wrists with my own newly sharpened knives. AND another FYI, I figured out sharpening knives on my own!!!


To wrap things up, I am pretty sure of my plan in the next couple of months. And that is to pursue my long neglected passion. Escape from this suffocation of how-to-be-an-entrepreneur stuff. One more semester left and a year of internship to go, and this butterfly will soon be free. Cheers to future FOODGASM!

I will finish this semester, join the one-year internship abroad. And hopefully.. NO. Let me correct that. I will DO whatever it takes to be able to stay there, earn and train to be the real deal and make my mama proud!

First things first, I must clean my act up. Fix my clearance so I'd be able to enroll. Let some sunshine and the effects global warming hit my skin and somehow gain a social life, be a Van Gogh diciple again, start smarting up with culinary knowledge more, and who knows? Something might just pop up in some random polluted corner?


Man.... Do I feel better.. Thank you reader.. whoever you are.

I Missed Me Too

Did I serve the term missing-in-action even a tiny bit of justice? I believe so. Heck, I clearly do. Missed me? Well Internet, I did too-- I do. I fucking missed myself too. I missed having this opportunity of being able to channel all my bickering, bitching, ranting or whatever the hell you want to call this modern-savage way of releasing both the stress and the "distresses" of life- of this crookedly presented shenanigan people call life. Okay. I will say this now and never repeat it again. I will not even attempt to read my previous excruciatingly existing posts. No matter what I do or even try to wish for to disappear, no genie is powerful enough to make all the pain go away. Now I hope you guys aren't thinking my whole empty world simply revolves around this one memory. It is verily an undeniable occurrence of the realities of love but will only forever be a mere flake of my entire existence. A simple memory, and not the currently being written memoir. Now enough of this crazy broken-hearted fistful of tears and pain. To put an end to this post-melancholy fragment of my being, I would like to end it with this statement. Okay.

I had finally found love once, though lost it defenselessly. Now, if there is one thing this unfortunate event taught me, it would be that something as inestimable as love will always be worth hurting for, most especially when you know that in the end, you truly, soul-baringly loved and felt loved.

Now this is where my life truly begins.
Chapter 1. The Pulverized-hearted. The Paternal Love Seeking. The Loner. The Life's Purpose Bombarded Rose.


Watch out world. This cuckoo will make a helluva comeback!

My Discovery

Hey. What's up? I am currently sitting my ass down a semi-cushioned chair in my Literature class. You read it right. I'm literally sneaking this post in. So okay. The poem we're reading today is Discovery by Wislawa Szymborska. (don't worry, it also took me a number of times to pronounce this right) My professor made us write our own, also using I believe's. So I thought about sharing mine. Clearly far from the great Wislawa. I know it's a little rushed but hey, better appreciate rather than bash, people!
PS. Save me from school!!!!!!

My Discovery
by Rose Diola

I believe in the girl I see over murky waters
I believe in her damp cheeks; her chapped lips
Her yearning for warmth; her thirst for piercing glaciers
I believe in the echoes of her cracking voice
Bouncing off the very shadows of her reality
I believe in every single barren breath she inhales
The hoarded pile of exhales; those wasted gasps
I believe in the zests and zings she extracts
Consuming as much insipidity and staleness as it could take
I believe in her benumbed touch
Caressing surfaces that cut her, gashes her soul-deep
Her mere existence is an abyss of cloudy facades
Stares with her fist closed tight, the other half open
Invariably armed, made stronger every day
Though under this cold metal plates, lay delicate layers
Her nakedness would still, forevermore, itch for formless silk
I will believe, I will.

You Too

How are you all doing? I bet it took you a couple of seconds to contemplate and meditate with extreme precision to answer that. As for me, I am happy to inform all of you random somebody's that I have successfully maintained my perpetual insanity yet surviving existence. It verily has been quite a while. Though to tell you the complete and utter truth, as heartbreaking as it already has been, not a single microscopic thing has changed. All I could still see is the same empty and hallow reflection I've been seeing these past few months. Okay. I know, I know.. Back to fucking square one all over again. Yeah yeah. I see a lot of unprimed bushy eyebrows raising just about now. I could only imagine how easy it is to judge on the other side of screen.. ...... StrangerNumberOne announcing to his whole entire hypothetical world that there is this desperate romance-junkie that keeps on wasting her already worthless time, spreading her pitiful germs to the rest of this perfectly imperfect universe. This idiot exudes nothing more but the epitome of both absurdity and stupidity. Now that's harsh, wouldn't you agree? Waaaaay harsh. Even too harsh for a dead ice-cold zombie you know. Couldn't you go easy on me just this one time, harsh harsh world? Could you?

So okay. I know I am the one who persistently and morbidly has been too hard on myself. But I really am trying. Trying and not settling okay? So please, enough malicious assumptions okay? I am on the verge of jumping over the cliff of you-know-what. And that you-know-what isn't what you're thinking you perv. So basically what I'm attempting to blurt out is... I'm not running anymore. I'm now letting go. I'm letting myself go. No vindictive strategies or what so ever. A squeaky clean slate of pure hope but with a tini-tiny dash of much needed sarcasm.

Proud of me? I can only hope you are.

There has never been a single slow roasting day that has passed that you didn't cross my mind. It's like my brain is on slomo rewind and is stuck there. Unseemingly doing its own thing, functioning as if it is not capable of doing anything else but just that. Live and dwell in the past and stay there, sitting more comfortably thinking that it is in its bearer's womb. But you know what makes it more disturbing than what it already is? I like every gloating bit of it. It feels right, something forevermore feels familiar and safe. Both the missing part and the part that makes me whole. Now I better end this in a short and a not so sweet tone before I get the chance to stop myself yet AGAIN to post this.

I just miss you okay. I always have and trust me, I forever will.

???????

When there isn't a single component of your awfully jaded life that is even near to what is decent or should I say, the "norm". Boy, you are definitely in deep and nasty shit more or less your entire life. But hey, don't feel TOO bad. I can absolutely relate to what you guys are experiencing. So I guess we can conclude that.. WE ARE NOT ALONE. Just about now, I have encountered yet another flagrant duel with an endangered specie more familiar in the name of "my-big-sister". Sheessshhh. Can't I just have one calm and peaceful week? Okay. Now enough shit about my existing oh-so-eccentric life. I am not the complaining kind. I may be (pardon for my excessive honesty) a bit off to what we are familiar with as sane. But I'm the type who simply deals with what is given. And handle it the best one can possibly could. Now sharing what's inside my big head doesn't necessarily translate into complaining, does it?

In my recent post.. Uh. As uncomfortable as it is for me to say this. But ummmm. *fidgeting with my chocolate-covered fingernails* I literally had a relapse. FYI: for new readers, I am in no way an addict or an alcoholic or whatever. I am just a simple 19 year old barely-a-woman suffering with a serious case of mestasized and pulvurized brain, heart and soul caused by nonetheless the four letter word that happens to be the universe's biggest evil. I assume I just acted a bit way too over my crazy head and slowly became too damn sure of my delusional self. And you know what the worst part is? Among all bonkers combined.. This cuckoo should have known better.

Well, I don't really know where this post is heading. And quite frankly, neither do I really care. I'm just letting my fingers flow over random letters. Letting words fly out of my unscrewed mind. But really though.. Where the hell is this going? Where am I?

It's 12:01 in the morning. And I'm here. Breathing? Yes. Alive? I highly doubt. Dead? Now we're talking.

Relapse

I've always wanted to freeze time. Have control over any hasty blink. Be able to see every underneath depth of every surface worth remembering. It is verily a regretful loss. I can only hope I had rewarded all of my senses a bit more time to absorb and lock much as it can- while it still could. My conscience keeps on hovering my thoughts. It pushes me to dilatorily realize that missing a nanosecond of any of my daily cursory sights would be one of my life's great losses- perhaps even the greatest. And to top off this unforgiving sundae of pure despondency, there is nothing more I could do to get those back. I wish I had considered every single glance of even the blurriest of these facades a second and deeper look. But a lost time is as good as a lost breath. Second breaths are never the same. It keeps us alive, but never guarantees complete relief. Though, who says preceding breaths can't be better? I know I didn't.

As living creatures with needs, when human nature creeps in, voluntarily or against our will, instincts get the best of us.

I have written lots of rejects these past couple of days. I couldn't pull anything in me that would make myself want to share this ridiculously shameful relapses I'm having. I feel so bad exposing this. I feel so weak. I know I'm not making any sense right now. But I'm trying my very best to scrape even the thinnest layer of hope that I have to continue moving on. This post may seem quite vague and pointless. But let me tell you.. This is the closest I've been to progress. Like what I said, in a more conforming term, I had a relapse. And currently just getting back up my callused feet again. Don't you worry! I'll be posting more often and release some of this auspicious aura one painful layer at a time.

Step One

They say happiness is a choice. It is an impunity option. Anyone can be happy if they choose to be. There is this sheer wall dividing the right-choice and the right-choice-for-YOU. 'Cause let's face it, we can never in a gazillion trillion years please each and every nosy spectator surrounding us. The only and single person we have to constantly check up on, whether he or she is genuinely happy, is ourselves. As for those no-better ass wipes intrusively breathing down our necks, screw you! Let us live our lives the way we want to. If we fall down and fuck up, don't worry.. We'll never get tired of getting up and learning.

For a delusional weirdo like me, keeping the mood and energy in tact is something I have to steadily keep up. I believe both hidden and evident depression is contagious. Though there are really ineludible phases that cannot be avoided. The tumult and chaos within us that we keep on sweeping underneath the rugs needs come out eventually. And trust me, when it does.. You'd be inhaling the purest and the most appeasing breath you have taken in a long time.

Hi! Was I convincing?!? Looool :) See. I can be optimistic if I want to- if I choose to. That's why I'm trying out this new theory of mine I call.. Step 1: Thinking leads to Acting. Being this shamefully sad, doesn't necessarily mean I can't act happy, can I? I am not doing this to deceive anyone. Not even pretend to be someone I'm not. I just got tired. Sick and disgusted to the person I almost had become. I barely recognized myself. Now. Enough icky stuff! Let us all start thinking happy and jaunty thoughts! Let's start there, and hopefully, these hooking smiles pay off :)

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!!!! - Stimpy (Ren and Stimpy)

Daymare

A single night's worth dream is powerful. It is more than competent of controlling a certain part of you. Either how you would typically start when dawn begins to crack, how you withstand the remaining fraction of your day, or how you'll wrap up everything else 'til the sun sets. It can administer a significant fragment of your being without you even noticing it. When your consciousness hits you, the first words that would be coming out of your mouth are, "What the hell was I thinking?!?". Yep. You'd be the last one to be surprised by the results of all the impulsive decisions you've made. Both the rewarding good and the unforgivable bad. There's just comes a time in our awfully fickle lives when the only thing predictable is that things were always were, are, and will forever be UNpredictable.

I have been dreaming the same exact dream for the last couple of days. (Considering the times of seeing him even when awake) Now these, shall I say, symbolic trances must only mean two things. First, whatever sign it is the Big Guy's trying to tell me, oh god-forbid, I do not know how much more of it I could take. Believe me, I'd be happier seeing Freddy Krueger next to my bed. (On second thought, Hell nooooooooooooo. I am kidding) But still, it really is beyond painful.. And the final and only option.... It's either I have completely and utterly lost my fucking mind!!!!!

What do dreams mean? And FYI, Daymares exist!!!!!

Desideratum

REMINDER: (Search for the meaning of the title, guys. I came across this word while reading and it stuck-out. And I've never forgotten it since)


Have you ever stood in front of a mirror and say with the absolute confidence, "I am happy". Not delivering a "contented enough" assertion, not a "just satisfied". But, with the utmost doubt-free inhale of jovial breaths, an "I am happy". Declaring these words is my ultimate goal in life. I presume it is an international, global, universal perhaps galactic desiderata. It sums up every possible fundamental component of whatever it is that I'd be pursuing in the coming future. I would know that wherever I am, from whatever I may be having for dinner, to however I am managing my daily struggles for survival, when there is a genuine smile on this aging face, these questions are nevertheless irrelevant.

Based on my 19 years of delving for the route straight to ever-after-land, I have come to this remarkable I-know-it's-bogus-kinds-of-happiness-but-you're-going-to-read-it-anyway bullet. There are three kinds of happiness. First, the annoyingly over-rated I-am-happy-ENOUGH. I give snaps for people who freely choose to fall under this. These are individuals who unfortunately just settle. They seemingly give up on the hunt in finding the "real thing". But who could blame them? If I knew it would hurt this bad to pursue that bullshit "real thing" and lose it, I MAY (extra emphasis on MAY) have considered this. (After a couple more seconds of contemplating....) (Neeh! I would have done the same exact things a gazillion folds over.) Next is the infamous as-long-as-I'm-happy-NOW. Yep. I hear a lot of guilty hearts beating extra hard now. If you are one of these felons, you all are pretty much aware of what I'm talking about. Okay, I will not be attempting to even touch the insurmountable and sugar-coat facts. These are agile runners. The I-can-always-do-better citizens of this world. They are equipped with speed and dexterity handy for their often spontaneous escapes. They are agonizingly frisky. Some just literally run, and run, and RUN. Lastly, the holy Grail of all happiness, the you-don't-have-to-say-you're-happy-because-you-know-you-already-ARE. Need I to say more? When we find that one thing or one person who'll be the sole grounds of our happiness, in whatever form, shape or even specie, the only thing we'd have to voluntarily work on is keeping that behalf experience the same ultimately gratifying feeling we all want and deserve.

A piece of advice to those who found and lost happiness. For those who victoriously have a hold on their happiness right at this very moment, whether it would be an object placed at your lap, or a person whom with your hands are intertwined, I am happy for you. You are the reason why I am still a faithful believer. To Him and to my future him. And ofcourse, forevermore, to us, the "introspectively challenged". It is hard. We know that. But do we accept it? Things will never get easier. Despite the perplexity of what's inside our clouded heads now, yes it's full of bitter shit, but what we are doing is digging our graves deeper unto the relentless dirt undeserving people buried us in. We'll find ours soon enough. So instead of carrying a shovel over our backs, why not a big ass magnifying glass? And oh, why not throw in a pack of Butterfingers? We could all use a dose of feel-good endorphins.

As you can tell, I am in a better mood today. A better mood than any day since I died. Well metaphorically, since I temporarily stopped living. Most probably, when my clouded head starts to clear again, and this sugar-high starts to wear off, I'd be back again to the same dire spot. Just thinking about it now begins to suck the "mock-vigor" I'm desprately trying to exude. What the hell! Atleast I know I'm not fooling anyone, most especially, not myself.

What am I doing? What am I going to do? What can I do? What should I do?

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Well there goes my near effective "mock-vigor" down the fucking drain. -.-

Nostalgia At Its Peak

I woke up last night desperately gasping for air. I was literally like an innocent fish taken out of water. Puffing air ravenously for my very life.  It's the same feeling you get when you force yourself to stay under water until just about the very last second that your physical body would allow you to. Not really a feeling to be ecstatic about. It is another wake up call reminding me that no matter how audacious I am, how viciously I try to fight for something, there are certain alive and inanimate things in life that cannot be defied.

I remember quite a discrete portion of my dream.  Perhaps a futile attempt of my nostalgic yearning. I saw him. And it was not a pleasant view. All the actualities that I hid and buried came back all at the same time. The clashing of why's and how-could-he's smacked me right in the face. Strikes and blows that I wish I had the strength to evade.

I was cut soul-deep. Helplessly pierced right through the core. I am bleeding ceaselessly. Leaving a trail of somber and solitude wherever I go. It marks the spots where all these agony has reached and conquered.

And the most crazy part of this ridiculously bleak melancholy-filled post, my diminishing ego put aside, I wholeheartedly know and believe that it is still him and only him who could indubitably end all these pain.

Yes. I know what all of you are thinking. How could I possibly be this gullible? What the hell's wrong with you, Rose? Oh believe me.. I ask myself the same question every single excruciating day.

My Epiphany

A wise professor of mine once said, (in her very effective you-better-listen-and-you-better-listen-real-good tone) "A mistake can only be called a mistake if you don't learn from it.". Ingenius huh? I bet Thomas Edison and all the other greats of the world knew that. Perhaps lived their wondrous lives around it. Well then there you go people of this shallow world! The answer to all our inevitable dilemmas. ..... Yeah yeah.. Who the hell are we kidding? We all wish life was that fucking easy.

I have made a fistful of "mistakes" in my infamous 19 years. A couple of f-ed up ones awake and dead. Some that no one couldn't translate into anything else but stupidity. But the most awfully moronic among them all are caused by the biggest fugitive that is the root of all female related evil-- estrogen.

Do you ever wonder how these so called "oopsies" impact others? How our everyday decisions contribute to either a benefit or damage to another human being? Another breathing, thinking rational living thing. I for one rather not know. It's hard enough to think about how to deal with current dreadful shortcomings. Adding something to be guilty about is out of the question. You may say that it's okay to condescend once in awhile. But this is just too much for an "on the edge" 19 year old lassie to handle.

In a way, minimal or major, we are all fugitives. Guilty of hurting others (intentionally or not). That's just how things work. Based on a single day's realisation. I have come to this groundbreaking conclusion: When cards are folded, and we ran out of chips to play, majority of us choose to fleet. Dash away as fast as we could-- as if we'll never reach anything. We'd run away from the blame-- from sharing the pain. We can deny it as much as we want. That's what we are. Agile vagabonds who are most scared of nonetheless, ourselves.

To us who are left behind.

A stranger (literally) just told me (approximately a couple of hours ago) that this would make me a better person. Well for one right this second, I don't feel any nearer to a better me. But hey, it's worth giving a try. (And it's like I have any other choice) I opt to be my own catalyst. Start a movement towards moving on. Now all I have to do is wait. Pause and abide for someone who will accompany me through this current bullshit phase. Someone insane who'll make me believe in love again. Some demented dude who will go "all in" not in games, but just for crazy old me :)

Why?

Missing a loved one (current or former, which ever fits you) is the most grusome among all tortures in life- combined. I just couldn't think of anything more intolerable. Yeah I can take a few punches here and there. But this? Fuck no. This made me realize the benefits of euthanasia. It's when death suddenly becomes a logical option. It's the only solution in putting an end to egregious pain. In the end, what seemed to be inhumane before, instantly turns into an antidote to undying suffering.

How often do you cry? Do you even cry at all? If you haven't, I pity you yet I envy you at the same time. I feel sorry for you for the fact that you will sob a couple of times eventually, whether you dodge it all your life, trust me, you will. And when the dreaded time comes and you do finally tear up, you'd say that Rose was dead on correct. I envy you. Because you'd still live as if you will never be touched, never feel pain. You will still live life fully. Without caution, without looking back. It is a dangerous life to live but it sure as hell one of the happiest times you'll ever be. Well just for now I guess..

I miss him. Not constantly.. But all the friggin time. The very drop of every tear. Every strike of pain. I'd be more than glad to endure just to get a glimpse of his face, hear his laugh, feel his touch.

Why can't I make that first step? Why the hell can't I escape? Why do I still cry myself to sleep? Why am I this fucking naive? Why do I, despite EVERYTHING, still love him with every ounce of my everything?

Food For Thought

Different people cope in different ways. The world is diverse enough to hold assorted personalities that survive by various means. Some act like deranged wild animals let out of their cages. But then at the end of the day, cry like lost juviniles wanting their mommies. Some fortunate shitheads, simply live their usual lives like nothing happened. Whether they are prentinding not to care or they genuinely do not give any shit, it's definitely an impressive skill. A few become instant opposite of themselves thinking that it would prove something. Good boys turn into disgusting asswipes while goody good two shoes women end up being abberant bitches. Others, in a simpler term, turn to FOOD! They just eat their hearts out. Quite a pain in the ass (or should I say enlarges ones' ass). But hey, better be a fatty than a bewildered stuck up biatch, eh?

I will not let this ruin me. My heart may be damaged right now, but I know it's stil a good one. Perhaps maybe even a great one. Capable of loving more than before. More than a heart that's whole to begin with. You just wait, Mr. Whoever-the-hell-you-are! You just wait..

Blame It!

Men, break. Women, bend. Well said "pareng" Jamie Foxx! Ladies and gents, this is the same dude who sang Blame It (On The Alcohol). Ironic isn't it? In the case of men, the song should be more as, "Blame It (On Anything Else But Me). Fits better doesn't it?

Mr. Foxx had just lifted my drepressed ass up. HALLELUJAH! The Adam's of the world just can't handle it. According to Mr. Eric Bishop (his birth given name), men just simply break. I prefer the terms, shattered into pulverized bits of assholes. Let's face it ladies, they just go barging into our lives and then bail
out when things don't turn out the way they pictured it in their tiny little heads. The solution? What else? ALCOHOL!

I am kidding people. Whatever it is that is blamed on a man or even a chick, he or she must own up to his or her actions. It's the least you could give to your partner. If you truly love (in other cases loved) him or her, you wouldn't even stand the idea of hurting your behalf. Finger pointing will lead to nowhere. Whether you'll end up staying together or what else but downhill, you just cannot end any great relationship that way. Heard me? YOU FUCKING CANNOT!!

I can do this! My Prince Charming, whoever the hell you are, you better get your goddamn ass in here ASAP! (Oh dear Lord, please give me back my beloved peculiar humor)

CRAZY, Yes. But No Way In Hell An IDIOT.

What does moving on really mean? Does that indicate that in a certain point I stopped? Stopped at what exactly? In living? In doing things I usually do? Heck, in breathing? I'd like to think more of it as getting tangled. Cornered in a murky unfathomable box that I myself put my whole being into. Both the physical and metaphysical of my being. Though, the culprit is not the person causing this. It is I. Crazy yes, but no way in hell an idiot.

The things that keep me awake at night the most are questions. Questions that does not have to be answered really. But somehow heard. It snatches away the controversial remnants of my sanity. If that still even exists.

Now this is not a matter of knowing, but of accepting. I am fully aware that it will be hard. And I mean intensely depressing hard. But hey.. What is there to lose this time?

No more dubious actions Rose. Stop torturing yourself. Enough martyrdom. You must not give up. You can't.

Boohoo? BOO.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

This is a vague description of what it is that I feel inside. Frustrated. Angry. Confused. Hurt. Feelings that result to only one thing: goddamn tears.

Carrie Bradshaw once said that a person could only cry a certain amount of tears in his/her lifetime. In her case, she used up all of hers for Mr. Big. That after more or less 10 years of their abstruse "relationship", those years of continuous filling up of buckets and buckets of sobs, her tear ducts bailed out and decided to just dry up. Now is this a fact or an auspicious attempt of desperate women to somehow ease their unfading agony? You decide.

Weeping is our body's way of releasing insurmountable grief. There's just this instant on button in our system that activates when the physical body chooses not to take it in anymore. It is a simple way of our human form saying, "Hey stupid, no more.."

Wake up, Rose. He chose to leave you this way. He voluntarily broke the promise you both shared. In all his willingness, whatever reason he might have, he broke your heart, again.

Where The Hell Is My Happy Ending?

How I wish I was 10 again. A delusional yet hopeful brat. By this time, my struggling creativity has started to kick in. This was the phase when I'd read fairy tales over and over again until I could remember these full-of-shit stories by heart. Heck, I would give up anything just to be naive once again. Live in a colourful world genuinely believing that someday, my Prince Charming on his white horse will take me away from this dire and dark place and then live ever so happily ever after. I want to be deceived by this fantasy where no matter how evil my step sisters may be, how monstrous the dragons surrounding me, how wicked the witches after me, I would know that my knight in shining armour will kick the crap out of their big cruel asses. Right then and there. Just like that. How fictional can these bullshits get, eh? Note to self: never let my kids read fairy tales without wiseacre adult supervision.

My belief in my own happy ending was taken away from me. I thought that in love, no matter how shitty the shittiest of things may get, it all will and always get better. I used to think that nothing's worse than not being with the one you love. That intolerable mishaps would just be like a scratch and life without your significant other is the equivalent to metastasised cancer-- no cure, impossible escape, guaranteed death.

The pain consumes every remaining living cell in my close to lifeless body. It will not stop until it reaches my former unyielding core. A fragment in me where I'm not sure even exists anymore. Will I ever be revived? Is there something, someone out there capable of saving me? Hell, do I even want to be saved? I do not know what I want. But surely, I will not debate on whatever it is that I need. I need you my prince charming. Despite this current ominous aura that surrounds me, I am still a faithful believer. Prove me right. Save me from this inauspicious world. ASAP.

PS.
Don't take too long. Okay?

Nothing.

I firmly believe that it is impossible to mend a broken heart. I had come to this conclusion not because of bitterness and hatred but because of unbiased prejudices and an experience-- yes, experience in singular form.

I have only found and lost love once. (Oh, dear God just as far as 19 years) Both the best and worst times were brought by this one person. Numerous faceless strangers passed by unnoticed. But it took only one to effortlessly break my heart into uncountable pieces.

I am afraid. Afraid of living the rest of my life with these debris you left-- you voluntarily abandoned. Questions and doubts are irrelevant. Apathy would actually do better right now than anything else. I would rather feel nothing than something. I do not know how much more I could possibly take. The word unbearable never seemed clearer.

Love?

LOVE. *sigh*

Doesn't this word give you the creepiest goose bumps ever? There's just this feeling that crawls underneath your skin that gives every hair follicle of your body a boner. It amazes me how something this weird feels so right-- how something that is already put on a pedestal still be considered under-rated.

The things I have been posting for the past couple of days have all been consisting of crap. Dark, bitter and painful crap. I kept on lurking on a side that made the worst of things worse. I insisted on denying my own evident feelings. Feelings that no great master of pretending can ever hide.

I now choose this path. A path where I can freely expose my self to both the wonders and hardships of life and of love. I want to see it with both eyes open; experience it with myself actually being a part of it. And when the time comes and I stumble and may break a couple of bones in the way, I would still want there to be a smile on my face. Bloody and bruised, but still smiling. :)

I dare all of you to try. Give yourselves a chance. Do not believe the bullshit saying that an opportunity knocks only once. Remember, an opportunity as great as love doesn't just knock once, hell, love itself will kick a hole in your wall just to get in.

http://www.formspring.me/roseydiola
http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey

Breathe.

More often than not, people tend to forget how easy it is to figure out how some things work. It is as simple as these three steps:
Step # 1 - Acknowledge that thing's existence and everything else that leads to it.
(Instead of ignoring all your fucking feelings, look into it yourself. Be aware that the pain is there. Do not deny the fact that you're hurt, and like any other living thing that is harmed or damaged, it must and will be fixed.)
Step # 2 - Accept all the pain and hurt without complain.
(Take them in like rocks thrown at you just as a martyr stonned to death. Morbid as it sounds, that's reality. No matter how unbearable the pain may be, you just cannot love that person any less.)
Step # 3 - Adjust.
(Shortest in words but most certainly the longest to do. When a person whom you start and end the day with, and then taken away from you just like that. Well, in my case not taken away from you but him choosing to do so hurts a hundred folds more. Adjusting may be impossible right now, but eventually you'll get there. You just have to.)

This is beyond the capacity of any sane human being. I am madly in love and just plain mad-- crazy. There is no feeling that is greater than love. But the pain that came with it was something I was not prepared for. I didn't wish for my love to be reciprocated in any shape or form, but I surely hoped it would be. All I asked for was a love that would just be enough to sustain something this rare-- this great. Yeah yeah. Fuck love.

Rosey vs Herself

No wonder people would say: "You are your own worst enemy." Hell yes. And I couldn't agree more.. You may think that people just can't seem to get a grasp on reality and just accept things as they are-- how they were since the beginning of this harsh planet we call "Earth". Well.. To tell you the truth, I wish that things were that easy.

Can you blame a person for refusing to fight any longer? Would you take it against her when she says that she had just about enough? Is it such a crime to raise the white flag when defeat couldn't be more evident? Sheeesh, people! Can't a martyr have a break? Couldn't you just cut an oppressed human being some slack?

I just don't get it.. How can doing the right thing hurt this bad? And I mean really, really bad. You would think that you'd do yourself a huge favor by sacrificing something inestimable. But why the hell does this "favor" seem like more of a potential REGRET?


Here we go again.. ..couldn't even acquire enough strength to make that first step. That first move toward moving on-- moving forward. Why am I so afraid of losing something that is already lost? Is it really that difficult to let go when it was beyond bounds free to begin with? No matter how hard I try to deny it, I myself know the answer. And it's fucking love.

I want it to stop haunting me. I'm so fed up with myself not functioning anymore. I am starting to operate like an ongoing time bomb that's about to explode any second. I miss nights when I sleep with a smile rather than tears hovering my pillow. But it just wouldn't go away..

Help me dear God. Help me help myself..

http://www.formspring.me/roseydiola
http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey

Guess WHAT?

You think you're having a bad day? Well.. I'd be more than happy to inform you that there's a person out there-- someone, somehow, somewhere-- having the worst time known to man. So hey, it is still one thing to celebrate about, right?


Through these past couple of weeks-- this persistent abyss of nonstop bitching and tears-- you would think that sooner or later, God will eventually give you a break and tell you that everything would finally come to an end. Yes, I am fully aware. I have no right to complain-- not even the slightest bit. I made all the shitty choices myself. I knew each and every consequence of my every step. I am most definitely the only person to blame. Now.. Do these make things hurt any less? Hell no. If not as painful-- even more.

I am a living proof to my own saying: "When you truly love someone, -- a love that is absolutely life-consuming and undeniably unconditional-- ..that you can never hate a single cell in him/her". Yes people. Sad, but it is true. No matter how hard we try, how hard we attempt to expose our pretentious grins, how much blood we lose from pretending that we do, let us all suck it up and face fucking reality. We do not hate them, we cannot, and we never will.


Now.. Why the hell do bad experiences, hands down, always out do the good? That even when there's a GAZZILLION  good things to be ecstatic about and there's this one microscopic bad-- namely jealousy, anger and insecurity--guess what--  they just win every single time. How can such stupid things destroy such great things? Oh yeah.. Teka. We never had those. No infidelities, lies, even the most minimal of betrayals-- totally zilch, nada, none. So what the hell went wrong? Yep.. I know. We both know. OUR FUCKING STUPID SELVES.


Loving is a privilege. I cannot put into words how grateful I am that now, FINALLY,  I can say that I loved. Hell yeah- loved and felt loved. Even when he doesn't or didn't think so, I knew that deep inside he really did--  he does. I can put my life on the line and testify-- that somewhere in that crowded heart of his-- I had made a tini-tiny dent that hopefully is enough that maybe someday he'll be able to notice.

Like what I said, I do not hate you. I cannot and never will. Thank you for bringing out this side of me-- you made me find out that I had this much love to give-- you taught me that I am capable of loving this much, this real.. Whatever moronic ideas incompetent people would get, we both know-- despite all your bullshits-- we know that what we had was the real thing.

I love you everyday. And now, all I can do is miss you eveyday..

http://www.formspring.me/roseydiola
http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey

White Flag

I fell. I fell hard and rough.
I dropped onto the ground with great intensity
There were neither warnings nor signs.
My heart was exposed up to its last veins.
I was caught bare and helpless.
Guilty of weakness and vulnerability


I cried. I cried each time I pictured your smile.
It was almost unbearable.
I was on the edge of losing it.
Crying was the only way I could somehow ease the pain.
Pain that still even with its tiresome trials,
I still stupidly held on.


I waited. I waited for these feelings to go away.
They kept on pulling me, pulling me toward the other end.
Another side which was all bright lights and colors
A very mysterious yet tempting endeavor
Though resisting it wasn’t even a challenge
It was evident that no seduction would ever be strong enough to succeed


I tried. I tried more than my best to make you realize all of these; all of me
Your eyes were closed shut, your ears sealed
It always were, and I believe it always will be
What you could only see was the one right in front of you
The one pretending; the one enduring
You couldn’t see the frowns beneath each smile; the mourn of each laugh


I loved. I loved even if I didn’t know how.
There were neither manuals nor directions to follow
There was no turning back; no second chances.
I didn’t have a clue of what I was getting myself into.
I was not warned of how deeply I could fall
I was addicted to the pain, great pain that was equal to great love.


I surrender. I surrender not in defeat but for salvation
This will save us, save this love from extinction
I know it won’t, it couldn’t
I guess I just loved too much.
Too much than what you needed, less than what I was supposed to.
I raise this white flag not with a goodbye, but with an I love you.


by Rose Diola

Who the HELL am I?

I am me.
Quite antagonized by many.
But is definitely blessed with a bigger ass kicking army that has always got my back.
This team had never failed to literally turn my frown upside down.
This ally swallowed my whole being up to my thorns and twigs without judgement nor complain.
A comrade that made my oh-so complicated life become a piece of an oreo friggin' cheesecake.

I eat. I eat a damn LOT.
Just hearing the words Mexicali Nachos make me drool.
A slice of pizza here and there wouldn't hurt.
And have I mention a butterfinger is the key to world peace?
In summary of this never ending list, as long as it's good.. you can count this hog in!

I am far from perfect. way waaay far.
I may not speak the truth 24 hours a day, but I make sure I spend each second of my time doing the right thing.
Being an angel is not on my list,
But you can guarantee I could kill demons!
And I am surely ain't no saint,
Well atleast not yet.. :)

I am fun. I always have fun.
I think smiling and laughing are simply the best gift a person could easily give as well as receive.
I believe crying helps.
It lets out things that a heart could not bare.
It also serves as an after shock after every major emotion,
after being majorly sad or even happy.

I write.
I draw.
I cook.
I play chess.
I do great in Math.
I can shoot a basketball without much effort.
I could hussle playing cards my way out of college if I wanted to.
I used to eat, drink and breathe computer games.
I may not be amazing with any of these things,
things that I know I will never get tired of doing,
but I'm sure I genuinely give my all, my heart.
I want to do more, do better, be at my best.


Life is never fair.
It never was. And it never will be.
Just think of it this way.
Fairness is plain.. B O R I N G.

P.S.
If you read this, admit it. You do give a damn. Hah! For that, I love you..

Stop the hating and do some loving mother effs!

- Rose


http://www.formspring.me/roseydiola
http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey