Endless thoughts grasp the quiet void I have inside my head. Locked up emotions and words just dying to come out. I want to speak, I want to yell, I want to do everything when I’m by myself. Yet, when I’m surrounded by noise, I feel comfort.

Maybe with noise, I feel like that I don’t need to speak, I’m safe. The safety from my own thoughts. Probably that’s why it’s always better when you’re surrounded by good company, because you don’t over think. You are busy with something that’s in front of you.

“For all the noise I make with my friends, I am still not comfortable talking about my feelings in front of others..”- Mitch Albom. It’s because the sense of vulnerability is there, afraid to be open. So I just keep everything in. Because that’s how it is.

I won’t judge you because you had a bad past. I mean who the fuck has their hands clean to actually judge someone? Everyone, because everyone thinks that they are fucking great all the fucking time. That’s just how life is right? Wrong, I’ve been judged. Feels like shit. I mean yeah it happened a couple of years ago and I’ve learned from it, but people still treat me as if I was the same person then. Fuck it. Judge me.

So, that’s why I won’t judge. Because I know what it felt like being judged when they clearly don’t know the real me. I’ve met a girl who I’ve only wanted to be friends with, but sadly rejected the offer because I would ruin their “rep” in school. I’ve felt pretty shitty about that, because I wasn’t trying to be more than just friends. Who the fuck refuses into being friends? No one, except her.

So fucking what if I’ve heard shit about you, I won’t treat you any different. I will get to know you myself, because I won’t let some rumor or bad past decide for me if we can be friends or not.

Cousin doing it big for cinco the mayo

Mom and dad dancing before the party, hah sheesh dancing with the stars and shii

Werd

I can’t be too loud or too quiet, then what can I be? I can’t dress up or dress down, then what can I wear? I can’t give you all the attention or neglect you, then what can I do? I resemble your ex yet I’m totally different (when I’m being myself), then what the fuck do you want me to be?

The moderately me isn’t good enough, nor the rambunctious me is too much. The odds are in your favor, yet I sympathize and let you get what you want. You say you sacrificed so much for me already, but what have I done? When I want to have a serious conversation, you say I’m too uptight, but when I joke around, you say I play around too much.

I really don’t know what you want, being indecisive describes you. I point these out because now, you don’t have me, because now I have the freedom to be myself. I can be serious, goofy, mysterious, smart, stupid, all in one. If anyone accepts me, then it’s your lost. I’m not going to wait and mope around because of you.

I’m worth someone’s time, and the time I’ve spent listening to you bitch about how you don’t want to be with a guy like me then it’s my lost. All those times I could’ve just exploded and told you that you were wrong, I kept it in. You want to know why? Because I adored you, I accepted your flaws, your imperfections. That’s why I was with you. That’s why I sympathized and took everything in. But now, I hope you are happy and found someone that is worth your time. Farewell, exlover.

About two years ago I was given the family car. Montero 97, it was a beaut when the gas prices weren’t such a pocket burner. It can haul about 7 people, but I don’t think I ever pushed it that far. The freedom that brought in with having a car was also breathless, the laughs, the kisses, and the memories. I can recall almost every ride I had with that car, ever since elementary till the very last day of college.

I felt safe when I drove that Suv, probably because it was so huge and heavy. That’s what she said, but honestly it was just perfect. I was never the guy that was into cars. I never wanted to be a car junkie, because I think cars are just something you ride in, slow or fast, there were no other purpose than just to ride it. But with the family car I felt a connection, probably because I grew up in that Suv. I was in the passenger seat and ended up taking the captain’s chair. I was the fucking captain. So I took care of it.

When it breaks down I make sure none of the main components were badly damage to the point it can’t be fixed. I regularly maintained it, check tire pressures, oil gauges, and everything. It was my own flesh and blood. I drove to uncharted places just outside city limits because I know that’s as far as I can go. I knew that eventually my buddy will have to be at the back of a tow truck being donated. He wasn’t enough to be sold.

I was batman and it was my bat mobile, I was han solo and it was my millennium falcon. The list can go on, but the nostalgia I get from my friends’ stories about their first time in that Suv, just makes me sad. Good bye dear friend, hope you’re off to a better place. Thanks.

I’ve noticed that instead of knowing ourselves more, we tend to notice someone else. Probably more significant, insignificant, but the question is why? Why do we want to know someone when we don’t even know ourselves?

What the fuck are we looking for? What are the things we like, are they really what we like or are we getting this cookie cutter layout everyone wants? Why can’t we understand ourselves more, and seek for that answer. Would it take a year? Two? A decade? Who knows, but we get lost and side tracked. Sway away from our journey but meddling in someone else’s, what the actual fuck. I just think that it’s better to put yourself in the market if you know what you truly want.

Everyone has something to be embarrassed about right? That dirty past that is so darn dirty, literally.

This dates back to my middle school day, I was a mere seventh grader. I never really understood what seventh graders are, scrub, washers I don’t fucking know. But I didn’t want to be neither. My love for yugioh has blossomed and I was never really afraid to show it. I was brave. I was invincible, but my downfall has peeked over the sunset.

But this isn’t the embarrassing part. So, I never really understood the science of my stomach back in middle school. I didn’t know what to expect, but I felt like taking a shit. A big fucking dump and bomb that shit out. I was really traumatized that going to the bathroom means dumbass kids kicking the door open when you were taking a shit. I saw this happen and I was scarred for life. Till this day I never went to any school bathrooms.

I thought “oh maybe if I used an excuse that my stomach hurts and just use the nurse’s bathroom then the coast will be bombs away,” I’ve used this excuse once and it worked so I thought about it. That was the bad part, I thought an hesitated about it for a while.

It was 6th period and it was the last class. Constipation has worked its way up my thoughts and all I wanted to do was hold that fucking ass hole tight. But constipation is more of a mixture of gas and shit. I didn’t know what will come out first. 5 mins. on the clock, slowly I watched the stupid arm move from minute to minute. My sweat has drenched my worksheet. Two mins till the bell ring, and I exploded…. Quietly. But it came out tsunami-fied. I fucking ran to my dad’s car, got home, took of my pants and socks since its drenched with shit that resembled a burnt pancake… It was horrible. It haunts me. I was vulnerable, all I thought about that whole night was that I hope someone didn’t notice the rancid smell of shit as I ran past them. I was defeated that day.

So messy

I’m young, 21 to be exact, legally an adult. But “grown ups” don’t recognize an age and blatantly announce that I am a kid and I probably don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t agree to such none sense because an age doesn’t make you older or younger, but through experience. A 12 year old or younger has probably gone through more stuff than all the things I’ve experienced in my 21 years of life. I don’t judge until they are preaching on something they don’t know about. But what do I know right? I’m 21 and my journey hasn’t started, or well that I know of.

I do have some stories that has led to the beginning of my journey. We can start off with my first crush. People usually like that kind of stuff right? Young kid who likes a girl, puts up with the new enduring pain of not knowing what will happen. Sadly, it isn’t going to end the way you’d expect it.

I was in third grade, in a private catholic school back in the Philippines. This astonishing beauty has captivated all of my attention the first time I saw her. I never really knew her because I was that delinquent kid who was addicted to WWE and all I did was draw stone cold Steve Austin flippin people off. But this girl, she was something else.

I wanted to go to school because of her. She was nice, beautiful, and everything I can conjure up describing this profound feeling I’ve recently encountered. Innocence was free an that was the beauty of the first crush. Because all you ever wanted to do with that someone was get to know them better, spend time and just play with her. She’s amazing. Trust me.

I’ve dropped some hints here and there. Like letting her cut in line, going to the library together and just having a darn great time. Here’s the twist. Before I got to say what i felt about her. My family immigrated to the land of the free, to pursue that American Dream.

I never really told her I was leaving. And she didn’t know I left until a week later. That was it. I never realized time was so short. We’re good friends now and we talk occasionally when I catch her online.

This amazing girl will always be my first crush.

hahaha fuq I’m siq of myself now