untitled

i don't exactly know the purpose of having written this in this form, so to literary people, bare with me. I was at first planning to post each number as a separate entry but then again doing that would take too long to post, so heck. anywho, some entries are sort of supposed to be for my persef class. but then, i never had the time to post them one by one. the numbering doesn't have a purpose. the entries are in random--actually even the thoughts. =D10.sometimes i wonder if you really get it. or am i the one who isn't getting the whole set up? but i talk figuratively. you should learn my metaphors!i gave you the go. but that doesn't mean i want to hear about it. that doesn't mean we can talk about it. it doesn't mean i won't feel anything if you tell me about it. i gave you the go, but i was hoping you would resist it.you should have known me better. i don't say what i mean and i don't mean what i say. sometimes i wish i just said you can't. sometimes i want to drop the facade. but it scares me. 'cause i don't know what that would be like. how we would be like.because i don't want to be like the rest. not just like the rest of them.so will you be good?...define being good. like have rubbers if you do get down on it.only if. but you were not asked to do it...9.You make me sick in a weird way. Like how it feels when you're turned upside down for a long time and you start feeling nauseated. Or something like when you are made to run 10 kilometers non-stop at full speed right after having eaten a big mac with super size coke and fries. Or like when your guts were pulled and tugged on by a bunch of monkeys and all you want to do is puke your insides. I mentioned how you make me feel all sick whenever we talk. and I guess you must have taken it the wrong way, 'cause all you said in reply was that you're sorry. I think I forgot to correct how you've misunderstood what I said. I like how it feels. It's the best way to feel sick. And if it does make me sick, I wouldn't mind being sick at all. haha. there it creeps again. cheezy. I wonder how you get it out of me. how you, of all people can make me human. how you can make me say things i always choose to keep. how you can fish out the truth from me (even make me admit that i'm a liar, for goodness sake). and how you can make me feel. maybe 'cause we are much alike? because you're just as much of a coward as i am? because we're both masochists pretending to be unfeeling goth-ly people who wouldn't give a f*ck about hurting people? erisona.uh-huh. tossed the golden apple, eh?do you think there's any hope to this? or are we kidding ourselves? or am i kidding myself?8. love?love is overrated.love is passe.love is just love.don't try to make it sound complicated.7.evaluating or trying to classify something into either under good or bad is not achievable. It's almost parallel with trying to classify each of the colors (may it be with respect to light or tint), as only either black or white.so, the first paragraph is a lame attempt to try to justify myself. when it is a must to rate something, and you are given a set of criteria or something perfect--idealistic, even...you see that what you have does not measure up in comparison. When you are given a view of what perfect is like, what you thought was good enough simply doesn't seem as good anymore. And it's just messed up 'cause prior to seeing something better, it was good enough. it just sucks that what used to seem closest to perfect suddenly seems like crap, because i was given something in comparison.but then again, maybe i like it crappy? maybe that was what made it seem good enough. maybe it was what we liked about it--the imperfections, the ragged edges. maybe we weren't after perfection after all...and pop culture was wrong about trying to make us feel weird about the eccentricities of what we wanted. it is good enough. to hell with what they have to say.until it is over, until we get tired of it, until we choose to stop playing, until we forget about it all, until either of us quite, until we do something stupid, until then, i guess this is good enough. to hell with whoever says otherwise. ha ha!6.Person1: When I'm done with someone, I don't fool around with them anymore.Person2: I thought I was like that too.Person1: So maybe you still like the girl...Parson2: No, maybe I was just drunk.Person1: And drunk people always use their being drunk as an excuse.Person2: So maybe I am just using it as an excuse right now too......I hope not...5.Significant is a relative term. haha. So I choose to define significant as fucked up bothering to the point of being pointlessly irritating; to the point that it eats up your time and clogs your head with itself. I therefore rule out the strict correlation between significance and importance. To put it short, significant, in this entry, is a craze.The relationship is something simple. Yet bound with complicated factors. But made to seem simple. Like a black and white UML diagram, having very few attributes and only two methods. But with confusing arrows of aggregation, composition, association, etcetera, etcetera.The main rule/first method was: do not attach yourself.The second method: it's supposed to feel good.The irony is: we aren't good with rules. Humans as we are, we are not bound to strictly go by the rules. we err (to err is human, your ear divine. hahaha). We were only supposed to go by 2 rules, but we defied both as if we were anarchist wannabees.How come, we started the fire but ended up swallowed whole in our own darkness? Do you think we should have we should have touched the fire instead, and let ourselves burn ablaze? But then again, we chose to play in the darkness. So wth, right?4. The decision is only difficult to make when you refuse to decide on something so obvious. When you say no to something that everything and everyone is pointing to. It can be simple, but choosing that it be simple will make us lose all interest.3. DEAL WITH IT!Assert myself? You wish! I'm not one who would stick in black and white.2. Robert Frost had been proud enough about having chosen the road less traveled, having encountered a fork in the road. Proud enough to even write it as a poem. And he had been good enough to have it published, and now I guess pretty much everyone have read it. It had been simple for him though, because there were only two choices, and it is a given cliche that the uglier way is most probably the right way to go. I've chosen the rough roads that have earned me a lot of failures that went right smack into my face, or smooth ones that had been quite boring--uneventful.I think I have gone through my forks in the road (haven't we all?), but I don't think anyone have ever thought it was anything as special as Robert Frost's poem. Heck, I've encountered roads even more entangled than the esquinitas(or however you spell it) of divisoria...or sometimes, when it all boils down to the worst, encounter no road at all--just dirt and brawn. But as it goes, it's all necessary evil. Some things that we WILL have to go through, to hell with what ever reason the optimists will flood you with. It sucks though, 'cause not all of us encounter the same level of necessary evil. Some are lucky enough to get away with it.1.I do not dare speak before a crowd. Nor wish to be seen before curious eyes. For I belong to a different audience, one that is mute; one that would keep everything that has been witnessed in silence. When trust is lost even in the honesty of the keyboard...when thoughts are tarnished by speed and fluctuating passion, I resort to wrapping my fingers around one that would listen. Here, I let the pencil speak my mind. And no one else will have to know about it, everything shall be captured in paper. And no one is supposed to know.