Thursday, April 24, 2008

Honk If You're Emo

After a honk or a hundred, you go out of your house with your backpack slinging itself as you walk quickly to your school bus. As you enter inside, you try to deactivate your ears because you know very well that your conductor is muttering some curses to - who else? - you. You made your bus wait for seven minutes, and here he goes, acting like Silas with the fiery glares and whispers of doom. You smirk accordingly as you find your usual seat with your other busmates who are lethargic as well. Every blink is just so so heavy. And yeah, everytime it closes, you just don't want to open it up.

You finally wake up as the sound of footsteps rushing out of the bus. You wipe your saliva that's still somehow dripping towards your chin. Wow. You actually slept through the trip. Surprise surprise, alright. You go out of your school bus, lazily trying to fix your quasi-wet hair and sleepy eyes. You startle as the engine of your school bus roars out of the school. You shake your head off as you see it drive away. Maan, I should have just stayed inside and let them bring me back home, you think. Well, you know very well you can't, actually. You have five quizzes due today, and everyone knows that skipping all of it is the most imbecile thing a graduating student can do. As you walk towards the Annex 2 building, you try to recall what those quizzes are for and about. Filipino, something about that kid named Celso. Math, polynomial functions. English, conflict umbrella. Economics, probably about the country's economy and; Physics, Newton's Laws. Your heart skips a beat just by thinking about the latter. Let's see, Physics is after recess on Tuesdays, so yeah, you're dead meat.

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It's been a long time since I wrote about something so sensible, I for one cannot let go of it. Let's see now...

Why I Can't Write Any Good Stuff Anymore.

Yeah, that'll show 'em.

If you've been reading my past entries, you can see the evident trend that they are all filled with all things juvenile. From Dora the Explorer to Greek Mythology, and my Age to Parental Control. I cannot really blame anybody, because practically, I know that it's my fault as to why this blog is slowly dying. I remember articulating that this blog is the mere output of my stress and my life and all months ago, but surely now I keep on avoiding and avoiding my own problems and resort to just thinking about how stupid Dora's backpack is. I mean really, Dora's whole life is just something I want to have now. At least she doesn't have to feel deteriorated by people, because duh, she appears on national television and kids friggin adore her. Me? My fucking bed is the only who adores me.

Call me emo or whatever shit you want to put before my name, but now that school's over and we're all off to different colleges and universities, I feel so helpless because I'm alone. Fucking ALONE. For an introvert, that's like, heaven or something as divine as it is. But being the hypocritical bitch that I really am, I now feel the need to go out with any of my true friends that have been with me for the school year that passed. Friends that helped me to cope with stupid changes, friends that made me laugh all year long, friends that gave me advice during the Great Depression, and friends that are truly, truly, TRULY, friends. Not friends who are pretending to be friends with friends of a lot more friends. Good luck comprehending that.

And now that I've said it, it brings me great happiness to acknowledge you all in here, in my shrine.

I MISS:

Rachell Ann Gonzalez, Patti dela Concepcion, Juela Sanchez, Jacque Topacio, Denise Santillan, Nina Meily, Charlene Liwanag, Alyssa Flores, Rica Guerrero, Ayu Martinez, Crissa Tenorio, Gia Cruz, Bianca Marjalino, Marian Ortiz, and the rest of 4-2 (YES! Even the dope, really. To the dope: you know who you are.).

It sucks when it[graduation] sinks in barely a month after it happened. You know, when those people you really, really love are not around anymore, not morbidly speaking or anything.

I MISS YOU GUUUUYS. Oh fuck it.

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