Tagged Emo

We Crash Like Planes Do

I don’t want to start this blogging year with an emo entry but I really have got something emo to say. And I’ve got to say this now. Even before I hit puberty, my friends have been emigrating — to Canada, to the US. That’s why back then, I developed some sort of hatred towards these two countries. I felt like, “North America is stealing my friends.” Years passed, and I noticed that I’d been losing friends not just to Canada or the US but also to Australia, to the UK, to the Middle East. It’s as if all the…

Inside the Previous Room

The other night, I had a strong urge to text someone. Kuya Ethan (name changed to protect our friendship, haha). He’s my 23-year old friend who had been my roommate since my early days in college until we parted ways middle of this year. Although extreme opposites, we got along really well. He doesn’t like my political stand but I’m not a fan of his views, either. His sense of humor is very different from mine. He smirks at my favorite films and songs. He doesn’t like me being gay although he understands and respects me completely. He’s very reserved…

Allow Me to Be Emo

And just like that, it all comes crashing down. And my one dream is shattered. As shattered as I am now. If you wanna be friends with me, I’m telling you, now is the best time. I’m OK now. You see, I move on easily. Haha. Over it.

Despondency

The comedy is that even after all this time, we’re still like this. The tragedy is that we’re still like this. And that’s just nasty. Oh well.

Domestic Plight

A grim incident has transformed our home into a mini-hospital. The air inside the house is perfumed with microbicides and alcohol. Trash bins are brimming with used bandages and cotton balls. Rooms are adorned with antibiotics and painkillers lying around. The coffee table is covered with CT scan results and X-Ray plates. And almost every day, visitors come pouring in with foods and gifts. Yes, our house has suddenly become a hospital. This is because last Tuesday, almost a mile away from our house, there was a horrible road accident. My mother and my brother were in it. Fortunately, everyone…

The Art of Losing isn’t Hard to Master*

“The art of losing isn’t hard to master,” says one poem. My high school friends always told me that if there was one thing that they admired about me, it was my ability to ALWAYS look on the bright side. True, I was like that. But something robbed me of that optimism. I kind of lost myself somewhere. On New Year’s Eve, I was about to go to the kitchen when I tripped on my toe. It was excruciating. But then, I made myself believe that I needed that pain to start the year right, so that everything I would…

I’m in Pain

BREATHE IN, DAMN IT! My nasty lungs are giving me the torture of the century. Every effin’ breath hurts. Damn. And now I’m imposing a cigarette ban on myself. For now. A TALE OF MY BLOODY TOENAIL My right big toe is swollen. I got ingrown toenails, and I had been complaining about it since, like, forever but I couldn’t do anything because I was afraid it would bleed. And you know how I react when I get up close and personal with blood. Aargh. My housemate told me to forget about shoes for a while. What?! Are you kidding me?…