To Make You Feel My Love.

As usual,it's just another one of those nights when the breeze is too cold and I'm obviously too much of a dramatic to refuse listening to Yiruma and all these piano pieces that remind me so much of love.

I'm very happy for my friends. They've been changing relationship statuses on Facebook here and there, my News Feed is filled with heart pinned updates of this girl I used to go to Elementary school with in a relationship with some guy she probably met in College. I see status messages of someone I used to have a major crush on, telling everyone that he has finished submitting all the requirements he needed to graduate. All he needs to do now is wear a hideous graduation gown and cap and he's done with school forever. Everyone around me seems to have a purpose in life. They all know where they're headed, or at least, where they want to. They have people who would do anything to be with them, even if "anything" means skipping classes or disobeying their parents' rules or ditching their friends. I'm so stuck here and I don't know what I want from life.

I can't see anything I could be or want to be in the future. My mother hates ne for not graduating when I was supposed to, even though mu grandmother, who paid for everything, never gave me a single word about it. I feel like I've always been just a burden for my Mom. Nothing I ever do could please her and I don't know why. Maybe she thinks I'm just a mistake who ruined her life. She wouldn't even talk to me on the phone. It's like I don't exist for her anymore. Now everything that matters to her is my sister, when she didn't even greet her on her birthday, and I did. That also happened on Mothers Day.

I just want to feel like I belong somewhere but it seems like people don't appreciate the good things others did anymore. You're not judged by how good you are or how hard you try. Do something bad, one single thing, and everything you've worked hard to earn goes down the drain.

Goodbye, One More Day.

There must be something about the rain that never fails to always put me in a trance,where I'm engulfed with this idea of a perfect life,with perfect people living it. The rain seems to water the inside of my head, fertilizing the soil, turning dust into mud, and suddenly, all that lacks beauty now has it, and the ones that already have it before are sparkling even more.

Sometimes, I feel like the rain is some good omen from God. It might have something to do with the fact that where I'm from, the heat of the sun rules. Some intelligent statistics done by intelligent people in the Philippines will show just how many people have dies in the past year alone due to heat stroke, but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that when it rains, I'm a completely different person. I don't know if that's even possible, but the sound of raindrops pelting the roof is like a lullaby composed specifically for me. It's like something or someone is telling me that everything will be right with the world again, and that the impurities and imperfections are all being washed away, so that when I set my foot out on the road, the air smells fresher, the leaves look greener, people are happier. Because everything that used to be heavy have been carried away by the rain, to the clouds, to make them light again. And then there's that multi-colored arch across the sky, reminding us that to achieve beautiful things, we must go through hardship. And that mythical pot of gold they talk about being at the end of every rainbow? It's there to remind us to keep hoping for better things, better days, brighter tomorrows.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love.

It's strange how love works for people. Some people are born with their names written together in the stars. They grow up knowing each other, discovering things together, teaching and learning from each other. They're the kind of people our favorite authors so often write novels about. The kind we only think exists in movies, in teeny bopper television shows, in best selling books of all time. It's funny how love works in different ways for different people. While most of the ones I know are either married, with kids or one on the way, or maybe engaged, off to some summer romance vacation with the ones they love, I'm here, sitting at home, filling this void in me by watching the sappiest movies you can find. Last night, it was Dear John.

I've had my fair share of these knee weakening, my-chest-is-pounding-oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-he-loves-me-too kind of love, but that was way back when. All I'm trying to say is that sometimes, we fall in love with the last person we'd ever want to be associated with. Sometimes, it's like it's been written on the family's book of history since 1264 that you'll someday be off to marry this particular person, and you'll never really have a choice cause you'll grow up with him, and you'll have no reason at all not to love him. I'm just wondering why none of these happened, or happens, or probably will happen to me. Where's my fairy tale?

Some people say you shouldn't look for love; you just have to let love find you. What if love is a lazy ass thing who won't get up unless you will him to? I think we have to meet love halfway. Nothing will ever happen if you don't act on it. You can't ask for someone when you don't even go out and meet people, right?

I don't know what kind of fairy tale romance is in store for me, but to be completely honest with whoever is reading this, I can't wait. I didn't know it was possible to miss someone whose existence is a big question mark to you, someone whose face you haven't seen, whose voice you've never heard. It's exciting, the thought of having that someone whose personality matches yours completely, or maybe compliments yours in ways no one else can. Someone who makes you smile till your face hurts, someone who'll choose you over anything or anyone in this entire world, just like you'll do for him.

Someone to share all the wonderful things with.

Life Is A Strange Thing.

I an't help but ponder on the strangest things when I'm alone. Today, like any other given day for more than a month now, I'm alone in my room, shutting the rest of the world out.

I'd consider myself lucky if I was even able to set my feet out in the street in front of my house for three days in a row. The last time the neighbors saw me was the other day. I was out for five minutes to buy ice cream. The farthest I have been from the front door yesterday was about a meter or so; I was watching the rice stalks sway with the wind.

Some people go on life without going through the hardships others go through. Last weekend, I was watching a TV show rerun with my sister, 100 Days To Heaven, and it got me thinking, what's our lives for, honestly? I mean, we all spend our younger years studying, so in the future we'll be able to make enough money to afford our luxuries. And then, after we graduate, we spend all our years working hard so we can send our children to good schools, so they can find good jobs when they're older. I just don't see why we strive so hard to earn money. I don't see why even if I don't understand it, I still can shamefully admit that I need money. I want money.

I guess, in the course of it all, I've come to realize that life isn't what we all think it is. Life's not about the dreadful hours at work, or the lessons we've learned from school, or the times we've spent doing something productive purposely. Life is what happens in between those times for me. Life's the sixteen minutes I spent waiting for the bus, watchig all the other cars pass by. It's the lines and curves I doodled at the back of my notebook during one specifially boring Math class in High School. Life's the five embarrassing minutes my Sociology teacher back in freshman year spent so generously on me, reprimanding me for being absent the previous day because I was reading Tuesdays With Morrie. Life is about all the moments we think have gone to waste, when in fact, they have given us memories some other big events didn't. Life is all the small things combined, the ones that go unnoticed.

Looking back now, I have said so many times here how I regret some things. I can't say I don't regret them anymore now, cause I still do, but I think I've finally learned my lesson, and despite the still lingering bitter taste i my mouth, at least I can say I once wanted those things. They once made me happy, and what I have now are the consequences. I had my fair shair of sunshine, so who am I to moan about the rain?

At the end of the day, what matters is that I'm not sitting here wondering what might have been. If I were, I'd be an entirely different person from the person I am right now.

I'm Losing My Head, I'm Losing My Mind.

My mother is bugging me to get a job.

I'm going to start sounding selfish from this point on,so feel free to stop reading now. You've been warned.

It seems like mother has forgotten that she doesn't pay for my expenses. Yes, staying at home all day everyday is boring, I know, but what choice do I have? It's not like I can get a job without my school records. Like it's not bad enough already that they're all talking about sending me away to Manila to live with my aunt right under my nose. Life sucks here a lot. My grandmother would leave in the morning and be back at night all tired and hungry, my aunt would stay here all day nagging us, fighting with my sister and stuff like that. And then when my grandma gets home, all they do is fight. No one even cooks decent food here anymore. They just buy whatever the neighbor sells, food that taste like they came straight from hell. I'm gonna lose my mind soon. I need to get away from here but I have no means. I'm not even allowed to go anywhere without my sister.

You'd think it's so easy to live a life like this, doing nothing at all the whole day, just laying around the house listening to your family yell and shout at each other. I don't know what I'm complaining about or why. There are thousands of people in the world who'd give anything in a heartbeat just to be me, to trade lives with me, but I'm still not contented with this.

I want to be happy.

"Please Don't Be True."

Unless you're as big of a bookworm as I am, you'll never understand the way my blood rushes each time the cashier punches my purchase through her laser bar code reader.

I was in the mall with my sister today. She bought notebooks and pad papers for school, so I used the opportunity to buy a book. It's a bit disappointing that when you check the "Teen's Series" aisle nowadays, all the shelves hold are vampire novels. Of course I like Twilight, but I've never really read any vampire novels aside from the saga. I just think it's too much, and that the authors seem to have nothing else to write about.

Anyways, last week, I was planning to buy The Perks Of Being A Wallflower but I saw two Gossip Girl books (they're rare), so I decided to buy them instead, reasoning that The Perks Of Being A Wallflower still has many available copies, and that I'd buy it next time. But when I was looking for it earlier, I found out that every copy has been bought, so I ended up buying Please Don't Be True by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, hence the title of this post.

Now I'm in my room, like I always am, and trying not to think about the future. I won't be enrolling for school this sem and the next, which means I have a full year ahead that I'll probably spend in this house, in this room. I badly need a social life, but I have no friends, so my books and music are my best friends for now. I really wish I could go to school, but I can't rush my fate. I'm just putting it all in God's loving hands and hoping for the best.

In the room next to mine, my sister's bedroom, she's arguing with my aunt. My sister lent my grandmother Php7,000.00 months ago, and the payment is in my aunt. She keeps the money. But when my sister asked her about it, she said Rhiza now only has Php 3,000.00 because we spent the rest these past few weeks. Yes, we went out a lot this month and spent a lot, but my aunt never said we were spending Rhiza's money, so it pisses my sister off to no end. This is why I can't wait to move out of this house sometimes. My aunt can be very manipulative when she wants to be, and as you can see, it does us no good.

I can't wait for my uncle's wedding in December! It's gonna be a happy time for all of us and it's all I'm excited about right now. My life is so borig and predictable, but at least I'm alive. That's enough for me to be thankful. <3

Three Of Your Biggest Fears.

When I was a little girl of about seven or eight, I was so engrossed with playing outside (I was rarely allowed to do this) that I didn't notice that  a) it was already getting dark and b) my family,and I mean everyone from my family,was nowhere in near sight.

When I asked my neighbors where they were, they told me that they were in my other house, which was like five minutes away if I'd walk. So walk I did, but I was so scared of the drunkards and the dark combined, but I still tried to remain calm. However, when I got to the road by a particular neighbor's house which I've only entered once, and never returned to, simply because I wasn't really friends with the kids there and they had no electricity and clean water, someone called my attention with a "psssst!' so I turned to look, but there was no one. I decided to continue walking, even though I was really freaked out, and then it happened again. This time, when I looked, a girl in white with long hair, about my height, was at the door, staring straight back at me, making weird sounds with her throat. I was so scared that I shook and ran in circles, and then I entered their yard screaming and crying, and then I ran home. When I got there, my father was sitting on the wooden bench outside, trying to calm me down, asking me what was wrong, so I told him, and we went back to our neighbor's house. My father spoke to the old lady there and told her that one of her grandchildren played a prank on me, and that she should reprimand the girl.

She said all of her grandchildren were still at the junk shop, selling whatever it was they got for the day. Until today, we all don't know if that was really a white lady, or if someone really was responsible for it, but one thing's for sure. I'm afraid of ghosts.

When I was in sixth grade, our class had a Girl Scout Camp held in the largest elementary school in town. One of the things I wasn't excited about when camping was that I always got sick on the second day, so that my father and grandmother always insisted that they visited me, just in case.

My classmates thought it was really sweet, and most of the time they envied me. My family would visit me nightly, bringing me food and other stuff the other kids didn't have. Like usual, I got sick, and they were convincing me to come home with them on the last night of camp, but I said no. Luckily, I said no.

The next day, when I got home, my sister told me that my aunt found a snake on my side of the bed the other day. It was a poisonous kind,and even until now, typing about it, I still get goosebumps. My aunt was able to kill it, but ever since that day, I wasn't able to go to bed without worrying that there might be another one.

Days after that, I was hanging out with my best friend in his house. His mom was about to cook rice, and their kitchen didn't have a concrete floor. Their sink was made of bamboo sticks, and there was this huge drum of water in the corner, right below the improvised stove.

She was leaning down to fetch water from the drum when the dipper fell to the ground, and when she bent over to get it, there she saw a snake, curled beside the drum. She called my friend and they killed it with a broomstick, but since then, I've been terrified of snakes so much that I can't look at them on TV, on a computer, or even in books.

My third fear is something every one of us fears, that's to grow old alone and never really reach my full potential. I've always dreamed of having a family of my own, and I can't imagine myself not having kids, a stable job, someone to come home to. To me, it's more like a goal, and I admit that I'm sometimes guilty of rushing fate and not trusting whatever force is out there that brings people's lives together. I can't imagine myself looking back one day to this very day and wondering why I was sitting in front of this wheezing machine instead of out fulfilling my dreams. I've got to do something, but I'm also scared of failing.

Untitled.

Three Of Your Favorite Movies and Three Songs You Could Put On Repeat Forever

Movies

1. Sarah, Ang Munting Prinsesa (Filipino version of A Little Princess)
2. Memoirs Of A Geisha
3. Message In A Bottle

Songs

1. Gone by Jim Chappell
2. 18th Floor Balcony by Blue October
3. 4:35 AM by Gemma Hayes

A Random Post On A Silent April Night.

Let me start by saying I LOVE writing. I'm not the best one around and I never opted to be, but writing has gotten me through the toughest times in my life.

For some, it's music. Others get saved by their passion for singing, dancing, acting, helping people. For me, nothing does it better than writing.

Sometimes, it can be a realy dangerous thing. My imagination is so limitless, I sometimes think that as long as I can write it, it can happen. Some of my craziest, most impossible dreams are born on paper, squeezed in between the pages of my black garter bound journal, written during the days' most ridiculous times. There are nights when my mind feels so light and empty that it just floats away, up with the clouds, and only then can I write.

When I write, I'm a princess. That, or a really rich girl whose money is used mostly to buy groceries and paper bags, distributed evenly to the unwealthy families who live in a faraway mountain, whose kids run to hug my knees when they see me arriving fifty feet away. When I write, all is right with the world. I've found true love, I have the perfect set of friends, and my family doesn't get into loud, stupid and shallow arguments. When I write, there are pink clouds over green, grassy hills where all kinds of flowers bloom and dance with the wind. The moon smiles down at night, lullabies sound just like the waves crashing by the shore. When I write, there's a whirlwind of colors, like an abstract painting when the artist can't decide which palette to use, for everything is too beautiful to be left out.

When I write, it's as if the suffocating walls of this room are peeling themselves down one by one, revealing a world filled with butterflies and hummingbirds and tarts and custards and cakes and candy canes. I get transported to a place where happiness is the currency, and everyone smiles and says hello and "I'm sorry," no matter how silly the things they're sorry for are. There are no guns, no war, no one clutching his or her stomach because he or she had to skip lunch and the breakfast before and the diner before that. Politics, race, and religion don't exist. People come as they are. No one gets called gay, lesbian, black, white. You get noticed for the who you are, not for what you are or what people think you are or you should be. When I write, everyone who does good is given due honor. Everyone who does wrong, forgiven and given a chance to start over until they can do it right.

When I write, the world I know becomes the world I want to know. I stand up high in space and look down and see the Earth, and it wears a genuine smile stretched upon its face. How I wish.... How I wish the whole world would take a moment of silence and for once, write.

Three People Who Changed Your Life.

1. Andrea Kelley

Let's be straight, every girl needs an Andrea Kelley in her life at some point. Not only every girl, but every person. I think I was destined to know that a person like Andrea exists just so I could open my eyes and see life in a bigger picture, different perspective, better view. I can honestly say that through Andrea's encouragement, support, and faith, I've come so far as to accepting myself for who I really am. I've learned to fight for my dreams and get back up when life trips me and brings me down. I've changed a lot for the better because of what I see in her. Her passion for love is burning so bright, it's impossible not to want to feel it when you see it. She makes me want to be a part of something magical, of the things I read in books with happy endings. Because of her, I'm hopeful.

2. My Grandmother

My grandma is one of those people who believe that money can't buy you happiness. While I think it's nobel what she does for other people, sometimes, it feels like it's all too much and too selfless too. All my life, I've been making bad decisions and mistakes here and there, but she never made me feel like I'm a lost cause. All I ever heard from her was "it's ok, you can try again as long as you want to." That's how forgiving she is, and that's why so many people respect her, and run to her for advice. She's loved, and I want that. Most of the time, I pretend I don't care, when really, all I want to be when I'm old and gray is just like her. She always reminds me that there's more to life than getting what you want, and that the feelig of accomplishment you get when you've given yourself what you deserve is nothing when you don't share it with others.

3. ---

I haven't met this person yet. This space is allotted to whoever you are that I'm fated to spend the rest of my life with. I can't wait to meet you. I can't wait to tell you all about the things that scare me, my stories of the past, and show you my childhood pictures. I can't wait for us to relate to each other our lives before we met, and I can't wait to build memories with you that we'll pass on to the family we'll have. I haven't met you yet, or maybe I have, and I just don't know that it's you, but there's one thing I'd like to tell you. I miss you.