some screenshots that speak to me on a spiritual level

My plans for film are going nowhere. I feel like an absolute goner. The year is closing to a finish and I'm pretty sure I didn't reach the goal I was planning on since January: to watch at least 200 films. I wanna cry and blame school and yell at my professors for participating in Project No Films for Audrie. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW. 

from the film Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

I want a mental break from all the bullshit that came (comes) my way. I'm still trying to figure out what I did to deserve this. But the important thing here is: I'm tired. So get me out of here, SIR. 

from the film Ang Nawawala

replaced by rust

I used to be so full of plans and ideas. Creating art, watching films, and reading books used to be the touchstone of my free time. Now all I ever do is wallow in my bed and listen to Foster the People's Ruby on repeat, with a small dash of Regina Spektor's Field Below. It's agonizing, but it somehow feeds my soul and its unwavering desire to be understood. I like how these songs make me feel like they belong to me, and only me. It's selfish, but I don't want anyone I know to make these songs their favorites. I don't know, I can't explain it either. I guess I want to own something beyond what I share with these people. It's not that I hate them or anything; I share a lot of insights with them--music, films, books. 

But for now, I think I deserve a little space and privacy. I think the universe would be lovelier if it gives me a little more time to own something. 

Anyway, since I'm not really here to talk about owning a song and forcing it upon everyone's asses, here are some pictures that would explain (and give justice to, hopefully) my woes. The past four weeks have not been lovely. Last night has been very momentous for me and my friends, and I guess you could say that it changed the way we view things, and school. 

 It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. Right? And this bag was just dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the 

world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in.

This handkerchief has been sitting in that corner for almost a week now, and the urge to pick it up and put it back in my cabinet is very strong. But I never got the drive to do so, I don't know why. I think I've spent a lot of time staring at this red, square material that's taking up little space. Epiphanies have been formulated while staring at this thing, like how I wanted to land a job in a film organization or a publishing company. Memories have been recalled while staring at this thing, like how I wanted to feel things twice. 

Some unfinished business. I wish school didn't get in the way of how much I want to finish them all in one week. We're on the fourth day of our week-long vacation and it feels like I haven't done much. I thought this week would recharge me and slowly bring back the driven, full-of-plans girl I used to know. (My 2011-early 2015 self.) I only have one day and I guess trying hard to actually do something that would nurture me would be futile because I have school the next day (which is stupid because it's a Saturday; why can't they just suspend classes and give us a Fucking Break. Give ME a Fucking Break.)

I have a lot. Underneath this facade of snarky (less snarky now, because I decided long ago that being a nice, break-it-to-them-gently person is, well, nicer), frizzy-haired, broke-as-hell, noodle-slurping of a girl is a person who has a million emotions. My journal isn't enough proof that I am a person inside an endless whirlwind of emotions, both unwanted and desired. It's just a quarter of it. 

And all I'm ever dreaming of is to have someone by my side who would gladly catch every single thought I'd spill, because they know they're heavy and I need help. 

But for now having a heavy, hardbound notebook is enough.

 Where Love Went Wrong - Augustana 

Kicks - FKA Twigs

Ask Me Anything - The Strokes

Reminder - Mumford & Sons

Sparks - Coldplay

Avril 14th - Aphex Twin

Melody Maker - The Kooks

I Know It's Over - The Smiths

Sense - Tom Odell

Masaya - France Feranil

Like We Did (When We Were Lost) - The Maine

God, even my closet is a mess you wouldn't dare to fix because you're scared and you have so much better things to do. 

I LOVE EATING ALONE AND RE-WATCHING PARKS N REC AND FILMS. One time I was at SM San Lazaro and I had dinner at the food court all by myself. There were a lot of people. And all I could do was look at them and create these stories about them. Eating alone in a crowded place makes me think a lot about the future and where would I go from here. 

So I made a poorly-collated collage, documenting my recent aloneness. 

it's like forgetting the words to your favorite song // ancient bruises

I have a great connection with this scene from Frances Ha. I hope this doesn’t last for too long, because it’s making me sad. David Bowie’s Modern Love is playing in the background; it’s lively and fun but right now it’s just pure agony. It’s when you’re walking at street with brightly colored lampposts above you, and it looks like you’re in this movie wherein your character doesn’t know where to go.

That’s currently me.

People scare me now. I can’t even get out of bed without having weird fits of crying for twenty minutes, with the thought of walking to school stabbing me in the head. It’s a strong itch, and you can’t simply put it off by scratching it because nothing ever works when you’re too sad to deal with things, and school, mostly.

School has been dragging my ass for a complete month now, and I can definitely say that academic therapy is not working for me. Not like it used to work for me, but having a shitload of requirements can’t even faze me from having these thoughts. And feelings. I’ve never been so insecure in my life. Facing people and talking to them seems to be the hardest fucking job now. Even pulling the door open to our room makes me shiver and nervous.

I’m not overreacting when I say it’s hard. It’s fucking hard. And I shouldn’t let this get to me, but even the prettiest Regina Spektor song won’t work. I tried it while waiting for class; it made me cry even harder because I realized I looked stupid, sitting on one of the benches beside the lockers. I always imagine myself as this girl from a low-budget, coming-of-age movie with a great, slow soundtrack whenever I’m in one of those situations. But now it’s just pure suffocation Real Emotion™.

I don’t know how long will this last, but it’s starting to feel like for fucking ever.

I’m watching everyone go on with their lives as I stand at the back of the room. I don’t wish to be part of that crowd. But I wish the person I’m expecting to be there is… actually there.

It used to be easy; now it seems impossible. Sad isn't even the right word. I can't put my finger on it, but the word is next-level, no-holds-barred kind of sad. The kind of sad that makes you fall silent when you're in the middle of doing something. Because whatever you do, wherever you are, you can't just shake it off, because it's in you. 

I've had nightmares about being abused and chased around a city, nightmares about being eaten by spiders; the kinds that you see in horror and/or crime flicks. They're scary. But I had one particular nightmare about this person. Can't really tell what this person did because I don't remember, but it really scared me because I felt empty while dreaming; I had goosebumps when I woke up and cried. 

It's so hard to be 18 and hollow. 

I had this weird urge last week to ride the train to Cubao, just because. I had the time and money, and being in transit felt like the only escape for me. I've come to realize that train rides are therapeutic. I guess it's those movie scenes I've seen growing up. It's this long, metallic tube that could take you places in minutes, and lets you meet a thousand different people in just a matter of minutes. 

It's amazing how a train ride could change a person's plan for the day. You ride the train in the morning and suddenly the sunrise makes you feel able. You ride the train in the evening and all the city lights make you wonder and miss everything, everyone. It's all perspective. Kinda like a placebo effect taking all over us, because we always think the other way around. We always think that a train ride or a bus ride means something. Or is it just me? 

I've been thinking about good things and the possibility that those good things might just happen. But it never does, because I always miss the chance. And there's always someone who's going to be the first to take it away from you. So you sit there in silence and stare off into empty space.

And that might just make you want to ride the train. Forever. 

I don't know if there really is a light that never goes out. I just want this all to be over soon, because I'm running out of breath. The three of us are running out of breath.