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. 

TWO STEPS FORWARD AND THREE STEPS BACK

Almost a year in college and we come down to this. Six pictures from my last day in my first year in college. Ten months of pure collegiate agony and bliss, both visible in every corner of my building. There's a million of moments I'd love to go back to, and another million I'd love to forget about. I still remember, from a few months back, how I dwelled so much on the itching fact that I am about to enter college; sweaty palms, seventeen years worth of so-not-ready neurons running crazy around my brain, and the massive amount of bodily fluids I greatly ignored because I didn't want to look like a lost person, frantically wiping her sweat off, searching for a companion. I wanted to be this independent snowflake who needs no one by her side to survive the impending horror of being a college student. 

I was wrong to think of it that way. I met new people and learned a great deal about them and I instantly called off my plan to ignore everyone. My friends have one of the most beautiful minds I've ever had the chance to hear ideas from, and I'm more than glad to be a part of that small group. I was a basket case the summer before school started, and I can definitely say that they did a great part on pulling me back up, with their small gestures of letting me know I'm a part of something greater than college and the summer I spent sulking around. 

When I was in my senior year in high school, I'd always zone out to the sound of my teachers discussing in front. I'd think about the year ahead of me, and the things I'd do once I enter college. I remember imagining the nights I'd wait for a bus to take me home, or walking around an unnamed university (because I was undecided of my future back then), and sitting on one of those benches preferably at the derelict part of the university because why not, right?  

It wasn't as dreamy and cinematic as what I expected it to be; it was an agonizing roller coaster of unwanted feelings and homework. But I had some ups, too. I spent a lot of time at the library, which was lovely because they have an impressive array of books (intentional nod at the Humanities section, thank you). I even had the chance to join a Journalism seminar for three days with my friends! There are a few of these moments I'd like to have photographic memories of, but everything seems memorable for me, good or shitty. From crying on the way home to the sound of my favorite sad song, to being a pure whack in Algebra. 

I am still bad at writing. I, if I'm being deadly honest, thought that I would become a better writer this year. But I'm stuck, and it makes me mad and extra sad with sad songs on the side. 

I've got nothing to give
Got no reason to live
But I will fight to survive
I've got nothing to hide
Wish I wasn't so shy

I fell in love with riding the train. I make mental notes everyday to leave the school at exactly 3:30 because the train isn't as crowded at this hour of the day. I found out that I am very fond of public transport, because looking out the windows as the train advances through a number of terminals will always be rewarding for my eyes. This also applies to all modes of transport, but taking the train always wins. 

Everyone deems their last day in something as this glorious event in their lives. Graduates, prisoners about to enjoy parole, employers about to quit their horrible jobs, etc. This one, with three years still void of anything, is a glorious beginning for me. I don't mind the extra shit storm I'm about to inhale for the next three years, as long as I am here. I thought a lot about transferring, but this place is more than enough. Missing everyone from around here is torturous--which is surprising because I never saw myself getting attached to people I used to have no acquaintance with. 

Ten months and we come down to six pictures, pretty enough to be here and to dwell upon.

!!!! AB WEEK !!!!

If it weren't for the late announcements regarding the event, our section could have prepared earlier and have a better-looking theme! Anyway, I was appointed to be photographer along with my block mates slash good friends Care and Star. It was super fun to be ~the girl behind the camera~ because I saw everyone's true colors under the sun!!! Everyone was sweating profusely and some were growing quite anxious, wanting for the parade to start already. But everyone was such in a good mood that morning!!! I guess the anxiety caused by the heat was temporary, because everyone was basically laughing and chanting things the whole time!!! I loved this day so much because I got to Bond With My Block Mates and also I got to take really great photos~~~~~

I can't get over how the colors looked so great under the sun WAH. They look so vibrant, like it was taken from a studio--but a better one, with the sun as the light. I don't know what I did with my camera that day but it was very magical, I loved the results (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

MY TWO LOVELY FRIENDS, JAY AND KATH (づ￣ ³￣)づ Too bad we don't have a picture together, aw.

HELLO THIS IS MY VERY GOOD CHELSEY!!! She, along with Julia, are basically my go-to friends when it comes to pop culture, films, books, TV series and music. 

This is Julia as Anne Frank *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟCheck her blog out here! 

The only decent photo I have of the whole section while in costume!!! ~this is us~ 

It was a success, all in all, considering the fact that we crammed for the preparations--again, because we weren't informed on time HEH. But we had lots of fun, nonetheless!!! We weren't even rooting for the cash price for the best section; we pushed it for the sake of joining the parade and I'm just ヾ(✿❛◡❛)ノ so proud ヾ(✿❛◡❛)ノ

GROWING UP

It still feels so weird. It's like leaving sixteen years of my life behind. Well it's not like I have to leave and forget them like an unused table napkin. This whole thing felt like a big process of transformation. Normally, metamorphoses approximately last 10-14 days. My own "metamorphosis" lasted for about... four hours. I still remember spacing out in between discussions of the school rules. I can hear everybody muttering and laughing around; my vision starts to blur and I can't help but think about going home. Stream-of-consciousness moment...

Why am I here?

Why am I in college?

What am I supposed to do?

I don't want to grow up!

I'm going fast.

Chronologically, I am seventeen. I feel five.

I want to go home. 

It all happened so very, very fast. 

But LOL, who am I to stop things from happening he way they should. I'm already here. There's nothing I could do about it. It's not like I'm writing this for the lost days that I could have escaped. I'm writing this to let you know how I felt when I was asked to grow up in four hours. (naks).

College used to be this stigma of horror for me. I used to have this vision of what college would be like for me. Going home late at night, Taya by Up Dharma Down, or any UDD song, is playing on the background (or, yes, I'm on my earphones) and the lights would make me feel like I'm in a music video. It's that liberating feeling you get while walking down the road and waiting for a jeep or a bus to take you home.

I thought college was supposed to feel like that.

I know I'm wrong to think of it that way. College is going home as early as you can, chasing time; the most important thing you have to make use of is time. It's that feeling you get at 6 am when the thought of being sleep-deprived just sunk in. It's of making ends meet for this one freaking subject that isn't even related to your major, but you still work your ass off for it because c'mon, you have to survive without risking your summer life. It's missing high school and the faces you've been with for the last four years. 

I'm not even halfway through  my first year, and I know the coming years would bring me more joy and happiness, and a ~*freshie*~ like me thinking about these things would make you laugh but HELLO, not only you have battles to survive. Everyone has. 

College is not easy; it's not hard either. I guess I was just too lax on the idea that it'd feel like high school. It's very different around here. But it's okay??? Yeah I'm still okay. 

Four years to go. 

"I felt very still and

very empty, the way the

eye of a tornado must 

feel, moving dully along

in the middle of the

surrounding hullaballoo"

- Sylvia Plath

I'M WHAT TIME AND CONSEQUENCE HAVE MADE ME

I've been surrounding myself with a lot of positive things lately. I don't really like blogging about my real feelings because it's either they're too personal or I'm too scared to let other people know because I know they'd judge me hehe. Anyhoo, I reconnected myself again in the art world! I'm so glad I did this. I felt like a noob for the past three months and it's depressing. I lived a hobo life because I was too sad and heartbroken to even function and use my brain to do productive things. It went on for about a month or two; it kinda felt like a routine for me. 

So then I started to get busy. I read a lot of art blogs, started watching art tutorials on youtube and wrote a lot of things for myself. This is where I thought about getting sober from all that sadness I gave myself in. Three months is short, yes, but it felt like three summers for me. Three summers of waiting over something that's never really going to happen. It's as if the universe is playing a big joke on me. But then I turned it all around started getting my shit together. It's like a do or die mission for me: I stay this way and die or get over myself and start living. I chose the latter, of course. 

I started writing again. I figured that keeping track of your life helps hehehe. 

I tried painting a face but then I failed miserably. I need more practice, meh. 

My attempt at making my journal look prettier, lol. Also my desperate attempt at covering up something real personal. 

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE WATERCOLOR PAPER! I realized that using watercolor paper is sooo much better than using normal paper because it actually holds up water. 

My best friends. I use the point-2 most of the time because it's small and helps me do the details better. Plus they're pink; I love them. 

I've been dwelling over this quote from Roald Dahl for the past few weeks now. This is my first piece using watercolor paper. I think this phrase has ~deeper meaning~ for me, lol. 

I would like to give myself a big pat in the back for these flowers. Made me love myself even more, HAHA. 

THIS PAINTING IS SPECIAL TO ME BECAUSE IT CLEARLY REPRESENTS HOW I REALLY FEEL. ONLY I WILL GET THIS. Or maybe you'd get this if you are smart enough. haha

I started to reading Bible passages lately and I don't know, it made me feel ~stronger~ and more capable of handling myself better than I did before. So, thank you, Jesus. You're the bomb. 

UGH. Look at that waste. It looks pretty but then I screwed it all up because I'm so DUMB. I tried redoing it but then...IT'S NOT THE SAME ANYMORE. The first one still looks better for me. But it's so dirty already I want to cry. 

So this is what I have been up to lately. It's so much better than moping around and feeling sorry for myself and getting sad. Of course the sadness is still there, but I'm learning how to handle it. I'm slowly moving, but at least I have made some progress. Looking back at what happened three months ago, I learned that I shouldn't regret it. Of course I'm not the only one who's affected here. (Or maybe I really am the only one affected in this situation). This summer evoked a lot of emotions from me. I'm still waiting, okay. 

I start college tomorrow. This is a big change for me. I'm scared, but I think I can handle myself well.