Are We Labeled?

By what we do? Do our personalities reflect what we do?
Does our inner meaning end up being defined by what we do?

Perhaps I've reached a new low. Becoming something that I never thought I would be.
Perverse as we came... humans are disgusting... specifically me.
Shame is what I am. It seems to be what defines my inner meaning.
Perverse is what I am...

What Am I Doing?

Is this right? Am I impeding? Am I preventing potential?
Am I doing this to seek something in return? To seek for something that will never be?
Why do I wait? Why am I waiting?
Am I waiting for something to happen? If so, what is it that I'm waiting to happen?
Why do I feel this way? Why am I still subjecting myself to my own enslavement?
Do I really put on a fake smile? Do I pretend my happiness towards others?
If so, what does this say about me? Does it make me a bad person?

Am I happy? (no)

Why do I still do what I do? Am I not already bored and frustrated with my usual song and dance?
Is it time for a new persona? If so, who would I be? How would I act?
Do I enslave myself? Or am I my own master?
How does one find happiness? How can I find my own?
What am I missing? What am I searching for?

Why am I so attached? Why can I not break the bonds? Why do I still cling on?
What will be waiting for me if I continue this cycle? What will be waiting at this endless line?
Can I be free? Or have I simply imprisoned myself and thrown away the key to my escape?









Answer:
I don't know...

Why Do I Run?

From the warm sunshine and into the freezing darkness.
Do I find my happiness worthless, therefore to never seek it for myself?
Or have I already sought out happiness and found nothing but worthlessness?
I suppose I have given up on myself and instead given what I have left to others and or to someone else.
Am I so blind that I may not feel or see the warmth or light of happiness that approaches me?
Or have my eyes been so widely open that I see no happiness for myself.

I seem to live in my own desolate land of loneliness. Making it so.
I guess I don't seem to want happiness for myself. I subject myself to becoming and being the lowly being I see myself as.
Who knows if I have the potential of becoming more than what seems like an empty shell that has always been empty.

If I Could Give You The World

I would, but would you have your own world to live in?
If it didn't hurt so much, I would give you all that I can.
Would you give me your heart, in exchange for mine?
Would it be a fair and equal exchange?

Corresponding Shapes Like Puzzle Pieces

Can people be made for each other like such?
When do people know when they have found their corresponding puzzle piece?
I feel like the last puzzle piece that people don't know where to place and just tossed away until needed.

How does it happen?

How does a person grow to love someone else?
The phenomenon is still confusing to me. I suppose its because I myself have not felt that emotion people have tried to describe to me when they first find their special person. A person, who I feel that is close to me, once tried to describe this emotion. I suppose the way she tried to was in a sense "indescribable" and I guess that's how the feeling is, "indescribable." But the effects of such an indescribable feeling is was quite clear. No matter how far away, how long it takes, the person who has fallen under this spell of an "indescribable" feeling will always, in some way, miss that person. Taking a step back, what does it mean to miss someone? Dictionary.com defines "Miss" in its sixth entry as, " to regret the absence or loss of: I miss you all dreadfully." I suppose "to miss" someone is to have a feeling of loss, to have a feeling of incompleteness. But if I don't have someone that I miss, then why do I feel that way all the time?
When she had tried to describe the feeling when she had met her special person, she was out of words. Most of the time when she described it she moved her hands a lot and just tried to say the right thing, but was not able to nail the correct description. In the end all she could say was that the feeling she experience was love.
I can't say for sure if I've ever felt love... love for another person intimately. Maybe I have, but it was never reciprocated back, and so I never felt the emotion of "love" completely.
So, I guess a question I've probably asking too many times I care to remember is: what does it mean to love? Is love just a meaningless human emotion concocted by chemical reactions within our bodies and minds? Is to love to be human? What is the connection between love and hate, are they just one in the same but from different sides? ...Why can't I be loved?...

I've put myself out there far too many times. Do I regret it? I think I do. If it was not for being let down and shot down all those times, maybe I would not be the way I am now? I guess it all stems from what my friend told me in a reply to a letter I had sent: "you shouldn't rush things." Plain and simple... but for some reason I've never been able to slow things down. What is wrong with me? Why do I rush things? Why am I so focused on finding my special person now? Should I not be focused more on my future and academics? I wonder if there are others like me who feel and question like I do. Maybe I would not feel as alone, but maybe it won't have any effect at all. Why am I such a failure at love?
Is it because I have a low-selfesteem? But all people do, in some way. Is it because I'm physically unattractive? That's probably the most accurate. Is it because I end up being friends? I thought it was a good thing to be friends, if not best friends, with the one you love? A friend told me, after all, her special person was her best friend... and that's how they grew to love each other, was after being best friends. I just don't understand it anymore. I can't stand it. After thinking of everything I just want to yell out loud, "FUCK IT ALL, FUCK LIFE, FUCK ME... fuck love..."

Where will my life lead? Will I forever wander alone? Never to feel the warmth of another's touch... never to experience the full embrace of someone's love. If this will be the case, then what worth is my life, what meaning does it possess, what potential do I have if I can not share myself completely, why do I fail at love?

Tonight, let me embrace the cold void in which no love exists. For it shall be the only place I'm accepted.

All I can say is, "I'm sorry..." But it will never be enough, nor will I ever be enough.

Ingats lagi...

Pharyngeal Slits and Markovnikov Products

As of today, I have finished the last of my finals. How relieved I felt walking out of that stuffy classroom. Legs stretched out after 1 hour and 50 minutes of non-stop cursive explaining the synapomorphies and various other biological themes that have been beaten into our brains for the past 10 weeks. I must say, "It was indeed a lot of information for one brain to handle." Earlier in the day, around 6:30 am I wake to the melodies of my alarm clock and Search The City's "Clocks and Time Pieces" simultaneously. Realizing what importance this morning had, I rushed to take a shower and eat my bowl of Peanut Butter Crunch. Soon my knowledge of chemical reactions was tested, and for once cramming was my one saving grace. For if it wasn't for cramming, my world would be quite dreadful at this moment, but on the contrary, I do feel a sense of relief and reassurance that I tried my best... for what its worth.
After taking said final, I only had a handful of hours to study for the Biology final previously mentioned. Boy, was it a doozy.
After the festivities of burning lead and aching wrists, I was free from the clutches of academia... for now. Bidding my friends a farewell as they returned back home, I trudged on with symposium poster in arm back to my own... "living space". Despite having finished finals earlier than most people, I was a bit sad, sad in the fact that my group reveived an 85 out of 100 on our poster... despite the score we tied with 3 other groups of 3rd place (I still didn't get my prize peep).
The remainder of the day was dedicated to endless (more than a few hours) play of Street Fighter IV, where I took some names and got my ass kicked a few more times than I wanted it to be kicked. I suppose the one major highlight, that shines all else, was the amazing dinner I had. 10'' Calzone from Ti Amo... just... not even words could describe the sensation. Lack for a better word... just amazing.
Now, I lay on my bed near the window where cold air permiates through the miniscule slits. Wondering... thinking... why does my life feel so empty? Do I make it empty? Is it my want for something, or rather, someone? I wish there was someone out there... someone that God made just for me, as I was made just for her. I suppose that's how most people feel when they do not have someone special to share their lives with. I suppose it would be a sin if I were to envy people, but would it be bad if I envied them for the love they have?
After all... "Love is always patient; love is always kind; love is never envious or arrogant with pride."
I suppose it isn't love if it is out of envy.
If only I were strong enough to burn, delete, and remove all traces of the memory that once was a reality. To finally let go of all the chains that bind me such feeling. To open my eyes and see the possibilities of newer and more exciting things. Being human, we are weak; and I, an especially weak human, am prone to be entangled in the past.
Why must the easiest things to say ("Just let go") be the hardest things to do?
I'll let the marinate a little more.
Just continue to dream... the endless dream...

Ingats lagi.

Just a Few More Hours

Until I am subjected to prove my knowledge of literary texts my class has gone over the past 10 weeks. I can't seem to concentrate much, even in the library. I suppose its because I have too much on my mind.
Maybe I'll diverge the topic and talk about something else that has plagued my mind.
What will she have me do? Grovel at her feet and tell her what she wishes?
I wish I'm able to make her smile and laugh. I suppose I wasn't the one meant to do that for her. Instead, I'm at the sidelines, watching and being only sent in when necessary. I look around me and see ow many people are lucky to have another by their side. Someone to make them happy when they feel sad. I wish I had that capability, at least to her. I suppose the best I can be to her is a brother figure than anything else, but even with that role I feel I fail no matter what I do. I suppose what really hurts the most is when she asks my opinion about him. I don't know if she knows, nor do I care if she does, that when she asks me these questions I feel an incredible emotion of loss. As if something was taken from me and left a gaping hole never to be filled by anything else but what was taken. Interesting how I start to use literary mechanics in this blog when I should be studying diligently about said literary mechanics. I guess that's a sign of a bad student.
I don't know what it is about her. I try to accept and get over. But I suppose what draws me in is her innocent smile, even though I know the malcontent behind that smile. In all honesty, when I do get to gaze on that smile, a part of that emptiness fills in. But then I remember that her smiles are for someone else, and no other. Realizing the facts that I am no longer included in her memories of happiness. Instead, I am the memory that is swept underneath the rug, the memory that is kept in the back, never to be remembered again, to always be forgotten. In the end, I can't let go, no matter how hard I try. The memories will never cease.
I wonder when my chance will come? Maybe my chance has come many times, but I failed to see.
Aside from anything else, I wonder if I'll pass... I know I must, but I can't seem to get the lazy monkey off my back. I sit here in the library, munching on my lone rice crispy treat from the school cafeteria, just trying to go over all that we have talked about in English 120.
When will it end?



Ingats lagi...

My first...

Blog that is. Since most of my friends have been blogging using this site, I suppose I shall follow suit and become a blogger myself (despite having formerly used xanga and other forms of blogging). I guess there will be a lot of things that I will start writing in here, the majority will most likely be me crying my heart out and talking about my daily problems in life, so if you're one that doesn't enjoy these things this blog isn't for you to read.
I suppose this should be it for tonight, after all I have finals tomorrow afternoon and the next day in the morning and afternoon. Good night world, and to all of you who are special to me.

Ingats lagi.