dont ask, just read*

*walang bakit, sino, paano. wala na rin yung call two. hindi ako sasagot.


Pangatlo: my favorite scar


Lose you
Pete Yorn


I'm taking a ride off to one side
It is a personal thing.
Where?
When I can't stand
Up in this cage I'm not regretting.


I don't need a better thing,
I'd settle for less,
It's another thing for me,
I just have to wander through this world
Alone.


Stop before you fall
Into the hole that I have dug here,
Rest even as you
Are starting to feel the way I used to,
I don't need a better thing
Just to sound confused
Don't talk about everyone,
I am not amused by you.


Cause I'm gonna lose you,
Yes I'm gonna lose you
If I'm gonna lose you,
Cause I'm gonna lose you,
Yes I'm gonna lose you
If I'm gonna lose you
I'll lose you now for good.

+++++++++++++

Alam ko naman dito rin babalik ang lahat, alam ko. Kaso lang, alam mo na, nalapit na sa atin ang Mars at lahat, baka naman kako may nabago. Baka naman sa kung anong kosmikong dahilan ay may puntahan na rin nang lahat ng putangnang larong dati pa natin pilit sinasalihan.

+++++++++++++

I often imagine myself injecting poison into my own veins. Slowly, from a big syringe. I'd watch as it slowly empties itself to me. Then I'd see myself writhe, thrash--but I do not scream in pain. I take it all in. I take it all in never making a sound. I see myself geting sucked in by Pain I imagine to be one massive black cloud. This happens every so often although I dont understand how I could get sucked-in over and over by something that big, that dark when I never see myself getting out of it. Maybe I never did. Maybe I'm bound to get sucked-in to that cloud's inner and bigger darkness. Or, then again, maybe not. Maybe i will get out, eventually.

I guess I already started pulling myself out of all that shit when, two weeks ago, after ringing your phone for seven fucking times I sent you this: "Ok. Fine. Whatever. No more anything from me then." And that was it.

Its been two weeks and I dont find it much of an effort, restraining myself from making calls, sending futile messages. I'm getting by just fine and I'm holding out good. Does this mean I feel nothing now? I doubt idf that will ever happen. It only means that I am now holding this love like a balloon, a shiny red balloon they say, tugging at it with a thin string. And someday, slowly opening my hands, I will let it slip through, sending it to the winds, away.

So wake me when it's over
And tell me when the feeling's gone
I always knew that you'd be my favorite scar
-the vanished