<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383</id><updated>2011-04-22T06:18:36.817+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Madness</title><subtitle type='html'>When one lets oneself go, one must be prepared for the consequences</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-112220797329625716</id><published>2005-09-05T13:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T01:05:23.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;July 24, 2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;821pm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;This month was another painful one. It seems like we never get any rest. During the first few weeks, Cor ran away, because she wasn't seeing as much of me as she said she needed. after a few talks, some chases, and a whole lot of tears, she went home. She did so without seeing me, she came up with the decision after thinking about everything herself, and for that, i'm proud of her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;After that episode, I ran away from my home. Kind of stupid, I know. I did that believing that there was no hope for my family, that I had a chance to make things better for myself out there, though somewhat lacking in experience and skill, I wanted to try. Now i'm home. I still want to try, but when i'm prepared. Everything thats been happening made me realize who was responsible and why this all happened. I don't need to say his name, he knows who he is. I may not explain why I came to realize this but if he looks at everything, and stops thinking of himself as the saint he imagines himself to be, and sees what has happened in everyones lives, includings his own, he ought to see what I do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Hes always talking about his good intentions, but they end up just that, intentions. Perhaps they aren't even as good as he makes everyone think they are. Why? Because to get his way he'll make me feel guilty. He won't say he is, but he's very good at his game. He says things like " I just think you should know" or " We promised honesty to each other". Doesn't all this sound so gay? I know, I was stupid to let myself fall into this trap. I thought he would be an honest friend. Well, he was, just too honest to have any pure thoughts. And to think I used to say I was the user&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Hes probably out there now, crying his heart out. aww, poor him. He's texted us; me, cor, and everyone he knows from bene. Even in defeat, he plays mind games. Sick. That may have been the last anyone else ever hears from him, but not me. He still texted me after that, and tried to call me. Even sent a message on friendster. I know i'll see him again. I need my clothes back. I hate the thought of my clothes being stuck there in his apartment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;I know how he'll react to this. He'll probably shake his head, say "oh my God", and start to cry.Then he'll tell all his friends about it and he'll make it look like he was the wronged party. Then he'll find some way of contacting me and he'll say that this was cruel of me and how he did everything for me and how much I got out of him.Well, I didn't get anything good aside from privileges and material things, which dont count compared to how much hurt I got. He'll comment on this too. He'll talk about how much he was hurt and make my pain insignificant. He'll talk about how he got his slut pregnant, how he had to deal with abortion, how his family turned against him, how he lost one of his best friends, how he's in a goodly sized shit right now because he gave up a lot cuz of me and so on an so forth. Mind games. Well it's his fault, everything that's happened to him. But yeah, it's my fault too, for letting him toy with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;I've dealt with what is my fault (He'll say I haven't yet). He's probably cooking up a plan to get me where it hurts, after he reads this. But you know what, I dont care. So go ahead man, hit me. you can't do any worse than you already have. And if by some miracle of the devil you do find some way, you'll regret it. I always said I was dangerous, and that wasn't empty boasting. I dont need my wakizashi, or my shuriken. I can play this game too, if I have to. So don't make our lives any worse. Just give me back my clothes and give Cor her dress, and leave it at that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-112220797329625716?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/112220797329625716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=112220797329625716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/112220797329625716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/112220797329625716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/09/sick.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-112299994414016344</id><published>2005-08-02T23:55:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T00:32:26.253+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sayonara, Kenji</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;With all thats happened to me and Cor lately, I forgot to tell about an integral part of our problems; Kenji's death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've heard it on the news recently. Kenji Kanai, Benedictine International School graduating student, died in a car "accident" along Katipunan at around 4:00 am on Friday last week. I don't think I need to say what I was to him but for the sake of remembrance, I will. I was one of his friends at bene, he was one year below me and I knew him fairly well. We used to play basketball during recess and lunch (when there was a lunch period) during our early years at that school. I remember Now or Never. I remember when I got drunk then and tried to get down the stairs to look for Koyet (who, by the way, was present at the accident) and he helped me down, because I was making a grand ass of myself trippng on my own feet. That's how I remember Kenji.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad to say that his death was what it took to see an old friend. My ex, Aki. Only I call her that by the way. We met at his funeral, she was absent from his wake, as I walked up the path leading to his grave, I realized how out of place I was, shrouded in black while everyone wore white shirts with "we love Kenji" printed in bold letters on it. I saw my cousin and Kenji's teammate, Mico, beside the other varsity members, watching the long and tedious lowering of Kenji's coffin. Then I noticed the little figure crying silently beside me and Mae. It was her. I was surprised to see her there, not knowing that she'd be present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we talked, and exchanged new numbers. We texted, and soon Cor found out. It was wrong of me, I guess, to have texted her without waiting until Cor was ready. But circumstances led me there, and i'm npt the type to ignore an old friend whom I haven't seen for so long. So she went, and talked to Aki in bene. I had heard that she threatened to punch Aki's lights out, and so I was miffed. We fought, in KFC no less. I got slapped, we broke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that's water under the bridge now, we're on good terms, though I doubt that she and Aki will ever be. Just typing for the sake of keeping my blog alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-112299994414016344?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/112299994414016344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=112299994414016344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/112299994414016344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/112299994414016344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/08/sayonara-kenji_02.html' title='Sayonara, Kenji'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111955556602443054</id><published>2005-06-24T03:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-03T23:47:55.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;I opened my eyes to uneasy silence. All around the bus there was nothing to be heard, save for the shuffling of bags and the drowned music from cd players. I began to feel uneasy as well. This silence was unusual for my class. I turned to Lawrence questioningly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What’s wrong with everybody?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don’t know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sensed that something was up. Not knowing what it was put me on guard, but knowing I could do nothing made me want to put the matter aside for the meantime, and end the nagging thoughts, but feeling the anxiety around me, overwhelming the sanity, I began to wonder.&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t have enough time to ponder over the matter thoroughly, because soon the bus slowed down to a stop at the docks. Everyone stood up immediately and began to leave. Still harboring questions, I involuntarily looked at the new girl. She hadn’t looked as sad as she did since her first day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there, stunned. More irritating thoughts and unwanted questions swamped my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why was she sad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had she wanted me to tell her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I tell her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about Micah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would telling her really be so wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My feelings were tearing me up inside. I was more confused than I ever had been. It felt so wrong, like it was an unwritten but well known law, to tell her, and yet I wanted to do so, more than ever… and yet I started to condemn myself for wanting that. I had never been and had never wanted to be someone I would call a player. By telling her I would be, whether she would say she felt the same or not didn’t matter. Simply saying what I was dying to say would turn me into what I hated most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to the conclusion that not telling her would be the best thing to do. So I buried those thoughts somewhere deep in my mind, hopefully to be forgotten forever. I steeled myself for the memories that would undoubtedly show their ugly faces once I reached the island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got down from the bus slowly, feeling each step, imagining them to be numbers on a bomb, counting them down to when the thoughts would finally explode, sending me over the edge, breaking me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though my defeat was ominously sitting in the fog ahead, I found strength again, just before entering the office of the ferry tours. Upon entering, I saw my class had changed. Their perturbed silence was gone, replaced by enthusiastic laughter and excitement. This made me smile. I knew I’d find the strength I needed in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined them hastily, wanting so much to just forget my plight and enjoy the day. I surprised myself by doing just that. It seemed like I had never enjoyed being with them more in my life than those few hours waiting for the ferry and riding the slow, calm waves toward the island.&lt;br /&gt;Once I set foot on the cold grey cement of the island's docks, the madness began again. The cold, biting wind didn’t help at all, and as you can imagine, my tour through the forests and derelict barracks around the island was miserable. I managed to keep myself sane until we got to the memorable crossroads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tree that bore the scar of my knife was supposed to stand at the beginning of the right fork. Reluctantly, but eagerly at the same time, I started to search for it. I walked the whole row of trees before I found what was left of it. What was once a majestic tree became a humble stump surrounded by dead grass. Yet another contradiction came. I was crushed and relieved at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s in the past. Let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told myself this, but still the regret lingered. It didn't bother me as much as everything else did, but it was an annoyance nevertheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not long after, I heard Eric’s call. We were moving away from this place, and I was thankful. I thought that the next place would be another distraction, something that would take my mind off of this. It wasn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the island’s hotel’s restaurant. As soon as the opportunity came, I sneaked off, out from under the watchful eye of the teachers, and brought out the pack of Winstons I had smuggled. I heard someone coming up behind me, but I wasn't worried. I knew that whoever came out here, among the looming trees, had to smoke as well. Besides, most of the students in my school were smokers anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong. At least in assuming that whoever it was must be a smoker. It was Lawrence. I braced myself for more questions from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Smoking again. Tsk tsk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t help but smile at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah. I need this, man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s Lawrence. Straight to the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Like I need to remind you. It’s the island. All the things it reminds me of…but that’s not the main problem."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So you are thinking of telling her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course. I just don’t know if it’s the right thing to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course it’s the right thing to do. I know you love her. You said so yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you didn’t believe in this ‘love at first sight’ shit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It isn’t exactly ‘at first sight". You're her friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know her better."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, he shut up. I knew that he had the same feelings for the new girl. It was obvious. I didn’t know how to deal with that. Another problem to add to my list. After a few minutes of silence, he left. I walked past the restaurant after a few sticks, and then another place with another memory came into view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful. This day just keeps getting better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the beach. As unglamorous as it was, it probably held the best memory of the time on the island with Mae. I remembered the last afternoon we were there. We had walked hand in hand across the sand, past the bahay kubo’s and the palm trees, toward the rocky cliffs at the end. We had found a small crevice at the base that opened at its other end to the other half of the beach. Perfect Kodak moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That one hurt more than the others. Honestly, I had no idea why. I thought I’d gotten over her. After all, it had been two years since then. Perhaps this had to happen. Perhaps I just needed to come back here to be able to let go once and for all. Whatever the reason, I didn’t appreciate the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself walking across the sands, looking off into the sea. Loneliness again. How much longer did I have to feel this? I didn’t know. I wasn't about to let this beat me. I knew I wasn’t a quitter. But there comes a time in everyone's life wherein they feel like giving up, like throwing everything away and not caring what they'd leave behind. There comes a time when this life doesn’t feel worth the pain anymore. Before I could throw myself to the merciless waves of the sea, friends called. They were sitting on the rocks close to the restaurant. I knew they saved me, though they didn’t know it. I just wasn't feeling very grateful. It was Jerome, loud and attention deficit as always, who spoke first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hoy ok ka lang? Kumain ka na ba?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oo. Ano na ang gagawin naten?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pupunta na tayo doon sa tunnel pero matagal pa bago tayo umalis."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bakit?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nagpapahinga pa yung driver."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat down next to them and said nothing. I looked once more at the sea, feeling ashamed of my earlier thoughts of suicide. I was not a quitter, and never will be. I wasn’t about to let this beat me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----to be continued&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111955556602443054?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111955556602443054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111955556602443054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111955556602443054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111955556602443054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/06/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111739570416975689</id><published>2005-05-30T03:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:48:45.393+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stories of Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;I decided to get a little nostalgic today after reading Cor's blog and decided to write about the uneventful day we became us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 25, 2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was field trip day. The final tourist spot on our agenda was Corregidor island. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Philippine islands, it was a military base during WWII.&lt;br /&gt;I'm always anxious for these trips, because they give me free time to spend with my friends. This one was different. I had mixed feelings about going to this particular island, because of my history there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago I had gone there with my first girlfriend. You know what its like, being in love, or thinking that you are, for the first time. Of course I spent the whole day with her and not my friends,we walked the dark brown sands of the beach hand in hand, watching the waves roll back on themselves. Yes, all that crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, i'm sorry, its not all crap. I enjoyed the time she and I spent together, and i'm thankful we're still friends. Our separation hurt, however, and coming to the island after everything made me a little depressed, but nevertheless, I looked forward to it.I was anxious to see if the tree I had carved our names on had survived the weathering of the years, and as weird as it sounds, I knew that this was just the thing to take my mind off of my most recent break up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sound like quite the player, dont I? Oh well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This being the special day it was, I broke off from my usual routine and wke up early. Too early for me,being the nocturnal creature I was. I got up at the crack of dawn, just before the light of the sun reaches the roofs of the houses in my neighborhood. I don't know why, but I like being the first to arrive at school during these things. I got there, and as it was still dark and I was still sleepy, I fell asleep on the bench outside our classroom. The darkness was inviting, a welcome rest from the chaos that came with my every thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened my eyes to the sound of restless shuffling and yapping, as my schoolmates were waiting for the teachers to arrive. Thats the thing about this school, everyone's always late. I felt hungry as I rose from the bench, which was natural, since I never have breakfast at home, so I headed for the cafeteria and on the way I saw my friends,who had, of course noticed me sleeping on the bench.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oy, gising na yung bampira!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means "hey, the vampire is awake" in english. It was my fellow vampire who said that, and of course I shot back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kanina ka pa nandito? May araw na a,buti hindi ka nasunog."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that means "how long have you been here? The sun is up already, good thing you didn't burn." Corny, I know, but we're like that when we see each other. What we say isn't important to us, it's the feelings behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the table I saw everybody. One of the fat pervs was there, the dumb rich girl, the other vampire and his bride, the American, and of course, the new girl. I sat down after getting my usual ice coffee and donut(doughnut?) , and the day began. We talked about many things, but soon each of us their own conversaton with some one else in the group. I was talking to the other vamp about something related to art, the dumb rich girl was with the American and the new girl, and the fat perv was talking to the other vamp's bride. Somehow we ended up at our classroom or in the hall with the new girl, the American, and the dumb rich girl. I was talking to the new girl, and the other two left us alone. I knew they meant something by that, and she did too. I admit, I had liked this girl from the start, from when I became her friend, her first in the school, but I had to fight it then. I knew it was wrong, I had someone already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I fought. But being in this situation isn't easy. Just sitting like this, talking to her amongst the crowd, hurt a lot. My morals and values fought with my emotions and the thing was, I didn't know which side was right. I've never been in that kind of situation, and I had a lot to risk. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I knew that this girl had feelings for me, the American told me so. And I could see it was true, she wasn't exactly opaque. Knowing how she felt and knowing how i felt and where I was just scared me. Maybe this break up with my ex was final, maybe it wasn't. Maybe she wants me to come back. Questions I had no way of finding the answers to yet. Just as the tension within me was getting to a point where she would notice, there was a loud ring, the teachers I had arrived. Saved by the bell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we all met up again and got our stuff, and started to board the bus. On the way, the dumb rich girl pulled me aside and asked if i'd talked to the new girl about my feelings yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I haven't. And I dont think I will."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kuya, what is wrong with you? She loves you, can't you see that?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How can she? I've known her for what, a few weeks?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I dont understand you. You said you felt the same."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm wrong to feel this way. It really isn't right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What, you're worried about Micah? Can't you see that she doesn't deserve you?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't see whats so great about me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're a good person!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just as I thought. Well, if being a good person is all that matters, then i'm not special. She will get over me, Jade."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What about you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What about me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you want to be happy? I can see how much Micah's hurt you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, as long as you and everyone else is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, she gives me a sad look and gets on the bus. I follow her and find our seats at the back of the bus. I sit down beside the American and as soon as I do, he talks to me about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, aren't you going to talk to her?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've had this conversation with Jade already. Don't start."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But you said you would."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I changed my mind. There are a lot of reasons, which I don't feel like bringing up right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you going to do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now i'm going to sleep. Wake me up when we get there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;em&gt;to be continued&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111739570416975689?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111739570416975689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111739570416975689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111739570416975689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111739570416975689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/05/stories-of-us.html' title='Stories of Us'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111643401410741202</id><published>2005-05-18T23:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-19T00:33:34.113+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alternate Paths and Different Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;          As you probably know, I didn't get to take the TDT. I was quite disheartened when I found out but I quikly got over it. I looked for colleges that were still open and found a suitable course at Mapua. THey have a digital arts course that takes two years. This suits me becaise I plan to enter U.P. after. My units will be considered and i'm very ok with that. I still plan to have my stories published ( in the form of comics, of course) when i'm out in the real world but I think i'll leave my art career at that. No more plans to be the next Stan Lee. I need money soon, and if I persist with this dream of mine, then i'll never be able to marry Cor. It'll take too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         Since this is the situation I am in, I have to change, for the sake of our relationship, I must. So my new plan is this; after college I will find a job, any job, to get me started. Of course i prefer to work in advertising or a related field, but in this world, one cannot afford to be picky. As i'm going through the heirarchial ladder of whatever job i'll be in, i'll be saving up most of the money i'll get. Eventually, I hope, i'll have enough. Enough to marry Cor and start a family and basically just have the life i want to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         Right, like anyone in this world ever gets that. Oh well, one can hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111643401410741202?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111643401410741202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111643401410741202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111643401410741202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111643401410741202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/05/alternate-paths-and-different-dreams.html' title='Alternate Paths and Different Dreams'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111605817377291399</id><published>2005-05-14T16:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:50:45.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Corrie: Guest Blogger Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Here I am again. Doni asked me to blog for him. Wow this page is turning into a Corrie blog.. hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don has been out searching for schools lately. He took tests at both Kalayaan and Mapua. He has decided on Mapua where he will take Digital Arts. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Thursday we went out to Greenhills and Rockwel... I had my tarot cards read at Rockwell. Doni didn’t want to because he said that he would read his own instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the moment, Don is at home ata. Kuya is at Skies. I think he is playing Tantra with Eric...I don’t know. Heh. Meanwhile, Neko's wifey (that’s me) is at home writing a guest blog on this page. And for those of you who are not fortunate enough to know the address of my blog, I am sick right now, which is probably why this entry is so dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what else to write because I feel so very sick...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sorry Neko...I did my best...*cough, cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Til next time...Doni..Ikaw naman please..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111605817377291399?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111605817377291399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111605817377291399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111605817377291399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111605817377291399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/05/corrie-guest-blogger-again.html' title='Corrie: Guest Blogger Again'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111423625076114349</id><published>2005-04-23T13:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:51:19.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Late Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;The title refers to two things; one, my unceasing tardiness(es?) at my art workshop at U.P. and two; My irregular posts..heehee. I know I said i'd blog more but things keep coming up..*sigh* life and all its certainties. Well, i'm here now posting..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been pretty abnormal lately. I haven't been seeing Panda regularly..if you read her blog, then you'd know shes under house arrest. Can't change that..just have to wait for it to pass. There is nothing worthwhile to do, except practice for the TDT. .I'm actually worried. I;ve seen my classmates works and man, they intimidate me. Hope I can do well and get accepted. Im calling in proffessional help, in the form of my tito who works(worked?) as an architect, graphic artist, etc. I think he's done it all. I'd have asked for help from Kuya Conrad, Panda's bro, but I just recently found out that he doesn't like me. hrmm.. about the only members of Cor's family who like me are Sherri and Shaun, and im not even sure about fat boy. Oh well, I guess i'm lucky to have at least one of her siblings on my side, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for posting more regularly, I dont think I can fulfill my promise just yet. Maybe I'll get to after the TDT. I'll let you readers (if there are any besides berkster and Panda and "mr. Ong") know what happens. I'm just really really nervous. This is like my last chance...well, not exactly, but I wouldnt want to have to go to Kalayaan College just to get in to U.P. Its like a squatters school man. Gangs and putas and everything. I know Corrie wouldnt want me in that environment.ü So, I guess this is it for now. Big change from the past blogs eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Til next time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111423625076114349?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111423625076114349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111423625076114349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111423625076114349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111423625076114349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/04/late-again.html' title='Late Again'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111358464530643344</id><published>2005-04-16T00:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:52:30.826+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Corrie: Guest Blogger</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Hello Everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Corrie, Don's girlfriend. He asked me to blog for him. No, not because I'm good at writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, I have no idea why he asked me to blog. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my Baby has been taking an art workshop in UP. He's been having a hard time waking up. Poor him. He even missed the nude model yesterday. That's Friday. Sayang, baby. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, if you've read my blog (no, I'm not going to write down the site. It has too many secrets.. :D ), you'll know that I have been under house arrest, so Don can't always see me. How sad. We miss each other very much. Good thing we both got to go to Hazel's party the other night. We swam and drank like half a beer. Not big on drinking. Don doesn't like me to drink, although he says I'm sweeter when I'm drunk. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, Don has been hanging out with Kuya...who is like depressed right now for reasons he does not even know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I don't know what else to say except that I love Don. And all you girls who want to be his friend, you can. Just remember that you have to deal with me if you try for anything more than friendship. I know where to get shuriken, and I'm not afraid to use one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time then..when Don writes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace to all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, if you want to know my site, leave a message on Don's shoutbox! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L8r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111358464530643344?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111358464530643344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111358464530643344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111358464530643344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111358464530643344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/04/corrie-guest-blogger.html' title='Corrie: Guest Blogger'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111198802413384906</id><published>2005-03-28T13:20:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:54:09.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Prom night is tomorrow, and i'm currently in school waiting for Kuya to get Cor's suit so I can get mine.&lt;br /&gt;Cor has just reminded me of something, something which makes me worry more than I have for the past few weeks. I dont know if I can still get into the UP art workshop... Worried about the slots available...What now? I dont know. I guess I'll have to attend to it tomorrow, I wont have time today. I just hope I get in, because I really need this...As I said, this is my last chance.Im praying this pulls through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the lighter side, most of the class is here now and I don't really give a damn for the embodiments of evil that make up my class, i'm just happy to see the few who I still have faith in. After a week of isolation at the glorified prison I call my home, i'm glad to be out amongst friends again. I think everything will be alright, I just have to make sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, me and Cor are getting married on November 25, 2011. everyone who cares knows how to reach us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111198802413384906?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111198802413384906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111198802413384906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111198802413384906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111198802413384906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/03/anticipation_28.html' title='Anticipation'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-111185824335896386</id><published>2005-03-27T02:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:54:35.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>And So The Year Ends</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;The year is ending. Many undesirable events have happened during the seemingly quiet time wherein I have not written here. These I find too depressing to recall and so instead of the usual sad entries, I will write a fairly neutral one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and her are together again, our separation and the details of which, you need not know. We attended our class' field trip together, though we were still in argument, and we patched things up there, at this impressively constructed zoo. The places we went to before reaching this place, the trips' saving grace, are too unworty of mention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because we are a couple again, I am attending prom, and in a suit which is very me. My expectations of this last get-together of our batch are low,given that my whole class is made up of idiots, bastards, backstabbers and lying scum (with some exceptions), I am wholly assured the night will prove to be a waste of time and money, which is why I have planned to leave early, hopefully with the few who are unaffected by the rest of the class' contagious undesirable qualities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only real worry I have at this time is UP's talent test, which I am taking, of course. This test is virtually my last chance at acceptance into the school, and though I am taking steps to ensure my success, I am left with anxiety and doubt, neither of which I have knowledge of remedying. I can say this for the upcoming months; they will make or break me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-111185824335896386?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/111185824335896386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=111185824335896386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111185824335896386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/111185824335896386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/03/and-so-year-ends.html' title='And So The Year Ends'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-110648774402258588</id><published>2005-01-23T21:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:55:16.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Is as It Always Has Been</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;I know, I know. I haven't been posting. When have I ever posted regularly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those of you,if there are any, that visit my site from time to time know that I post when things get serious around the world that is my life. So, you know that this is another problem, and if you're tired of reading all about problems here, then I suggest that you leave now and never come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it goes;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days, or weeks ago, the results for this years incoming ADMU students came out. Corrie passed, as is to be expected, while I didn't. This was a blow to me because to some extent I believed what others told me about myself. I believed that I was smart, and that I could accomplish the things I aspire for, as long as I worked on it. Well, I really didn't work to pass the ACET, but still, the rejetion hurt.I have always been hurt by my failures, because they made me feel like I was n't good enough. They still do, actually. I have believed in the faith of other peple in me, yet I aso doubt it. I constantly seek ways of proving myself to myself and to others because of this consuming doubt. Up to now, I have not found anything that would jutify this faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of failing. I'm tired of not achieving my dreams. I'm tired of fooling myself into thinking that I can do things, because I really can't. If , at everything I have tried, everything that I have found to be a worthwhile pursuit, I had succeeded, then maybe, just maybe I would be happy. Not that I am not happy with my Family now, I just need a reason to continue, to keep fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just recenty Kuya has been affected by things. He's been brought down by his mistakes as well. He has entered the depression I was in a few days before. He helped me then,but I do not know how to help him now. I cant be the Distractor yet, I'm still reeling from the blows life has thrown on me. I have withstood this in the past, but now I am just too tired. I am weak. I always have been. People depend on me to be strong, and guide them through life, but I do not see why, or how I could be a good choice for people to put their trust in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I ask, all I have ever asked, is for that mysterious omnipotent being we call our God to show me a sign, or at least let me ACHIEVE things, so that I can start believing in myself the way my Family does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kuya is in trouble and I want to help. But I don't believe that I can. I don't think I can keep fooling myself anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-110648774402258588?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/110648774402258588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=110648774402258588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/110648774402258588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/110648774402258588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2005/01/life-is-as-it-always-has-been.html' title='Life Is as It Always Has Been'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-110284331221621273</id><published>2004-12-12T17:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:56:46.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Here We Are Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#666666;"&gt;Its been a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time I posted here, everything was different. Well I guess my blog's appearance symbolizes the Family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the course of the past weeks ,our Family has been endangered by many merciless circumstances. I almost lost Corrie again, and Kuya too. I did something I didnt think i'd have to in this relationship; I talked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who know me well know that i'm not a talker, im a distractor. Thats because I save my talking energy for when I really need to. That day was one of those times. It drained me, ever so much, and I felt like I couldnt talk for days. I didnt want to. now that everything was ok again, i was hoping that the other family memebers would handle the talking. I was wrong. Not long after the threat of Kuyas disappearance was lifted, there came another problem. Corrie couldn't restrain herself properly. She was overly horny, and to keep it all in and stop jherself from fucking inanimate objects, she slashed and smoked her way to insanity. Now if you've read her blog, you would know when all this was happening, and it didnt feel like this kind of shit should happen, especially not during these months. Christmas is supposed to be a time when there is no end of happiness, no loss of joy. Yes, everything is cleared up now, but how long will it be before we find ourselves in this kind of situation? I feel like this always, and I mean &lt;strong&gt;ALWAYS, &lt;/strong&gt;happens to us. I know; its unfair, it not right, bla bla bla.. Im not like that, I mean I dont rant about whats unfair and all, but it really is.. I cant help but think that when this year ends, and of course it is ending soon, we'll be in this shit again. I will try my best to keep my chin up and hope for a good year, but right now I just dont have that strength in me. I guess i'll just sulk and smoke and play my way through everything, like I always have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-110284331221621273?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/110284331221621273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=110284331221621273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/110284331221621273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/110284331221621273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2004/12/so-here-we-are-again.html' title='So Here We Are Again'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-110041416361516024</id><published>2004-11-14T14:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T04:58:40.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ironies of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;"&gt;It is usually the ones you love that hurt you most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A kind reminder from my Kuya; he said this just a few minutes ago. Dont get me wrong,this went both ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her, just last Friday after classes that I needed to leave. That may have not been the entire truth-which was that I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;wanted &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;to-but it was, in part. And so, after that statement, she looked at me, her brow furrowing in sadness, and asked me to stay. I remained adamant about going, and made my move to leave. She pleaded some more, and I sat down with a pissed-off, why-do-i-have-to look on my face, as usual. I knew what was coming. It never fails, when I make that face while being forced to sit down and stay. She cried, and I, as always groaned and sat there, not bothering to go after her as she walked away. Her little sis was there and she, to some extent understood my plight, though she saw how selfish both of us were. I was inclined to get up and go after her and say sorry, but my anger at having been forced to stay made not-so-good thoughts swirl around my head, and for fear that I might say something so utterly wrong in this situation to her, I stayed put.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not think (or rather, I refused to) that things would get worse. Hell, they usually do,right? So last night, after a whole morning of silence, she texted. What she had to say didnt exactly cheer me up; she,in essence said that perhaps it would be better for both of us if we broke up. I was angry and very,very sad, but I kept it in. It hurt me to hear that from her, it seemed like our relationship wasnt worth fighting for anymore, for her to be giving up just like that. For her to even &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;think&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; that hurt. And issues that night were left unresolved. I dont know if I was successful in apologizing sincerely and trying to bring her out of this, but I guess i'll find out in a few days. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-110041416361516024?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/110041416361516024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=110041416361516024' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/110041416361516024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/110041416361516024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2004/11/ironies-of-life.html' title='Ironies of Life'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-109618579386938811</id><published>2004-09-26T19:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T05:01:19.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Cigs And Beer Talk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;When one has had a couple of beers and is not a strong drinker, you shouldnt expect him to act totally sane throughout the night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;A few nights ago I attended my friends birthday party. Initially i didnt want to go, but certain circumstances forced me to. My girlfriend was going, and she, in all probability, didnt have a ride home and would have to commute. I scarcely had enough money to get home myself, but I had to accompany her home, I just had to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went, and arrived earlier than she did, just sitting down at a table talking to my friends. I decided to go home first and change,because I was still in uniform, and when I got back to the party, she was already there. We ate, then sat down with the other couples at a table to drink. It started off as such a lovely night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Patrick initiated an open forum amongst us, starting off by asking questions concerning couples' rules and unspoken laws. Everyone asked a question, and when my turn came, my mind went blank. I couldnt think straight, not with the few beers in my system, so i asked the first thing that came to mind. Bad move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question I asked concerned my very close childhood friend Crystal, and it was a touchy subject for my girl. Crystal and I call each other some endearing things that affected her much, and i was asking her if that was okay, since I couldn't really discern her stand on that. I was asking because I wanted to know if I should stop. Instead of saying it aloud, like the other couples' replies to each other and to the group, she whispered to me that it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that done, we unashamedly started kissing, as all the others were, too. I dont know if it was the beer, but I normally wouldnt have done that in front of so many people. We stopped suddenly as soon as everyone did, and then, because, again, I wanted to know where she stood on this, I asked her if she would take offense if I had a pic of my crush. She said it was. Then I asked if it was okay that I showed it to everyone. Now that was stupid. Its my fault, I know, but its also partly the beer. she said it wasnt. I guess I had an idea by then of how much that affected her, but I wasn't sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I held all my other questions back, because I didn't want to ruin the night. I didn'n know that I already had. I asked one of my family members to pick us up, and soon we were on our way to our house. I knew something was wrong with her then, because she kept silent throughout the ride, which was very unusual. And now, she releases her anger and depression through an approved medium.She lashes out at me, but its okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I approve of any way of releasing tension and negative emotions except slashing(and smoking,for her),so I guess all thats left to do is deal with this together when we meet tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Monthsary, Panda. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-109618579386938811?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/109618579386938811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=109618579386938811' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/109618579386938811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/109618579386938811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2004/09/of-cigs-and-beer-talk.html' title='Of Cigs And Beer Talk'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192383.post-109426301801850596</id><published>2004-09-04T01:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T05:01:59.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Madness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="styleDocument: [object]"&gt;Introduction to The Madness:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Madness is a delusory condition in which the afflicted is plagued with dark thoughts. The victim is disturbed so much and so intensely that he/she unconsciously brings them into action. Unless he/she has a strong will to retain his friendship with the people around him/her, The Madness will rule his/her life, and that person will no longer be what he/she was. That person will be dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you about my long years of battle with The Madness. Oh wait... I can't, because my poor mind has erased all or most of those years from my memory due to the events that happened which are too horrible and inhuman to remember. I'll have to tell you about my not so distant past, in which i thought The Madness defeated. This was in my early years of high school, and I guess I could say I was happy,despite the fact that I felt like I had my then-girlfriend taken from me, and I was being treated like a dog in my home, i was happy. I felt joy and exhiliration like I had never had before, because i had friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had thought then that having friends was just reward for enduring my years of torment, but then The Madness surfaced from its freshly dug grave and began to plague me again. It gradually led me to believe that these friends i had were false, and unworthy of my time. It led me to believe that having friends was too good to be true. I held on,though, and fought back with all the will and strength I had. Again I thought I had won, when I felt The Madness subside and retreat back into the depths of my plagued mind from whence it came, but when I looked at my friends, I realized that I had lost. I believed then, and even now, that my friends were not friends at all. There was truth in The Madness' words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I struggled through the early days of my third year keeping up my facade with my "friends". I had thought that I would have to go through my childhood again, wherein I thought I had many friends, but, in truth, I had none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then SHE came. At first, The Madness was strong, and led me to believe that if I talked to her, and made her a friend of my "friends", then she would be one of them, one of the False ones. But by an extremely miraculous stroke of luck, I heard another, more powerful voice tell me that she was different, that she would be the true one amongst the false. She would be the light. she came back to school one day, after a few day's abscence due to the mistreatment she had at the hands of my "friends", and then I built up my confidence and forced myself to be brave, and talked to her. And after that, The Madness grew steadily weaker, for because of her, because of the light, I had regained my will. I now had something to fight for, and dreams to reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had begun to live. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8192383-109426301801850596?l=duo1125.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/feeds/109426301801850596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8192383&amp;postID=109426301801850596' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/109426301801850596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8192383/posts/default/109426301801850596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://duo1125.blogspot.com/2004/09/madness.html' title='The Madness'/><author><name>Aka</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16909408261833287409</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i66.photobucket.com/albums/h278/Dorminus/1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
