I’m in a comshop full of _________.
Fill in the blank, dudes.
- I can die. Like, right now.
- I wish I have my laptop with me. Saves time, saves money.
- Wow. That male version of Bleeding Love sounds better than the original one.
- For the first time evaaaar, I won’t go home this weekend.
- 3 more examinations to go, and still hoping that there wouldn’t be another one coming.
- Hey money, where did you go?
- Too many dudes around in this com shop.
- Tell me, how am I going to finish my papers if I’m writing here?
Out. Out. Out. Taddaaaa.
I feel that sinking feeling in my stomach again.
I read his blog again in hopes that he would reply something really nice to the comment that I’ve given him.
I got a ‘Thanks’.
Nothing more.
It was nice, of course, but it was disappointing. I know he was wondering who I was since I didn’t put on my name; and with my imagination running on its full force, I think he opted to answer with such a short reply so as to avoid any misinterpretation on his part since the topic’s really sensitive.
Of course, that’s just me kidding myself.
——
The problem with admiring someone from far away, especially one like him, is that you don’t really know if it’s just mere admiration because you tend to think a lot about him, more than you’re supposed to; or it’s infatuation, because you think you’re just obsessed with the idea of him; or if you’re really in love, because, simply, you are.
He’s quite good-looking, sensible, has a lot of friends, writes well, comes from a good family, and most of all, intelligent. He’s actually more than what I could handle. And I’ve been fantasizing him for almost one and half years now.
I really, really feel stupid. And hopeless. And stupid.
The way that I can only look at him from afar and can only touch his thoughts and emotions through his blog, it’s frustrating. And degrading.
And I have so much pride to put up with it. This should end.
But then again, I’m stupid. I’ve realized that before, that this should end. It didn’t. Blame stupidity. Blame him. Blame the heavens. Blame me.
I am, honestly, hurting right now, just because I can’t have him and never *sighs* will.
Whenever we think of ‘could have been’s.
I could have been there. I could have been that person. We could still have had communication. I could have been a little more famous.
Yes, folks. It’s drama time.
Truth is, I just read a couple of blog.
The first one belongs to that person that — I don’t know. He’s always been a source of inspiration for me. Whenever I see him — get too close to him — I always get this fluttering feeling in my stomach. Been introduced to him twice, but never again have we talked to each other, even when we meet eye to eye.
But then, whenever I read his writings, he just give me this unbridled happiness. I don’t know. It seems that it comes naturally from the letters peering at me and it grips me slowly as I digest his meaning behind every word. Admiration much? Maybe. What could have been? Had our first meeting turned out to be such a lovely one, we could have been friends now.
The other one? Yeah, I could only take a deep breath. Actually, I had always been feeling this nostalgia of what we had been when I still belong to their world. But that world — the blogging and online world –, I left behind. I made some really good friends, had been too close to some — to the point that I almost fell in love with one , or make that two –, kept secrets, met up with them. All I can say is I really had a great time with them. Why did I leave and made myself unreachable suddenly? Let’s just say I was tired of being too fake and once and for all, I wanted to stop being too nice, to stop talking about ‘other friends’ back, to just stop being Ms. Congeniality and all. It just doesn’t feel natural that my world started to revolve around my keyboard, the emotionless words I’m reading, and the apathetic language that I’m communicating with. It was just too exhausting to be surrounded by the same, unreal people.
Had I continued being with them, what could have happened? No one knows for sure. I could have been a little more famous of a blogger — or not, depending on my capacity to widen the horizons of my readership. I could have gone out with them a lot and taken some really good booze — or my allergy to alcohol could have made me such a killjoy that they decided not to invite me again. One of them could have been my boyfriend — or not, should everything became messed up with rumors. I would never really know.
And now, reading some of them again, it just makes me regret why I did such thing. Nevertheless, nothing really changed. It was just meant that I would lead this way, and them, theirs.
Now my nails are painted white. And they’re neat.
Tomorrow…would be my last day at work. TOMORROW!
I can never explain how grateful I am. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate it there. I just hate our uber-racist, discriminative K (From here on, K would refer to the chinky-eyed, fair-skinned invaders who topped the country’s list of tourists for 2007.) Boss. He is so inconsiderate. Considering the fact that we are his tools in gaining profits from the K kids that we teach…argh.
I want to rant about what kind of a moron our boss is, but hey, I guess all of us who had experienced working for a monster of a superior knows how grueling it is to find the right word that could describe them. Monster seems the right choice, and we could easily conjure up that image of them with tons of oversize veins as their head slowly becomes humongous with anger while they’re giving you a shower, as if they’re droplets of rain, from their mouth whenever they’re telling you how worthless you are for no apparent reason AT ALL. They just don’t have a life. Period…well, aside from giving you sermons for the minutest detail that you forgot or neglected which apparently didn’t even matter.
But contrary to that image, my boss doesn’t give us sermons. He just gives us a smile, a sweet, sweet smile that could beat the amount of sugar present in a gallon of honey. His voice is soothing as he speaks, as if he’s lulling you to a gentle sleep.
But what the F! They always say looks can be deceiving. A lot of things actually could be deceiving. And he is no exception.
He delays the HR’s salary. He’s very, very strict with money, always saying that he doesn’t have money, when in fact we generate a lot of income for the company. he’s very, very unsympathetic, never considering that his employees are human beings, who get sick, who have a family to feed and to take care of, who have the capacity to think of pleasant work environment. He, as I’ve said earlier, he’s a racist. Uber, uber, uber racist.
Ks are a pain in the ass. Yeah, some of them. Especially them males.
As messy as my green nail polish.
Somebody once told me: Once a blogger, always a blogger.
I guess that’s true, because the itch to write something–anything–would always be there.
I was once a blogger, but I quit because I felt suffocated by it. The superficiality of the people behind these paragraphs just annoys me to the highest point possible. I guess I’m just one of the people who cannot really live with something like this. I know some who were and still are able to make a friendship out of blogging, and the fact is, I’ve had. But I guess somewhere along the way, something went wrong. The friendship was great, but thinking about it now, things couldn’t have turned out better.
So anyway, I’ve had Wordpress, Blogger, and Multiply, but I guess I always have a problem sticking around. Never been able to keep one ever since I left XXX.
Anyways, I’m sort of thinking how I’m going to turn seventeen just a week from now. 17. SEVENTEEN. I’m almost an adult, yet never felt like one. I know I’ve always looked older than I really am. A curse or a blessing, I’m not really sure. It could easily have been a blessing, but calling it a curse is not bad either.
On Friday, I’ll have my last salary. I’d be leaving this summer job and I’d be bumming out the following week. What’s next for me? School. Yeah. I really miss school.
