And I hope you are the one I share my life with
And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I pray in you're the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life
<if you're not the one>
]]>
You break the ice when you speak
With every breath you take
You save me
I know that one day
We'll meet again
Try to go on as long as you can
Even when the ocean breaks apart
Underneath you
Remember
<sacred, tokio hotel>
I am sooooo into them.. They're from Germany (ahmm.. so??) and I just love everything about them..
No, not really everything. Bill's so gay he can't hide it when he sings live. But anyway, I still have his twin (I forgot his name--and I call myself a fan) and the other two.
They killed me the first time I heard Sacred and Monsoon. My sister and my Match both say Tokio's emo. Hell, it's my mp3..
One more thing. I like it best when they sing it in German.
Now listen....(the english versions)
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Talk about inconsistencies! When I started this blog, I promised not to write anything about my match, his bitch and my toys. I promised to stay away from those cheesy topics just to save myself from being tagged as 'emo' again. And (damn) here's what's happening: 60% of what's in here is all about him, her and them! I am in doubt whether I could carry out simple promises. fuck. Then justice came. I realized there's nothing to talk about other than the big trio (him, her and them). Whatelse am I suppose to write? I don't even watch the news. I am not concerned or even interested with how Obama and McCain kick each other's ass to win this beauty pageant, Mr. America. No, I am no longer in touched with reality other than how I spend the day with my two-timer match, his fat-faced bitch and my came-out-of-nowhere toys. And, well, Tokio Hotel with Bill's androgynous look. Shallow, yeah I know. Facing the computer without internet access 9 hrs a day, 5 days a week--that's tough. It could really dettach you from the real world. Damn it. The BIG question. Why do I waste my time with this dick-faced monster rather than spending the whole afternoon with Bob Ong and Gabriel Garcia MArquez? Good question. Next please!
lemme know if i'm doing this right...
lemme know if my grip's too tight..
]]>[(Man+Woman)/Other Woman] + Lies - trust + (friends/stories) = one hell of a circus
Yeah, I guess this is how it's done outside mathematics. No numbers. No squareroots. No Old-school Proffessors. No grades.
It’s just me and the bitches. Damn this could be the ride I won’t forget. A ride with strangers all assuming to know me inside and out. Now that's something. Hell, I don't even know half of myself and here comes these post-heartbreak-know-it-all blabbing like I'm this clay and they're the potmaker. Negative Vibes all over. It's not helping me out and it's a complete waste of potential energy (now I'm talking physics!)
Good Vibes, pasok!!
Let's talk about work. I got good stats so far and I'm regaining the witch's trust. So there's nothing I shouldn't be doing this time to get what I deserve. Well, so far so good. We had pizza. I sent the witch a letter of apology after seeing the Aux Report (courtesy of my friend, Hue) this morning. Honestly, that list made me realize how famous I am both in good stats and bad stats. This could be the reason why I always get the cold looks from the president of faggotry, Jeremy, everytime I see him along the hallway. Fine. As if this would stop my lungs from pumping carbon dioxide if they won't say "hi". Bahala na sila. Basta ako mag ice cream ko this Thursday.
So suck it.
]]>I have a feeling someone's gonna be on a red-letter day today and Alanis Morissette doesn't have anything to do with it (yeah, I'm quite sure about it).
I was thinking about my goddess' song Ironic on the way to the battlefield (for those who doesn't know what my battlefield is, it's my goddamned workplace). Just imagine placing your monthly health bonus at risk because of some chicken (who happens to be the driver) who thinks life is a journey of praying old maids. Grabe ka langayan! I could hear my insides saying goodbye to my 21b pride. Damn. It used to be like riding a roller coaster -- until that fateful moment.
I don't want to talk shit over a slow-moving 21b gaymonster but..but, I think that's the only way I could pacify every single molecule in me. I was effin late and I just lost my precious health bonus! Damn it. So much of indulging myself with the pleasure of some stress-free expenses. It's not gonna happen anymore. I just lost it. And I'm not gonna let this day end without putting the blame on that douche.
Mode shifting.
Everything was perfect last night. From meeting his childhood friends to making my friends know about it. Nothing could have gone wrong.
Until I saw his chubby-drama-princess, who tagged their relationship as "complicated", popped into his cellphone again. I could imagine a big siren blowing my eardrums apart and a question mark making its way to my sweaty forehead.
They're somewhat patching things up. Okay, so that leaves me being a resident of the trashbin--again. And where else will I dispose myself after their on-and-off-distant-relationship but in the reserve list--again.
Damn it. Fuck and Suck it.
As if I'm not really used being treated that way. It's always been like this. Who am I to complain? If not for this bitch, everything with my match is perfect. Spices.
Well, she's one hell of a spicy seasoning. She burns everything I built. Damn her.
Most of all, damn he.
]]>Let me do this in a way that would make me feel comfi--bullets.
period.
It’s past 8pm. I’m still pushing the backspace button (like 20 times per line) trying to find the right word to start this post.
This time I am in the verge of asking myself what the hell is happening to me? Yesterday i was this blog-itching creep dressed to kill anyone who blocks my way to vox. Oh well, that was until I had a slight disorientation inside my system that nearly left me sprawling on the floor of a nearby cafe sa Abellana Sports Complex. (lemme explain). Yeah, i nearly fainted. Now I know how it feels when your world spins literally and all you could think of was how to get the hell out of there and breathe. Those inside already knew what was going on the moment I stepped outside the studio. Well, I looked like shit so they chose not to give a damn, I looked like some desperate housewife trying to scrap down some weight.
It could be plain exhaustion. Could be suffocation. Could be something else...
I survived, anyway. Good thing wala jud ko makuyapan. Kay if nadayunan man ko, here’s what could have happened:
- I will end up confined in either the Sports Comples Clinic or one of Chong Hua's 6th floor private rooms.
-I won't make it to the office.
-News will reach my mom (and I don't want to tackle the things she would do if she'll ever hear any of these).
-I will be forced to have a pregnancy test if Claudine learns about this
-My team mates will kill me and worse..
-Leizl will serve me my first MEMO.
Damn, I might have ended up looking for another job kung nahitabo to sa akoa. None of it happened anyway. I was able to log in on time for work, I took calls the usual and even congratulate myself for a job well done. My team’s NUMBER ONE as for (the fagot) Vince’s team. Nice work!
Speaking of the two-face fagot, Vince. My Tacr!ft score for August (CSI) left me in a shaky status. RED na daw akong color (internally) and a possibility of being transferred to another account is up for grabs. Fuck.
Did I miss something? I don’t want to talk about my match, his bitch and my dicky boys. I’m tired of them.
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