“What do they want with us? Why can’t they just leave us be?”
“They are after what we can do.”
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I was dumbfounded. For the past few days, the most miserable things that has ever occurred to me were those that do not need further elaborating (e.g. having gone to school late, having failed a quiz in Trigonometry, having failed to have a scrumptious lunch to partake, having seen Lablirous’ face, etc, having discovered, in horror, the criticality of your crush’s health by seeing in his Friendster picture that his neck is nowhere to be found).
All I ever thought about doing was watching Boys Don’t Cry with Yza, Angela, and Nar, and going Blue Room afterwards to make sure that we do not snuff our opportunity to break through the local rock music industry like what the bands Toothpick, Tear Here and (insert the name of the amateur band whose music is less tolerable than Oxygen’s unpolished air) have done, designing Kim and I’s Justice League-inspired bedroom in the GX abode, and enjoying a chillax session with the said group of people after listening to the seemingly 10-hour speech from someone invited to make us comprehend that Mary is the Mother of Jesus Christ.
But amen I say to you, my friends, shit happen.
Yesterday, I did not take pleasure in conversing with such a catastrophic topic with the “mayors” after the Marian Vigil (whose boringness has increased by a hundred percent compared to last year’s). I did not smile upon the knowledge that lives of few people whose existences are of great importance to us hang in the balance; I did not delight myself with the thought that we were subjects from unknown entities in a hostage situation, and that our simple blurting out of “yeses” and “no’s” should be weighed with great vigilance.
Hahaha. I bet my middle finger that half of the people I know do not get what that paragraph up there was all about. That’s good, because it really isn’t for them to know about.
Today, contrary to my unhidden desire to spend the day with my beloved (and only) band mates, I was forced to stink here inside the four walls of my humble domicile, quite alone and unprecedented.
Today, I do not watch porn. I do not slam the six strings of an unintroduced electric guitar. I do not hear “untamed yet spanking good rock music”. I hear only rain drops.
Alam ko, unintroduced is not in the dictionary. But what the hell. Has the word “NERD” existed before the genius who created it could read and write?
“What did I do this time?”
I never thought it possible that this six-piece interrogative sentence could hurt like falling down face-first a 15-flight staircase. Period. Go figure the rest out, kaya ka nga nasa top diba?
At since matalino ka naman, sana alam mo din na mahal na mahal kita at ng mga iba pang nagmamahal sa iyo.
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Watch out for what you don’t see.
We can make it out alright. We will. The Big Guy is there with us and for us until the end. All we need to have is hope, and the belief that we can make it through this shit together.
" Sige, wag na nating pigilan,at di magtatagal, tayo ay liligaya."
Oh, and for my best friend who once adored Westlife like I did, the prospect of I having to risk my (God, thank you) visible neck does not frighten me much anymore, because I know that I will be with you when it happens. I love you very much, too.
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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 1.
"But for heaven's sake - you're wizards! You can do magic! Surely you can sort out - well - anything!"
Scrimgeour turned slowly on the spot and exchanged an incredulous look with Fudge, who really did manage a smile this time as he said kindly, "The trouble is, the other side can do magic too, Prime Minister."
Lea. Oxygen.
Lea, Lea, Lea.
Catch the flames I’m throwing at you tonight. Scorch me now, you false ruby. | 
