I haven't written anything in here in a long time. Maybe it's because since I've discovered Tumblr (it is the easiest way to blog, after all), I have momentarily forgotten about this small space of mine where I used to write all the things that matter to me. But then again, I have still kept this one because I feel like this is the place where I can write about the more serious stuff going on in my life, since I believe anyone rarely goes here to read my thoughts anyway. Ironic but, even though it's open for everyone to see, it serves more of a private diary to me, the one I can keep locked with a key, the way I used to do as a young girl of twelve.

So I'm back.

I have learned to accept probably just a few short weeks ago, that the only way to really deal (and get over with) your life's drama is to come clean and say it out loud--because the truth will always set you free, won't it? And I have finally come to terms with myself, that the best way to finally get past this stance is for me to be honest and say it like it is, instead of waiting for myself to run out of excuses just so I could make up another blunder of a reason to cover up the previous one.

Here goes:

I think, that the cause of all my hidden grief is due to the fact that I haven't tried hard enough. Hence, here I am, all mopey about how up until this point, I am jobless.

There. I was able to admit it.

Just so you know, this is hard for me to do, because I'm usually the girl who puts up a strong front for everyone. I'm not one to be asking for pity, and I absolutely hate it when people hover especially when I'm going through a rough phase in my life. I guess that's also the main thing that makes it so easy for me to pick on other people and start petty fights. I want the attention to be brought to someone else, so that I won't have to think about my own obstacles too much.

But it's not like I haven't tried. Trust me, I have. If finding the right job was like going to the gym on a regular basis, I would be fifty pounds lighter as we speak. But like those adolescent girls in teen flicks we love so much, no matter how skinny I think I have become, it would never even be remotely close to 'good' enough because someone out there is certainly prettier or skinnier or more awesome than I am. That's the point. It's never enough. And like something my college professor told us, 'It's not the effort that counts. It's the results that do.'

I cannot even begin to tell you how many times my parents have offered to help, as they have always (and I mean always) given me options for career paths I should take, or job vacancies I can apply for, or giving me websites I can check out so it can guide me about what I can do in life. My answer had always been the same. It's a toss up of either 'Thanks. I'll check it out tomorrow' or 'Okay. I will go through it', but I never had. Well, sometimes I did, but most of the time I procrastinated until I totally forget about what they were saying.

I feel so guilty about doing that to my parents because I know they want me to succeed in life. They have told me over and over again that it was alright for me to be out of work, but really, how old can a person get before he/she finally gets fatigued enough to decide it's about time they retire? And like most Filipino children, my dream is to ultimately give them a good life in return, the one where they can just sit out at our front porch and not worry about paying the bills or sending my other siblings to school because I'll be the one to take care of things. What child doesn't want that, right?

So, what, you may ask, am I doing about it?

Well, I don't think you'd be surprised to hear this, but I'll tell you straight off the bat that, I have done absolutely nothing to get out of this piteous predicament.

And maybe that's where the difficulty lies--it is my lack of enthusiasm to reach for what I have always wanted that's keeping me here in the first place.

For most of the past year that I've been out of school, I have enjoyed the freedom. Maybe more so than what is expected. And I've become too attached to just being phase-less that my original spark has flown out of the window completely. Yet, I still know what I want to happen in my life. I do. I still do. All I need is a stepping stone for me to get there, but then we'd go back to nothing because I haven't taken the risk of at least trying to get there.

It's sad that all these people I know are already starting their first week at work when they haven't received their diplomas yet, or getting their pay checks, their promotions and all, and here I am still living off mommy and daddy's money like a useless piece of charity case.

You have absolutely no idea how many effing times I've silently cried about this over the past year. You have no idea what it feels like to have a challenge-less routine every single day while the rest of the world seems like a whole bunch of productive beings who has everything going for them. You have no idea how sad I become every night before I go to bed while I think about what I've done for the day, which is basically nothing but to be, well, a bum. No one knows that I have all these troubled thoughts in my head that seem to overlap all at the same time, wanting to be noticed.

No one knows because, well, I don't tell anyone. And I prefer it that way, 'coz I'd rather suffer on my own than to suck another person in this suck fest. I have come to accept that no one will listen anyway, because everyone but me is busy with their lives, and that troubling them with my lame problems would mean asking them to stop a moment of theirs to hear me out. And that is just beyond me. I don't like taking up other people's time; I don't like it when I become an inconvenience to them.

A few minutes before I started writing this out, I was inhaling a cigarette and summoning all the courage to have a good cry but I found that I couldn't. The tears have dried up. I've poured them all out in those lonely months of solace.

What scares me the most right now, after I'm done with this, I'll probably be in bed thinking again about sad thoughts and I'd be back to square one.

About a year ago, I had every intention of giving up my alter-ego of being a mean girl. Let's just say college has a way of giving you a really really good reality check, and you begin to realize, as cliche as it may seem, that there is indeed a bigger world outside of what you're used to.

I'd like to think I'm a strong woman. A very strong, very classy woman who has slowly (yet painfully) learned that I am not all that--yes, people whom I consider as "inferior" to me can fight back; yes, I may always get everything I want, but they come with a price; and yes, for every hurtful word I say or write or think, I risk losing an image, an ideology, or sadly, even friends.

With everything that has happened to me in a span of almost four years, I have learned how to: control my tongue (albeit with chagrin)and my temper, lose my selfish ways, quit my egotistical tendencies and even mastered the art of give and take. I have learned that I can't always get what I want, and not everyone will be more than willing to take my side just because they are afraid I'd influence others to hate them since I have a pretty good grasp of the school population. I was every bit like Blair Waldorf and Regina George--the backstabbing, the manipulating, the ruined reputation then social rebound. It was Gossip Girl meets The Plastics indeed, and instead of producing a Jenny Humphrey/Cady Heron spawn, I was more like Courtney Love minus the drugs.

As traumatizing as it was to feel like everyone hated me and how I felt like I never wanted to go through anything like that EVER again, there were still a few minor relapses in my mean girl rehab--I still had the urge to ruin the lives of those who ruined mine, and I wanted to show them that payback was a bitch and so was I. Like an alcoholic on an AA program, the temptation was strong, but I had to resist if I wanted what was good for me. And don't get me wrong, but I wanted to change, just not in the way they wanted me to. I wanted myself to experience an attitude make over so that I can finally be someone who wasn't a life ruiner but a life builder.

So I did just that. Although I am really kind and I warm up instantly to almost anyone, I just didn't like being crossed. That was how I operated. You stay out of my sour mood, we're friends. Otherwise. Well, you know the story.

And so I did my best to really praise others, I held back my scathing words when all I wanted to do was bite another person's head off when he/she became flaky, I stayed positive and optimistic and sunshine-y like Malibu Barbie.

You get the point. I stayed good and did my best to be good until I finally finallyfound myself graduating and leaving behind a school I loved and being free from females (who were my friends) who sometimes tended to bring me down. I was more than ready to start a new new life.

So up until a few hours ago, I was a sleeping dragon. Leave me alone, and I'd let you live in peace. But do one teeny thing to provoke me, I'm gonna flame-throw your ass.

That, in a nutshell, is the reason why I found the need to write a rather long prologue before I got to the point.

If some of you noticed, I've been posting "hate" statuses as if in response to another person's "hate" statuses in Facebook. I really don't want to name drop nor further expound why it lead to that almost shallow "parinigan" because I would like to give myself the time to think about things, before I retaliate and lash out. Sadly, this person, whom I thought was once my friend (notice the past tense), clearly had issues (and I think I know how long and where those issues have been rooting from) and was utterly unaware that her "anger" towards me was misguided.

That's why I'm writing this. Because I believe that you will find a way to look for more reasons to say I'm a bad friend, and if that's what you think, I cannot do anything to change that, but we knew each other once, and I suppose you still know that I never go down without a fight. And if this is the only way for me to express my side (or the lack of it), I'd rather do it in a healthy way instead of just asking to be driven to your house to personally pull your hair off.

So here's for you, my dear ex friend. A few points:

1.) First of all, I had no idea you were still THAT paranoid, that you'd think when I said "Affected much?", you were gonna fire off with a status that partially answered it back. I have no idea what your problem with me is, nor do I even care, but here's the thing: I haven't seen you in God-only-knows how long, and you have no right to attack me because a real friend would do so much as to text or even send a f*cking Facebook message to see how I was doing when I needed friends while I was going through a tough year last year.

2.) Second of all, my silence is as good as a loud piercing scream. When I didn't reply to your question in that stupid note, it meant that I wasn't interested whether you reposted it or not, because I honestly don't feel a connection to you anymore. All those years of keeping secrets, and promises of being "Friends For*f*cking*ever" went out the window the second you turned your back on me when you chose another set of friends. But so did I. Actually, I've been secretly enjoying the company of other people from way way back, and I'm glad I did, because THEY have proven to be a lot better than you ever were or ever could be. Heck, I know several people from UST whom I've known for only four months but they know me like they have their entire lives.

3.) All that crap about you being royalty? SERIOUSLY. Oh I'm SO jealous of your life right now--NOTT. You wanna know why? Whoever calls themselves a princess but she had to work a pathetic part-time job just so she could pay her butt off of college? If you're just a reader, I know this might sound bad; like I'm degrading everyone who works just so they could support themselves to go to school, but this statement is an exception. This is particularly for this person I'm talking about. I want to tell you honey, that your argument is invalid and that trying to get a moot point just so you can twist my criticism, is entirely POINTLESS. Like you said, I am wicked. So be it. I am a fan of method acting, after all.

4.) We probably used to think the world about each other, and I honestly did not see this one coming, but your insensible attack has made me realize that you do not know me at all.

I tried to be good. I seriously did and I seriously still want to be good. But bitches like you make it hard for me to improve myself. So I'm dropping the class act and I am so back to my old self. If you can't deal with that, then I suggest getting your self extricated off of my life. You said it yourself: 'You found out who's real from who isn't."

Well guess what? SO DID I.

The bitch is back from her hibernation. Watch out.

When you are filled with a sadness so consuming, it almost chokes you; sometimes it leads you to believe that there is no other way to escape it but death.

I'm having one of those days again.:(

It's so lonely, knowing that you're life isn't exactly mapping out as you planned it to be, especially when you see how everyone else's lives just seem to prosper and most of them are even undeserved on their part; just merely a by product of sheer luck and circumstances that ultimately lead them to their good fortune; and it's even suckier, knowing that you are well aware that you can't do anything to extricate yourself from this suckfest anytime soon, despite the fact that you have absolutely everything in your power to change what's in front of you.

I know I'm nowhere near coherent right now, but aren't we all when we feel a little out of the shadows of hope and faith?

I used to think that no one really loses their mind from over thinking their tendency to overthink, but I might as well have also believed that there is no such thing as happiness, or the existence of tangible objects like grapefruit. Or hand bags. Cute hand bags.

I have learned a long time ago that the good things do take time before they materialize and take shape to satisfy you, but I seriously doubt anyone could blame me for being just a little bit impatient. Don't I deserve some good fortune in my life right now? Why can't I demand some of the happiness that I so often neglected before?

I know I've been selfish (countless of times, I might (begrudgingly) add), I've been a little ungrateful and just a speck apathetic to everything I have ever received. Maybe this is karma at its best in operation, for all I know. But honestly, you can make me pay later. I want my life back. For once, I don't want to wake up in the morning feeling miserable but out of obligation, I must be totally up and cheer-y the rest of the day, then back to being so so down again at night. I want a life of normalcy where I don't have to pretend I'm okay to put up a front when I just want to crawl inside myself and cry and cry and cry until the tears don't mean anything anymore. I don't want to pretend to laugh and smile, knowing that there's something wrong in my life that can't be mended by mere kind thoughts or words.

I want an escape--an escape to everything familiar and just start out with a clean slate, and meet new people who wouldn't expect the worst from me simply because they have no idea about my past and what I can do that can ultimately hurt others.

Yes, I am in pain. A pain so deep, it would make the angels cry. Not out of hurt, but out of pity. And probably even anguish.

It doesn't even cut it that others may be suffering far worse than I as we speak. I have already spent a considerable amount of time worrying and caring about other people. Isn't it about time that I demand for other people to think about me? What makes my sufferings different from theirs anyway? In this universe, we could never really heal another person's sorrow so we can obliterate it--we either match it with our own, or completely ignore it just so we wouldn't insult the person basking in his/her tender emotions.

Life is already unfair. Why would other people choose to indirectly implicate this sad and horrid fact? Seriously. It's like pouring acid all over a rusted iron fence--like wanting it to crumble into pieces, instead of trying to restore it to something that could be of use in the days to come.

I could write over a million words of remorse and ache and torture, but none of them would ever revoke the repulsive truth of life I have discovered: Sometimes, fantasies don't exist. Most of the time, they're just made up dreams told to young, unsuspecting children to keep them from realizing just how screwed up reality is. Then they grow up. And become pessimist shippers like myself who become guarded all the time.

Disappointments and heartaches are as close as we're ever gonna get to achieving actual and long lasting happiness.

Until then, I'll be living under a rock.

It's been a terrible October 13th for me, but these two lovely ladies made the clouds go away.:) Thank you to two of my best friends, Celine and Gari for keeping me sane when I just wanted to pass out. I love you guys!:)

...

In response to last night's more somber post, a great person told me:

I woke up today and realized that whilst others scorn the motives of your ways, it is entirely up to you to become a good person even though they tell you to stop.

Thank you God for continuously surrounding me with good, kind hearted people who knows what to say and when to say it.:)