Little girls like widgets like this

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I’d try to change for you if you took me back. But really now.

He brushed his fingers gently on her face, tracing little circles on her skin while his eyes stared in those little pools of black and brown as if lost in it.

They haven't seen each other for quite sometime and have not spoken in better terms since that episode of bitter farewells. But now that time has partially healed wounds, they were in close contact again. It was really an innocent visit of i-missed-you but with a history of oozing hot romance, it could never be innocent from the start.

She bit her lower lip and would gladly gaze back at his piercing eyes but a massive surge of familiar and uncomfortable feelings were too much for her. All of a sudden, her eyes started to water and she hesitantly looked away.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing really. It's just nothing" she replied holding his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

Of course, it wasn't really nothing. It wasn't. It was actually something — something of utmost significance she refuses to recognize and she continues to avoid. It has been a long couple of months to be actually doing this. Again. But maybe, stupidity would lead into something like blissful idiocy and whatnot.

She looked at their intertwining fingers, a mess of sorts, and she couldn't help but think that they resembled how intertwining fingers and restless heartbeats are — a mess of sorts.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She kissed him back. They looked at each other, giving off ambiguous hints and then, there was silence — the most mind numbing, awkward, unbearable silence she has ever felt since the last time he walked out of her door and out of her life for a time she though was for good.

A million and one things suddenly pop in her head simultaenously like sad music and rain and even a dialogue she'd start by saying, You know, this is supposed to be the time when you say I love you and then we start talking about us. Our dreams, our hopes, our future — together. She wanted to say something, anything, so badly she ended up stuttering.

"You know. . . "

"What?"

"Nothing."

She shook her head from all this absurdity and took a breath. Then again, what is there to talk about?

"Anyway, I have to go. It was really nice seeing you again."

He stood up and took his things, almost abruptly, and went for the door. She followed him in little steps, trying not to look too desperate. She'd ask him to stay but then again, what he said months before, echoed in her hollow head, bellowing like mad.

"I can't love you."

She gave him a little peck on the cheek and waved goodbye. He smiled, waved back and drove away. She held her breath, watching him dissapear towards the horizon.

"It was nice seeing you too" she whispered to herself so softly she almost didn't hear herself anymore. She sighed and walked back to her house.

Once again, she faltered.

Woah nelly! I wanna be a friggin ROCKSTAR!

I’m sure that 5 people, in this whole universe, know this fact about me, something not everyone could possibly see (since I'm all shy and shit) – I am SUPER awesome.

    You see, this whole awesomeness roots from the fact that I am a superfluous poser of an indie hipster. I mean, come on people!! I wear dark rimmed glasses (which I actually need and that makes things a little less awesome though), imitation Chucks and muddy checkered Vans slip-ons. I shop in thrift stores and over accessorize myself and my stuff  (Hot Topic is teh shiznit, yo!) and I like drinking with my friends and whine about how this tangenang-sorry-excuse of a guy left me for, I dunno, sex with this rich ass ho’ who’d pay for their motel room. I'm also always broke and I mope, I make poetry and I blog. For what its worth, I have mp3s of bands I don't listen to, just so that I could name drop and make fun of people who don't know said bands. So, if you are not as hooked on the internet as me and if you don’t know all the hot shit in the indie and punk rock scene, like Avril Lavigne’s spankin new album, then you’re a loser, I'm sorry and I fucking rock.

            My ego is sort of bloated right now, actually, so yeah, here I am, gloating, bragging, dancing my victory dance of “coolness” because yesterday, this kick ass good looking guy (who, unfortunately looks Chinese. Blurgh) messages me, and asks me if I could try out for this side band project he’s planning. My heart goes into overdrive and well, I falter and almost, instantly, gave in. After all, being in a band seems like fun and as all of my dear friends know, I could use some fun. It just slightly bothers me that he sizes my vocal prowess (which is horribly mediocre — a little bit similar, but much much worse like Maria Mena on a diet) with the way I look – all fucking grunge and messed up. But hey, now I know that looks could bring you so far. Fuck it, I’m taking advantage of the situation. Rock n roll baby!

            Anyway, today is so boring I actually got the time to bloghop and shit. I’m currently reading Questionable Content and it’s frigging hilarious although the wit is killing me, mainly because I’m too stupid for this shit. You see, because of some defense mechanism of sorts, I act stupid to be funny and I act intelligent to be liked. When you do that shiznit for, like, all your life, it kind of catches up on you – the stupidity I mean. And all the fucking pretension. Now, I’m just not sure if I’m stupid enough or I’m smart enough and so, it’s not, ever, funny enough and consequently, no one likes me enough to think that I am fucking awesome, which leads to the validity of my first sentence. Yeah. Confusing, isn't it? Go figure.

Hung up like a loser

It's fun to know that everything has not died down completely and I'm pretty happy and ironically melancholic about the situation. Sometimes, I wonder, what it would be like if we were still together, living the dreams that we had once planned under the ocassional fireworks of that party virtually next door. I'd laugh at the idea with it's potential absurdity then cry a bit since I dont actually think that I've gotten over you, Or at least that quaint idea of you being the purrrrfect guy who'd save me from bad habits and bad breaks and give me new experiences and new tastes.

(more…)

Again, blog nomad coming through

I'm going blog nomad on the internets again, mainly for 2 reasons.

 The first reason that made me ditch my late blog was because of <insert Mike's man crush> sad comment on Friendster and how unsexy it was and shit. I wanted, for the life of me, to retaliate and defend Friendster with all its stalker glory, convincing him that the 5M earning website actually was not un-lame as any of it's overrated networking peers. But since I am not as pugnacious as the resident asshole (and really, he was as smooth as the rock n roll king himself), I kind of shut my pie hole and laughed, embarassed by his indirect insult on me and my blog server. hahaha. But honestly, I would have taken him seriously if he didn't wear a small white blouse with nipples protruding like woah. I so will not respect any boy who owns blouses remotely similar like mine. But as if he wasn't word vomit enough, I should stop, and proceed to why I really had to move.

Kidding aside, Liz could really make a good pimp. She was raving about this here server and since I am very gullible, I really bought it. Ha! And consequently, I pimped her!!

So anyway, this might be one of my laziest Tuesdays ever. I'm really thinking of crying since I won't be able to watch One Tree Hill and be emo with their sad soundtracks and cheesy cheesy lines (which I actually use in real life). I broke the only working TV in the house (we have 4 idiot boxes pretending to be TVs but none actually work) and I kind of framed my brother for it. He's so gonna hate me when he's 10.