And so I was taught.

One of the greatest lectures I’ve heard is to love yourself before you love somebody else. One question I had in mind was, am I worth loving? I was in doubt all along. I too cannot even think of how I can be loved, I hate myself for the record. A friend of mine said, to love someone you must feel good about yourself, feel complete and whatnot. Will I ever be complete? What if I tell you that the only one who can complete me is the one I love? So what’s the sense? How can you make yourself complete on your own? Is it faith? Happiness? Or the balance of both happiness and sadness? How? Even right now I am still in shock people noticed that I do not love myself as much as some people do.

That no matter what I do, I cannot let my guard down. I wonder if this is a facadel, to hide all my imperfections, to cover up with how wrong I am. For the betterment of the situation, I love myself that no one can ever imagine. There are times that I feel content just from within.

Every couple I’ve met in the past seems so happy with how they are, they were. How was their relationship? I bet it was not perfect but splendid. Loving is happiness, well I am not happy; so can I be loved? I need someone who can fill in through the spaces of my fingers, to hug and to hold. I need someone there for me always, and by always I meant forever.

I want to love, give myself to the world, experience to be hurt and that eternal happiness that love can bring. In my existence I want to be with someone worth gasping for air, worth my affection and my never ending care. This is my story, a man who wants to love while he’s incomplete.

The typical guy who said that relationship is not for him but in the long run asks for more than love itself.

What’s not to love?

Well first of my fingers are missing blogging and so I decided to write. Tonight’s read is about hating and loving the one you love.

You wanna know why I hate the one I love?

Here’s my story, I never had a boyfriend. Never. But I love someone, I don’t even know if love should be the representation of my feelings, and I hate him because even though I exert a lot of effort for him to notice me, I know he won’t. No matter how I desperately show my affection to him I don’t exist. I hate the way he walks down the hallways and stare through my soul ,and I just divert my attention to other things. I hate that I can’t stand a day without seeing him.

Hates that made me love him even more, the weirdest epiphany is he’s never going to be mine. Well..

To love is not to own, but to love is to experience things and gear away from being alone.

What I love about him is that he smiles a lot, he walks through the hallways where I am always at, He stares at me thinking that I don’t feel a thing, he shows his’ willingness to be the apple of my eye, that everyday he is there.

If only I have the guts to say “Hi.”, sometimes it confuses me if I really love him or he is just the kind of guy that’s too good to be true.

All I know is that I felt that extra something. That thing they always say, a spark, chemistry, a connection.

I like him a lot, I really do. To be my first, well I think he’s over qualified. But who knows maybe it’s a facade, who cares? I know I don’t. Everything undergoes a process, We’ll get to know each other some other time.

At the end of the rainbow there’s always a pot of gold, and the travel of getting to what you always want is one hell of a roller coaster ride, some end up failing, but if you believe you’ll get there.

I hate that I love him, I can’t just throw away the feeling. How can I do that? No I won’t do that.

But wait I don’t know him yet, what’s his name again?

21 now, Ageless for the Rest of My Life.

Today’s the thirteenth of January, the day I hate the most. It’s my birthday, but it feels like it shouldn’t be. Birthdays should be worth the celebration, happy and peaceful, and this one annually never misses to be gloomy. In all honesty, I hate birthdays not only because of how awful it is but also for a specific reason that every year I deal with enmity, and early today I was bombarded with wrath. And as I always handle this kind of situation, I cried hell a lot. No matter what I do, or whatever I exert effort on, I still have the crappiest feeling ever on the day of my birthday. 

But to my surprise the only “small-dilemma” I have before have gone through another level, before all of them don’t acknowledge the fact that it’s my birthday, and they don’t even celebrate this “should-have-been-joyful” day with feast or whatnot. As a person I just wanted to have at least a cake or an ice cream, but a greeting or a small gathering is fine even. But I can no longer have those birthdays, hello, I’m 21 years old now. Where was I? I am at a lost of words, I’m still upset of all the fiasco happening in front of my eyes. This is supposedly a win win, but yeah it’s not.

I tried lifting my spirit, not cursing everyone surrounding me, but I can’t. I know I deserve to have the greatest birthday every year, and it goes to show not everything gets better from here. From this day forward, I will no longer have a birthday, for it brings so much pain and realizations in my ass and in my heart. I only know how to be happy when it’s a day of smiles and sunshine, but today is just another hot and devastating day. 

I hate birthdays, I hate myself too for not following the protocol. It sucks to be me.

Who cares? Definitely Not Me.

I don’t give a shit, whether you miss me or you still care. I apologize harlot you’ve established yourself as the villain here. You can’t control me and I am not a part of your posse anymore. You deserve everything, anger, insults, hatred and refusal. Why would I care about you? You have nothing against me. Friends are not the issue here, but your attitude maybe. Stop thinking that the world only revolves around you, like you are the queen of this country. 

You miss me? But sorry I don’t feel the same way, I don’t miss even a teensy weensy part of your being. Keep saying rude things to people, because you are entitled to do so; remember you are a bitch? You are dime a dozen, so it’s not new to me that you run other people’s lives. Give me at least the respect to cut whatever connections you still can’t let go, for my part I already did. I have moved on, so try doing such. I have friends now, who remain to be truthful instead of faking their way to having a horrible friendship. Unlike what you said before “They are not FAKE(or in your stupid terms “PLASTIC”)”. You manage to be really judgmental when you are angry, so who’s bitter now? One more thing, maybe you should try removing your tongue or stitching your lips up because it is your stupid mouth that starts a problem. And also your intentions, as well as your outstandingly commendable careless stupidity that get you into trouble, try fixing that. Reality check, I have forgotten our friendship ties. So DO NOT TEXT, CALL, OR COMMUNICATE WITH ME ANYMORE. Can’t you understand that? 

I wish you the happiest birthday dear, I am not mean but this is reality. You said rude things to me, I give it back to you. You know who you are. here’s her initials guys, DGC. Peace out! 

BBMe

pin:27C10F7E Talk to me. I am dying.

Lustful write-ups

..and the perfect example would be this post. Okay, you see it has been two years since I lost my virginity; but now I am craving for another hook-up or another one night stand. The longer I wait for it to happen, the more lustful I get. I am not perfect and when I say I need it, I really do mean it. I need one date, one night, lip locks, good guts and all night good good good SEX. Emphasis on the s to the e to the x. I need a man, some testosterone right now. 

That grope of manly hands coming from behind rubbing your boobs, squeezing your nipples, a whisper in the ear that bears these message series of “You like that? Do you want me to go deeper? harder? faster?” “AHHHHHHHH—UHHHHHHHHHHH—OHHHHHHHHHH”, a kiss on the nape, sudden animosity of the hurt that sex gives you, but turns out you’ll love to hate the feeling, because it is the kind of pain that we love to GET. 

I want it, I need it. SEX SEX SEX.

Pause and Play.

Sometimes it takes us an hour to think, breathe and continue. Every minute includes chances that may change our mindset, all we need is a short pause. If there’s a will, there’s a way; at least that’s what I’ve heard from people. If a dream dies, live the succeeding days dreaming a bunch of dreams; if that’s what it takes for you to believe in the spirit of hoping. No matter what we do, we   should live our own dreams. It’s always good to acknowledge those days of misery, because after looking back we can inspire ourselves to move forward, and reach our goals with our own might. Trust and have faith.