tremors and fissures
i’m back to wearing glasses. i was once a four-eyed girl, but ditched it for a more uncluttered look.
now, i feel like a first-class nerd with my braces and glasses, but hell, this is better than having a permanent hole in my right cornea. my right eye has a small wound (am i being shredded into pieces? see my related post, an ode to murakami), thus the soreness in my eyes.
one sunny day found me going over friends i’ve lost because of circumstances. if they’ve given me up, does that mean they don’t deserve to be part of my inner circle of trust and intimacy?
“i didn’t mean to hurt you, i’m just a jealous guy.”
“you’re so beautiful…beautiful fucked-up man, setting up your razor wire shrine”
win back my friends campaign
i dined out with my high school barkada. my girls were still their funny, childish selves, and wecouldn’t help but jar the relative serenity of little buddha (i don’t understand why i insist on calling it big buddha. can you imagine a midget buddha in the first place? oh well.) we reminisced about high school, from our embarassing moments, crazy class presentations to our most endearing lit teachers. and i realized one thing: my teacher-crushes in high school had some sort of tiny defects. teacher A who taught lit in first year high school’s gay. teacher B who taught economics limps when walking. but they do had one thing in common: they smelled very nice (sorry, i’m an auditory and olfactory person). so there we were, laughing our heads off and making time move slower.
a bit drained
i’m physically tired. my boat is waiting for me to take me to neverland, but i haven’t budged an inch.