the last sunset

.hiding

hates the sun. period. doubting. needs to be loved. pathetic. apathetic. INDIFFERENT. insolent fool. you. you. confused. me? not me.

.looking back

things a little less strumming, a little more effing spoken like a true bastard raindrops fomr jupiter spunky mcsythe you called skyrockets in flight, afternoon delight am een ur kichun, eetin ur poodin MOOOOOOOOAR CIRKULLLLLLS, really no. it's not dead.

.opening the mind

February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007

simply put
Monday, April 30, 2007

Life's a bitch.

So slap it.

smiled at the sun again @ 10:11 PM, ,

spiked rod

I need one. Right now.

You know how LSS works, right? Last song syndrome, that random song that gets stuck on your head, whether you like it or not, whether you were paying attention to it a while a go or sleeping, then you find yourself singing the stupid song a little later on during the day, at a time when you're really bored, and, well, there's nothing to do. You're like that. You got stuck for some unknown reason (I know, I'm lying, BUT you just had to have your way and say stupid things, so fuck you too), and now that I have nothing to busy myself with, since acads doesn't actually eat up my time (and it's as boring as life could get), and well, it's like I'm counting a flock with an infinite number of sheep, but every now and then I'd snap and find you somewhere in it. Actually, in almost everything I do. So, there you go, I hope you've had your fun, now leave me alone. Please. I'd rather die of boredom instead of heatstroke. Or lack of blood circulation. And you just passed by. Again.

Dance, dance little boy, dance for your life.. (insert evil laugh here).

smiled at the sun again @ 10:01 PM, ,

fun fun

You are The Fool

The Fool is the card of infinite possibilities. The bag on the staff indicates that he has all he need to do or be anything he wants, he has only to stop and unpack. He is on his way to a brand new beginning. But the card carries a little bark of warning as well. Stop daydreaming and fantasising and watch your step, lest you fall and end up looking the fool.

(But I don't care, really.. meh.)

smiled at the sun again @ 9:58 PM, ,

i have none

Strength.

It's the ability to break a chocolate bar into 4 pieces





and eat just one.

(Oh L, YOU ARE WEAK! >:D)

smiled at the sun again @ 3:10 PM, ,

learning japanese part 2
Sunday, April 29, 2007

There's now way i'm gonna lose to something like this.

I love you so much that it's like a lie.

smiled at the sun again @ 9:24 PM, ,

jellygoober

I am in pain.

When I touch my chest, I feel pain.

When I touch my head, I feel pain.

When I wipe away my tears, I feel pain.

When I cover my ears to block the happy sounds, I feel pain.

When I reach for you, I feel pain.

When I try to touch you, I feel pain.

When I do touch you, I feel pain.

When I touch your chest, I feel pain.

When I touch your head, I feel pain.

When I wipe away your tears, I feel pain.

...



You know what?





I have a broken finger.

smiled at the sun again @ 8:54 PM, ,

crash

I eat vegetables.

Now, I eat junk.

Die, die, die!

>:D

smiled at the sun again @ 8:53 PM, ,

utaguri sono yume

It was an unusually chilly night for the summer season, and it's times like this I enjoy the little walks I take every now and then. Not that the aircon within the rich kid's (not mine) house is cold enough, it's just that, well, that one feels so artificial compared to the cool breeze outside. Plus, the ruckus inside of drunk bastards (aka classmates + friends) didn't help me feel comfortable, or even relaxed, so I left them to their alcohol-induced bliss and their barbaric dares and games. I slip out of their view and open the transparent, almost invisible glass door and take with me 3 pieces of cream puff. Unknown to me, a wary pair of eyes followed my stealthy movement as I went outside.

It was a huge house, or should I say, compound. I don't know hoe big the lot was, but there were 4 houses I think - the garage, the maids'/drivers' lounge, the guests' lounge, and the main house itself - and each having two floors. Not counting to the luxurious compound was the huge array of plants in the garden, and the rectangular pool and the circular jacuzzi. Of all the places I could go, I chose to sat just outside the guest's lounge (where the ruckus was happening), almost in plain site of the others, where they could possibly see me.. being myself, but, really, I couldn't care less, I'll be coming inside again, when I eat up the three pieces of cream puff. Which somehow became two pieces, to my surprise. I thought I had dropped it, when I realized it was stolen by a certain someone, that is, you, and you give me that sneer, no, a smirk, and as you pop it into your mouth. But then, I didn't care, I could just get another one, so I turned around and shrugged, and moved near the side of the pool (which, amusingly enough, was illuminated by submerged lights). You should have caught up by now just how I react towards you, so I didn't wait for any movement, and expected you to ignore that little fact and leave me alone. But no, for some unknown reason, I see a bare foot dipping into the shallow pool water, and playing around with it. I dare not turn my head into your direction, like hell I will, I have nothing to say anyway.

You're a noisy eater, you know that? I hear every chewing and biting movement, and it's unnerving, but no one really tells another person to shut their trap when their eating anyway. It might just be me, or me thinking that you were always a big biter, and you made everything you eat seem so.. eatable, to say the least. I still don't know what to do, so I remain unmoved, though I know the awkwardness is rising quickly, at least I'm feeling it. Because I feel I have to do something, I pop one cream puff into my mouth, and take my time into chewing it, trying to stall some time, before I have to deal with the awkwardness again. All too soon, I've already devoured my rations, and was forced to deal with my little problem again. I don't know if you're still there, and I've been worrying about nothing all this time, so I take a swift glance sideways, and I was caught at the moment, and I froze, before everything sunk in to what's left of my brain. Dark brown eyes were looking at me, and I wasn't aware just how long I was stupefied and staring into them. Blushing slightly, I shake my head fervently and look away, hoping that you didn't see the slight streaks of pink marks all over my face. So, back to awkward silence, that is, until I felt a soft touch brushing over my left cheek, then a sharp poke. As anyone would, I sharply turned my head to you and slapped your hand away, and then berated you for poking me for no reason at all. It wasn't a serious rant, but I meant it anyway. You cut me short, and wiped the little white smudge of cream on my face, and I froze at that again. I couldn't possibly slap you're hand away again, so, for the nth time, I look away.. but you wouldn't let me, and THAT gave me the chills. My worry for the sickening silence turned into fear when you held my chin in place and started to close in. I knew it was all too good to be true, and too bad to be a dream, so I couldn't pinpoint whether which is which. What's weird is, I'm in fear, and I'm not liking this at all.. well, somewhere deep inside, some place in me that I don't know yet, there's a slight something nagging me to lean forward. But the principled division in the multi-character me is stronger than my nagging urges, so I open my eyes, and breathe happily as I realize the familiar surroundings, and my feet splashing water in the pool, and the three pieces of cream puffs I had taken with me. One great "whew" for me.

I reached into the plate of cream puffs, and froze when I realized there was another hand in it, and to my utter fear, it was yours. And this. Was. Happening. AGAIN. Fuck that, I'm eating this.

smiled at the sun again @ 6:48 PM, ,

blast off
Friday, April 27, 2007

Sadism, at its finest point, is painless.

But entirely selfish, and therefore, I tear up.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:45 PM, ,

of muffins and cicadas

Because this is unnaturally specific, I stand amidst the awkwardness and I, for the hundredth time, slip out of consciousness.

This lulling humming induced a delightful trance, and buried all chaotic tendencies upon levels of trickling blood. A shiny shade of crimson, glaring at me like it's a slithering shadow angered by my unbounded thinking. From its rippling state, a sudden wave of silencing peace skims through it like a magical ring of sanctuary, and is ignited into its fiery form, dark violet, a mixture of the death of flowers and unborn veils of aurora, waiting, cackling in delight, almost sneering - at me. The lulling acoustic is cut short, as if the expected next lyric was suddenly forgotten, and another tone succeeds it, a sound that reeks and resonates of lapsing time and memory, of forgotten words and bliss, of binding relationships and principles, of empty promises and hearts. I realize I'm balancing atop a mountain peak now, but it doesn't really seem like a mountain, more like a peak without a base, or an unseen base, and is surrounded by dark waters, gushing around me. It's probably Lethe pronouncing my fate, calling me to sink my memory into it, and dissolve everything. I look up, and there was the dark purple lights of the fiery monster, looking down on me, calling me as well, to rise up to it, to free myself of inhibitions and risk my sanity (or insanity), and feel the eternal heat of what it's like to be near the sun. I'm confused and I tear a wound open on my feat as my whole body weighs down on the sharp peak, and I let not a tiny scream out, for I fear the disturbance of souls and their hostile sirens will grip me into submission and sadness. I think, and think, and think.

I think of many answers as to why I still choose to stand and mutilate my body in this searing peak, and not free myself of everything and choose the omniscient water below and sink into the sleepy melody, or reach for the burning entity above, and scald myself to death with the heat and the resounding music of apathy. I realize that it's not me, for I yearn for one over the other, and not to stay here, it's something that's holding my feet into the ground, and keeping me from falling or floating away. Whoever or whatever this force is, it plays me a nasty game of wishful thinking, showing me the possibilities, but allowing me to finally reach neither. But I think to negatively, and maybe this is the best way I could go, since I continue to confuse myself with ignorant thinking. It's all that I could get, possibly, and I should be content with it. So I let the peak continue to tear my feet apart, and I open my mouth, not to release a silent scream, but to let a lulling humming escape, and let myself slip into unconsciousness. It's not the perfect bliss, but it's enough for me.

smiled at the sun again @ 6:53 PM, ,

eurobeat
Thursday, April 26, 2007

It's like,

Tap tap tap.

Breathe.

Tap tap tap.

:D

smiled at the sun again @ 9:01 PM, ,

the one F'ed up

As one said to another:

1/0 = undefined.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:17 PM, ,

tuxedo team's lost member

I wear, therefore I am ignored.

Thank you, I realize.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:16 PM, ,

summer sweat

Dum dum dum.

Please let there be a switch somewhere in my brain. Give me a chance to sleep.

If you're gonna die now, allow me to walk you for one last time. Ironic, and I admit, awkward, as it may seem to both of us, we'll end up watching the sun sink into the meadows, the horizon from where we once sat for the sake of avoiding utter boredom. I'll cut math without knowing really, and risk the record of overcutting, and maybe even dropping the damned core subject, just to watch you eat up a piece of meat and a meager sunny-side up egg. It's all junk, but it's fun junk, and to my sudden realization, and surprise, it is our funny, senseless junk time, not blatant boredom, because sitting down on the stone bench without anything would defeat the purpose of doing the walking thing, so, yeah, whatever, I forgot what I was supposed to say next, because the puppy was bitting my feet, and I dare not risk the chance of dying of Rabis; I want to die either by suicide, saving a poor animal's (not a person's) life, or fending off a lowly criminal. Or by sledgehammer through the nuts. Repeatedly, yeah. As that creepy woman said, with matching and equally disturbing dance, Kaboom. But, before all that happens, a walk, please. Did I just say please? I think I did. And that must mean I'm heavily in debt. Or I'm running over a past guilt trip. No, no, I have no conscience, yes? Hence, a frail heart, and a stone heart. A walk please, I ask of you. For the last time, I'll hold another hand, not because of anything specific or of great significance, but because I just want to. That's it. you can be anyone, anything, but with the still, slowly beating heart, then I will hold you for the remainder of the time. It's not for a long time, and I'm not doing it out of compassion, or love, or kindness, or some form of good riddance act. I want to, and for a long time, I have wished for one last dance along the stone walkways, and let the sun split us asunder. Yes, it's the sun, and I do hate it as much as you probably do. But then, it scalds us both, and my hand is easily affected, and you have probably sensed it a few times to many, since there weren't a lot of times we even looked at each other, much less, hold hands. I think we would've put ourselves on a death sentence if we ever did, since I killed already two puppies and a cat by just looking at them, and you, out of sheer frustration of me. It's funny, but that's one of the few things we have in common: we both want to kill me. But I can't look at myself, I've tried looking at a mirror, and then breaking it for the 7 years of bad luck, and nothing has happened. Probably because I already have bad luck. Haha. Hey remember that? Laughing. That's what we both enjoyed, without really hiding anything. It could be really funny, really sad, really awkward, really stupid, really ironic, really platonic, really.. us, and we'd laugh. Walk with me, please, once again, around the ribboned starlight. I say goodbye to all those, and I present to you this made-up paper flower, a breed of the fleeting cherry blossom. Tie it through threads of black silk, and then water up the orbs of a damsel in distress. Love, it is not, it's that something we had, I wished we still had, something we once were, something I wish we still were. Alas, this is the last, and the ride that's worth a measly token is about to end, and the toy car is about to swing to its last jolt, and finally halt to a stop. Sleep, shotgun, smile and subside. This is the most I've really said about you, and it'll be the last. Walk with me, please.

Exhale your last breath, and let the flame deteriorate and fade into the darkness, and both you and I will forever be in blissful ignorance. Dance, dance, dance little puppet girl. My game has yet to stop, but the threads are already thinning, and soon you'll be free, free to fly, to share, to live, or to fall down ungracefully to the wooden floor.

smiled at the sun again @ 6:23 PM, ,

ha.. ha.. ha.. ha-*SNEEZE*

Because I'm nosebleeding and I'm being hurried by brats, I continue with the lacing for ribbons and lining up souls for hell-transferring.

smiled at the sun again @ 6:13 PM, ,

Cholas the Angry Penguin
Monday, April 23, 2007

I know something that people don't know. And I'll gloat about it. For now.



And for the sake of peace and sanity of everyone.

smiled at the sun again @ 9:22 PM, ,

tarot card of fate

This is what I do when it's midnight, and my tooth aches.

[The Mindless Queen]
You, yes you, you lack hindsight. You already fell flat on your face 4 times as of this moment, as you said, and yet, you continue. It's not perseverance and determination anymore, it's outright stupidity. Love is always a pain to you, always has been, and will always be. Don't take another step. You'll kill yourself. That dark sultriness is nothing to the feelings that will roadkill you, with or without the presence of another, as you have experienced many times. Are you blind, woman? And what the hell is up your piehole, calling him a "stupid act of revenge" and "asshole"? I didn't think you could really do that, but then again, looks really could deceive anyone (but then your looks DO suggest a slu- I mean, a tanned, indecisive, and rather used flower), and possibly could kill. Fortunately, everyone around you has enough sanity to put their live before you. I'm not mad about the whole relationship-gone-bad thing, I really couldn't careless, but don't you ever, EVER, speak ill of anyone, especially someone I truly.. detest as well, but THAT doesn't give you the right to, still. Lips that curve into a devious smile, though subconsciously will take you to that "Never Land" of which you fear. He will not be there, nor the others, and you will be alone. I guarantee that you can fly, with a little pixie powder, but then, there would be no one else to see you glide through the night sky. It's a sad, sad world. Don't trip on it.

[The Eerie Joker]
What have you been doing? What did you do? What will you be doing? I cannot comprehend the stretch that you've gone over the years, and not once, have I seen a trail of foot on your track. Are you a ghost? Are you a hallucination? Why do I keep trying to dig up that slight mark that you may have left for me to find, when there is nothing at all? This desert, of which you walk upon, which is quite hot by the way, it sinks my mind within it, and a quarter of my height, trying to immobilize me, and gradually succeeding. I can barely move now, and still you walk away, not leaving a footprint in sight. As if you feel my tears shattering into a million crystals upon kissing the bronze land, you linger a moment, look back, only for a second, only long enough for me to start moving again, to start rising again from the pit, to start thinking again, to start feeling again. What does it mean? What is this feeling? Things will come by, things like these, and even though I sink with each step, and you fade into the light with every backlashing wind, I push myself up to follow your invisible tracks. But still, I do not care. Remember that.

[The Blank Mask]
Not the stereotypical "EMO" mask, eh? It's not black, nor the glossy, theatrical half black-half white, it's actually transparent, hence, blank. It's got the holes for the eyes, for the nostrils, for the mouth, and a little stretchy-band for head support. It's a mask, but it doesn't really show any form of secrecy or the like. But when the light goes off, and the people watch as the play starts, it combines with the ambiance that will transpire from the faces of the audience. A laugh, a tear, a twitch, a grimace, a stretch of a muscle - all will meld into the mask, and will create a face that is gray. Gray, as life should be, not black and white, but gray, inefficient, homogeneous, and yet, still blank. It can handle so much, and sometimes it will crack here and there, but it releases a seemingly invisible liquid, a fading crimson, and melds itself upon the singed crevices, and will make the gray face whole. Shoot a hole through it, and ruby fires will burst open, and butterflies shall be free, but only for a second. They shall revert to the stoned forms they had before, and become one with all that is gray.

[The Forgotten Moon]
You are above the skies, not in it, but above it. Stars dance around you, and you divide what is life and death for all. I have nothing more to say to you. Even though I feel a tug, there will be no more exchange of elegance and sobriety. Exit, stage left.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:22 AM, ,

lucky-desu
Sunday, April 22, 2007

smiled at the sun again @ 10:07 PM, ,

help

I

need

to

SHOP.

And by SHOP, I mean to walk aimlessly for hours inside a mall, specifically the one at Greenhills. Apparently, that one has been renovated to something way, WAY, better, compared to what it looked like before. I hated going there when I was a kid, it was jam-packed with people, and the fact that there was no air conditioning didn't help with the temperature at all. I remember stepping on a dead cockroach once, before. The place gave me the creeps. But now, it's like, the closest thing you could go to for heaven. It's cool (as in it's cold inside, everywhere really), it's got everything organized into different sectors, like food, then accessories, shoes, clothes, something they'd probably gotten from Tiendesitas. Plus, the flashy lights really kept me looking at different things, completely making me forget that my feet are already soar from hours and hours of walking. Shop. NOW.

I think I might actually find L inside.

smiled at the sun again @ 10:00 PM, ,

i am watari
Saturday, April 21, 2007

I breathed hot air, and covered the glass with a circular patch of moist breath. On the other side, it was raining, and the glass was spotted with numerous droplets of water, combining with each other every now and then, and trickling down ever so slowly to the rubbery edge of the window pane. Yes, it was cold outside, and dark inside, and without the presence of light, it was pretty much a gloomy day. There was nothing to do with everything out like the light bulb that was hanging useless above. Not that I could do anything constructive really, stuck in the school grounds, without a bus to ride on, not 'till a few hours later.

It's boredom, seizure, or something else, and I choose to do something else. Lifting my hand, I started tracing the paths of the droplets making its way on the surface of the transparent sheet, and into the unseen pane. Where I breathed, the circular spot was now streaked with zigzagging lines, and it looked like a veined bald spot. I laughed a little at that, but not too loudly, people would start murmuring again, or even slap the back of my head for being crazy.

I breathed again, overlapping the previous drawing, and many times, I drew something different from the previous one, possibly of no relationship. I think I first drew a star, then a cookie, then a pen, then a moth, then doddles, and then I got bored again at that point. I tried one last time, so with a little spark of inspiration, I breathe heavily on the glass window, and I create a bigger drawing area. Decided on not wasting this on a drawing, I start writing random things instead. Somehow, I ended up writing stupid, huh?, and sleepy numerous times. I'm not too creative, and boredom killed a few brain cells, I think. I fell asleep as the soft dripping of rain from one plant to another, and onto the grass, soothed me to unconsciousness.

Before a weird dream started rolling into view, I woke up, startled by god knows what, and I knew my eyes were bloodshot. It took time before things came into focus, and I realized someone else had taken the previously empty seat to my left. From the back of my mind, I knew this person, but I think my lagged focus time was lagging down my thinking as well, so I chose to shut up and just ogle at what he was doing. From where I drew, or wrote, oodles and oodles of senseless words, he was writing as well, writing over my previous doodle. He garnered the same spot with unreadable words, but even though I couldn't see well, whether my focus still hadn't sharpened, or it was the dim room, I could see that he wasn't writing on one of the spots, the one near the top edge of the circle. I think he drew arrows around it though, but by the time I was trying to decode it, I was shook out of it, and my bus called for me, got home, and fell to much appreciated sleep.

When I last saw that window glass, it was already broken, from some stupid student who threw rocks from outside and supposedly had "accidentally" thrown one into the direction of the old window. Curiosity is a weakness of mine, and I drifted to the same spot again. It wasn't dark anymore, nor was it gloomy, the sun was shining outside, though preparing for its setting, and inside, the aircon was working again, and the lights were strangely ominous, especially where I had decided to plant myself. And looking at the broken glass, it wasn't totally broken after all, just a small hole, and put into the edge of totally breaking, by the looks of that glittery effect coming from the numerous shatter marks on the point of contact. The smudges (which were previously the breath spots made) are still etched onto the glass, looking like dirt patches of mud and swampy water. Some writings were still visible, only a little, but still readable.

Readable was not good at this moment. Surely, it is not. Shock overwhelmed me, and before I even had the chance of knowing who ever caught me falling, which is somehow, vaguely repetitive, and familiar, and.. warm.. I slip into unconsciousness again.

smiled at the sun again @ 8:37 PM, ,

rock palette
Friday, April 20, 2007

[bitchy-ness]

I'm not insensitive. Hell, I'm the most emotional (not EMO, that's just crap) person you'll ever know, only I can't really relay it quite the "right" way, so it comes out as an outburst of incomprehensible words and actions, mostly whatever makes people perceive me as anything but a crybaby. Well, I don't cry, so maybe I'm not, but THAT doesn't mean that I can't feel whatever anyone throws to my direction, I just can't catch it quite well, so it either sears through me, and may seemingly be ignored (but really duly noted), or I just don't really give a damn about whatever it is, so it'll disintegrate even before it gets near a proximity of 1 mile.

I can also bitch about anything I want, so if anyone ever really got me to that point where my patience and passiveness has worn thin, please, run the hell away, or you'll really suffer frostbite. I don't care what the hell happens, whether it affects anyone, or hardly changes anything, but to those who will cross me after I rant about whatever, FUCK OFF. You don't have time to understand me, fine, it's not like I'm asking you to. Just don't start jabbing me with fearless and senseless antics, 'cause really, if there's one thing I hate in this world, it's fucking messing me up in front of people. I don't care if I get laughed at by people I hardly know, I can give them a shrug and they'll learn to shut the hell up. But when I'm around other people I know, especially when that someone who spikes stabs at me hardly knows the people I'm with, inside me, I'm yearning to choke you to death. As in really, choke. You. To. Death. I can dream too you know, and pretty much about anything, and killing anyone in any of those dreams is easy. Doing it might not be as easy, but I can trip you down 3 flights of stairs when I want to, and no one will ever know I did it. Be scared, be very scared.

[/bitchy-ness]

smiled at the sun again @ 8:06 PM, ,

sadakoheadplz
Thursday, April 19, 2007

Speculative.

That's the right word.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:42 PM, ,

SORPORAAAAAAAAAAYS DESUUUUU~

This could be repetitive, but oh well.

I lie underneath the blanket of stars and streaks of dark cotton spread out so evenly that my eyes trick me into seeing a thin sheet of varnished glass. It's the same old routine, and I am already molding my back along the irregular curve of the stone that stood ajar on the edge of the open field. I think that when I grow old, and hopefully, not too old, I will end up with the worst kind of osteoporosis. But all is well, and it is worth this much peace under the night sky. I only whistle to the sound of nothingness, bringing upon myself the eerie environment of what is supposed to be "empty". I dream, though awake, of mischievous things, including a plan of extinguishing the fires that ricocheted every now and then from the circular layers of the sun. It's impossible, but I think that, whenever you call something by it's name, a plan in this case, it is deemed existent, and ultimately possible. I take one last breeze, and I take off into the direction of my comfort zone.

I lie awake, dreaming.

I lie asleep, dreaming.

I lie awake.

I lie asleep.

I lie.

I lie.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:32 PM, ,

not exactly
Wednesday, April 18, 2007

You entered: Angelo Dantes

There are 12 letters in your name.
Those 12 letters total to 45
There are 5 vowels and 7 consonants in your name.

What your first name means:

Spanish	Male	Messenger. Biblical name for spirit messengers God sends men.
Shakespearean	Male	'The Comedy of Errors' A goldsmith. 'Measure for Measure' The Deputy.
Portuguese	Male	Messenger. Biblical name for spirit messengers God sends men.
Italian	Male	Messenger of God; angel.
Greek	Male	Messenger.

Your number is: 9

The characteristics of #9 are: Humanitarian, giving nature, selflessness, obligations, creative expression.

The expression or destiny for #9:
The expression that you exhibit is represented by the number 9. Your talents center in humanistic interests and approaches. You like to help others as you were intended to be the 'big brother or big sister' type. You operate best when you follow your feelings and sense of compassion, and allow yourself to be sensitive to the needs of others. You work well with people, and have the potential to inspire. This suggests that you could successfully teach or counsel. Creative ability, imagination and artistic talent (often latent) of the highest order are present in this expression. It's possible that you're not using or developing all of these capabilities at this time. Some of your talents may have been used at an earlier time in your life, and some may still be latent. Be aware of your capabilities, so that you can make use of them at appropriate times.

If you are able to achieve the potential of your natural expression in this life, you are capable of much human understanding and have a lot to give to others. Your personal ambitions are likely to be maintained in a very positive perspective, never losing sight of an interest in people, and a sympathetic, tolerant, broad-minded and compassionate point of view. You are quite idealistic, and disappointed at the lack of perfection in the world. You have a strong awareness of your own feeling as well as those of others. Friendships, affection, and love are extremely important.

Undeveloped or ignored, the negative side of the 9 expression can be very selfish and self-centered. If you do not actively involve yourself with work that benefits others, you may tend to express just the opposite characteristics. It is your role to be very involved with other people and their needs, but it may be difficult for you achieve this role. Aloofness, lack of involvement, and a lack of sensitivity mark the low road of this expression.

Your Soul Urge number is: 9

A Soul Urge number of 9 means:
With a 9 Soul Urge, you want to give to others, usually in a humanitarian or philanthropic manner. You are highly motivated to give friendship, affection and love. And you are generous in giving of your knowledge and experience. You have very sharing urges, and you are likely to have a great deal to share. Your concern for others makes you a very sympathetic and generous person with a sensitive and compassionate nature.

You are able to view life in very broad and intuitive terms. You often express high ideals and an inspirational approach to life. If you are able to fully realize the potential of your motivation, you will be a very self-sacrificing person who is able to give freely without being concerned about any return or reward.

As with all human beings, you are prone to sometimes express the negative attitudes inherent to your Soul Urges. You may become too sensitive and tend to express emotions strongly at times. There can be significant conflict between higher aims and personal ambitions. You may resent the idea of giving all of the time and, in fact, if there is too much 9 energy in your nature you may reject the idea. You may often be disappointed in the lack of perfection in yourself and others.

Your Inner Dream number is: 9

An Inner Dream number of 9 means:
You dream of being creative, intellectual, and universal; the selfless humanitarian. You understand the needy and what to help them. You would love to be a person people count on for support and advice.

***

Too bad, I've already changed.

smiled at the sun again @ 8:34 PM, ,

sakura mankai

Sometimes, the thing that's the most abundant, is what we give value the least, and thing that's supposed to be easy to find, is never the easiest to gain.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:13 PM, ,

nyaoooooo
Tuesday, April 17, 2007

jump..pyon.

smiled at the sun again @ 8:47 PM, ,

WIP
Monday, April 16, 2007

Dream, it is.

Yume do up.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:48 PM, ,

i think not

yes, i do say the worst thing possible at the worst possible time.

i make lips quiver, eyes tear up, silent bodies shiver.

not that i mean to.

damn consciousness.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:22 PM, ,

something about 0%

This is the first time.

This is the first time i've tuned myself with.. myself.

For the fraction of a second, I was one, not the bipolar junkie that I usually am.

I realized I can do so many things, if only it lasted a little longer.

I could have been Superman.

I could have been the world's greatest gift from god.

I could have been the happiest kid in the planet.

I could have been made, and not born.

I could have been purely anti-hypocritical, without being hypocritical.

I could have been the one who rises with the sun, and sleeps as it sinks into the horizon.

I could have been the irreversible solution.

I could have been what I have yet to understand.

I could have been anything.

I could have been everything.

Alas, if only's exist.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:05 AM, ,

hoyeeeeeeeh
Sunday, April 15, 2007

haylab white choco malt. <3

and there exists candies called juju babies. cute.

day 2345342564645763 over.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:42 PM, ,

sip sip sip

At a nameless coffee shop that sells overpriced.. coffee.

Friend: You're blushing.
Me: Hm.
Friend: Why are you blushing? *poke poke poke*
Me: Bakit ka nag-e-english?
Friend: Hindi mo sinagot tanong ko.
Me: 'Di mo din sinagot tanong ko.
Friend: *rolls eyes*
Me: Hm.
Friend: Must be the coffee.
Me: *O_O* Ha? Ano?
Friend: Sagot ko.
Me: Ah, okay.
Friend: So?
Me: So..?
Friend: *threatens to spill coffee all over me* Need I explain more?
Me: ...coffee.
Friend: Ano?
Me: Ewan. Baka yung coffee din.
Friend: Kanina mo pa kinokopya sagot ko.
Me: Pagmamay-ari mo?
Friend: Oh, HAHA, very funny.
Me: ...basta. Coffee.
Friend: Hindi nga mainit yung coffee, what the hell makes you think I believe that?
Me: Hindi naman kita kinukumbinsi eh. Sinasabi ko sayo sagot ko.
Friend: Whate-
Me: *with slightly strong and commanding accent* Enough with the English-speaking-bull.
Friend: Heh, eh ba't ikaw?
Me: Coffee.
Friend: What?
Me: Yung coffee siguro.
Friend: Hay. You're still blushing.
Me: Coffee.
Friend: Ubos na coffee mo, gago.
Me: Apparently so. *smile dripping with sarcasm*
Friend: *>_>* Gago.
Me: May sakit ata ako.
Friend: Coffee makes you blush. Yun na yun.
Me: Hm.

Coffee makes me blush. Yay me.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:26 PM, ,

at this moment
Saturday, April 14, 2007

I want nothing more than be on the place where the sea, the sky, and the sun meet.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:57 PM, ,

no more sugar

Pictures. Hmm, pictures. They're so overrated. Yes, my new favorite word is overrated. Therefore pictures are overrated. Hmm, pictures. Pictures. Gah.

Smile, and stretch those muscles upwards. People don't seem to get the idea of what a smile is, and thus, the birth of varying smiles. Smiles are NOT overrated. They're nice, to a certain extent, but also relative. It's different for one, and could be worth a grimace for another. Smiles, hmm. Smiles somehow differ when you have glasses on, or have a weird hair accessory accentuated at a 38 degree angle of your forehead-hair border. Are smiles limited to the formation of the lips into crescent/curvilinear/whatever slits and the showing/not showing of pearly whites? Relativity applied, then. Eyes can smile, too, apparently. And the face in its entirety. This is how much I've spent observing other people's smiles, yes. Smiles. Hmm, smiles.

Hand gestures mean nothing in a picture. It's just.. automatic.

Dazzle it up a bit with ribbons, and you've got yourself a life.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:10 PM, ,

a stalker's musings
Friday, April 13, 2007

I’ve grown fond of staring at you with your head turned away

You are nature
Your hair, black as the unlit sky
Strands moving sideways, slowly, like clouds that mix with the dark palette

Your neck, like waterfalls that drop towards a plane of virgin exotica
My lips being invited, like feeble strangers, to flow with the gentle streams
Tempted to indulge in a passionate union between flesh and sea

You are nature
Your back, contoured like mountain landscapes
Framing what could possibly be a living definition of life and beauty
Both visually aesthetic, and intensively seductive
It manages to satisfy one’s hunger for such exquisite artistry
But also makes the artiste crave for more
(Hence, the perfect muse.)
Lines emanating from one point to the other
My fingers being tempted to traverse such paths
Supple like the untilled lands of royalty
A journey that, once taken, could most possibly never end

You are nature

You are everything around me and more


You are my everything,

But only when I stare at you,
With your head turned away

Can't get funnier than that.

smiled at the sun again @ 10:16 PM, ,

what is
Thursday, April 12, 2007

voices are overrated.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:26 PM, ,

力フイイ~~

＿|￣|O

And this is because I'm not good enough for a DeviantArt account.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:28 AM, ,

glass eye

i miss you

i miss you even when i'm looking at you

not that i get a lot of chances to

but still

i miss you when i'm looking at you

'cause i know you're looking at something else

or if in my direction,

something beyond me

it's sad

and now i admit like a pathetic loser

i miss you

badly

damn you.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:12 AM, ,

100th post

nothing smart here.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:10 AM, ,

step
Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Don't laugh.

I'll kill you if I hear or see the slightest movement of facial muscle.

Inside and outside.

smiled at the sun again @ 6:34 PM, ,

nyar

See what you fucking did? I was writing something then I deleted it just because I saw the tiniest glimpse of you. Fuck you. Yes. Fuckity McFuck you.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:57 AM, ,

da ba dee
Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Yo listen up: here's a story
About a little guy
That lives in a blue world
And all day and all night and everything he sees is
Just blue like him inside and outside
Blue his house with a blue little window
And a blue Corvette and everything is blue for him
And himself and everybody around
'Cause he aint got nobody to listen

smiled at the sun again @ 10:01 PM, ,

that's the POWER!

I hate you.

Don't worry, I hate me, too.

smiled at the sun again @ 2:58 PM, ,

cinderella 'till 9:00 PM

I've been saying this loads of times already, and not once had I remained true to it, and I probably won't be starting right now, but this will be the last. Seriously. See? I'm a floater in an open sea, as the CSI people would say it. I'm the recoil that digs a ring around the eye when firing an RPG with the speed of 367ft/sec. I'm the result of something destructive and incoherent, and I will hurt. But it'll take a long time before I get into it again. But I will get into it again, given that I have the right amount of rockets/grenades. I say, now, this is the last.. for now.

smiled at the sun again @ 2:50 PM, ,

advent of window panes
Monday, April 9, 2007

Coffee and sweet delicacies are my comfort items.

Oh my god. I'm turning into L. >.>

I wonder where I can find those sugar cones..

smiled at the sun again @ 12:29 AM, ,

time capsule

'tis time.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:10 AM, ,

This will make more sense than you give it credit

When you get lost along the way,

Say, in a week's time,

Remember that

In the errors of 404 and unknown information

You will see salvation after

onelastsunset

smiled at the sun again @ 12:00 AM, ,

translation: end
Sunday, April 8, 2007

Once upon a time, a little boy--

No wait, that is not appropriate. This is not just any other time, and no ordinary boy. He was the boy that everybody forgot. His parents, the maids, the children outside, the mailman, the priest - everyone.

This boy is L, and that is his name. L had everything he ever wanted - a large bedroom with a king-size bed, a humongous toy box filled with mountains and mountains of plastic toys, a tray that is mysteriously filled everyday with sweets and candies and everything that he likes.

But mummy and daddy never had enough time to spend with him, being busy with all the work they do in their offices, and even those that they bring at home. L is not acknowledged by the other kids that play outside, on the streets, because he had never stepped outside the boundaries of his dormant house. Inside, he did everything he could to be noticed by his parents, or even the numerous nameless maids cleaning their home. He tried being good, and helping around the house, but it did not work. He tried to be oh-so-not-good, still, it did not work. Every time he fails, he slumps back to his dark room. This was his life - surrounded by blank, plastic toys, artificial foodstuffs, and the sinking bed he had to suffocate on every night. There was no one to tuck him into bed, scare off the monsters in the closet, turn of the TV when he was asleep - there was no one, and therefore, L was forgotten.

On this night, after another routinely act of self-definition, L had decided to look out into the sight beyond his window and its drapes. Outside, a star that had seemingly fallen shone ominously in his eyes. It darted from one point to another, and L had remembered that there was a poem about such things, falling stars.

And he wished...

and wished..

WISHED...

with all his might...

Please...

PLEASE...

for a friend that'd help him reach high places, sit down with him with petty tea parties, tear up pages of notebooks and homeworks. And as if on cue, a ghostly light had shone a path from the star, and appeared what L had wanted. They wasted no time playing with each other and doing things that L had hoped he would've done with a friend.

After a while, L had suddenly felt something was missing. Even with the giggles that he shared with his new friend, Mister Applemouth, he felt nasty tugs inside that bothered him, and left him hanging. But he ignored those pulling feelings inside, and tried to enjoy the company of Mister Applemouth. Sadly, he was confronted with another problem, as he heard a jolly laughter coming from the parlor.

A maid, which L remembered to be one of the maids who never really talked to him, came rushing into his room, and announced in a happy tone, "Oh L, isn't it wonderful? Your mom's going to have another baby!" And with this, she disappeared, as quick as she had come.

Mister Applemouth was smiling, but when he looked at L's response, Mister Applemouth frowned. At first, L was blank, just blank. Soon, he copied the expression of Mister Applemouth's face, and frowned, then when anger came rushing in, it turned into a pained expression, one that made him clench his fist and turn scarlet with fuming rage. He thinks to himself, "How dare they replace me with another baby? Am I not enough?" And with this, he screamed, as he couldpossibly do nothing more. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

With L's every scream, Mister Applemouth grew drastically in size, absorbing the blind wrath that came from the little boy, and soon he had gone through the roof, and was larger than the rich house. L continued to scream, not noticing what had happened to Mister Applemouth. His new friend did what L could not, but had wanted: Mister Applemouth ripped half of the house open and buried everyone with it - everyone who never spent time with L. Mister Applemouth continued to rampage through the town, and destroyed everything in sight - the children who never bothered to invite L and the huge tree across the street where the children used to play, the mailman who never handed L the letters and his automobile, and the church that had the priest who laughed at L's prayers - they all suffered a terrible and quick demise.

L stopped screaming. And Mister Applemouth was back, beside him. L realized: he had no one anymore. He did not cry anymore. There was no need. But when he saw the star he had wished open, he remembered the same poem.

And he wished...

and wished..

WISHED...

with all his might...

Please...

PLEASE...

And as if on cue, a ghostly light had shown and lighted what was left of L's room. Though he had promised to never shed another tear, the last one fell down his right cheek, and both he and Mister Applemouth faded into the white light and floated towards the star.

And the boy who was forgotten, became the boy that was lost.

But to be lost, meant someone had to own him, and that is still not appropriate.

Just like everyone else, he was no one.

The boy who was nobody.

Every night, when you hear nothing but the nightly breeze, you will here the same voice, the voice who remembered the poem of the shining star,

Still wishing..

and wishing..

WISHING...

with all his might..

Please...

PLEASE...


The End.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:41 AM, ,

white
Saturday, April 7, 2007

snowflakes are falling, and it's really cold.

smiled at the sun again @ 3:54 PM, ,

devil may cry
Friday, April 6, 2007

I feel like cheating death today.

smiled at the sun again @ 1:53 PM, ,

nyuuuuuuuu

when arms are not enough
to take you to your dreams
flap them like a penguin
though you are a skinless chicken

smiled at the sun again @ 10:52 AM, ,

fake away shot

and this is why those who smile deviously to themselves are perceived as the embodiment of all things delusional and chaotic.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:11 AM, ,

wake up call
Thursday, April 5, 2007

*riiiiiiiiiing*

*riiiiiiiiiing*

*riiiiiiiiiing*

Zzzzzzzzz.

*riiiiiiiiiing*

*riiiiiiiiiing*

*grunt*

*snort*

*riiiiiiiiiing*

...llo?

Wake up.

smiled at the sun again @ 9:43 PM, ,

backlash

And the flower strikes back.

smiled at the sun again @ 10:44 AM, ,

much has been said

Beep. I have been censored. Apparently, I am not quite as oblivious as people perceive me. Shining eyes define the thin glass of ice delving within. Glares, not those that signify extreme vexation, but those that are made through the bending of light's path, are deflected into the line of sight, and people understand to that extent only. I'll shrug and groan as a form of polite response, as that is the most ethical thing I could to that'd work both ways.

I want a striped jacket and a pair of striped socks. Black and white please.

Stalker, much?

smiled at the sun again @ 10:35 AM, ,

pdodge
Wednesday, April 4, 2007

you are the star that is too shiny for my eyes
but shiny enough to show me the world
i many not be able to look at you
you'll always make me smile
everytime i see the true colors or the sewage system.

haha. i'm flattered.

don't be.
i'm getting stiff necks
and consistent migraines
and patches of sunburns
because of you.

sleep.

smiled at the sun again @ 11:34 PM, ,

L is for List

L helped me count the number of people I know, and just how many times I've snobbed a whole lot of people.

Number of people I know: 198 (many are forgotten, this is what we have counted and remembered so far)

Number of people I know (excluding family, relatives, distant relatives and the like): 131

From the 131, we have concluded that:

> Around 87 of them I know personally - meaning, I have known them for at least more than 2 minutes of my life, and have walked at least 1 meter with them with at most a 11 cm distance between. Those who don't fall to that category, you are probably on the other 44 people I know. Period. Meaning, I only know you by name and/or face and/or academic achievements, and I have not stepped more than twice with you, and have not spoken beyond the simplest of hi's and hello's.

> Of the 87, 53 are former and/or existing classmates that I currently see around school. The remaining 34 are 2nd level friends (friends of friends) and most probably, you're from the same school as mine (the one I attend today).

> In the 53 former classmates, the number of people I still talk to is 4. Snob count: 49 people.

> Of the 34 2nd level friends, I say Hello to 26 people. Snob count: 8 people. ("Achievement!", as L said.)

> Among the 44 that are blurs, there are only 7 I consistently say Hi to, or at least wave and make a 1 second eye contact. There rest, I ignore. Snob count: 37 people.

Total Snob Count: 94 people.
71% of the people I know, I ignore.

Of course, not including those I have forgotten, which would definitely increase the percentage.

Where do I put you?

smiled at the sun again @ 11:07 PM, ,

play tetris

For 48 seconds, I drew.

Chibi L and a huge ass strawberry which looks like an acorn.

Oh, happy days.

<3

smiled at the sun again @ 9:36 PM, ,

note to whoever

Don't throw such a big word into conversations; it's so obvious that it's a pathetic attempt to save yourself the scrap of dignity left in you, and to remind yourself the power you have over me. Reality check and read slowly: I don't fucking care. There are no agreements, no contracts, no nothing. That broke off a long time ago, or did your shallow brain of yours overload with dead brain cells? Pathetic, really pathetic. And hypocritical.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:20 AM, ,

this is my turn
Tuesday, April 3, 2007

My fairy tale,

My rules.

Live with it or I'll throw you off.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:20 PM, ,

i'm blind

kacho ee. kacho ee. kacho ee. Genki ni desu? Aa.

smiled at the sun again @ 7:15 PM, ,

flat out

*pinipilit ngumiti*

Alam mo, parang okay lang.

Kasi, wala na akong maramdaman.

Kasi, wala na ata akong puso.

Kasi, awla na atang laman to e.

*sabay hampas sa dibdib*

Kasi, sobrang sakit na.

Kasi, sobrang sakit na, namanhid na tuloy.

*pinilit uli ngumiti*

Pwede ba yun?

Manhid na walang puso?

Diba ibig sabihin kapag may nararamdaman ka, o sa lagay na to, namamanhid ka na, ibig sabihin nandun pa rin?

Parang philosophy na to a.

Pero ayun.

Masakit pa din.

Ay, manhid na nga pala.

So... Ewan ko lang.

Bili tayo ng halo-halo.

Apir tayo, mehn. Hebi. Ulol mo, gago. 'Wag kang paawa effect, 'di bagay.

smiled at the sun again @ 12:11 AM, ,

yoroshiku
Monday, April 2, 2007

I am in love.

Seriously.

With

summer breeze.

What the hell were you thinking?

Finally, something good about summer.

Oh and, strawberries, the ones freshly picked. And frothy, creamy, milky, white cream. With strawberry syrup. Overload, yay <3.

Watching the skies streak through the blue blanket above. It's like watching someone accidentally trip on some unknown object and pour white paint all over a blue wall. It's all scattered, and the blue palette is completely destroyed in demure white streaks.

I wait for cotton candy skies to be eaten elegantly by rays of light.

smiled at the sun again @ 2:23 PM, ,

afraid

As what was past,

"Just smile."

:D

smiled at the sun again @ 12:30 AM, ,

blindly staring at the sun, with a sun-kissed smile