Taking a hard fall

This is the kind of thing I thought only happens in the movies – falling down in the bathroom. So when it was my turn to fall, butt down mind you, it came as a surprise. So unexpected. But so real, and oh so painful.

Anyway, the aftermath of slipping and falling is a scratch with some flesh coming off, and a long knife-like tail. I wish I had pictures, but it would be too sadistic to take one (my wing mate took pictures though). I can’t even wear my shirt now! But that’s not the point. The point here is that this happen so unexpectedly and it made me think of all the things that have happened in my life.

Up to now, things that I did, I do so with careful planning. Trying to expect things that I think would happen, taking precautions. But the real troubles in my life, it seemed, have always been the things that blindsided me on an idle Friday evening. Nothing in my studies, or my preparation in the learning institution, prepares me for things like that. It seems I learn the most by falling down.

And my life flashes in front of me when I was tripping down. Over dramatizing here but, it did felt as if I was going to die. Imagine if my head went down first. Someone told me it must have been painful, falling down, ’cause I’m fat. I cannot totally disagree =p

But the point is still this, I cannot prepare for everything and there is always something unexpected which will slow me on my tracks. And that, I gotta live with.

3 am

3 am in the morning, and I am feeling lonely. It feels quiet, but my heart is as noisy. Nothing. Just thought a random post on nothing would do me good once in a while. This is for missing for more than 2 months.

“The longest journey a man must take is the 18 inches from his head to his heart”

Pre-Birthday Blues

I have PMS. And I sincerely think it is a serious mental condition, or health, whichever way you look at it. And getting all emo is nothing new to me. But this, this funny feeling has been nagging me since I celebrated my friend’s birthday month or so ago. And everything ever since has been very blackish. Like living a nightmare that won’t stop. And when people asked if I am OK, I lied over and over again. But that’s how it is with me.

I think, and I don’t mean those empty thoughts, that after 23 years of living I have nothing to show for. I have no significant achievements. And I don’t consider being able to drink 10 cups of coffee in 2 hours an achievement. And I have no significant contribution to mankind, or earth. Idealistic maybe, but it’s my birthday and I’d think that way if I want to.

I have done nothing to make friends around me feel better. In fact I probably caused them more troubles. I have not made anyone’s life a bit better, or make them breathe  better. In fact, and this is not exaggerating,  I might have caused couples of heart attacks with my antics. But I was young, you understand don’t you

I have been very reckless with people’s heart. And I am not proud of that. And I have a taste of my own medicine some time ago. But that’s another story for another day. I have not tried anything new for fear of failures and fear of embarrassment. But I get by

Most important, and this is what been keeping me moody nowadays, I have nobody close whom I am comfortable enough to completely open-up and bare my sins, or fears, or anything in between. I used to have this one lady whom I confided most of my inner world. But she left. And now it feels empty, and void, and difficult when I need to open up to complete strangers (not exactly, but still).

And with 5 days or so to my birthday, I feel like life has no meaning to be the cause of celebration for being alive for 23 years. Someone asked me what I really want for my birthday. I really, really want this emo to go away so that I can feel free again. So that I can open-up and love again. Brothers don’t count.