"Forever's an awfully long time."

They say that a broken heart is a fast-flowing river. Get a damn hammer, nails and some plywood, build a bridge, and get over that thing.

Oh, if it were only that easy.

Realizing that I’ve written about the same topic exactly one year ago reminds me that there are things that I still haven’t gotten over. Seeing him again after nearly four years brought pains in my chest that I thought I had forgotten to feel. Seeing him again after nearly four years brought back butterflies into my heart that I thought had gone dormant.

I thought I had grown stronger. I thought I had gotten over him. I thought that the thorn in my side that was him had already been plucked away. I thought I would prove him wrong. I thought I would make him wish he had never hurt me. I thought that I had sung every Taylor Swift song, and felt better because of it. I thought I could stop hurting and forget. I thought I was over it. 

There are countless times that I find myself being proven wrong.

The thing is, no matter how many times you tell yourself you’ve gotten over somebody, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve actually gotten over him. You can lie to yourself all you want, and fool that brain of yours into thinking that you’ve crushed into a million other guys after him. You can try and think that people you meet are a million times better, and that they’re worth your time.

But when you see him again, every wall you’ve built around yourself to keep him out crumbles. When you hear his voice again, every ear and heart plug you instilled in yourself to make yourself stronger stops working. When he smiles at you in the way you used to love, you stop functioning the way you want to.

As these thoughts run into my head, through my veins and into my fingers, all from the veins and arteries that make up my heart, I can only think of you.

And I can only think, If there was one person that I ever really was in love with, it would be you.


Habada, Riri.

Last year, I remember promising you a happy birthday blog post, ala Kai and Yiyin. Sadly, WordPress was a bitch (sorry, WordPress) and I wasn’t able to post it. The least I could do for this birthday was to finally post it. 

ay2 ay3 ay4 ay5 ay6 ay7 ay8 ay9 ay10 ay11 ay12         aycontinuephotobombing


Okay, so I have NO IDEA what happened to WordPress. xD It’s been so long, and I would have LIKED to post them individually but I don’t even know what happened. D: 


You deserve happiness. You deserve to live for five thousand years and beyond, because life should be good to you. You deserve to have a boyfriend who looks like Jensen and Misha and Jared together, and has the striking finese of a panther, with features like Adonis and an aura that screams ‘sex’. You deserve all the books in the world, and you deserve great friends who love you and support you. (And your creative skills)

We’ve been friends for at least two years now, maybe even more, and I wish we’d be friends forever xD (Awww) You’re my online quiz taking buddy, my reading buddy, and my supportive buddy. I shall never forget you, and doncha ever forget that. xx 

Don’t stop singing, don’t stop being creative, and don’t stop joking those oh so funny jokes.


So anyways, happy birthday ririI can’t bold that enough. 

Wait. Happy 20th birthday Riri. You are now officially older than your mamots. 😀 Have fun today! I love you so much mwamwachupchupssssssssss. xoxo


Dear you.

Seeing you for the first time in 5 years completely threw me off guard. Seeing you casually leaning against that terrace like you had no other care in the world suddenly made me feel like a first year high school student again.

I had dreamed that when I saw you for the first time after you broke my heart so many times and still made me love you, that I would be the one thing you’d never have. I dreamed of meeting you when I was successful with a license in nursing, slim and beautiful, confident and classy. I had dreamed of making you ask for my number over and over again, and me giving you a smug, simple, NO.

It’s funny how the things we dream about the most almost always don’t end up the way we want them to.

I saw you for the first time, completely out of my element and unprepared. Clumsy. Maybe the make up made me beautiful. I don’t know. All I know is, we saw each other for the first time in 5 years and I am 100% sure that you were just as unprepared as I was.

Surrounded by people who loved us together and loved us apart, I couldn’t help but notice that people were trying to push us together. Make it known that we were the only single pringles at the table. Ask us to pass things to each other, and giggle when we’d put our hands at the most awkward of angles, just to avoid hand and finger touches that would remind me (probably, mostly, hopefully not just me) of 3AM, hand holding and warm palms.

I remember how I was hoping it wasn’t just my imagination when I’d see you out of the corner of my eye, staring at me, or probably the wall behind me. I remember how I’d stare at you, wondering how in the world did it come to this? And then of course, the inevitable game of eye tag, where we try our hardest not to catch the other staring at us.

And I remember wondering what in the world had happened to me? Here I was; so sure that I had moved on and forgotten. So sure that my heart belonged to someone else. Only to be turned upside down, just by looking at you.

So suddenly sure that I had not moved on. So suddenly sure that among all of the crushes I had, among all those ‘loves’ and hits and misses, you were the one who stood out. And then it became clear to me. I had not moved on. Not even close. I had merely pushed you to the back of my mind, forgotten. Because if I had moved on, before leaving you for an indefinite amount of years, I would have walked up to you that night, looked you in the eye, and said goodbye. Said goodbye with the finality of someone who had moved on.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even say goodbye. Not even until the very last second. I felt like such a coward.

And so, as I talk with my psychologist friend and ponder about these feelings, I, by the power vested in me, pronounce you (you, not the friend) as my first love.

And I also pronounce you as not dead.

Love, me.

Chances are…

He was the high school senior that everyone went ga-ga for. Including me. He was tall, athletic, funny, and good with kids. He was amazingly nice and had a smile that reached his eyes and went straight down your throat and into your stomach. He wasn’t the first one for me, but he was the first one who wiggled his way into my heart, and stayed in my good graces. The first one to help me forget I was hurting. The first one who never hurt me.

He broke my rule of ‘not falling for anyone who was loved by all’. He was the one who made my heart flutter again after that first heartbreak. He was the one who smiled at me from across the pool and would look away when I tried to look closer. He was the one who asked for my number and texted me during the wee hours of the night. He was the one who called me when I was sick and spent hours talking on the phone to me about swimming and everything under the sun. 

He was cliched moments. He was distractions and smiles and butterflies. 

He was September all the way to February, he was the itch that I couldn’t get rid of. 

He was the recipient of my stares behind darkly tinted sunglasses. He was the knight in shining armor that saved me from hurt and from bullies. He was the voice that brought me back to earth when my favorite pet died. He was the big, boisterous laugh that I adopted. He was the guy who knew when to high-five me when I didn’t get a medal. He was the guy I went to the pool for. He was the first one to tell me, besides my family, that he loved me. 

I was fearful of reJection, fearful of hopes and dreams and making the same mistakes. I was a sophomore. I thought I knew everything. I thought treating those words as nothing would be normal. I thought I was going to get hurt again. 

He slipped away and I never regretted anything more. But to my surprise, he stayed constant in my life. Periods when I would see him and we’d act like nothing happened. Little shoulder punches, winks and jokes that were nothing. Cheering for me during competitions. That smile I loved so much.

Nearly six years pass. 

Now he is still a friend. He is still an itch I get every few times a year when we meet. We meet rarely, yes, but we meet. We don’t text anymore, but when we see each other it’s like my world stops turning. He is still smiles and jokes, is still winks and shoulder pushes. I don’t swim anymore, but this time it’s my sister he cheers for. He got a bit chubby, but he’s still the heartthrob the girls sighed for. 

He is still a smile, and a little jolt in my pulse when he passes by. He is still blushes and stares from behind sunglasses. He is still high-fives and secret moments, he still sticks up for me when people tease me. He is still a flutter in my heart, even though he shares that flutter with someone else. More than that, more than all of those things, in his eyes, I see that he is a chance. A chance that blossoms every time we meet. It won’t be a flower tomorrow (which is the next time we’ll see each other), and it won’t be a flower next week… but when it grows, it will become a chance to start again, a chance to take back my laughs and nonchalance. I like the sound of that. A chance. 

A beautiful chance. 

Wading Deep In

Feet bare, I feel the cool, rough sand beneath my feet.

Ready to step in, but afraid of the cold waters that hold unseen dangers

Inviting me in, teasing me and telling me that this is the best

Eclipsing the feelings of fear are those of longing; I want to wade deep in.

Never have I felt like so. I let my mind wander, not knowing that the water is already to my ankles

Deeper I tread, feeling tendrils of ice around my feet, daring me to fall back. But no.

Zinging up my spine are tendrils of ice. How can something so wrong feel so right?

Over and over I tell myself I can’t. Over and over again my feet wade further into the surf.

Night falls and I’m still here; water waist high and not getting any warmer. Tomorrow comes.

Even then I know that I’m not leaving these waters.

An acrostic.

In my classroom, I am known as The Girl with the Enormous Blue Headset. Or earphones. Whatever’s plugged into my ears at the moment. When teachers remind the class not to listen to music during an exam, or have earphones in while there’s a class tour, I know they mean me. And my classmates know that, too.

I’ve been known as The Girl with the Headset (TGH) for so long that my classmates have somewhat adapted to me. They know that they should always tap my shoulder before talking so that I know someone’s talking to me. The thing is, they do it even though I’m not plugged in. And they remind others to do it too, and I know that because I can hear them clear as day… if the song’s as soft and slow as ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perry.

My music taste ranges from screamo bands to acoustic covers and pop rock punk songs to Disney Original Soundtracks. I’ll be the one who’ll be humming ‘On My Own’ from Les Miserables, then snapping her fingers to “Royals” by Lore and then headbanging to Fall Out Boy’s ‘The Phoenix’ the next.

I’m a fan of a lot of artists, bands, and movie OSTs. For example, my songs consist artists, bands and OSTs such as but not limited to: Katy Perry, Disney movies, Swedish House Mafia, Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, MCR, Escape the Fate, JLo, High School Musical, One Republic, Metallica, AC/DC, Backstreet Boys, Guns n’ Roses, Taylor Swift, Bonjovi, Michael Jackson, Rocket to the Moon, Linkin Park, P!nk, Boyce Avenue, Aviicii Nick Pitera, Frozen, Britney Spears, Rrihanna, Falling in Reverse, Tangled, Les Miserables, Adam Lambert, Phillip Phillips, Ellie Goulding, The Script, David Guetta, The Last Sleepless City, Passenger, Pierce the Veil, Eminem, Emile Sande, Phantom of the Opera, Nickelback, David Archuleta, Christina Perri, Avril Lavigne, Miley Cyrus, Paramore, Glee, Alex Goot, Sleeping with Sirens, John Legend, Green Day, Beyonce, Justin Timberlake, Pitbull, the Jonas Brothers, Lawson, Christina Aguilera, King the Kid, Skrillex, Maroon 5, Demi Lovato, Jay-Z, Nicki Minaj, The Vamps, even One Direction! I’m not such a fan of the band, but there are songs I can’t help but bop my head to.

The only thing you WON’T find on my phone is Justin Bieber, so don’t even ask.

Anyways, after that long, diverse list that’s just there for the sake of proving that I like anything I find good under the sun… Girls think it’s weird. Guys think it’s cool. Gays think I’m lesbian. Young kids think I’m old. Old people think I’m immature. Me? I think nothing of it.

You see, music doesn’t denote stereotypes. I mean, isn’t the normal stereotype for people who listen to screamo, metal, and hardcore music something like, ‘rebel’, ‘delinquent’, ‘unhappy with life’, or something like that? I don’t think that’s true. The same goes that if you’re a guy who likes Lady Gaga, you’re not necessarily gay.

My conclusion?

I’m just a girl with a wide taste of music. A completely normal girl who thinks guys are hot and would like to dedicate metal songs to them. Is that such of a deviant behavior that I should be condemned for it?


So I watched a much-awaited movie with my friend earlier. (Thanks, master.) And well, this isn’t going to be a movie review. This is going to be a compilation of the thoughts that I had before, during and after the movie. Without spoilers, of course.



Need I mention the movie’s title? Okay, okay, I will. Amazing Spider Man 2. 


As I was offered the chance to see the movie as a treat, I didn’t really have time for it to sink in. You know, that feeling when you’re on the way to the movie theater when you’re like, “Oh, my goodness. I am going to see The Avengers/Maleficent/The Fault in Our Stars/MUST – SEE MOVIE OF THE YEAR today with my family. This is going to be so exciting!” And you feel so happy and excited for the rest of the trip that you’re practically jumping by the time you’re entering the mall.

Another pre-movie experience was the fact that I was well aware of the ending because of some certain spoilers from both riends and the internet. And I guess it’s safe to say that that ruined nearly the movie experience. *sighs* 

If I could give you one tip, one tip ever…




Movie Time! 

My over-all feelings and thoughts of the movie were… Well, both me and my companion, both spoiled by the outside world, thought that it was the most depressing movie in the world. Besides, you know, the first five minutes of Up, or Titanic. Putting all that aside, we both agreed that the spoilers had ruined our view of the movie forever, and if we hadn’t known what was going to happen, ASM 2 (because it’s getting kind of tiring to type the whole movie title) would have been pretty good.

Now, I’m more of a DC girl than a Marvel girl, and the Spiderman plot line (and the X-Men plot line, but that’s another story) is one I’m not very familiar with. But based on some of my friends, it was actually pretty accurate, more so than the first movies starring Tobey McGuire. Maybe when I’m familiar with the comic’s plot, I’ll come back and confirm this fact. 

Most of my praise, though, goes to the cast. I also enjoyed Andrew Garfield (because who doesn’t enjoy Andrew Garfield?) and Emma Stone’s relationship on screen. I found myself wishing (countlessly) that I could find someone as tall, funny, and carelessly handsome as Andrew. I also commend Dane de Haan for his portrayal of Harry Osbourne. 



While I was watching the film, I couldn’t help but point out the difference between de Haan’s Harry and James Franco’s Harry. If I were to choose between the two, I’d definitely choose de Haan. He pulls off the ‘rich, spoiled brat’ air that I think Harry Osborne should have. Not to mention that for some reason, he had me (and the girls behind me) noticing how pale blue his eyes were, and the appeal

Oh, the appeal. I think you know what I’m talking about. *wiggles eyebrows* 




Let’s see, let’s see, how do I go about this without spoiling anything to the readers?

I just decided. I can’t. Saying anything else would ruin the thing entirely.

Summary of Feelings.

It’s a pretty okay movie. Like I said in the title, I didn’t entirely regret it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that my 200 pesos (technically, my friends 200 pesos) were a complete waste. Everything in the world has a good side and a bad side, right? It’s just up to you to see if the director and producers efforts were enough to make you like it. 

PS. Be prepared for a whole load of lens flares. 

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