welcome fans!

When you don’t feel alive but you’re breathing, are you dead?
Should you wish for death or should you ask for life?

There
is really nothing worth dying nor worth living for in my life. I am
merely treading on, sailing through a mundane existence. All my goals
seem so near and yet I can’t seem to get there. I feel like my life
force has been sucked out of me. The only passion left is that for
procastination.

It is too early in life to break down. But I am broken. And I can’t fix me.

So fix me.

Today used to be a special day, operative word: USED (sounds more evil and hateful without the "to be").

This day started a three-year journey into a bottomless pit, a blackhole of misery that sucks the life and love out of a person. Sounds pretty scary. Don’t worry, only the most stupid fall into places like this. Stupidly, I am one of them.

Stupid is when you celebrate something that only reminds you of misery and disappointment.  Stupid is when you remind someone of an occasion only you, care to remember. Stupid is when you buy wine without knowing how to open it. Stupid is when after the ruthless struggle to open it,  you realize you don’t like how it tastes.

Love, indeed, breeds stupidity. But heartbreak is the mother of it.

Seven days to go before the lovers of the world unite and celebrate their wicked happiness…

First of all, FUCK YOU!

Second of all, MAGHIHIWALAY DIN KAYO, MGA P%+@-!#@ NIYO!

Third of all, hindi ako galit. Hindeeeee!!! Hindi talaga.

Alright, call this the "Pre-Valentine Confessions of a Single, Bitter, Wicked Woman-Girl!"

At around this time three years ago, I was so damn in love.

At around this time two years ago, I was torn between two lovers, feeling like a fool, ang haba-ng-hair girl.

At around this time one year ago, I was hopeful or should that be spelled, hope-fool.

At around this time, I am this bitter, suicidal heartbreak kid who has mastered the art of breaking one’s own heart and ranting about it after like some jaded, love-crazed maniac. Oh how I wish, it was just plain maniac.

This will be a very special Valentine’s Day, indeed. You are all welcome to the funeral of the brokenhearted.

Make this a Black Valentine. Oh yes, make that Clear.

I know someone
Who goes by this name
Whose every move is calculated
Like the game he loves the most
With winning in mind
He loses.

But he is not a loser
Although I would like to believe so.

He loves
Or pretends to do so
He refuses to love
For he is a coward who hides behind reason
With winning in mind
He loses.

He is a loser.
I would like to believe so.

For as life tortures him
He tortures mine.