pursuitforthebetter asked: hello hahahahahaha
Hello Kah! HAHA
I want you to tell me that this will not end in the way it did before. Because this is starting to feel like how it started then. I want you to tell me that there is a new context to everything - that there is no past to speak of, for we have regarded it as irrelevant to where we are now.
I looked at you and I stopped to look away. And then I looked at you again. Only then did I realize that the things I have fallen before are the things I am falling for now - your smile, your laugh, your eyes that continue to baffle me why they strike me the way they do.
And then I figure that this may not be a case of deja vu. How can history repeat itself when the first instance may not have stopped at all? What if, all this time, I never stopped falling for you? That all the times I seemed like I wasn’t were just times that I distract myself from you? Look at the timing of everything. Everything makes sense, at least for me.
And so, I decide, that it’s up to you to decide. Do not expect me to take the first step into the unendless pit you have set me up before. Because when I took that leap, I fell hard. And apparently, I haven’t even landed yet.
Anonymous asked: do you believe in fate? how about second chances?
No, I don’t believe in fate. I believe that we control much of what goes around in our lives. While we cannot choose the situations we find ourselves in, we are the ones responsible for the decisions we make in the face of these situations.
I hate the concept of fate because I feel it’s such a passive attitude towards what we want to achieve in life - a defeatist syndrome. If I want something, I don’t have to fight for it because fate decides it for me. No use reaching it because it all depends on whether it’s “meant to be,” right?
Same reason why I do believe in second chances. Because ultimately, it is up to us to consider these chances. While I am of the belief that “first chances” end for reasons that cannot simply be eradicated, I still believe in the notion that second chances are possible. It’s just that I’m not a fan of going back to what has already ended.
That’s the thing about letting someone go. It’s that one day, when she looks back, all she’d remember is an experience, a period of time in her lives with you. No way would she remember the person she had loved so dearly.
Anonymous asked: what do you keep in your drafts?
Stories of old that seem to be unrefreshingly current. I don’t know if it’s a cyclical curse or cynical clutch.
Either way, they were stories of happiness, and they were stories of sadness. I’d like to believe there could have been more but all that is left are words unsaid.
Anonymous asked: How are you?
I’d like to say I’m getting by, but I don’t think I’ve gone too far at all.
Anonymous asked: It is 1 a.m. tell me about your worst heartbreak
Allow me to answer this with only one sentence, the next:
My biggest heartbreak is that I’ll never know just how it feels to be loved be you.
Anonymous asked: what is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you? (:
God, I suck at memories.
It’s not that I don;t remember them. It’s just that I have a way of not knowing what it is I need to remember when done forcibly. I can’t choose to remember certain stories, because like what I hope to be, they are random, mercilessly attacking me when I least expect it.
I apologize if I cannot name a certain event or action that I can consider the sweetest. This is also because I know that sweetness is relative to a person. I think, in the end, it’s not the action that we define as sweet, but the effort. It’s more of weighing what that person cannot do against what s/he has done for me.
If this is the case, then to be loved when I was most unlovable can probably be the sweetest thing that I have ever experienced. But that’s not really saying something, because I’ve been told I’m unlovable all the time. Props for those who have overcame.
He’s in his room, weeping quietly. Isolated from the outside world, he fends for himself.
‘Nothing is wrong with me’, he whispers over and over again. His weak sobs grow stronger, filling the empty room.
No ones knows he’s breaking.
No one, but himself.
And the tears on his bed.
wherethetidestakeme asked: HEEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOOO
Hello, my friend.
Malapit na tayo mataposssssssss!