It's the twenty third of December

and we're opening presents early
so as not to hassle ourselves in bringing the presents all the way to tagaytay.

In all honesty I don't feel the festivities.
I don't feel the joy.
I've been sad as of late.
I think it all started during finals week (more like a month).
Unfortunately,
It never really ended.
I guess I was hoping to rest the minute finals was over,
but instead baking, shopping, planning and parties ensue.

Of course, in itself, these aren't exactly things one should complain about. Heck there probably isn't anything wrong with them.

But I guess my expectations of rest preceded everything.
I guess I just wanted the world to stop and find some room to breathe and close my eyes.
I haven't really had time to do that.

On top of all that I feel and look like shit.
According to our not so trusty weighing scale I am less than 105 lbs.
Horrible. Just Horrible.
My face, well, don't get me started on my face.
It just is, well, fug.

Oh and last Tuesday, which was a 20th, I met up with Tim the last minute.
Little did I know, he brought three of his friends.
It was surprisingly just slightly awkward.
Though one of his friends didn't look at me at all during the whole thing.
I was often left to my own devices whilst they talk about their work, things that have happened to their group friends, photography and the list goes on.
Tim's one friend though, Alejandro, was nice enough to try to make conversation with me. That was nice and sweet of him.
He asked Tim and I how we met, to which Tim answered:
"We used to date."
If I heard correctly, Alejandro said the perfect word for the situation "Awkwaard."

It was really.
But with my poker face skillz I looked as if I was unfazed.
But it was. It was awkward.
Probably because he decided to tell me without telling me.
I didn't really know how to react to it.
Heck, I still don't.
I don't know if it's cruel to say that I don't really feel bad about the idea of Tim and I not dating, but I guess I'm more distraught about the idea of being alone and misunderstood. That the result of Tim and I's failed 'relationship' would set the tone to the rest of my would-be relationships (or in this case, lack thereof).
I love Tim. He's a great guy. But I think we were never really in it.
Or at least not to the point of 'progress' as I would quote him.

He deserves someone much better.

I've also been thinking about the idea of the college being the best years of one's life.

Long story short, I've cried countless times at the thought of this, hoping that these words won't be crossing my lips ten years later.

Only because I haven't done much.
It doesn't help that I haven't done any art at all since my break.
*cry*
I realized I'm still the loser I was in high school. If not loser then the pathetic, miserable soul that I, apparently, still am.

I realize that I don't have a loved one to call my own.
I don't have a Rina or a Neiel or a Carla.
I realize I don't have a best friend.
That, I have to admit, is entirely my fault.
My fear of opening up to anyone but myself and the idle air around me is biting me in the ass.
I don't have anyone to talk to.
A person to call at 2am because I needed someone to talk to.
Someone who I could call the last minute to hang out with me.
Someone who knows when I'm distraught.
Someone who knows how I really feel and knows that when I'm standoff-ish that that's when I need a hug the most.
Someone who I could talk to when I don't feel like crying my heart out in the bathroom.
Someone who I can be perfectly strange to.
Someone who I can be completely myself without being judged.
Someone who makes me know no fear.

It is a tall order, I know.
And I know that the only thing keeping me from having such a friend is myself.
My fear of opening myself up.
I'm not brave enough to bear myself,
to sew my heart on my sleeve.

Hence the blog.



It's the twenty third of December.
And I'm tired.
And apparently
alone.