i am emo...

I am emo…
am Brent.

I am emo with a smile. Isn’t it funny why identified emos dress the way they dress, talk the way they talk; as if telling the world “hey I’m alone!” These people are not emos they are simply alone and are trying to tell the world they need affection. Emos are not them…

The truth is that; the world is flooded with many emos but they are not the ones that wear dark eyeliners, one sided bangs, or I love and long for death shirts. Emos don’t show to the world that they are emos, black is not their color, death is not their destination, seas of fear and oceans of misery is not their mantra. Emos, the genuine race of emos are the ones that in a crowd get noticed, in a group they seem happy, with friends they radiates joy but in the confinement of their hearts, are alone and bleeding. Emos has this innate ability to effectively hide the real feelings they have; emos are programmed to smile in the presence of other people and cry in the darkness of their rooms. Emos are trained to hang around with friends, know their lives, care and care too much that even beyond pain, there persists love. Emos want others happy, because it’s what they also desire; they don’t influence others to feel the pain. In the veins of an emo, there runs an innate pain killer, suppressing the pain, clogging the bleeds, hiding the tears and supporting the tired heart to beat
.
We Emos love happiness, what makes us unique is that we genuinely share love and joy but we are selfish of pain and sorrow. This is our way of life, the real emo, makes no heart bleed, it’s better for us to bleed alone unless offered a hand. If there is none, the silence becomes our friend, the music our confidant, and the self… our only best friend.

I am Brent; am emo. Are you?

ask for more...

I have many things in life; but why is it that I still feel empty?

I remember when I was still a kid; mama never did permit me to go out of our compound. I had toys in the house but I don’t have playmates. I was over protected, well that was reasonable since way back then I was way too sickly. Still, looking back, I feel that I missed many things because of that; but I don’t blame anyone, I am not am if not because of that.

Back then, I would go out every time mama is at work, I would sneak out of the house, then off to the gates to the world I always wanted to experience. But every time I do so, I always return home with a bleeding wound, a teary eye and a frustrated heart. That was my life then.

I never realized how loved I was until mama died after a comatose; I was then turning ten, her funeral, my birthday. It was a huge change in my life; have learned the value of the things I have since then. Life changed after that day.
I’m 18 now, a have almost all the things that I need and many of a few things I have wanted. I am sheltered by a humble home at an Ayala Land; am being nourished more than enough; am given the opportunity to be cloth with names, even gets my feet kissed with the lips of Brazil; am studying at a known Jesuit University; am affiliated with peers that are living quite a good life, good enough to afford a the lust of luxury. But given all these, I still feel empty.
I have humble money, but I can’t buy happiness; I have friends, but I can’t demand affection; I have a house, but I don’t have a home; I have loved, but why is it that I am not loved. I don’t own the world, but I own many of a few of its stones but why is it that I still feel empty?


I am thankful to the Lord that he gave me these things…
… would it be ingratitude if I ask for more than what I have?

we could have been...

Could have been…
…more than this

I have cared for one person so much but never took courage to tell her and now it hurts knowing she’s found someone.

Life at times could be very unfair; there are lovers that never made it into a relationship simply because no one knows how to start the flare. There could have been burning stories of love and romance but the stories were never given the chance to be born. The spark was there but no one knows how to start the fire, thus the spark for the last moment flared and eternally remained a spark. The love story was suppressed till the bodies turned to ash…

I wish you won’t add up to the pile of these ashes; if you feel towards someone; then shout unto the world. The language of love knows no color, no race, no status; no gender… love is simply love.

Just a year ago I came into possession of two letters posted in the internet about two lovers that never realized that there was a flame between them. Read below and join me in my grief for another love felt, suppressed, and left dying. Sparks left to die…

Sofia’s Letter:
Hey there, I just saw you this morning. You were passing by the cafeteria. You were wearing your black, Donald duck t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. You were walking with your friends, chatting happily, with that dazzling smile affixed on your face .You flipped your hair slowly with your left hand, and as you passed by, a couple of girls followed you with their eyes. Our eyes met for a second, and I didn’t know what to do. I completely froze on my seat. You suddenly smiled, making me see the braces on your teeth. I smiled back timidly. You then walked past me, not giving me a second look. When I turned around you were already gone. Four months and nothing has changed. You’re still the cool varsity player who is also an officer of the most distinguished organizations in the campus. And I’m still that ordinary girl who sits behind you every MWF in our one hour class together. I think you only talked to me twice. Once was when you asked me if someone is seated beside me on the first day of classes, and I said yes. The last was when you asked me if I was done with our term paper. I never got the courage to talk to you first. You were so cool and popular, and I always feel like a nobody when you are around. I guess we could never be friends. And I guess I better stop dreaming about you. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway.

Keeno’s Letter:
Hey there, I just saw you this morning. You were in the cafeteria when I passed by. You were wearing blue round-necked blouse and a pair of white Capri pants. You were with your usual companions; eating your usual order of Fritada .You carefully flipped the pages of your Psychology book as you sipped from your glass of iced tea. The guys around kept giving you quick glances but you never noticed. Our eyes met for a second, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought I’d freeze on the spot. I smiled, hoping that you would not notice that I am shaking. You smiled slightly, then turned to your book. As I passed you by, I turned around to give you a second look. But you weren’t looking. Four months and nothing has changed. You’re still the brilliant Dean’s Lister who is always a representative for school forums and conferences. And I’m still that ordinary guy in front of you every MWF in our one hour class together. I think you only talked to me twice. Once was when I asked you if someone was seated beside you on the first day of classes, and you said yes. I was hoping to sit beside you, since I’ve been eyeing you since our freshman year. The last was when I asked if you were done with our term paper. I was going to ask if you could help me with mine, and eat somewhere at the same time. But when you nodded, I completely lost my nerve. I never got the courage to talk to you again. You were so smart and popular, and I always feel like a nobody when you are around. I guess we could never be friends. And I guess I better stop dreaming about you. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway.

Most of the time; the one for us is just around the block. Open your eyes, sometimes love is just around the corner; waiting.

Don’t be like me, I left the spark burning, left it to die. Until one day; the spark turned into ashes; the very same day I realized I‘ve realized we could have been…
…more than this.

a thin line between...

In everything, there are limits, there are borders.
But like all fences, like all borders, in all thin lines between… breaches happen.

Between friends and lovers, there stands a very thin line of love, as a friend and a love more than the latter. It’s hard when this very thin, fragile fibber in between gets caught and messed up. What more if this line, at the same time separates fact and fantasy, if it separates possibility and probability?

Let me tell a story about a friend and someone; who broke this line and broke their hearts.

Jane and Mico through a friend, met in the cyber world; but sooner they met soul to soul. There was nothing special though; Jane has someone special and Mico is eyeing another. It was a friendly connection, at the start. But things changed when, through text Bubbles was born. Bubbles was the name, Jane used prior to their formal introduction. At that length, Mico was already feeling towards Bubbles; but Jane and Bubbles are two separate personas. Jane, the fact; Bubbles a character of fiction.
These get even more complicated when Bubbles admitted Mico to imply his emotions, not knowing in the context of Jane, Bubbles is nothing but a fabric of her persona, a fantasy. Bubbles and Mico made a love story. For Jane, Jane and Mico remained friends; but for Mico it was more than that.
It confused the guy. It fulfilled the lady. It t fulfilled the guy. It confused the lady.
How would then logic apply between two parties looking at something through two different perspectives? The heartaches begun, the misunderstandings numbered.
Jane wanted to let go of Bubbles and start anew but Mico permits not.
Jane is confused, desiring for closure. Mico is hurt, desiring for a start.

The line in between was broken, the contexts they had collided.
Was it Mico’s fault? He braved into a dessert unknown.
Was it Jane’s fault? She created a dessert unnamed.

In the end, the fine line between her fact and fantasy broke; the joy of the fantasy and the pain of the fact collided. In the collision she was left hurt. Then the question was asked, why did she created the fiction, was it because she was mere playful or mere in love and afraid. Was she afraid that in fact the love might not exist thus she gave birth to Bubbles? But why did Mico, permitted Jane to separate from Bubbles; is it because he is mere playful or mere in love and afraid? Was he afraid that his love in fact might not be taken seriously? Who was the coward? Who was merely playing? Who was merely loving? Above all, who broke the line? Was it the circumstance itself; or the personas themselves?

Limits, borders, lines, fences… once set in a weak foundation most often than not crumbles down. There are fences that are built in stone, some in paper, some on wood, and some in vows but when it’s made out to confine love, no matter what composes the fence… love will always break through. My friend’s fence was built in a weak soil and it confined love… I guess they should have known better before the line was set and erected; before the pain erupted.

am i ready?

Revelations, am I ready?!
Funny how this cold November night makes feel like this.
Its Saturday night, an hour from now and Sunday will come…

For the mean time…
I think I am pretty much, more than infatuated…
I think… I’m in love.
But not really.
I really don’t know…

Lately I have been in a whirl of emotions; and it’s stressing me, quite. Just a week ago I was way too happy in welcoming new volunteers into our group. It was really fun expanding social networks, until now, the joy in having new friends is creeping into my veins. And just yesterday, I and a friend had a little bit of a misunderstanding due to a third party whom my friend thought was I. Well, Brent is a common name, I guess. Whoever that fuck was, I’m over it. And on that same day, for the longest time, I have again watched a horror movie with my friends. And this time, my stomach really twisted. I hate that movie! It scared me to the bones! But all those things don’t amount to the thrill my last class had brought to me.

Remember *o*?!
I don’t know if I should celebrate or what but the sign I asked for came true! It damn did come true! I am delighted, I have to admit… I’ll be spending about five months with the person and that would be quite a long time. But above the joy, I am afraid. I promised to tell the significant other how I feel. How I really, honest to God really feel.
Just a semester ago, I was rejected by the girl I tried courting and now I have heard that she’s a new boyfriend. Somehow I’m over that; my real dilemma is my status quo. How will I tell the person? Whom I know, I think I know, have an interest at someone else. Besides, I’m not sure if *o* could see beyond just me, beyond the mere BRENT, I’m not sure if *o* could look not at my social definition but my real definition.

I don’t know anymore, all I know are two things, am afraid and that this is stupid.
I guess I would again start to learn how to turn attraction to mere affection, love to mere friendship.
Revelations? I don’t think I can…
Maybe not now…
Maybe someday…
Someday.

infatuated

I’m infatuated, I think…

Funny how attraction happens; I can still recall posting my love sucks blog entries and now here I am writing about attraction. I just love my life…

I really think am infatuated; or at least, I just think, am attracted. But hey, is there a difference?! I can’t get the person out of my head, most of the time I associate things to *o* and worst, I even think of *o* in the shower! Oh yah, *o* is my problem ass.

Anyway, do you think am really infatuated?! I think I am, I wish I am but the fact is it’s really hard falling for the wrong person at the wrong time. All this time I was begging for love, and now all of a sudden it came down pouring on me. But now here I am victim of the circumstances… how come affection so wonderful is usually felt towards people who are either taken or simply not for you. Life’s a hell of emotions and too many chances; too bad I seem always unlucky.

Well I can’t help it, I just can’t help staring at those beautiful brown eyes, that cute childish smile, and that damn hot figure. Hay, tsong, I’m just way to attracted, way too infatuated, way too in love. I can’t help but sigh. I hate my self for wanting the person so badly, I miss *o* every time I reminisce.

Early this afternoon I saw *o* waiting in line for enrolment, I stayed around for a while, took a stolen glimpse, actually it was a stare. We talked about some enrolment sighs we have, and then bid goodbyes. It was way too casual, but deep in me… I was melting. And now, I’m staring at *o* photos in my laptop; and again I can’t help admiring those cute, chinky, almond, innocent, beautiful, brown eyes! I just love everything about *o*…

But I do hope that this is just an infatuation…
Impulsive, childish, innocent and hopefully temporary.
I just hope…

Oh let me add, early this afternoon I made a promise to myself and asked a sign from God; I said, if ever we become classmates this semester. I’m ready to reveal…

kwentong frenzy

I just turned 18 this year, and it’s funny recalling the kalokohans I did while I was not yet legally allowed to do those things so. I grew up in a very conservative family, a family that has the concept of taboos. And I was educated by conservative nuns, in a school where there is a clear definition of taboos. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that, indeed, the maxim, masarap ang bawal is really true. It’s just way so true, so, so, true.
I remember one of my very first’s kalokohans was getting additional allowance from our own store. The kaha was my huge wallet, no matter how much I get, it’s funny I never get caught. But I think, my deeds were actually known, it’s just that they allowed me to, simply because I’m family. For, well, when our yaya tried getting money from the store, she was sent away. Maybe it was only allowed to family members huh?! I just love recalling those times.



Well let’s get a bit naughtier, it was way back then in high school, a time where the world looks no other but a huge, really huge lab, a world for experiments. It was my birthday and my friends, most of them are my classmates, went swimming. There were booze, but I don’t drink. There was Marlboro, but I tried only once and promised never to do it again. Therefore, what do you think was my TRIP then? Well a few friends of mine share with me the joy in making fun of others. We usually crack jokes, at times, when the spirits are high, practical jokes. This time I was the victim; it was my birthday anyway, maybe give the celebrant something memorable.
I was eating chips and drinking some sodas when my girl friend asked me to come to the center of the pool. It was a huge, blue, ocean inspired pool; no other color dominant, just blue. I moved my way to the center. Then in the middle, she hold my waist, then down to my summer shorts, then to my pockets. The end. That was not it. A friend called her from the pool side, and she moved toward there. There, I was dumb strummed of what was the meaning of the act, so I moved my way to the side. The water was really wonderful. Blue, blue, blue… a perpetuity of blue. Then POP! Orange! Something of mandarin color came out of the water. Then another, then another. As I moved they seemed to increased in number. I checked my pocket, and to my surprise, there it was a box of condoms! Everybody was laughing; I did not realize I was the only person in the pool with dozens of condoms around. It was embarrassing then, but as I reminisce I just can’t stop but laugh. I guess everyone has the right time to be the victim.
Funny but I will always cherish that day, not for the dozen condoms, but for the memories of a special day with the people I just truly care for. People with whom I can simply be just me, naughty and careless, but genuinely loving.

Painful Pleasure

A minute of Pleasure, a lifetime of Pain.

It’s a Sunday, one in the morning. And he is in long pain… after a short and very brief pleasure. What is it that he sees in the naked and the nude, what is it that he hears in the murmurs of making love, what is it that he tastes in the sweat of the seduction, what is it that he feels in the excitation of the genitals; what is it in the pleasure of the flesh that he can’t escape, that he can’t see, hear, taste, and feel the pain in the pleasure?

What does he sees in the curves of the body? Is there anything he sees that you don’t see? What does he hear in the sounds of making love? Is there anything he hears that you don’t hear? Is he insane? helpless?

What does he feel in the peek of the act? Is it joy? satisfaction? Or maybe wholeness? Power perhaps? Maybe pride, maybe fulfilment… They call it pleasure. But is that all?

No, there is more, with the pleasure, there are guilt, shame, and pain; shear pain.

Making love is pleasurable, it’s incomparable. But does the body’s response to it, end with the orgasm? No. With the release, comes pain, shear pain. The passion of the body stops, but the heart starts to ache. Emotions that were heightened subside and the world seems clearer. A drunken man certainly knows how to distinguish being drunk and sober, but he who had just indulged in the lusts of the flesh knows better. There is more to sex than plain pleasure, there is more, there is more.

He wants to free himself from the pleasure, for more than the heavenly peak; there is the long deep fall, hell wise. After the body’s response with pleasure, it is seconded by the temple, there is guilt. Then the soul follows, there is shame. Lastly, the heart… there is pain. Lust can last as short as three minutes, in that time pleasure lingers. But after that, comes the parade of the many more… and it lasts more than the lust. Pleasure lingers short, pain lingers longer. It’s the sad story of sex.

It fulfils the genitals, it hurts the heart. It identifies and affirms gender, it destroys dignity. It promotes fun in risk, it neglects risk in fun. It makes man, man, a lady, lady; and it makes animals out of them. Sex it like this. It gives away pleasure, but it asks for pain in return.

Are you single? Taken by many? Or a tripper? maybe Gay?

Unless you are genuinely, truthfully honest to God, in-love…

There is more to life than the pleasure of the flesh; there is, there is…

Trust me, I know.

i wanna wake up with AMNESIA

I wanna wake up with amnesia; I wanna fly and flip out.

I simply am caught up with so many things now, I wanna forget.

I wanna go somewhere, I wanna run and scream!

Wouldn’t it be nice waking up with amnesia; wake up with strangers who would say they’re your family, your friends; that they are the ones that love you? It’s rarely said if you wake up with your right mind, isn’t it?

Wouldn’t it be fun waking up with amnesia and explore the places you’ve been, discover things that you have long discovered. Would it not be fun being innocent again, I think it’ll be fun waking up curious like a child, clueless of what the world is, innocent of the color, melody, beauty; pain, ironies, tears of the world.

It’s fun to wake up to a world anew.

Isn’t it magical waking up with amnesia and finding love? Isn’t it magical escaping from your insecurities and feeling complete… ready to be loved. I bet love would come easy; no standards, no biases, no fears… just love.

I wanna wake up with amnesia…

and escape.

forget about the upcoming finals…

forget that my papa’s in the hospital…

forget that I might loose my scholarship…

forget that I’m torn between friendship and a truth…

forget that I have responsibilities…

forget that no one’s waiting home for me…

forget that I have my insecurities…

forget that I’m tired…

forget that my heart is bleeding…

forget that I’m slowly surrendering…

forget that I’m slowly weakening…

I wanna forget, I wanna escape, I wanna wake up with amnesia.

I wanna die without dying.

Wanted: Love

Wanted: Love

I don’t even think some one is interested in reading my blog. Well I am a nobody. People say that I’m lucky, that I am fortunate, people think that I am happy. People think… I fell.

I was born of a normal family, respected though and known in our locality, I grew up under spectators’ eyes. People seem to wait for me to commit something that they might find entertaining. I was envied but never was I loved. My family provide me that, but only mom was consistent. All the others intended to but they were too busy living their own lives to mind me; I was left with mom. I was loved, but it was until a week before my 10th birthday, mom died after days of comma. Her funeral was the same date I was to celebrate my tenth year of breathing life. I was then left…
Things changed after that mishap, though our family’s finances started to stabilize again and life went on; I was left. Up until my late high school years, I was able to ley go and accept the thought that mom was gone. Well in the journey I met friends, too. But it hurt even more for even in their presence I felt alone. There were times I really did feel happy too, but after that, in the silence of my room there comes the yearning for love again. It sucks. It really sucks.
In my yearning, I came to try a lot of remedies; I tried being active in school but still no change, I tried finding a hobby but still no change, I tried a lot but there was never a change. I miss my mom and my need for affection increases. I have to admit that I was never able to establish genuine friendship, for I was only looking for a receive and receive again relationship. I was self centered, I was selfish. I was looking for love to consume and not to cultivate.
My search for that led me to many things; false stories to attract friends, smoking, cutting classes… and yes even sex. I was desperate to be cared for that I have mistaken lust from love. I was deceived by the thought that if I keep looking for that I might finally find it. But I was searching a wrong place…
Lately, after a rejection from someone I tried courting; it hit me. All those time my search for love and affection; I was looking at the wrong place. I should have not gone far, I should have not search far and wide. The treasure chest was all those time with me, in me. It is I, who can complete my life. It is I who can fill the empty spaces. I should have realized that early for until then I can only be loved if I love first my self. Yes, until now I want love but I have known that the elementary of being loved is loving my self first then eventually others. This time I no longer worry what other people say, I must listen to myself first. After all it is who is feeling. Let them think and let I feel.

Moving on…

They say moving on is only for lovers that took separate ways… but then what should we do, the people who fell in love but never made it into a relationship. The emotions are the same… isn’t it?
Aren’t we allowed to fell hurt? Well much has been said, now I just want to write it away…

Well it all started when I met this girl, she was smart, cool and really attractive in her very own ways. She was my friend… just a friend. Until this damn emotion started creeping into me. I tried to hide it but then it even gained more weight, so did the momentum. I started to state my emotions… yet implied. It work not that’s why even under my pissed courage I tried then to tell her… word for every thought; I poured everything that my heart feels. I thought things were getting better. The flowers I sent her were kept, the get togethers became more frequent and even the one on one talks frequented too. She even at one night asked me to take her on a bike ride around the metro, my scooter embraced the cold winds as carefully granted her request. That bike ride under the beauty of the night melted my heart. All of these I thought were leading towards something, something great and wonderful…
But I was wrong.

It was days before her birthday that she told me, brent hindi ko kayang ibigay yung kaya mong ibigay sakin, it was followed by a sorry. A friend… that’s what I was to her all those time. Friends. Wow, all those stuff ends in that? Well I should have realized that that moment but then it only came to me that it’s really not leading to something during a night out. I was with two companions, one a good friend of mine, the other, his friend a constant acquaintance during that summer. I believe I have seen him in Ateneo many times before that’s why I was confident making friends with him. He was nice and to admit realty cute and manly. I never thought his charms had owned my friend. It hurt a lot discovering something like that over shots of liquor. After that do you know what I did? I sent her all the text messages that she had sent me… all and every single message. But of course I was under the powers of alcohol then, so the next morning I texted her I was sorry and that it was all not meant. Days passed and I never heard anything from her until one day she texted me a quote saying that drunk persons speak what’s really at the back of their minds. Then I was forgiven….
The story does not end there, now we still meet, Ateneo de Naga is such a small place that we really can’t avoid bumping at each other at times. But I have to admit… we are no longer friends, we are not enemies either. It’s just that the friendship isn’t anymore like the way it used to be. I miss that badly. I just wish we can hang around at times or talk under the batibot or walk through the centro and eat ice creams at the mall. Or maybe simply be in love again with each other… as friends.

i guess i am...

i never wished to feel this way,
i guess i am...

though i think not.
or maybe yes.
but really i'm not sure.

i hate to admit it.
i hate to be seen like this.
i simply don't like the thought.
i really don't.

well I'm can't help it.
i cant..

no more lies
no more.

you used to spend time with me,
you used to tell things to me,
you used to be around;
you used to be there...

but that was all of it...
work. orsem. period.

i hate the way it felt...
it felt as if....
you were there on purpose...
but it wasn't for friendship...
it wasn't.

i am selfish to demand.
time.
talks.
moments.

i thought i was a special friend...
special...

but i wasn't.

you were special...
to me;
and i thought,
i to you.

but go on...
take you time...
be with the others...

i understand.
i totally do.

i guess it's really my character,
to demand for more affection.
i is to blame...

i guess am just tired of expecting,
of hoping.

i guess i am...
JEALOUS.

lonely nights...

i wish a am with some body,
i wish i am not lonely,
i wish it's still you and me,
i guess we really would
never be...
i just wanna let you know... it's cold.

words come in time...

for now...

i wanna shout!

PEECEE n aQ!!!!

talk...

i wish i could talk...

but i can't...

the thougts i have are forever concealed...

maybe just this time...

let me say...

i hate you!