#(the bus.... we don't talk about the bus it was a clownery)

[hunsa-jars]

Howdyy my oral exams were held yesterday, got lucky with the topics and I’m very happy with my results

This mouse officially graduated from high school, peeps :’)

[itsnotmandatorybee]

December 31, 2022

Saturday

10:59 AM

These children interrupted my sleep.

I'm now living in the city, and I don't really know if I should call it one—Internet's slow, streets are no different to our barrio, but this place not even bothered to put more colorful lanterns or banners around.

Now, let's go back to these children with their horns. I'm literally having a headache. Those noises are louder than bumpy cars, choo-choo trains, and the sound of my speakers when I play my favourite songs.

And—yes, I should take a note that when I was a kid, I always told to stop since it's still morning, and blowing horns aren't good while people are hustling for their media noche, and noises got them head scrumble, saying, "Sa susunod na araw, umbok na 'yang pisngi mo." Yes, the "beke" or mumps that sounded like "beki" when my innocent self don't know what it means 'til the moment I had one, and had no choice but to put "tina" on the part of my face where mumps grow... only to know that it's an infection and I was a victim of Dr. Quack's scheme. I regret of smelling like sour milkfish soup. Paksiw!

Horns are delightful and you need to put so much pressure to blow it. Then you'll just trying to give yourself the context not to think about "horns" anymore 'cause you might wondering I am trying to tell you about "horn" and not "horn".

Let's just forget about it, let's go back to these children.

The tip of the horn full of saliva. Then there goes 12, and I'm l'll scream with after father lit Judas' belt, and my hearty soul will rock. Speakers are on its full volume. Round fruits are forbidden to be touched. TV's open for the countdown. 3... 2... 1...

Then there goes 3 or 4 AM when everybody's sleeping, and I need to take care of my Mom's plate not to fall as I wash 'em with a bubbly soap and new sponge.

And, yes. I'll blow horns at 5 AM and no one cares. They're all sleeping like cooking oil in sitting peacefully in the kitchen, and I'm living my best life as a kid, and will turn afterwards to play Beyblade and brick game.

And, yes. I believe Taylor Swift is a Filipina, for we lit Christmas light up 'til January. Not to mention how immortal spaghetti is and still good like an MMFF movie on its second week.

And, yes. For Pete's sake, I wonder why these kids stopped blowing horns after writing this one. Probably, they're tired or will sleep in the middle of the afternoon to save their energy for New Year's eve.

And, yes. I should do the same 'cause I need to work exactly at midnight. No hams or salad on sight, but my warm desktop and keyboards are waiting in front of me.

This time, my perspective has changed. I once wrote this a year ago, and I know it made my 2022 a year of clownery:

"When I was a kid, people say that don't talk when your mouth is full. When I grown up, people say that don't love when still unsure."

And, yes. I should be writing of what 2022 had been into my life. Well, it's like waiting in a bus for 8 full hours. It's like waiting for someone who can't even bother to leave a message 'cause they don't f*ck*ng care, or more than a farewell message to a friend with their resignation letter, or a tea party, or a family problem, or existential crisis, or red and pink, or ties and sneakers... or a plan never brought to life, but a series of lightness and darkness intertwined and compiled into a book, with no strings or sentimental things attached.

These children interrupted my sleep.

And, I don't know what I'm talking about. Really.

One thing's for sure. I'm not yet ready, but I need to be one, but...

Here's to another laugh and pain. Here's to more roadtrips and sleepless nights.

Here's to you is overrated.

I should say, "here's to me..."

Here's to me and my 2023.