#dontaskmeaboutthis

[sad-writers]

prompt: would you choose him in a room full of men?

I wouldn't. I'd talk to the first one that approaches me and then politely excuse myself. I'd find dad and dutts and our favorite history teachers. I'd talk to my childhood crushes that I can have a conversation with for once without blushing away. but all this time, throughout every conversation, I'm watching him from the corner of my eye. does he look my way? is he watching my every move? does he turn from me when I talk to a boy or does he start approaching from the corner of the room? and when I've had enough, we make direct eye contact (it's hot) and I smile with a smirk that's only for him, to say I see you. I'll be there. and when he's waited for me long enough, like I waited all these years, we have our own private world in the corner of the room and everyone knows exactly who he is and how I write about him. for as long as he waits, I'll find him at the end of the day. my world will settle and shimmer and I choose everything else. then he's factored in. he waits because he knows I'd choose him again and again.

[chubby-chingching]

Hindi ko maramdaman yung pagiging thankful. Hindi ko maramdaman yung saya. Hindi ko maramdaman yung pagiging kontento. Wala.akong.maramdaman.

[newceremony-blog-blog]

There's an emptiness to your letters. A long line of seemly connected shapes and symbols. Copied and then pasted, reworked, rewritten, and regurgitated endlessly. For no other end point other than your own. I see between those spaces. What's behind the shapes and the symbols. Hope nothing but hopelessness. Truth nothing but desire. Want nothing but uncertainty. Remember when those questions were questioned?             I thought so. But they know more than us now and you know more than me. The theater and the lights. The keys and the locked rooms. They've all been opened? I hope it's comfortable inside. Warm and cosy.              Of course it is.