basang sisiw

Crap. My brother would be so laughing at me right now, if he knew what I'd just downloaded (and what I'm currently listening to).

I behaved badly tonight. I'd like to blame it on the alcohol. But there wasn't any.

There's too much to think about. Like, seriously, earlier, staring at my ceiling (my white, white ceiling) was all I could handle. And listening to drippy music. And eating too much sushi. Please, go home. Please, let it be summer already. Summer, summer, summer. Summer will be like a George Meis photograph; summer will be gothic architecture and foreign languages and long, aimless (probably silly) conversations. Summer will be Manila (assuming that there'll still be one to come home to :P) and old friends and old jokes.

Please, go home. Let me be that fat, socially retarded girl you can bitch to your friends about when you go back. Just that. That girl who you wasted too much time on, that girl who, in the end, wasn't worth figuring out. That's all I want from you right now.

How weird is this? It's not quite as traumatic, just sadder. A little colder, a little sadder.

But that's just one chunk of wormy meat on the decaying carcass that is my life. And, yes, I just laughed out loud after typing that. Don't screw with me, universe. Please?

I wish I could find the right words to wrap around my neck. But the delete button, it's a whore.