Welcome to My Blog!
I AM Diane.
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7.22.2010
Labels: HELLO AGAIN, THANK YOU BUT GOODBYE
7.11.2010
7.02.2010
i love cats. and one thing i love about them is that they could be so sweet and caring and fake everything just to get someone's attention. i love puss!
7.01.2010
My scar reads "love"
“Ouch!”
“Hey, what happened to you?”
“Oh nothing I just hurt my knee.”
“What? Oh my god, your knee is bleeding.”
“Mom, don’t get infuriated will you? C’mon it’s just an injury. It’ll heal so soon.”
“Just an injury for god’s sake it might have killed you.”
“Killed me? Oh c’mon mom. I just tripped, wounded my knee and that’s all. In no time this will heal.”
“Okay, but let me handle it.”
“Okay mom.”
Moms. They’re what? So suspicious, so caring, so gullible and yet they’re the ones we’re gonna go to whenever we have problems. No matter how small or shallow our problems are, we still seek for some help from our loving mothers. We might forget them at times especially when we’re so happy to notice them. But deep inside our hearts, our being, we know and we feel their importance, their undying existence. But what if she’s gone? What if she’s decided to come with the Creator? What will become of us?
You know I had a classmate who loves her mother so much. In fact she exactly looks like her mom. It’s like she’s her mother’s clone. I don’t know much about her. I don’t even know how she thinks, what she feels or anything. But I learned that her mother passed away long ago, back when she was still in high school. That scarred her heart. She felt alone. She thought she’s hopeless. (At least that’s what I think she feels.)
She survived. She is becoming a strong lady. Yes, she’s even stronger that she thinks she can be. But because of some of life’s bitterness, she rebelled in her own way. She’s achieved so much academically but I know that something is missing in her life. There are a lot of things hidden inside her wounded heart. I don’t see it in her but I read it. I read it from her blogs. I feel it.
Her presence could mean a lot of things. You might want to talk to her and accompany her because most of the time you could see her alone. Or you might get intimidated because of her way of walking or staring but she’s a good heart - a good heart full of angst. However, I can sense that she’s changing from her being an emo to a cheerful individual.
Before, she’s very conscious of her actions and very suspicious of the people around her. Maybe, she doesn’t give her trust right away or she just pretend not to trust anybody. But in the long run she’s able to mingle with us. She smiles and laughs with us. But I still couldn’t forget how she was before. That before, she used to be lonesome. She’s a solitudinarian. She’s an emo.
So what do you feel when you see an emo (the term used to refer to rebellious-looking teenager) strolling down the street? What would you think? Would you say, “cool”? Or would you curse in the wind to drive him/her away?
According to the Encarta dictionary, the term emo is an adjective which means over-excitable. In other words shows excessive displays of emotion. And in today’s generation, emo peeps can be found anywhere, everywhere.
And my classmate is one of them. Whenever she’s hurt, she would carve something on her skin. She forms or draws whatever she wants to and feels like. One time, when I and my barkada were having a chitchat on our favorite tambayan, she came. She smiled and said “hi”. As she kept waving her hand, a small shape on her skin caught my attention. She came closer and then I was able to make up my mind on what I saw. And yes, it was love. I figuratively and literally saw love at that very moment. Upon realizing what I saw, I tried to touch it and brush my fingers on her carved skin. She said, “Ouch” but she was still smiling. And then I was startled because I couldn’t really see the point of her smiling while feeling the pain.
After some time I figured out that love was her diversion. She carves her skin to divert her emotion onto it. She doesn’t want to feel emptiness anymore so she diverts all those pain through the art of skin carving.
I may not be able to really grasp everything about her. I may not always get and agree to her point of view. But I am sure enough that I understand her in some ways.
“Mom? Where are you?”
“I’m here.”
The child smiled and sleeps.
Labels: child, hurt, life, love, mother
IN LIE LIES YOUR DEATHBED
Many of us or almost all of us rather, are prone to lying. When we were still young we don’t know what lying is but because of some instances we tend to say such lies. During our youth, the reason why we lie is because we want to be saved from certain damages we’ve done. We don’t want to be scolded by our loving parents. We don’t want to be blamed for our mistakes.
However, as we grow older problems are becoming inevitable and so our lying. As we encounter problems we lie. To protect and to conceal our secret we also lie. But should we continue lying in order to protect this life we cared for so long?
Lying is ruining our life. Yes it does. It tears our earthly bodies into pieces without us knowing. It burns our soul slowly until it becomes ashes of our horrific past – the past that we wanted to bury in our mind.
As we lie, we are slowly dying. Every fib we utter takes our breath away. It may save us for the moment but gradually it would only take everything we wanted to save.
Lying is never good. It will never ever be good no matter how small the damage it causes us. Still it is a lie. Still it does hurt. And still it takes our life or someone else’.
So if you value the life and the so-called situation you wanted to save yourself from, please, do utter any fib no more. Just shut up because you’ll never know when your lie brings you to your deathbed.
Labels: angst, death, hurt, lie, sad
My name is where my true person is veiled.
Devious. This is not the typical devil-may-care attitude per se. This, even, is not saying that I am a total bad girl who loves seeing or doing bad things. I am no bad girl. I am just a girl who is secretive enough to hide my true person from the public. I am the typical person who wants freedom from all these fuss. I am a loner and I love keeping things to myself. I’d rather hurt myself than hurt others. Or rather I’d take all the harm than take all the blame if I’ve done something wrong.
Ingenuous. Indeed, I am gullible. I easily get fooled because of this innocence. I tend to easily believe in whatever a person says because of hoping that someday I’ll find truth behind those sweet and sincere words.
Arduous. Pleasing me is an easy job but the pursuance of pleasing me all the time is hard. I am easily amazed by simple things especially if it’s artsy. However, behind that amazement hides the demanding attitude.
Nervous. I may be confident but the presence of nervousness is still inevitable. Whenever something is about to happen or whenever I’m about to take something new I feel nervous. I literally shiver and would want to coil under my bed.
Envious. Of all the deadly sins this, may be, is the top of my list. I am jealous to those people who are better than me in many ways. I feel happy for them because they deserve that. However, behind that happiness lies great envy.
Rebellious. Yes I am! I may not show it in an up-front manner but I am rebellious in my own little way. And the reason why I write and why I love writing is because I am able to flood my blog with all the emotional disturbances. And through writing all these unwanted feelings are being washed outside of my system.
Incredulous. Doubtful, dubious, skeptical, you may call these on me! I am never always sure of what I do and of what I say. I stutter, I make mistake, I do blame myself because I am never sure of what lies ahead of me.
Vivacious. Though sometimes I am unhappy, I am one of the bubbliest people who live. I am happy because I want to be happy. And I was born happy. Therefore, I want to die happy.
Ayos. I am a total imperfect but my imperfection makes me perfect! I love myself. I want to love myself dearly because there is no way I can share love if I do not know and feel love.
And so this is me. This is part of me.
Labels: and i, me, myself, name
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