mining oxygen

dubirubiruraffa

Tue, 09 Apr 2013 23:36:56 +0800

사랑을 아직 난 몰라서
더는 가까이 못가요
근데 왜 자꾸만 못난 내 심장은
두근거리나요

난 당신이 자꾸만 밟혀서
그냥 갈 수도 없네요
이루어질 수 도 없는 이 사랑에
내 맘이 너무 아파요

하루가 가고 밤이 오면
난 온통 당신 생각뿐이죠
한심스럽고 바보 같은 날
어떻게 해야 좋을까요

마음이 사랑을 따르니
내가 뭘 할 수 있나요
이루어질 수도 없는 이 사랑에
내 맘이 너무 아파요

하루가 가고 밤이 오면
난 온통 당신 생각뿐이죠
한심스럽고 바보 같은 날
어떻게 해야 하나요

내 아픔이 무뎌져 버릴 날이
언제쯤 내게 오긴 할까요
한심스럽고 바보 같은 날
어떡해 하란 말인가요

달빛이 너무나 좋아서
그냥 갈 수가 없네요
당신 곁에 잠시 누워 있을게요
잠시만 아주 잠시만

dedix

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 23:49:00 +0800

Monkey Man,

Do you still remember how we first met? I do. It was one bright morning almost four years ago. It had to be the first day of classes, of course. We were, after all, in the same university program block. You called me older sister and you smiled that goofy smile of yours. I think I smiled back at you then, not really catching what you said your name was.

We were classmates in almost every subject besides our English and Literature courses. And our Science classes. Oh, and in our Physical Education classes. Classes we picked on our own. We only had pre-enlisted classes in common, you see. But funny how I got singled out from our block and got to be on my own in my English and Literature classes; you were with our other block-mates in those subjects, weren’t you? We were classmates only in Math and in that one university course that was pretty much like homeroom. (Whew, this paragraph sure is classy.) So yeah, that pretty much contradicts what I meant with “almost every subject.” No wonder we didn’t talk much.

I was always the weird one back then. I remember you telling me how I actually scared you. I didn’t care, and I really meant it when I said that I planned to annihilate the human race—well, at least those above five or ten years of age. You didn’t even go to my birthday celebration. I remember this not because I cared, or even thought of you. I don’t think I even missed you then. I just remember things. I know you admire my brain, in a way or another. Don’t deny this. You were using my grades as benchmark, weren’t you? Admit that you had, at one point.

Eventually, we got to talk. We had common friends, and we got to have more common time as the months and semesters went by. Calculus was a six-unit course, which meant six hours of you every week, six hours of your asking me what it was that our professor said, six hours of your sitting beside me, six hours of your doing random stuff, of your trying to peek inside my shabby bag, of your getting flustered at my answer that it was your picture I was hiding in my bag, of your trying to show your abs off, of your getting reprimanded by our professor, of your vanity, of your naivete, of your trying to prove you’ve got some brains, Honestly, until now, I still wonder why you had to do that. What it was that led you to believe I was kinda smart and that you were somehow superior (or maybe, at least, that we were “equals”). But now, since I passed the law aptitude exam and you didn’t, I guess I have it all figured out.

Come our second year in the university, we worked together in group projects. We reviewed with our friends. There were four of us, occasionally five or six or seven or eight or nine or ten or eleven or twelve or whatnot. But there was always the four of us. And you said we were your closest friends. I scoffed at that mentally, you know. I thought everything was circumstantial. That we were simply at the company of each other because we had no other choice. But in all honesty, I must say that I enjoyed those months. And I have no problem remembering them.

You borrowed my notes. You photocopied my book. You criticized my legs, poked fun at my skirt. You told me to stop wearing it. And I did. I treated you out, you promised to treat us out. You asked me which color would better suit you, I replied late.

I got drunk, and you said I looked like a geisha. You gave me a five out of ten rating. You took pictures of me puking. Seriously? Some sense of humor you’ve got, primate. We walked together, going back to the dormitories. You shared bits of your high school life, your high school fling. I shared some of mine, too. But I doubt that you’d remember them. We saw a couple of films with our friends. We made some together, too, remember? We played Rockband, too. And you sucked.

You know whom it was/were that I liked, and I had ideas of whom you fancied, too. The dowsing rods in our Psych class also knew I liked you, by the way.

We scheduled our sociology field trips on the same day. You asked me to bring some snacks for the trip. I brought a lot. But you got in the van; I sat in the bus.

We weren’t always together. You still had other people to hang out with, and that hit me come our final months in our second year. When we had to decide whether or not we’d be spending a semester abroad, in some other university. Ah, exchange students. You and our other friends decided you’d go to France. And you have me to thank for that! I chose to stay here. Had I opted to go to Japan, you wouldn’t even be on the list of students accepted to go abroad—on the waiting list, maybe, but not on that privileged list. Hah! You were at the bottom of the list, and you sulked all day (if not the whole week). Still you made it.

Because you had a special schedule for your going abroad, we went our separate ways in our junior year. Life went on. I had friends from other blocks, and you also had yours. I started sending you messages, asking for souvenirs from France. I sent you messages when you were already a continent away. But it was always when you were leaving, so most of them were also goodbyes. It was at that point that I had to accept that I was beginning to miss you (and the others!). We never got to go out that year. Nor the following year. Until we decided that the four of us should have lunch and catch up. Until that day that I tried to confess, but failed miserably. I did it without finesse. It sucked.

We liked the same things. We had Avatar to talk about and The Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, and so on. I bought you Yakult. I saw you pick out your body soap. I shared vanity tips on your wall. We gossiped. We complained. We admired the same people. You had the guts to call me in the middle of the night to ask what time it was. I had to be annoyed. But I wanted you to call me again.

You said that I write pretty well, but with this letter, I think I’m proving you wrong. I don’t have pretty words and smart sentences peppering this monologue. All I have is my version of things. I hope they are similar to yours.

Graduation rehearsals. I gave you a copy of my photo, and it had a dedication on the flip side. You complained, because I wrote down a few generic words.

“For the friendship.”

You said I can do better. You said you’d get back at me because of that. But those three words are all that I can write down, stupid. Because I was afraid that once I started to write down what I could remember the past four years, I would be able to write everything down, and that would be everything—that there’s nothing more to our friendship. In this pathetic monologue, I tried to generalize everything, monkey man. I tried to single out moments, memories, to pretend that they were only some of the several. Because to list them down one by one would hurt. Because I can list them all down.

I am trying to justify everything to you now, because somehow, I think we can no longer read each other’s minds the way we did then. Or maybe that was just me. And this is all just me.

Whenever your other friends would share bits of your time with them, I would feel miserable. Because what they would say were things I didn’t know about you. I was jealous. And I’m sorry.

I passed by you a couple of times in our graduation party. I wanted to give you my blue rose. But my pride got the better of me. I also wanted that you’d give me yours.

Yes, I like you. Very much. This definitely won’t be the first confession you’ll hear. Surely, there’s merit to your claim, Mr Lawyer, that girls do like you. I didn’t give you my blue rose because I don’t want to be one of them. I’m clearly confessing now, but I hope that you see this not simply as one of the others you get, but something coming from me,

Sincerely,

Crazy Girl

I went there expecting, I went there longing. But I had long known that I wouldn’t be giving...

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 17:12:51 +0800

I went there expecting, I went there longing. But I had long known that I wouldn’t be giving you my blue rose, just as I long denied the reality that you wouldn’t be giving me yours. Thank you for the friendship. That’s all I can bear to tell you.

fyeahsophieturner: The best rendition of the Game of Thrones...

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 14:13:13 +0800

fyeahsophieturner:

The best rendition of the Game of Thrones theme ever.

geeksturr: Litanya - Victor Robinson III (OST Ang Sayaw Ng...

Sat, 23 Feb 2013 11:49:18 +0800

geeksturr:

Litanya - Victor Robinson III

(OST Ang Sayaw Ng Dalawang Kaliwang Paa) from a Merlinda Bobis poem

Huwag mo akong iiwan
Tulad ng pag-iwan ng buwan
Sa kanyang mata, nahulog
Sa sapang nananaginip
Ng dilim na walang pintuan

Photo

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 20:03:24 +0800

Photo

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 20:03:00 +0800

bridmpreg: that moment when you realise you dont mean as much to someone as you thought you did

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 20:02:25 +0800

bridmpreg:

that moment when you realise you dont mean as much to someone as you thought you did

Photo

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 19:57:39 +0800

lotr meme: FIVE FIGHT SCENES [4/5] - Battle of the...

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 19:55:16 +0800

lotr meme: FIVE FIGHT SCENES [4/5] - Battle of the Morannon (Black Gate)

“Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!”

cumberbuddy: cumber-porn: GINGERBATCH MORNING EVERYONE he...

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 19:42:25 +0800

cumberbuddy:

cumber-porn:

GINGERBATCH MORNING EVERYONE

he looks soooo young!!

It’s because of his fringe. When he lets it down it takes another 10 years off of him. He’s basically looking 25 always, but sometimes dips to a 21.. What magical errant curls.

Photo

Sun, 13 Jan 2013 14:26:34 +0800

Photo

Sun, 13 Jan 2013 00:25:01 +0800

thecurseoftheherondales: leacifer: #Kili looks so...

Sat, 12 Jan 2013 03:16:24 +0800

thecurseoftheherondales:

leacifer:

#Kili looks so surprised #like ‘fuck me did I just shoot an arrow ? ‘ #’I’M TURNING INTO AN ELF GODS HELP ME’ #the hobbit (via sodafly)

No, it’s that he’s spotted his reflection and is all “Goddamn, who is that sexy god? HOLY SHIT IS THAT ME?”