Number 3

The universe smiled last night. Right after my last post, my phone rang. It was Number 3.

We spoke until we both ran out of juice. Or, at least, I did, He, on the other hand, was interrupted by his past. Something I am taking lightly since we barely know each other. As much as the jaguar in me wanted to pounce, I held back and hoped for the best.

After we disconnected, minutes before I decided I couldnt sleep, I got a text from him explaining what had happened. It is not my story to tell, at least not publicly, so I will skip this part and go directly to nowhere. I am proud I did not give up. Instead, I told him I was there, waiting. He fell asleep. Without a goodnight. But somehow, I felt he was not shutting me out. He was too honest.

I knew my inbox would be empty when I woke up so I didnt bother checking. I was using a different number last night so if he did remember to apologize for falling asleep, it would be in another inbox. It didnt matter. This is what surprises me the most. We go back to age and wisdom and all of a sudden, I feel old. This should be a good thing. An hour after coffee, my phone beckoned and Number 3 also texted the other number. Making sure I got his message. I immediately changed numbers and there he was, in my inbox. I felt guilty.

I asked for a good follow through and I got it. However, to slow things down, my phone is almost dead and I left my charger in Taguig. I know its my turn to follow through. But his past is suddenly sinking in. Im confusing myself. But I have to note that this could be a start of something.

You do not need to read this

This shouldn't come as a surprise. I figured, once in a while, dropping by this empty void called my blog brings wonders. And since I do not have followers (yet), I expect to, at least be able to unload here, however, sooner or later, I know someone will find this and know this is mine so I shall remain as cryptic as I can. I know only a few people who will understand whatever the heck Im writing down and I intend to keep it that way. At least here or at least for today. This should be the one and only place I can be myself and not be myself at the same time. I am sane and incredibly retarded under the same breath. I'll leave the rest of my online presence to the vultures.

First up, since its been a while, I note that Ive never been this content. Sure, I tire just the same, I curse just the same, I blabber just the same, but everything else that does not involuntarily excrete from me is different. Its intact. I do not claim to be happy and for once, I dont care! I think this is wisdom that comes with old age. I never thought turning 30 can be so easy.

I refuse to keep it simple though. Simplicity isnt one of my best asset. I know no one who excel at it so there's really no competition. However, I would love to meet someone who is sincerely just that. Someone who can sincerely say he loves the weather and mean it. Someone who wears a white shirt and walk like he's wearing King Tut's loot. Someone who loves shoes because he's afraid to get his feet dirty because he cant walk inside the house barefoot with dirty feet. Someone who just simply loves things because whatever that thing is, is something. This is my man. And although I claim to want to marry a prince, I pretty much will settle with the one who has not been born yet. Or maybe he's out there just being simple.

Pardon the rhetorics. At least in here, I can hide from that instead of hiding behind the funny. I am tired of being the one who cheers people up. Maybe this time, I need to ask the universe to suffer me "right timing" and just throw me my reward. I believe, I have at least earned some good karma to deserve it. And for the record, Mr. Universe and Mrs. THE Secret, I am claiming my reward. Plus, i dread clowns. Why I became one, is beyond me.

There's currently a total of three people. I guess the universe is just waiting for me to decide. No, I am not up to no good, the three are presently beyond my needy grasps, so I am technically not breaking any rules as I speak. The first one will be celebrating his birthday tomorrow. The second one is currently in need of a baby sitter, and the last one I just met a few minutes ago. Number 1 will win a beauty pageant with the other two lagging closely behind. Number 3 wins swimsuit and may win question and answer, only because Number 1 wouldn't wear trunks and barely speaks. Number 2 wins bad boy category. He wont win anything else but If he pays me, even just a bite from his burger, I would have felt like Ive been treated like a king. But he wont. Because he is a bad bad boy. So he will not win but I am secretly hoping for the opposite. Speaking of which, a king did not make the cut. Although, I have to admit, I sincerely considered. But I figured, he'd marry a bucket, if the bucket stuck to his hand. Its either I left a really good impression, or I was just in the middle of a rock and a hard place, him being either the rock or the hard place, and I was just simply in the way. No challenge there.

From here onwards, we identify the three as 1, 2 and 3. Everyone else will be referred to by their chosen code names. I shall be reminding myself if one (or all three) needs replacement via this blog and despite the fact that I know, I cannot draw an audience to cheer any one of them, I shall continue to pay tribute to my insanity. For the mean time, my bed calls. I will let this linger for sometime. Or, ask the universe for a huge favor.

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Rubbishing

Most of this is just rubbish. I mean, what kind of stories do you get from someone who has been literally staying in one place for the longest time. I eat, sleep, laugh, watch movies, talk to friends, mingle with my family, and just recently, fainted, where I work. Its been like this for eight months ever since I was given a chance to put up my own business. My work has consumed me. I am now exactly the type of person described in my horoscope. And then some. I have learned so many new skills and the best one so far is, I can become a totally different person with just a snap of a finger. Just like that. Not that I'm plastic. It just comes with the job.

So am I happy? I guess. I should be. I have a job and people like you more if you have a job. I have money and people like you more if you have money. I now have plans for my life, unlike before and my goals all seem so easy to achieve.

Hold on.

I just asked myself a question.

Am I really happy or did I just got better at denying?

Now Im confused. Again!!!

Solace

I have always wondered what people see in journaling. The task itself is both emotionally and physically taxing; pouring out ones daily sentiments on a fancy notebook (or in this case, a webblog) and carefully choosing the words that would best describe a particular emotion so as not to confuse oneself later. Some go to great lengths in claming its therapeutic effect rather than simply admitting that it is only an act of self-assertion. But I tried it anyway. Not because its curative. Not because of the illusion that Im actually talking to someone who can really understand and relate, but because I’m simply bored. Perhaps this is exactly the reason why after a few entries, I get sick of it and I stop only to come back to it eventually, a non-entity that provides solace by unraveling the truths that I hide even to myself.