don't

5:33 am.
just came from a videoke-cum-brainstorming session with my friend and his "date".
was the third wheel who thoroughly enjoyed herself. but i couldn't help feeling...somekinda...glum. each time i'd see nuances from my friend's (purportedly avid) suitor--a look, an action, a little gesture--that spoke volumes, where his feelings for my friend is concerned. and those were the moments when i would actually feel like a real third wheel.

aww, lurve.

i hate it. because it's the worst time to even think about stuff like that. and it renders me a bit more vulnerable to certain stuff that, on a normal day, would've been simply nothing.

but i was sad tonight. sad about a lot of things. pressure doesn't only freeze me, it renders me vulnerable as well. makes me want to turn to the nearest source of comfort. like the fluff. which at this point ain't advisable. because.

it's dawn. september 2. happy birthday, keanu.

time capsule #002 resurfaced via SMS, after about a week. the longest space between his habitual "pagpaparamdam". hey, i thought this was a done-and-over-with case. i'd said my eulogies and piled up the memories for burial, haven't i. it would've been the best source of comfort for me, a timely thing, a happy thing. but it wasn't. and i know why.

text msgs don't mean shit. i mean that in a way. in a way, i don't.

the first time i actually got a glimpse into someone's mind was, ironically, via an exchange of SMS's. and now i can't seem to get that memory out of my head. maybe because i actually liked what i saw.

arghhhhh.
don't friggin go there.