One promiscuous act weaves another. Then another.
And before I knew it, I have already spawned an intricate web of problems I’m struggling to wriggle out of.
The most awful thing is, the more I strain to disentangle myself, the more I find myself stuck in a more complicated state.
I’m losing ground, and before I lose myself and someone very dear to me I better make a move to reclaim my life.
*syet, anong gulo ‘to?!*
I found myself stranded in a sea of hates lately.
I hate myself for hating myself for hating persons who hate me for hating them because I find them hateful for hating me just because I hate them.
I hate them because they do not hate things that are hateful to me and they hate things that I do not hate.
I hate persons who mix pink and red. Red is a dominant color. Pink is subtle but quite glitzy. They should not co-exist. I hate persons who think otherwise.
I hate persons who, after knowingly feeding a fifty-peso bill into a Ticket Vending Machine in LRT a) make face b) scratch their heads c) utter ill words d) all of the above after getting popcorny shiny shimmering one-peso coins.
I hate Cueshé because they are hateful just the way they are. I hate persons who do not hate them.
I hate Rosita and the like.
I hate people who hate Gemma Ward.
I hate overly self-absorbed individuals like me.
I hate persons who do not appreciate the aesthetic worth of things. I hate them for making pretty things ugly.
But above all, the most hateful thing I discovered recently is that I love you.
I hate myself for loving you, and keeping my love inside. I hate myself for thinking things. I hate not telling you. I hate myself for hiding me.
I hate myself for hiding all, when you have a right to know.
I wish that I could show you. I hate the wishful thinking that somehow maybe you like me too.
I hate myself for loving you.
P.S.
(and i HATE myself for being dead corny when I’m in love)
