Sober

Inexorable

There’s been a couple of things happening and it’s time to fling away the rather flimsy blanket I’ve protected it with, if only to divert some prying eyes. I know I blather a lot. I tell narratives and anecdotes with hand gestures and animated facial expressions ALL THE TIME. I couldn’t tell a story without jazz hands, even if I tried.

Anyway, on the with show:

Over at the Big Bad Wolf

This is where I extenuate the weight and impact of someone’s presence: I was having an off night (clearly, not my best self back there), but it was great catching up with someone I haven’t seen for a year. Listening to his stories, the scrapes and stuff he’s gotten himself into — It was nice. Did you ever have that moment? Sitting across someone, hearing him talk and laugh, seeing him roll his eyes, hearing him sing along to a song wafting through the speakers, noticing how yellow his eyes seemed in the dimness of the bar (that bit was mesmerizing, as I have never seen that before; I found it hard to look away) — I remember what he reminds me of. He reminds me of what last year was like. Of where in my life I was back then, and I can’t help but think how much things in my life have changed now. I have changed. I also can’t help but think how he was one of the good things that happened to me last year. I appreciate him as a person, an individual. I am also forever grateful for his friendship, where he is able to speak (freely, I hope) about his thoughts and points of views and I learn incessantly from that, from him. People with presence and mind like his, you don’t find very often.

Of friendship and witty banters

There’s something to be said about years of friendship, one that began circa 2008. He and I were friends back then. He and I are friends right now. He endures my retorts (of the “ballbuster” nature, he says) whenever he says something flirty. I amuse myself with his red-faced reactions whenever he tells me about someone who ruffled his feathers, only because he’s really funny when he gets all worked up. It’s like watching a cartoon. We only see each other twice, thrice a year but each time is a good time. There’s always laughter and stories to trade. And I know I could trust him, no matter what. It’s the right kind of friendship. It’s something all of us need and should be lucky enough to have.

Truth is irony + a punch in the gut

I talked here about what transpired the last 5+ years. Namely, with my ex. Why did I wait all this time to tell it? The truth is that I was not prepared back then. While it’s true that I had gotten over him well before I found out things, what happened was harder to shake off. I felt like now was the time to get things off my chest. It’s ironic: The moment I found out things about him was the exact moment I realized that I no longer loved him. There were no tears. That punch in the gut was there, true, but the pain of that discovery stemmed from the fact that he had hidden from me all those things right from the start. It was deceit at its finest. Or worst. I didn’t cry for him, but I did feel the pain of being lied to all these years. He had come and gone within those five plus years and he never bothered to tell me. But I am good now, honestly. I am no longer that girl who was left wondering and wandering all those years ago.


I have been listening to Nine Track Mind album lately and it’s very addictive. Tangent, but not really: Is it weird that I find Charlie Puth’s shaved eyebrow sexy, if not attractive?

This is it for now. I’m hoping to pick up a copy of “It Devours!” soon. It’s weird and interesting, which is why I love listening to the podcast, Welcome to Night Vale.

— Over and out. —