Voices

I hear voices in my head, you know. It's not something paranormal or magical like I could hear other people's thoughts, though that wouldn't be bad. But no. In my case, the "voices" I say planted in my head are just products of hallucination and probably, stress.

There are times when I'm just sitting, really bored, in the middle of a class and then suddenly, I would hear these voices, saying things which were the least likeliest things I wanted to hear during that time. It would continue to taunt me, tease me with its words and the tantalizing images and scenarios it makes me think. It's utterly distracting, entirely pissing me off and downright infuriating.

I just want to shut the voices off. I have tried to do it many times now but due to recent circumstances, that desire of mine appears to be almost impossible.

I'm Missing You So Much :(

I hate a lot of things but the second thing I hate the most in the world is when I'm in need of writing stories or continue my stories but then whenever I'm in front of my laptop, the words don't come out. Only those frickin' ideas which would keep on bombarding me every second of every day, distracting me in classes, making proper study sessions entirely impossible, and tempting me to bang my head on the wall several times.

I haven't been able to continue my hobby which is writing for a very long time now (4 months, to be exact) and I'm starting to miss it.

I miss the challenge in researching facts about a certain concept and molding it with my own version or my own fiction. I miss staying up late at night, just to read the dictionary and highlight words that catch my attention. I miss daydreaming in classes about my characters and picturing them in different scenarios which I would later on put on paper. I miss the feel of my fingertips against the keys on the keyboard, pushing against them hour after hour after hour after. I miss the familiar numb feeling of my fingers whenever I take a break to eat or simply stretch. I miss uploading my chapters and read them over and over again checking for corrections. I miss opening my e-mail and see landslide of reviews filling my Inbox - reviews which contained appreciation, suggestions, constructive criticisms, and encouragement from the readers.

Well, probably, that's the thing I miss the most about writing. The knowledge that people actually read my stories, reacting to the events, appreciating them and making what I write a part of their lives. You can say, it's a bit inspirational. I miss knowing that I affected the readers' feeling and emotions, making them laugh with a simple sentence, throwing them to tantrums over a series of mysteries, and making them cry with just simple words.

I don't know if I could ever go back to my writing hobby before but I just hope I would be able to do that because writing meant something more than just that to me. Writing became a part of who I am. Of who Samantha Borja- Grajo really is.

And I'm missing it so much. Just like a few things I miss in my life. I just hope they would all come back. Before I do something seriously insane.


Like never write at all.

Nah. I wouldn't let that happen.

No, I wouldn't.

Stuck in Traffic

It's never going to end, isn't it? It'll always come back, haunting me like some sort of a psychopathic energy that would draw out all happiness and life in me, leaving me exhausted, consumed, and... lifeless.

I thought I could make myself believe what I want other people to believe so that they'll leave me alone and I won't be bombarded with a lot of questions any longer. I thought I could make myself do what people expect me to do. Well, they don't see how irritatingly, stubbornly and unreasonably stupid my heart works.

It doesn't follow. It doesn't obey. It frickin' has a mind of its own.

By now, you'd think my body, my mind and my heart have already exhausted themselves from all the ordeals they have undergone. But I guess these three goddamned things take vitamins and drink Gatorade to keep them going. Heck, I, the person, am definitely tired to the extent that I just want to sleep forever. How could recuperate when all parts of my anatomy contradict me?

So, I guesss, I'll just be like this forever. Like I'm stuck in traffic. Never able to go fast and move on to the next stop. I have to go slow, get pissed, remember things, find alternatives to entertain myself while I'm jammed in the middle of the street, and learn about how hard and unexpected life is.

HD At Its Peak

I can't stop the feeling anymore
Even if I don't really know the reason
I ask the question most core:
"Why of all people I like that person?"

It started out as a joke
Between me and a dear friend
But I was inevitably provoked
By the game I currently fear to end

Maybe it was his cheerful disposition
Or the way he played along
Or the fact that he treats me with so much affection
Hell, the list is just too long

But I fear the time he'll discover
These feelings I desperately cover
He'll not know what to say
He'll only leave and forever walk away

Game On

I haven't realized how badly I needed to change until this day.

It was all good and great - well, my day and mood, to be exact - until I received my first Mastery Test in Math for the Third Quarter and guess, how shocked I was when I found out how terrible my score was. To make the very long story short, I felt miserable since that moment and spent the rest of the day in deep contemplation.

And now, as the clock irritates me with its ticking, I have made up my mind. I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I'll straighten my priorities, fix the mumbo-jumbos happening in my life, and become happy. Becoming happy would be a bit difficult, I guess. Let's substitute it with the phrase "become contented". Yes, that's right.

Get ready, people, because the game is definitely on.

A Stranger Who Looked Exactly Like Me

I just recently discovered how drastic the changes that occurred in my life. Looking back at how things were before is like listening to a broken record. It starts as something nice and pleasant to listen to but as it reaches its climax, it begins to buzz and make irritating sounds. As it ends, the music which began as something beautiful and epic, comes to a chilling pause, like the notes and melody aren't in accord with one another.

Well, that's how I feel about the change in me.

I've always been the type of person who embraced all alterations and challenges in life. I've always been warm to problems evading the peace and harmony I enjoy. These are because I've always been ready with solutions and answers. People used to approach me for advice. Now, it seems like the world took a huge turn and I ended up being the one desperately asking people to help me with my problems.

I've also been the kind of person who knew how to deal with stress. I've always been calm and logical when it comes to decision-making. I've always considered the pros and cons before making a choice, whether or not it's for a big cause or a small one. Now, I easily get impatient and frustrated with things. I tend to lose my temper often. Whenever I'm dealing with stress for these past weeks, I've dealt with it through eating excessively (and risk getting fat) and a whole lot more. It's embarassing. I know, right?

Many of my friends, even those who are not really that close with me, have observed these changes. They all asked me the same question, "Ano natabo simo, Sam?" And I gave them the same answer. "Ambot."

I, myself, don't even know the real reason behind this massive change in my physicality, mentality and personality. I've asked myself a dozen questions every single day with regards to what transpired in my life recently. Still, I get no answer.

Firguratively, I've been afraid to face myself in the mirror and see how I've changed. But it was inevitable. One morning, after I've showered, I looked at myself in the mirror and just looked.

At first glance, I told myself I didn't change that much. Well, aside from the glaring fact that I've gained weight and turned dark in skin color. :| Physically, that is. But when I looked closer, past the physical appearance, I saw it. I saw what other people saw which made them ask me that question.

It was my eyes. They no longer had the same glow in them. They no longer looked... alive. When I tried to smile, I had to curb the urge to puke.

I was no longer me.

It was a different Sam.

It was a stranger.

A stranger who looked exactly like me.