Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Love Love Love

Over the past week, my friends Gboi, Lawi and Shara Banana have told me more than once that I no longer update my blog. Well, Gboi is still riding his shit wave, Lawi is still proclaiming his undying love for Mortred the Phantom Assassin, Shara is still in search of her friends’ lost blogs and I… I am busy trying to reprogram my mind to refrain from doing anything related to professing my obsession with Solis because as if Max in the hallway was not enough, there seems to be someone who knows Solis in almost all of my non-Econ classes. Weeee.

I haven’t really been inspired to write anything that can be considered decent lately, hence my not-so-satisfactory CW 10 grade, but hey, for all that this is worth, this goes out to you, my friends, for continuing to drop by my forsaken blog in the hopes of finding a miraculous update despite the fact that I haven’t been active since August. Hopefully I’ll be back soon.

***

There are many things that could be said about how and why it happens. I was drunk, I was lonely, I got carried away… and the most cliché of all, it just happened. And somewhere around Mt. Olympus, Eros cringes because you rarely hear the reason that his existence is for.

Alcohol, check. Not the Chivas’ or Remy’s displayed at home, nor the spirits distributed by Daddy’s distiller clients. There’s an almost empty bottle of vodka on the bedside table, next to an equally almost empty bottle of tonic and two shot glasses. It takes around ten minutes for the human tongue to learn the palatability of vodka tonic, fewer if you’re like her who easily gets drunk (in which case you will readily swallow anything that can be shoved into your mouth). Hey, in Econ VAT means value added tax, everywhere else it means vodka and tonic.

Oh, Dan Hardy. She would fuck you for the mere reason that the second X on your straight edge tattoo means ‘no alcohol’.

Loneliness, check. A friend once said that the people you miss aren’t the people you think of when you’re alone – it’s who you think of even when you’re happy with a crowd. It’s been five years and there’s been many other people, but the truth is that there had been nobody quite like him, or the way he made her feel. If she could, she would actually turn back time so she could do things differently. When Benjo asks them, “Kayo ba?” she would not deny it; When Lance tells them to try to work it out, she would listen; and when he… when Carlo tells her “I love you”, she would not pretend that she did not hear him. She might even say something back.

 Maybe things would turn up differently. And maybe she wouldn’t be lonely.

Emotional overwhelm, check. Because a fingertip gently pressed to the lips can do more than silencing someone who speaks. (Especially when the fingertip is yours but the lips are not.) It was recently learned that a fingertip to the lips can close eyes and ease breathing too. It just has to be mentioned that it’s most effective when it’s the eyes and not the lips that was doing the talking for the person in the first place. It might just be the best way to get acquiescence, and when you have acquiescence, you can proceed with everything else. 

Who said you need a grappling background to elicit a submission?

It just happened, check. That’s what we all say when we can’t or don’t want to explain why certain things happened.

It’s just seldom the truth.

And love?

Frankly, she couldn’t care less if there was love or not. When she woke up the next morning the sheets were all messed up and clothes were strewn all over the floor and the smell of alcohol was retching in the air and the headache – god, the headache – it was terrible. (Must have been what they called a hangover.) There might have been some feelings of guilt or regret (Okay, so she did at least wanted to be in love) but it was hard to tell because the feelings of soreness and nausea were all that she could recognize.

But she was not alone and there was nobody saying “You know it’s casual and we’re still friends, right?” She just sees a faint smile and hears a somnolent, half-asleep voice from the other half of the mattress advising her to go back to bed because going to school with a hangover was not happening.

She laughs softly (making a mental note to herself never to get drunk during weekdays again) before closing her eyes and letting herself fall back to the pillows.

Today, just today, nobody needs love.
 

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