Just me and my overly hyperactive, oxygen-deprived imagination

I could easily tell that this is gonna be one of those days (or nights, if you're gonna go and nitpick) where I would spend time in the corner, talking to myself, ALONE. I never was one to handle being thrown off-balance. I mean, all of my rational thinking, analytical prowess (ahem, kapal) and generally sane disposition evade my grasp. In the corner. ALONE. Wondering what the friggin' hell am I doing here?! I thought I have gone forward already and took a 180° turn, only to find myself in the exact same spot I fled from. Running. Almost 2 years ago.

And what sorta bothers me is that it tends to be the same thing, AGAIN and AGAIN. Like a bad case of déjà vu gone worse. Or an endless rerun of horrendous slapstick sitcom episodes. Or a barrage of idiocy wherein instead of me fleeing, you see me catching every ounce and drop of it with open arms and a wide-gaping mouth. Aargh. I can feel my IQ points diminishing.

It is not that obvious that I am bashing myself. I am beating myself for digging up yet another pit for me to fall through. I am mad at myself for being such a fool. I am on the verge of trying self-mutilation but I am not that foolish (yet) or that brave even.

Why didn't I see the signs? Signs that I was again setting up myself for agony and pain and regret. Make no mistake though. I am not a sado-masochist (well, most of the time I am not). I don't like getting hurt and even if I appear to enjoy getting hurt, I assure you that I do not. Maybe I have seen the signs. Maybe I have seen them and just ignored them. You ask me why? Why indeed. Why would I ignore these signs if they were there to help me avoid such untold pain?

Maybe I was just blissfully unaware. Blissfully ignorant of the dangers that accompanied my kind of HAPPINESS. I feel happy. I felt happy. I was, for a time, HAPPY. But as the happiness ran out, I turned bitter. Or just severely melancholic. Or I was overcome by a schizophreniform disorder. I felt my veins and muscles were slowly caramelizing into a catatonic state and I became extremely overwhelmed with avolition. Crap! Crap! CRAP!

In my defense, I have already improved. I was not like this before. I was the worst kind of scum when it comes to this kind of stuff. I had this nasty habit of lunging at the next person I like and professing my undying devotion to them. Am different now. I'm a bit wiser. And when I say a "bit," I do mean a BIT.

If I pause and assess the situation, it's just me. I mean, the other person is completely clueless (or not) as to what I am going through, on what thoughts run across my mind, or even the feelings attached to being a mere "admirer." Wala siyang ginagawa. Ako lang itong gago na nag-iisip ng kung anu-ano. Ako lang ang dahilan bakit ako nagkakaganito. Wala nang iba pa. Also, I wouldn't venture that far by letting the person know. It wouldn't be natural. It would feel forced. It wouldn't be right. I wouldn't tell just so I can elicit a favorable response. Again, I am not that brave. Better shun telling than facing rejection. Or am I just making excuses?

I have always thought that everything will just work out the way they are supposed to in the end. Things always happen for a reason (and yes, aargh for being so cliché but that's the way I see things). I am still thinking things through. Sorting through the mess. Rummaging through countless excess baggages. You ask, what's the point in all of this? Probably in the middle of all this ranting is a silent prayer asking for help and forgiveness for everything. By the way, I still feel the same way. Confused. Wanting. Crappy. ALONE.