come child; do not be saddened by another’s capacity for sentiments, as you know far too well your own desire for things of deeper meaning. rather, rejoice in the fact that you are able to feel so strongly.

Excuse Me if I’m a Bit All Over the Place.

It’s mid-April and with a little bit less than a month left of school, I have succumbed to the stressors of the final stretch. With my second year at my small, private university coming to a close, the deadlines and things needing to be done are starting to dance around my head. Combined with my desire to go out to concerts and events, but my unfortunate circumstance of being a broke college student, I have definitely become more grumpy.

But what is all that without a bit of insecurity to be the perfect cherry on top?

With the spring semester being filled with more time-consuming events than fall, such as the rehearsals for a cultural showcase that took place multiple days of the week and endured for about 3 months, I gained weight and lost definition in the muscles that I had just barely gained back over winter break.

As I had to spend more and more time going into the lab for research, I found that I was having to spend more time by myself. I saw people for even shorter periods of time than I did during the previous semester. Some people had switched majors, dropped out of classes, or changed sections for classes we had together. And while I admit without shame that I thoroughly enjoy a full dose of “me time” as much as I can get it, sometimes I feel as if I’ve isolated myself so much that I just don’t fit in with places and people I was a part of.

To be quite frank, I never really fit in anyway.

One time in elementary school, every person in class had to give a presentation about a certain type of music. While most of my peers chose HipHop, R&B, and Pop, I chose to present on Italian Opera. And long before EDM became widely popular among my friends as it is now, when people asked me what my favorite song was in the 6th grade, I would reply, “He’s a Pirate (Tiesto Remix).”

And as far as looks go? Well, I’m no poster girl…

I can say I am grateful to be blessed with a skinny physique. Standing around 5’4 with slender arms and legs and my size 7 feet, people have often asked me if I am dancer because of my stature. Or maybe it’s the way I walk… Or how I sit? Or dance around? I don’t know. Anyway, to be honest it makes me smile when people think that, (1) because they think I have talent and (2) because I can appear fit without putting so much work into it. Don’t get me wrong, I DO dance; I just consider myself more at home on a dance floor doing my own random thing rather than performing choreography on a stage in front of a large crowd. Also, just because people think I look fit, that doesn’t mean I’m not unhappy with my body sometimes. Trust me. I still have to put in serious work at the gym.

But sometimes it’s hard to get my boyish figure to cooperate. For some odd reason, at one point in life I thought I had an hourglass figure.


You stupid little high school girl..

I’ve come to realize that I pretty much have a straight figure. I’ve always been a late bloomer and can still recall being ridiculed for “having no butt.” It was the talk of the town about how I couldn’t really fit into a pair of pants just right without needing a belt and how my cousins’ butts were so big. WOW. BIG WHOOP-DEE-DOO, AUNTIES. So when I was able to slip on a size 24 of Forever 21 skinny jeans that hugged me perfectly, it was a very, very sweet victory. Thankfully, my bum has grown a lot since then, and no one has uttered a word about it. It’s not big, but its presence is slightly acknowledged, and I’m content with that. And it’s not knocking anything over, which is cool. However, being boyish in figure means not having boobs and that’s a little harder to embrace. I would like to wear strapless dresses or clothing with bold cuts more than I do and actually have something to show off. To make matters worse, it doesn’t exactly hide weight gain. Seems like the girls who have slightly bigger breasts than mine and can fill B cups and even some A cups can conceal their tummies better. As someone who’s trying to workout to look and feel better, I frown in envy at the bitches who eat all they can at restaurants all the damn time and still come out looking fabulous.

Then there’s my flat nose, with an almost nonexistent nose bridge. My chubby cheeks (a result of excessive sodium intake from a phase when I would snack on sunflower seed for hours in a day). My deep eye bags. My eyebrows that may or may not be visible in certain lighting.`And my scars, blemishes, and uneven skin color. You’re probably thinking, “Wow, Allex. That’s a lot of negative things you’re pointing out about yourself. Can’t you think of anything you like?” Of course I can. I like my big eyes My straight, pearly white teeth. And my lips (you can find me trying new shades of lipstick all the time). My legs, my feet, my fingers, and even my innie belly button. But these things to me have become so overwhelmed by the imperfections that it’s hard not to feel bad about them. I’ve grown up feeling a lot of pressure about my appearance. Filipino aunties can be blatantly brutal about your flaws and it’s unfortunate to say that it has affected me to such an extent. It doesn’t help when random cuties are flirting with your cousins or friends either. Guess who’s left in the corner on their own looking a loser? Oh, me. Again.

Didn’t mean to sit on the pity pot for too long, but I just needed to get that off my chest.

Don’t mistake me for a girl who is rushing to get into a relationship, because it’s actually quite the opposite. I’m guilty of being a bit overenthusiastic when I meet someone new or when things start to get serious, but for now, as I mentioned earlier, I’d rather spoil myself. I like this freedom that I have. And while I am aware that one day, I will be able to dance around without a care and have someone by my side that will accept my craziness and probably dance alongside me in the goofiest way possible, today is not that day. I’ve had a scary close encounter, but I have not yet met my match and that’s fine by me. I don’t want anyone holding me down and I don’t want to hold anyone else down. I just don’t feel as if I’m ready for a relationship yet. Simple as that. I still carry a lot of baggage and a lot of it I feel is stuff I need to learn to take care of on my own. I want to be the best I can be when entering a relationship (even if I’m still far from perfect) and I definitely know that I have to really, truly love myself first. I could have the whole world telling me to stop putting myself down and that I’m beautiful, but it all doesn’t matter unless I believe it myself. But just for shits and giggles, I like to think that, because I don’t really possess the stereotypical type of cute girl looks that guys covet, it just means that there’s an extraordinarily atypical cutie out there for me that’s waiting to be found.

I’m definitely a work in progress. Looking back though, there is significant growth from this exact point in my life last year. I’ve learned to love, forgive, and let go, and for those who’ve known me since at least high school can definitely attest to my issues in doing so. These first four months of the year have already brought events to test how much I’ve grown, but for the most part, I can say I’ve combatted then pretty successfully. Clearly, some tweaking needs to be done, but it’s a lot better than it was. The struggles live on, but God knows I’m happier.

As for the relationships in my life, I know I should break out of my shell even more than I have. I’m beyond thankful for the new friends I made in such a short amount of time and have taken me in like family nonetheless. I’m thankful for the friendships I’ve strengthened. I’m thankful for having a few people out there that I can always fall back on no matter what, even if distance separates us and we don’t get to talk that often. You know who you are. 🙂 I’m also thankful for realizing that there were some people in my life that are really not even relevant and that I shouldn’t give two shits about. You’ve given me some valuable lessons and it’s nice to take a break from worrying so much. There are still kinks: people I hope to reconnect with, people I hope to get to know more, just some things that are up in the air, but I hope the upcoming months will help lay that down for me.

As I’m writing this, it’s just about to hit 5:30am and I’m going to get up in a few hours because I’m supposed to be productive and grind down on these last few weeks of school. This is what I get for napping at 7:30pm and drinking caffeinated tea at 11pm… Shout out to all the insomniacs!

So I’m a bit all over the place.

My life is a state of chaos. I don’t quite know where I’m going anymore and it’s scary, but I’m also okay with it. I have my share of bad days like today, but I have never loved my life more. I’ve discovered just how passionate I can be and reignited my desire to travel, so God willing, when I have some idea of what I want to do, I’ll be able to take my passion and go great places, literally and figuratively.

In a sense, I’ll always be “all over the place.” Whether it be with the internal struggles in my head right now, or traveling around the country and eventually the world with friends and family, there’s just something fantastic about this whimsy. I once wanted to be an ornithologist. For those who don’t know what an ornithologist is, it is someone who studies birds. And here is yet another atypical thing about me because, let’s be real, how many people have said, “I want to study birds for a living!!”? I say this because admire the freedom of birds. There is good deal of sadness in a caged bird that is never let out, but a bird in the open air, able to express its full potential in flight, is a sight that enraptures me, reason being I can relate to this perfectly. I’d consider myself a baby bird, given that I’m still trying to get used to this and I’m not as independent as I wish.

But I’m still a free bird.

So I will sing. At 6:15am.

And probably make a mess.

But you’ll have to excuse me.

A Day with You.

I would very much like to spend a day with you.
Just the two of us.
You and I, I and you, together again.

But it is not because we love each other deeply.

Not that way, at least.

No, my love for you is star-crossed because I fear I am forever trapped in the wonderful knots of our friendship.

That has both its pros and cons.

So I would very much like to spend a day with you.
You’ll talk about how things are in your life and I’ll talk about how things are in mine.

I do so in hopes that we will return to what we once were.

I do so in hopes that I will remember why we were such good friends.

And I do so in hopes that I will be rid of these feelings for you.

Cup of Joe.

You are the single brown ring on my white, wooden table, leaving a mark on pure innocence, and making sure everyone can see it.
I would like to hide this scar, but something tells me it would make sense for you to leave more stains.

It burns when you touch my lips and your warmth seeps through my teeth and into my whole body, but only momentarily.
Then all that is left is the bitter taste in my mouth.

You give me the shakes because I don’t know how to control my body, nor do I have the ability to control my mind.
I’m filled with many emotions, but I don’t know what to feel until I hit the dreaded caffeine crash.

Send my regards to your addicting, black poison.

And you know what’s funny?

I don’t even drink coffee.

To whom it may concern,

Excuse my rant, I will be all over the place.

Anyway, I write “To whom it may concern,” not because I don’t know who I’m specifically dedicating this post to; I know EXACTLY who this is for. Rather, I say this because I do not know what to call you anymore.

I don’t think I can call you a friend because we’ve butted heads one too many times and over the couple of years, we’ve just gotten into so many messy misunderstandings that we’ve dug ourselves into a ditch. I don’t even know if I can call you an acquaintance. We don’t really see eye to eye, but I can’t exactly say I hate you either.

Now I won’t lie and say that everything is perfect between us and that I’m totally free of bitter feelings.

Lord knows that we don’t even talk and that every once in a while, I stop and think about our memories together, especially the way you hurt me. And I think how we tried to just fix our friendship, but for some reason it broke us down and it seems there’s some hidden tension between us. Pretty sure at one point or another, you thought I was being “fake,” because I would always be sarcastic or mean toward you (even though that’s just my nature and I don’t even know what’s running through your mind) and I feel as if the resentment we built over the years totally clouded our visions with assumptions and hate.

But let me tell you something.

I definitely don’t mean to be fake. I don’t know if you remember, or if you even read the letter I wrote to you last year, but I wanted to end the year on good terms. And I feel as if I have mentioned this many times before in this blog, or possibly on Twitter or Tumblr , but it’s true. When I wrote that, I wanted to start on a clean slate. I didn’t want any hatred, and I wanted to be able to be comfortable with you around our other friends and you know I wouldn’t want to wish any bad upon you, despite my random rants saying, “Can he walk off the face of the earth?” or “Ew, I hate him so much…” You can’t blame me for feeling this way because I know you’ve felt this at some point. We probably just got frustrated trying to understand each other.

To be honest, I still don’t understand you, and I’m not too sure that I ever will or that I want to. I saw you a few days ago and indirectly greeted you with an eye roll of disdain upon seeing you sitting near the top of the bleachers, but I paid no mention to you. I didn’t come to see you anyway. We kept our distance until you decided to come up to our group of friends to make conversation and I decided, “I might as well be civil” and I greeted you with an awkward handshake and hug. I was overly hyper that day, probably due to the wonderful music that was still ringing through my ears, but what’s the point of having you rain on my parade? It probably took everything inside of you to keep that calm, “nice guy” demeanor you wore when we first met. Something inside of me tells me you were looking down upon me, for a reason I will probably never know because I’m sure there are a lot of things you are hiding from me. But I found myself being comfortable again, because really, you’re not worth the worry and I think I’ve earned the right to act as crazy as I want in a place I called my second home. Plus, I quite like it better when I’m happy and things seem okay.

That being said, I still DO want to be friends. I’ve said this so much I don’t think I can count the times. But seriously, what’s the point of secretly hating each other all the time? So I hope one day, when we’re mature and settled down and successful, we can look back and laugh and say we’ve made it through and we’ve both learned our lessons and achieved the happiness we deserve, whether we’re a big part of each other’s lives or not. I don’t expect we will be, but I hope we can think of each other and smile a bit. The memories that bring back pain today will one day just be pictures in our storybooks, and we’ll just shrug and say,

“It never worked out, and that’s okay.”