Post-Davao Round up.

I wore black going to Davao. felt the needed to. I was also the last person to step off the bus. Funny, because I worked my ass so much even if it meant taking for granted everything but when harvest came, the fruits felt pointless.
For 2 weeks, I goofed around just to convince myself that I everything was bearable. But that can only do so much. Certain things still bothered me. I still had those dreaded moments. had insomnia. took a bath 4-5 times a day. badly needed alcohol.
Then I broke down. People thought Davao was fun and I did too, until I realized that for the whole duration of my stay the only time I had fun was when me and my roomies had a singing session and the weekend breather. I’m not even sure if I liked it there. I don’t know. Breaking down felt better.

bleed 4 u

I'm not OK

Every time I come home I break down- and nobody has to know, except now of course that I talk openly about it here. Maybe because years ago I fell in love and got burned. But lately I realized that love has a habit of coming back. I'm feeling things I shouldn't be feeling again. I don't want to acknowledge this. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. And it's killing me- because we're so close and miles apart. I'm trying to get rid of it in my system. Somehow I'm getting there. Sometimes I relapse. And I beak down again, fall apart, telling the world I"m perfectly fine. The truth is I'm not- because I'm in love.