I believe it's called an orbit

Re-entering the blogosphere hasn't been as easy as i imagined it to be. It's just that when you get used to steeping in your own acrid-smelling drama, the feelings and emotions no longer trickle down to reach you fingers.

The keyboard remains untouched.

For the past months, I have been making myself believe that it's okay not to write about things. And during that time, it kinda worked. To cope with unrequited love, one must not put meaning to any gesture, occurrence or anything. Officemates expect you to be happy. There is no room for sadness. You have no right to dampen the mood. Happiness is the new coca-cola and if you don't sip from it, you're just another moron buying house-blend tea from the cafeteria. So my recourse, I turned to my other circles. I exhausted my friends' company until their ears bled, rejecting all my first-hand rants and complaints. I knew I was starting to become a drag to be with.

Even before that, during my stint at howbaduy, I resorted to vagueness and misdirected identities to protect not myself but the people I was dragging into the mess that is my life. I am not sure how to go about this, because truthfully, I feel that I've lost my right to express. I don't know what's actually happening, and what's just taking place in my head.

One person once told me, as he was gently letting the fact that he will never love me slide in, he said that I protect myself from the world too much. It had nothing to do why he was rejecting my feelings, really. Maybe it was just a criticism he had to say. Maybe my psycho-ness and drama was making things inconvenient for him. Maybe it was destroying his image. So I have to say sorry if I am finding it hard to cope. If I am finding hard to be pleasant 24/7. If I can't be all happy thoughts all the time. If small talk wasn't my thing. If I am finding hard to be friends with him. That it's not easy to let my defenses down because really, hurt and ache and pain could be tiring, and sometimes the easier pain and ache and hurt to deal with is the one I inflict on myself. I'd rather move about and think that I was the one who decided that all things are hopeless.

It's funny how everything goes back to the fact that I like him and he doesn't like me. It's difficult to wake up every morning and to stand in front of the mirror and think that I look fine. To over look those bulges that stuck out, or to ignore the fact that i don't have a defined jaw line. It's hard to say something and not think that I said the wrong thing or that I delivered it the wrong way. You see, when an item has stayed on the shelf for too long, the guys at quality-control would surely soon swoop in to throw the item in the stock room.

This is not self-pity. This is just an unusually heavy post and I promise to try to become happy again. I have been smiling all day, especially after he told everybody that he's falling for someone now. I have been smiling and working and going though the same routine that I should be anyway. But this is my blog and I realized that I don't have to be someone else here.

The next post will be happy. And I assure you that I will find a better star to spin around at - it could be career, family life or social scene. I will try my best to be a whore. Anything that won't have to involve letting myself get close to another person anymore.