Alone

My parents went to my hometown - not really hometown, more like homecity - to get "stuff." They never really told me anything specific, but since they're with my three-year-old brother, I'm guessing it's not drugs.

So, yeah, I'm all alone. Fine, not alone-alone, my grandparents and aunt are here, but activity-wise, I'm alone. I'm typing all of this in my grandpa's room (without his approval) because I just love his keyboard. It's all click-y, so when I type, I feel all business-like.

...Did that rhyme?

Eh. Whatever. Back to my day. I have to make a love poem for Filipino class. Since I have no love in my life (and I can't write a poem for a fake boyfriend), I decided to write about my Mom and Dad. It's pretty lame, but whatever. I'll go get my notebook right now!

[This isn't everything yet, BTW. You won't understand a word if you don't know how to speak in Tagalog.]

-Five minutes and a cup of coffee later-

Here it is:

Para Sa Aking Magulang

Itong tula ay para sa aking magulang,
Na minahal ako mula noong ako'y sinilang,
At binigay saakin lahat ng kailangan,
Kahit sila ay minsan kong nasasaktan.

Sana patawarin nila ako,
Sa lahat ng mga nagawang hindi maayos,
At sana magustuhan nila itong aking ginawa,
Dahil sinulat ko ito para sa pasasalamat sa kanila.

Yeah. There it is.

Oops, I have to go now! An Ugly Betty re-run is on! :)

Lately

So, lately, I've grown tired of my old desktop backround, cuz, really, it reminded me of all that outdoors-y stuff. Sure, they're extremely pretty, but those kind of stuff are meant to be seen from a distance. Like, on the other side of a TV screen. It also reminded me of last, last Saturday's exercise trip or whatever my parents call it.

But, seriously, you can't blame a girl born and raised in a city for not loving sweating and running, you know. Fine, fine, we were jogging at Baywalk, which is a part of Asia's biggest shopping mall, but there were just waaay too many people there. And I hate people.

I mean, if there weren't so much people, I would have been skipping and spreading love and throwing tulip petals, but, alas, people from every generation were there. Come on, can an insecure thirteen-year-old girl do that in front of a hundred-something crowd?

If you don't know the answer to that question, get out of my blog because retards are not welcome.

Back to my story. My parents promised me that were going to play Badminton afterwards.

Guess what broken promise ruined my day!

So, instead, we went to a mall. Almost a hundred miles away. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. More people.

But don't feel too bad for me, okay? There IS an upside to this! I got to buy new Tom's (loafers - floral, too) and red Ray Bans. I guess I deserved a prize, especially since the day before, I spent my afternoon making an anniversary banner for them and buying them 3 gifts, which was kind of my way of saying, "Sorry for not buying you any anniversary, Christmas, or birthdays gifts before!" 

Did I mention that it was their anniversary the day before our exercise trip? No? Well, it was.

So, anyways, I wanted to change my backround. I turned to Tumblr, the home of pictures that were considered beautiful by many girls my age. Even some boys. But only a few, because guys' taste is a little different from mine; I'm more Eiffel-Tower-at-Night and glitter in jars, while they're more beach-blonde hoes in leather bikinis.

Sorry to offend, but the guys I've met (a.k.a. some classmates) prefer women's bumps-and-humps over fairy lights.

Anyways, these are a few candidates:

Not Fucking Normal

Okay, so I turned thirteen a month ago, and since then, I notices some... uh, changes. And not just physically (Uh, hello, does my birthday makeover ring a bell? No? Oh, right, I forgot to write about it... Okay, long story short, I got a mani-pedi and a haircut), I noticed that I changed mentally.

Not sluttier or something like that, just - ugh - girlier. I actually started to like pink again, I just effing bought pink and white floral loafers, AND I made an account at GirlSense!

That's not normal for me!

My voice changed, I started to be more awkward around boys - if that's even possible - and I suddenly don't hate reality shows anymore.

The reason for my amazingly unusual acts of teenager-y-ness?

I'll give you a clue; it starts with a b, and ends with oys.

Boys.

Fucking stupid crushes made me into a frickin' DAFFODIL!

{Only iCarly fans will get that reference}

I'm all emotional now and pink and girlie and falling-hard-for-guys-y and... and... weird. Is that what being a teenager is all about? Finding out that you and this wretched stage of life is weird? If it is, then I'm done.

The Perfect and the Perfectly Fake

How are you sure that you've hit rock-bottom?

When you decide to choose over a guy and a guy who isn't even real. [the post below this will explain everything.]

The first contestant is the imaginary "Nathan", and the second is not Kyle (got over him when I got back from the semester break), but my first crush/possibly first love, Lance.

I have to choose if I want to keep up my fake beau charade, or try to get Lance - who may kinda had a crush me a little bit - to like me again. I can make up a completely believable story of Nathan moving to Barcelona permanently to live with his abuela ("Grandmother" in Spanish) and say that he thought we couldn't handle a long-distance relationship. Then I would cry, Lance would overhear, we'd get together, blah, blah, blah, happily ever after, ride a horse in to the sunset and all that chiz.

But there's a problem.

The whole point of "Nathan" is to get Daniel [once again, read the post blow] to stop liking me. And so far, he won't understand that I do not like him. At all. As a friend, possibly, but as a boyfriend? Only when there's bribing involved. And if they offer me any amount less that seven million, I'll slap them silly with sandpaper.

Hopefully, he'd finally understand that I don't like him, and I'd get to be with Lance and ride off and all that other stuff I said.

                                                                           

Fake, Fake, Fake

Have you ever watched a movie or read a book that centers around the main character? Well, obviously. But did this character have a fake boyfriend or girlfriend? Probably not.

Well, I have a little dilemma that may or may not involve fake relationships.

I didn't read a book about a girl that feigns being in a relationship, I didn't watch about a movie about it either; because I'm already in one hell of an adventure being The Girl With an Imaginary Boyfriend, or whatever my friends will call me once they find out that "Nathan" is only a mix of my creativity, my best friends' imaginations, and a few tiny lies.

Why did I create a fake beau?

There are 5 reasons:

1. A classmate, Daniel, has a crush on me, and to say the least, it's annoying. I want him to back off before he sees sweet and shy Gabby pull out her Daddy's baseball bat.

2. I'll get to see how it feels to be in a relationship. Sure, a fake one, but nevertheless a relationship.

3. I hoped that my crush will get the tiniest bit upset or jealous. And as it turns out, he was!

4. I haven't done anything as remotely sneaky as this in a while, and I needed a little fun to get me out of my "Boring and Bland" phase.

5. "Nathan" is the absolute perfect guy - in my opinion, at least. If I ever have to choose between two guys, I can compare them to Nathan so that picking would be easier.

Oh, gosh, I just hope none of my classmates or schoolmates are reading this...

Anyways, I learned that being in a relationship is... complicated. Even fake ones.

You have to endure the "You are too young for this kind of commitment" preaches, you can't "like-like" anyone else, and frankly, all your friends ever talk about is your new boyfriend and how shocked they were when you told them you were taken.

Now, add the drawbacks of being in a fake relationship. 3 + 74 = Fuck, I'm screwed.

Also, the guys who like me can't process that I already have a "boyfriend", so the teasing and "Gabby! Look at Daniel!" shouts from across the room are still ongoing. And the stalker-themed stares aren't much of a picnic either.

So, if anyone wants my advice, a living and breathing partner is much better than a photo-shopped and too-perfect-to-not-be-gay prince charming.

P.S. Don't tell anyone I know about what you read. Forget what I wrote. Sign out. Clear your history. Burn your computer.