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I'm not a graceful person. I'm not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2AM, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don't belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don't see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.

Friday, October 16, 2015

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Tuesday night, or was that Wednesday before the break of dawn. Twas barely 2 Am, you woke me, I ended up coughing my lungs out.

I cut ties with everyone.  Just as planned so I did.  You, and your cold knife.  Me an all fucked  up fool.  eHs.

Minsan na nga lang ako managinip.  Ganito pa.

On my way home, Wednesday night.   Another bus ride.  And that scene in my head playing over and over again,  like I was centerfold in my little dream novel.  Tearfully triggering asthma.

Thursday evening running late for home.  and close to bringing myself to DLSUMC ER.

Friday morn.  officially sick ageyn.  facebook revived temporarily.
(dang, how could you be oh soooo sweet, and caring, and thougthful and all that ---  you jusz know exactly when and where to hit me huh ... go for the kill baby go!)
   

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