I'll tell you a secret.

I have a disease. It's like Anorexia. Only that I am not conscious about my weight, or my physical appearance. This disease is not about 'who looks best'; it's about 'who is the best'. It's EN-caused, but it's not exactly 'insecurity'.

Here's how it works: first, it gets inside you as something not so unusual.

Like when someone like EN gets you drop your jaw in an English class introduction.

Day by day, it inhabits your mind and your soul, and yet, you won't notice it. You will think you are on the right track if you let this disease control you.

Like when you try your best to improve and to be EN-like. When you set EN as your idea of human perfection.

It dominates you slowly, imperceptibly. It eats you bit by bit, painlessly.

And then one day, it has overwhelmed a large part of you. And that is when it attacks. It 'awakens' and strikes you. It happens infrequently, usually unexpected, but it will afflict you. The result is your self esteem and confidence drastically dropping down to zero. It lasts how long depending on how fast you get over the attack.

I pity myself because of this. I do not want to see myself this pathetic, but, I would have never cared if I did not learn how to set myself this high. It is not my wish to blend into the crowd, but, I am not remarkably good enough to be recognized right away.

Just like EN is.

We have this Save Mother Earth oriented English project. We are going to try to do something to save the Earth. And it's not like we could actually do something, so just showing that we care, must be enough.

Which lead to my proposal of Save Mother Earth orienting my entire social networking site accounts, and build a website to put the narrative thing in it and all the proof needed to show that I am working. (In collaboration with Kyla)

And my teacher just won't get the purpose of the website even though I've already said it in our proposal. It's getting really annoying. Oh, and I'm starting to dislike her back again.

Now, I need your visits. I need them, so click the link below and drop your tag.

SaveMotherEarth.110mb.com

To be loved, to be loved, what more could you ask for?
To be loved, to be loved, everyone wants to be loved.

Chin Mendoza : Langya ka, ka-debate mo pala si Bet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chin Mendoza : Tas nanalo ka pa!!!!!!!!!!!
Me : Naka-tsamba lang ako. Mahina lang talaga yung napili na cell part ni Bet.
Chin Mendoza : Ano ba yung dinefend mo?
Me : Mitochondria. Ribosomes si Bet.
Chin Mendoza : PAANO MO NAGAWA YUN????
Me : Hindi ko nagawa yun, dudes.
Chin Mendoza : Eh, ano?
Me : Pinag-usapan naman namin ni Bet kung ano'ng itatanong at isasagot. Shhh.
At saka hindi lang siya ready.

Ahaha, para naman kaya kong gawin yun.
Chin Mendoza : Nyeeeeeeeeeeekkk!! Ang corny. Sana hindi mo na lang sinabi. Ang paghanga ko kanina ay OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD. Magaling ka na sana eehh!!

It is not right, anyway, is it? Me winning over Bet? It would not seem right, even if she could have won if she just wanted to, even if she would have won if she chose a better cell part, even if she could have won only if she was ready, even if she could have acted on the plan when she had the chance.

Everyone expects her to win. But I won, and it is not fair. It's wrong.

I feel guilty. The plan was, to make both sides look equal. And instead of saying that I think Mitochondria are independent, in attempt of giving her something to contradict - which I might not have informed her that I knew how to fight it back - I should have acted on the plan, which is concluding that both cell parts are needed, and there is no cell if these parts are removed.

But in this you must rejoice: we are one of the best pairs and we will receive extra points in our Biology exam, which is by next week.

I though I must update my blog along with the skin since the TC era has passed away. From this post onwards, I will not talk about anything TC anymore - ehvurr. Besides, it is not a recommendable topic. Heehee.

Me: Honestly, I loved everything about the TC blog. I still love it. Kind of miss it, actually.
Rikan: WTF.
Me: No, I'm serious.
Rikan: Where the hell did you dig that shit up?

So from this post onwards, I will only talk about how stressed I am and in need of sleep and how tight my schedule is. And how I hate James.

What I really want, is to parteh on Zwinky, and have a good sleep long enough to pay up for the weeks I've been having only three hours of sleep each day. Or at least that is what it feels like.

You know, there's a difference between sleep and rest. What I need, is rest, which means sleeping without anything to worry about. Or at least that is what it means to me.

The home works, and the my anxiety for the RP I'm joining in Gendou keeps me from resting.

Alright, the book I am currently reading, too.

But there is always something for me to stay up late. Yesterday, I wrote a script for Hannah's skit in Biology. Tomorrow, - Friday - I'd be staying in school until 5 pm to help in saving that wretched bulletin board of ours. On Saturday, I might be helping Hannah shop for the materials of her English project. The next day, Kyla and I might be discussing and starting our English project already. On Monday, I'd be helping Hannah make bracelets for her project, which might be extended until Wednesday. And on Monday, too, we(Kyla and me)'d have to be starting on our own one week project.

I keep offering help out to everyone, I keep welcoming all possible ideas. I want to do it all, without giving much thought to how I could manage everything. But this will be fun. The most fun thing that's going to happen after the previous one.

Now, excuse me while I write our script for our skit on Monday in Biology.

'I think an old, deserted house is such a sad sight,' said Anne dreamily. 'It always seems to me to be thinking about its past and mourning for its old-time joys. Marilla says that a large family was raised in that house long ago, and that it was a really pretty place, with a lovely garden and roses climbing all over it. It was full of little children and laughter and songs; and now it's empty, and nothing ever wonders through it but the wind. How lonely and sorrowful it must feel! Perhaps they all come back on moonlit nights...the ghosts of the little children of long ago and the roses and the songs... and for a little while the house can dream it is young and joyous again.'

Diana shook her head.

'I never imagine things like that about places now, Anne. Don't you remember how cross Marilla and mother were when we imagined ghosts into the Haunted Wood. To this day, I can't go through that bush comfortably after dark; and if I began imagining such thing about the old Boulter house, I'd be frightened to pass it, too. Besides, those children aren't dead, they're all grown up and doing well...and one of them is a Butcher. And flowers and songs couldn't have ghosts, anyhow.'

Anne smothered a little sigh. She loved Diana dearly and they had always been good comrades but she had long ago learned that when she wandered into the realm of fancy, she must go alone. The way to it was by an enchanted path where not even her dearest might follow her.

Like stolen shot of laughter and smiles, now yellow with age. It will stay just like that. I will go back into it every now and then, reminisce and daydream, with no one else - just me.

I will replace that thick, rotting rope that we are still holding currently, before it becomes too sick to even hold on to, before we pull away for forever, before all things get wasted. Before nine monthsaries get wasted, before one anniversary gets wasted.

I will replace that thick, rotting rope with a new one with the same color and feel. With the same warmness, with the same giggles, with that same old way we agree in almost everything. Without the writing about but not mentioning who. Without the getting annoyed but not showing, not saying so, without faking or lying.

You won't hear anymore about it from me. You forget all about that now.

Let me stay this way; I understand that you want to be you now. But let us not pull away.