i just realized that lately and i’m pretty sure that most of my friends don’t know that about me. i don’t blame them. i rarely open up and i mostly keep to myself. i don’t let anyone just peek through that tiny crack that i sometimes unknowingly open to reveal the storm and the calm that hides within me.

i live in a parallel universe.

it is a safe, nice world where crushes never end and hearts are never broken. the role models that i’ve put on a golden pedestal don’t show any signs of falling apart and are hell-bent on proving to themselves and to the whole world that they are not human; as a matter of fact, they are way, way above that. it is a world where the characters say things the way i would fashion a dialogue. it is a world where the people behave according to my liking. it is a world where the conflicts are minimal and are mostly resolved through thorough discussions, not through violence, not through shouting sprees.

i dwell on the make-believe.

the world is too jaded for me to be happy. i make up stories and i immediately outline some stories whenever i witness something in the real world that i want to change. i tend to imagine people in different contexts, different circumstances; i tend to imagine how they would react to something and i would change those reactions to conform with how i want those people to be. there are a lot of story outlines currently stored in my computer. sadly though and because of unknown reasons, i mostly lose enthusiasm in the middle of writing and i never finish anything.

i am an idealistic realist.

yes, i indeed am. i never fancied myself to be an idealist as reality had weathered down my inherent childlike innocence. i don’t consider myself a realist either because once in a while, i would still believe that no matter how evil some people are or no matter how grim the circumstances may be, people in general are still inherently good and all circumstances happen for a certain reason. i pray that i would get a job where i would grow in mind and in spirit, where my intellectual growth would be tremendous and it wouldn’t matter to me if the pay isn’t that much lucrative. but i also realize that in order to help my family, i’d have to settle for a job that i would probably hate and be contented with it as long as it brings food to the table and pays for the tuition of my siblings.

i am a dreamer.

but i don’t show that to the world surrounding my physical body. i dwell in my parallel universe to escape the harsh realities of life. i am a dreamer but reality has a way of knocking some sense into my head most of the time. reality has a way of waking me up and it’s never subtle nor considerate. and then the closet dreamer in me vanishes, leaving me weary, overly stressed, eternally afraid and so un-ready to face the big, bad and scary world.

screw reality — stupid stupid stupid pain-in-the-neck reality.

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written this morning while listening to the lecturer giving the answers to this day’s electronics refresher exam. i found myself dreaming of earning some high honors and reality kicks me in the behind and reminds me that i have less than a month left. this sucks.

if landing the top place in the board exams means gunning for gold, then i feel something like i won’t even get to pass the qualifying matches. argh.

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