good morning.

i woke up at eight a.m. and my dad asked if i could iron his shirt because he’s going to another concert. he’s a musician. intermittently, i’d think he’s so crazy over it. he’s lived his whole life learning and playing instruments in front of so many people. he would even perform in front of the president.

as i iron his shirt, i fantasized about becoming a nun. you see, in my mother’s side of the family, two of my grandfathers — as far as i know — are priests, while one of my grandmothers is a nun. “you’re not so serious, are you?” i thought to myself. i don’t even know why i would ever think of that. i think everyone would think i’m crazy if i say the reason is that i want to be deemed holy and incapable of doing bad. i’m sacred. i am kind.

i had a dream, once, that i was the Virgin Mary, that i am madonna. i am gradually losing my sanity as i type this. nevermind that.

i want to read books about greek mythology and be immensely obsessed with it that it’s all i would ever talk about. i’ve had enough of these romance books that will only create an undeniably amount of unrealistic expectations in my life. then sabotage myself because of it.

i’d like to think fairies are real. there are still quite a lot of yet-to-be-discovered places in the world. we will never (maybe) know which species lie beneath the pacific ocean. who knows maybe mermaids are real?

as i write this, i still don’t know why i would ever want to become a nun. i have never been that engrossed in religions, especially catholicism. i guess i’ve fantasized about myself too much for the reason that i want to be seen as holy. i wouldn’t want to meet the devil. i have never been a “fan” of the holy book either. in fact, i’ve only read less than ten verses from it.

i think i am going crazy. i am not afraid of having another thing to be obsessed with. i am just over-exaggerating. i think. what i’m afraid of is losing interest in it. i love mediocre men. (at this point, i am just writing about whatever pops up in my mind)

i just started reading Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes by Emith Hamilton.

i can’t say anything about it yet. maybe soon.

god, i love myself.

i am really not an interesting person. i just talk so much. i talk when no one’s talking. i talk when i’m alone. i have nothing in my head but air if i’m talking to someone. i flash a smile but it’s really just because i want them to feel welcomed. doesn’t mean i won’t care about what they have to say.

i don’t know.

i go quiet sometimes. unprovoked. i just don’t have anything to say, that’s all.

i have a confession to make.

i don’t have a pen anymore. and i am so so so sad. i thought, maybe, i should’ve never used it. sigh. the world is so unfair. why can’t i have everything? why is too much a bad thing? i’m so tired of living.

a good honest kiss could fix this. kisses are so wonderful. i love kissing cheeks. i love lips. especially his. i want a kiss. can god give me someone i can kiss at least?

does wanting for someone i can kiss too much to ask for? what do i have to do just so i could have someone i can kiss?

i hate him for this.

i miss him so much.

i haven’t seen the moon. not even stars. i wish i was a star. just floating in space. nothing in sight but other stars. not a thought in my head because i wouldn’t have one. but i will have that power to be able to see the whole fucking world.

i should stop writing and eat.

drink water, ok. mwuah