I guess you can never really equate how much of an insecure little brat I am. Envy, rotten to the bones, is a dangerous disease and one infection invites a multitude of other infections. How do you cure something so deep? It's like as if I have cancer and even chemotherapy or some random vegan juice won't help.
And this is all I am. A skeleton of envy. Purple withe rage. And trying so hard to be un-suicidal.
It all began that cold
September morning when the breeze of the ocean was just right. Crispy and soft,
like Nissin wafer sticks and the way they snap just between your fingers. It
was sunset then and her skirt billowed against her frail scale.
I looked at her. No, gazed at
her. She was magnificent against the tangerine bursts of the dying sky. Her
hair was golden. And her face, Aaah,
her face, Helen of Troy would’ve felt shame if she’d seen her-big brown eyes,
aquiline nose, those soft pink lips and the easy-going smiles she beams like rays of cheerful
And it was that image of her on that lazy boulevard that left etches of dreams on my dormant intuition. Suddenly, I can see. And with sight, I gained knowledge. And understanding. And I knew that I have fallen.
Because I'm too lazy to write (exams week last week, mind you) and I'm in love with Taylor Swift. This is also the original soundtrack of The Hunger Games, another novel-turned-movie franchise that I'm hoping will replace Twilight. Sorry pro-vampires.
After the head-turning Versace X H&M collection, Donatella Versace gave another bang for Spring-Summer 2012 when she showed a couture collection in Paris-the very first time since 2004 (that's like 14 years in fashion). The 15 piece collection featured a number of skin tight dresses that flaunt the flaunt-able, shimmering metal hips and/or shoulders, and sleek pony tails.(One word: FIERCE.) And as www.style.com puts it, "Non-glamazons need not apply".
Last week my Mom bought me a piggy bank. It was a cylindrical box, splattered with "Dora the Explorer" photos, and costs 15Php at a retail store that my mom passed by while walking in the city. I know, it's not even a "piggy" bank, but it was enough to serve its purpose.
See, I am a horrible spender. I have trouble keeping money. And at 19, this problem is haunting me. They say that littlest things matter-so if I'm not able to control myself from spending all of my weekly allowance, how will I be able to save my monthly salary in the long run? I can't even keep track of all my expenses. Sometimes, I don't even know where most of my money went.
And so last week, I can't help but feel utmost gratitude to my Mom for the "piggy" bank. I haven't told her about this problem, but I guess that's how Moms are-all-knowing and stuff. Now, I make it a habit to drop a few pesos in the bank every day. It's a long process, because sometimes there aren't even coins in my wallet. But the littlest things do matter. And I intend to continually save.
And if this won't work, I hope my Mom will pay for the therapist-if they do have therapies for this sort of mental derangement.