fast forward to hours after i wrote the first line of this blog entry...

see our name in streetlights

The length of his arm slid against hers as he reached for a marker at the far side of the table, his scent momentarily teasing as he pulled away, uncapped the yellow and shaded the streetlights. The girl whispered something in his ear and his lips parted, unveiling the smile I have for so long yearned to be directed towards me.

“You done with the red?”

I turned and was plunged into eyes. Cris, the dark haired, fair skinned, art classmate of mine had his chair turned to the side and was leaning across the aisle, his eyes attempting to catch a glimpse of my drawing. With his voice still quivering in my eardrums – like the way a note would stay on strings, resonating until stillness lay upon it – I heard myself say “Yea” and watched my arm stretch out towards him, dropping the red on the middle of his palm, my fingers lightly brushing against his. “Thanks,” and with that, he turned back to his drawing.

i have decided to attempt to write as much as i can and thus had to pretend the pain away and listen to a dose of poppy boyslikegirls in order to get my writing mind to function. if i can get tattooed and not utter a single groan of pain, i can put up with this stupid menstrual cramp bullshit and write.

anyway, the story is incomplete. will probably finish it once i'm done catching up with the school work i've been neglecting. i'm so behind.

...and miss janina san miguel, i love you cause you crack me up.


meet squash. he is an ibanez artcore series (AWD72-TKF) electric guitar. i've yet to meet him in person (i only got to try out the AWD82T-TRD) but i will collect him from the shop on monday. sweet. the 16,650p spent is oh-so-worth it.



i'm sorry spike but you've been replaced.
ps: if anyone wishes to learn guitar, they may borrow spike. spike is a good teacher who'll get you riffing like fucking crazy in an instant.