My father doesn’t understand that I’ve been depressed for several days now. For a month, even. I’ve been cutting class more often than usual (I’m just working my ass off so my grades won’t slip–ironic how they’re getting higher anyway), I sleep too much or too little, I’m irritated at the simplest things and I keep thinking that I want to hurt something so I won’t hurt myself. It’s getting worse. I’ve been skipping meals and if not skipping them, eating less than usual. It’s happened before when I was a senior in my high school and it sure as hell is happening again.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m suicidal, although there have been several thoughts which I’d quickly dismissed. I don’t want to kill myself; I’m not brave enough to do that. It’s just that it feels as if I’m just there. I want to talk to S so badly but I’ve never broken down in front of her and I’m afraid to start. S doesn’t see me that way because I’ve always been the shoulder to cry on. Besides, I don’t want to be selfish and dump all my problems over hers. I already worry about her enough.

My father was yelling at me a while ago and it barely registered. I wasn’t lost in my thoughts then; I was lost in what I was doing. I was just typing and typing and typing and I didn’t even know what I was writing. I know what I wrote was hurtful but he taught me to fight back and instinct just took over so I repeated what he said to me. I explained it to him but he didn’t understand, not really, and what scares me is that the person I once trusted so much can’t bring himself to understand.

I pulled the trigger on me because I knew it was going to happen anyway, two years in the future. I pulled the trigger on me because I didn’t want him to yell at my sister anymore.

It worked, almost.

I’m scared because I want to reach fifty but I don’t know what’s wrong with me because I’m already thinking that I can’t reach twenty if I’m like this. My thoughts are jumbled and I can’t separate them. I need to find a way to do so. B tells me that I need to even though he never said it out loud, because I know that he already knows what’s going to happen to me if I can’t do so. He’s right, my father I mean; I’m not normal. I’m not sure I want to be but I do know that I have to be because I’m a rusted gear and I keep things from working.

I want to get drunk until I can’t think straight. I want to get stoned until I fry my brain cells. You see, they’re wrong; I don’t like being ‘smart’. I don’t like having an above average IQ because it separates me from other people and I over think. When you’re ‘smart’ people expect more from you and you’re pressured to give them what they want. I’ve been called arrogant by others. I know I am, at times, but usually it’s because I’m not sure how much people want from me.

I don’t like getting older because I’m finding it harder and harder to find things that can make me happy. You’re probably laughing now or rolling your eyes because you think I’m being so dramatic. Whatever, it’s a normal reaction. I’ve laughed at your heartbreaks, your anxieties, your blog posts, everything. The thing is, people are naturally self-centered so we don’t know the extent of ones misery.

I need to get out of this house. I have friends but I don’t want to go to them because I don’t want them to see me like this. I don’t want to get out of this house for just a short while, anyway.  I need to get out. Permanently. I need to earn enough money so that by the time I graduate, I can rent an apartment and leave for good. My father keeps saying that I won’t be able to live alone but what he doesn’t get is that if I want something, I’m going to work for it and find a way to do it. He keeps telling me that I’m irresponsible, that I won’t be able to support a family, things like that. I wanted to laugh and say I have a choice and why on earth would I start a family in my early twenties? Of course, I couldn’t; I was in enough trouble already.

I’m exhausted. With everything. I can’t be this exhausted. I’m only seventeen. But I can’t go back to sleep so I’ll just sit here and try to drown out my thoughts.

 

I didn’t go to Theology class today.

They say you can always go to God whenever you’re feeling down, or in my case, strangely hollow. But then, I’m not a person who strongly believes in faith and religion. Maybe this is what’s wrong with me. Don’t be mistaken, though. I’m not going to experiment on what I believe in because I’ve been to enough faith seminars and each one was a failure. So it’s not that, I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t been sure about anything this week and people are starting to notice.

A asked me what was wrong yesterday and I didn’t even try to make it look like things are okay. I didn’t try to smile, didn’t try to crack a stupid sex-related joke, the ones that always make A laugh because, well, A finds sex funny, I guess. A’s starting to catch up and I don’t want her to because I don’t know if she’ll understand. Hell, I don’t even understand. P asked me eight hours ago why I wasn’t in class and I didn’t even answer. And I’m not even close to P and I definitely don’t want P to know because P laughs at things like that and he’ll just make fun of me, the way boys make fun of things they’re not familiar of. J asked me a simple question that wasn’t even about me and it was a struggle to open my mouth and speak. I don’t want to let J know this about me because, she’s J. She has bigger problems and I can’t be serious with her because she shies away from things like that, like this.

I’ve spoken so little today. It worries them, but I know they’re not really worried because they’re just my blockmates and I’ve only known them for one, almost two years. They worry because it doesn’t fit with what they know about me. They know I’m quiet at times and I can’t sleep some nights and that I find it a struggle to eat when I’m like this. They don’t know me the way my friends do, the way S does, especially, because S experiences this as well. S doesn’t know everything though and I don’t want her to because I don’t want her to worry. I’m selfish, in a way. I always want to be the one to worry about things because I don’t want people to expect things from me, which contradicts D’s analysis of me a year ago. It’s not that I don’t care about things. I do, very much, too much. I just try so hard not to because it’s ridiculously sentimental.

“Just do something that will make you happy,” K told me once when I’d slipped in front of her. It’s not easy, I wanted to say. It doesn’t just go away. There’s not always a concrete reason for it. People automatically assume that something’s happened, a fight or a death or a breakup but it’s not always like that. Sometimes you just wake up on the wrong side of the bed and for some god knows what reason, you still go to sleep on that side even though you’re fully aware of the consequences of your actions.

I lied to people. I don’t have a headache. But it’s easier to say that because everyone gets headaches occasionally. I’m not sure if other people get this feeling. I think only a few do since people don’t talk about it.

B gets it though, which is understandable because you automatically assume he gets it just by looking at him. B knows about my active mind, knew it as soon as he saw me tapping my fingers restlessly. B asked me what I do to try to stop thinking and I just said I don’t know, sleep, I guess. And he just looked at me and I knew that he understood because he didn’t push it, didn’t ask any of the stupid questions people have asked me before.

I want to sleep but I’ve already slept for four hours a while ago and I’m wide awake. i have to study, i have things to do, and I have to try and be normal because my father doesn’t understand. He never will, I’m sure, because I slipped once and he just got mad then asked me what was wrong with me.

You can’t answer a question you don’t understand.

I’m sorry, I truly am.

I should play my role but I’m defective today and will most likely be defective tomorrow.

Pampanga Photography Class

Our photography class was held in San Fernando, Pampanga. We were given a list of things to take pictures of (dominance, lines, geometric shapes, etc.). Some of these I consider photography, some are just pictures. Feel free to judge.

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An oil painting found in San Guillermo Chruch.

San Guillermo is the half-buried church, the one that was greatly affected by the Mt. Pinatubo explosion.

What we thought was the first floor was actually the second and the original windows had been transformed into doors.IMG_3534 IMG_3544 IMG_3551 IMG_3563 IMG_3566

San Guillermo’s ceiling. The rafters are left exposed.IMG_3567IMG_3574 IMG_3576

The front door/window of San GuillermoIMG_3578

The outside of San Guillermo. It was raining quite hard so this was all I could take.IMG_3583 IMG_3590 IMG_3604 IMG_3607 IMG_3612

Santo makingIMG_3614 IMG_3617 IMG_3619 IMG_3626 IMG_3629 IMG_3637 IMG_3648 IMG_3651 IMG_3670 IMG_3673 IMG_3692 IMG_3716 IMG_3719

Visual trespassing. The chicken didn’t like it.IMG_3726 IMG_3728 IMG_3736

This isn’t the best photo but it’s my favorite since I was the only one who noticed this.

Unfortunately, my camera wasn’t good enough to get a closer shot.IMG_3739 IMG_3745 IMG_3767 IMG_3770

Holy Angels University, Angeles City, PampangaIMG_3774 IMG_3778

This wreath is made out of real goldIMG_3784

The death mask of Fernando Po Jr.IMG_3785

The death mask of Benigno Aquino Jr.

Compared with FPJ’s, this funeral mask is messier as Benigno’s mother requested his body be left uncleaned.

You can see the exit point of the bullet in the mask.IMG_3811

The tip of a cannon.IMG_3818 IMG_3823 IMG_3832

Vicente Manansala, a National ArtistIMG_3843 IMG_3852

Inside the Culinary MuseumIMG_3857 IMG_3865

The standard Kapampangan meriendaIMG_3867

Frogs are considered a Kampangan delicacy. IMG_3878

My blockmate Jonathan butchers a frogIMG_3889 IMG_3892 IMG_3896

TextureIMG_3899 IMG_3916 IMG_3925 IMG_3935 IMG_3964

Lines

Old Drawings I Never Bothered to Post

And I still suck when it comes to titles.

I’d like to tell you about gym class because my whole body is aching and it feels like I have Spongebob’s huge thigh gap. But I don’t have photographs of our baseball practice, and that was quite embarrassing so let’s just skip that and move to what this post is really about: a junk post. As in, I’m just posting this because I have nothing to do and I’m quite bored.

 

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I got addicted to ink before the start of school. There’s Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians and above him is a sketchdump of The Walking Dead. The others are just my original works.IMG_2523

A tiny comic I made for my friend. The only copy of it rests in her hands. It’s a dystopian, post-modern story inspired by Orwell’s 1984.IMG_3400

Pippin, Merry, Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf from The Fellowship of the Ring using markers on watercolor paper.

I started reading the series and it’s quite nice. I’m nearly done with the first book. Pippin Took is my favorite because he’s such a brat and of course, I absolutely love Gandalf.. He’s always telling them they’re stupid, albeit subtly.IMG_3403

A charcoal study of the poster of this show.

I have also started watching Da Vinci’s Demons and this series is absolutely beautiful. It’s like a mix of my two favorite shows, BBC Sherlock and Game of Thrones. And Tom Riley is a gorgeous man who looks like Filipino actor, Richard Gomez (which is all kinds of weird but I try not to mind). It has everything: mysteries, gore-y stuff, magical realism, history, and of course, art. I am shamelessly promoting this show. It is wonderful. Watch it. If you’re a fan of BBC Sherlock watch this until September, when Season 3 begins. I’m such a geek. I should stop. But they’re so good and I rewatched Sherlock again yesterday which would be sixth (seventh?) time.  I am rambling. Stop.

Enough with that.

 

I have a new project coming up. My final paper for Lit class, actually, and it’s an illustrated book of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. There are two choices actually. Either that or John Green’s Paper Towns which was the original choice. But I did my best to put Neverwhere in because, while John Green is a good writer, paper Towns won’t look as good as Neverwhere once you illustrate it. But I may be biased because I absolutely adore Neil Gaiman. So I am excited. Very, very excited to get started.

Baywalk

Our photography classes with Sir Jokay (Joseph Kayaban) are held on Tuesday afternoons. Now, I like Sir Jokay–I do, I swear. He’s a funny old man and may be even weirder than our prof in Figure Drawing, Sir Benj. But Photography wasn’t very interesting until a few hours ago, when we were finally, finally, allowed to go outside and take pictures of random things and random people (and the back of Sir Jokay’s shiny bald head).

I’m not very good when it comes to Photography. The camera I used belongs to the whole family but my older sister’s the one who uses it a lot. And by a lot, I mean, she’s become a bit possessive of it and since I’m (ehem) careless when it comes to handling expensive things, you can imagine the hissy reaction I get whenever I tell her I want to use it.

Sir Jokay took us to Baywalk where he let us roam around and experiment with our cameras. It was fun–high school party fun, even. Though I suppose that had more to do with the rain than with taking pictures. I have no idea why we become hyper when it rains. It’s like we’re Gremlins.

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Chains preventing us from jumping into the scummy water.IMG_3237

There were a lot of boats there but not one person was on board.IMG_3261

A picture of the restaurant above.IMG_3267

The view from the restaurant’s veranda.IMG_3281

A dusty disco ball discovered over our heads.IMG_3284

Classmates taking pictures.IMG_3288

Another closed restaurant. Or bar. I think it’s a bar.IMG_3292

Sir Jokay said to take pictures of shapes. Here, a circle. Sort of.IMG_3297

Tried to pick this lock. My skills, however, failed.IMG_3305

Friends played stripper on this post. The poor thing has seen so much.IMG_3318

My attempt at establishing equal halves.IMG_3320

This plane is going somewhere. Hopefully, they’ll arrive safely. The clouds don’t look happy.IMG_3323

Some buildings.IMG_3330

Four of my classmates checking out floating garbage.IMG_3343

Voyeurism.IMG_3345

Fisherman in Blue shows us the beauty of a dying fish.IMG_3346

A fish who chewed more than he could.IMG_3349

Fisherman in Blue’s catch of the day.IMG_3355

Fisherman Assistant prepares the bait.IMG_3387

The back of the Cultural Center of the Philippines.IMG_3397

The sun finally peeking from behind the clouds after an hour of light rain.

School and Things

Yes, I am well aware that I suck when it comes to blog titles. I apologize for not being one of those people who have no difficulty when it comes to organization, and, well, blog titles.

So school began two weeks ago and whoopee I’m now a college sophomore. Oh how wonderful to go to a school where Catholicism is a must, where you are still treated like a high school student, where there are idiotic rules that make no sense at all as said rules will not bring the apocalypse any closer if you break them. Obviously, I dislike my college, but then, I have never met a student who loves their school wholly, so perhaps this is normal, acceptable, even.

Or perhaps these pancakes I’m eating are so delicious, they’re forcing me to find fault in every single thing in the universe, with the exception of their sweet, sweet taste.

So school, let’s get back to that. Well, classes are fine, not a lot of things to do yet, Lit class is wonderful, College Algebra is surprisingly easy for me, considering how I nearly failed my Math subjects in high school (numbers and I have have never gotten along). Everything is normal.

But you guys don’t care about that, of course, since this is a blog for my drawings and other random things. Random things done, drawings next.

Have only had once class in Figure Drawing and Benji has yet to give our plate back to us so here is a sketch of Thom Yorke drawn during the bus ride to Manila, the gates of hell, and below that, a drawing of Wreck-it Ralph for my friend.

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