another boohoo post

I notice I need a couple of Seinfeld episodes to calm my nerves down and rock my brain to sleep.

I notice I am still not comfortable sleeping over. I get suffocated even just thinking about it. Even when I visit friends and there is chance to just stay, I would find myself panicking inside. 

I realized I am not over the trauma caused by Mawhi. 

No I dont want to get back with her — as if that's possible. But I get this big wave of jealousy that she got over me quick and found a safe space with another guy. I refuse to acknowledge that that guy is better pffft. It just another mistake waiting to happen.

But I guess that feeling of being contented with the imperfections of it all - that what this envy is for. And I admit it - I was the loser in that relationship.

I miss just having plans of staying over and doing nothing but a movie. Then wild sex. Then sleep. Then looking forward to another breakfast with good coffee. Then another movie. Or playing guitar with her doing her stuff. Then cunningulus.

It is just plain boredom in wes anderson hue. I miss having someone to go home to.

And though I have been trying to connect with someone, the uncertainty of that future just kills the vibe. 

It is just sad to be alone. 

Unload

 I am freeing my mind from the clutter by going directly to this blank page without a draft.

Am I really still happy with her?

I am affected 

but I also know I should stand by what is right. And what makes it difficult is the existing hurt she inflicted to me that can't be erased. I miss her face. I miss our talks. I miss when we play and talk sex. But is it all worth the drama and hurt?

I hope I am getting through Art and Dylan. Been trying hard to leave nuggets of wisdom so when I die, there'll be enough quotable quotes that I hope they'll use. Thinking bout it, I don't have any from my parents. 

God, please make me more affecting and inspirational to my kids. PLEASE.

Benadryl did not work last night.

IN OTHER NEWS

I feel my bandmates are laughing at me for being so serious about my craft and it depresses me. 

WE ARE IMAGINARY can't move without me. Everyone knows that, but they can't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I do with this band. I really need to focus on myself. 

I pray for new bandmates who can match my drive. Who believe in my vision. Who just love to play. Please.

Loneliness. Poverty. 

I hope someone will go to great lengths raising money for my treatment when I am ill, just like what people are doing back home for Peewee and here for Gab of Parokya. I am scared that no one will care.

Realized if I have a stroke right now or even a heart attack, nobody will check on me for days. The scent of decay will be my late cry for help. Even my brother doesn't know my address. 

And here I am trying to be there for everybody.

41

 2nd cup of black coffee with condensed milk.

Suddenly placed on the night shift on the eve of my birthday.

I am 41.

I am not afraid of age. I may feel unloveable now, but I have this innate confidence that I look way better than most guys my age. But if I can lose this hump of a belly, I’ll be way better than those in their 30s.

Cringeworthy? I am sorry, but it is true.

Having a good job with cars and extra money is another story; that’s where I always lose.

I never understood why I felt so unspecial, especially on my birthday.

I know it has something to do with my parents, but I am already 41, and I still feel that no one really cares about my existence.

Being a type 4 with a double Pisces sign is a bad combo- you crave attention and uniqueness.

I thought I had both. Guess it is all in my head.

My daughter was here this weekend. Helped me get through the days. I always wonder if she loves me just because it is required. How about my youngest – does she think about me or want to brag that her parents are artists? I know I am demanding and reading too much of their actions. They’re teenagers, for God’s sake.

But I don’t want them to feel what I feel about my parents.

Even though I am separated from the wife, I know I have been more open and communicative with them than with my parents. 

At least I’m trying. 

Cause I love them. 

They don't know that I still crash and cry after I scold them.  I hope they can feel me trying.

Where the fuck is contentment and peace?

 

Hello March 2023

 You know you are traumatized when you are worried to express yourself fully here. This has been a journal where I can ramble and let my negativity go wild without anyone calling me a sad boi.

I am sad.

Saw my kid cry over someone who was diagnosed with cancer. I felt bad that all I can think about is she didn't cry when I was confined for a mild stroke. 

Is it reality or impostor syndrome that I am not really as important to my children as I think I am? Shouldn't go down this rabbit hole. Shouldn't. I can't afford to. Scary.

I am broke. 

Kid needs impacted tooth surgery money. Need to send the monthly allowance. I owe a couple of friends money. Record collection is getting thinner as I am selling them one by one- in pain. I have a number of debts I need to settle with the ex-wife. Bills that kept piling up.

It is not that I am not trying. I am actually. Hard. Life is just hard. And even if I earn 30k a month, turns out it is not enough to pay for my bills and settle my responsibilities. 

One will argue I chose this life. Well I didn't. But it happened and I accepted it. You may say that is the bare minimum but nope. It is a heavy load. 

An acquaintance just bought a new guitar just because she likes the color and I am bummed out. Where does she get the money? Not even working, for God's sake. These privileged kids can afford to focus on music 100% even without talent and that makes me sad and frustrated.

I know I'm just spewing projectiles here but let me. I am negative and I am going insane.

I just hope people will quote my songs and cry in my funeral. I know I wouldn't know but I believe in the idea of "soul." So probably I'll know. 

But do they even like or stream my songs? That is another problem.

It is my birthday month. 

Just want to get away, treat myself to good food, watch a lot of gigs, get crazy and fuck around, go record shopping and maybe change my wardrobe. But NO. 

I CAN'T AFFORD TO. 

Iriga 2022

 5 a.m.

Woke up after less than 2 hours of sleep because of a suicide dream.

Kids are on the top bed in my old room in iriga. I lie in my thin solo bed on the floor.

Had a milo and ful medammes with bread.

Cried over a prayer through a Bible app.

I am trying to be conscious and be more present with my kids. I haven't been messaging anyone, even ignoring long convos with friends.

 I notice that I am now a little off...not used to touchiness, which I need to initiate. The kids need hugs. I need hugs. 

I also need to talk to Art more than just laugh over silly jokes (but I hope those laughters will create fond memories).

I hope Dylan also feel that I care a lot about her thoughts even if I playfully debate her over imagined or exagerrated scenarios.

I want to be happy. 

Hope I am doing the right thing.

I want to be remembered 

not only for songs, 

but for little moments of joy. 

Falling Out of Grace

 This is what having a relationship with a narcissist feels like:

You are left wanting. You adjust to her own time. You can't really move because without her even saying it, all action is upon her approval.

She makes you believe that the "secret world" you created with her is better than reality— making you feel like the toxicity is part of the deal. She makes sure noone will hear your cries for help—as nobody knows.

You convince yourself that despite all clues pointing to her lies and infidelity, and she can't even give you a proper excuse, you'll hold on. You defy reason. 

She'll bombard you with sweet gestures. She'll clutch her nails on you. She'll disguised obsession with love. Your addiction is her drug. 

She'll keep you guessing, as you swing with her moods. Everything is a push-pull catastrophe.

She is the criteria you need to please. She is the only standard that is all-knowing and right. 

She'll push you to your worst, so there'll be evidence that she might be innocent. But oh, innocence is the farthest thing from her. She knows what she is capable of.

And lastly, she'll justify with pride that she can't be hurt and that you put yourself in that position. She will deny gaslighting you. She will deny your existence. She will make you the villain.

Good Place

Had my first therapy session today. It didn't help the way I was hoping to. The therapist talked a lot, trying to relate to what an artist is going through and missing the big picture. I guess I should deal with this on my own.

 Took a lot for me to book a session. The first one canceled because of a technical difficulty, without even considering the courage I have to muster just to be there.

I feel ugly and inadequate. 94 kgs and can't find the determination to lose more. I need to go down to 70kgs to be healthy. Not to mention, I am losing a lot of hair. Scares me.

I found that coffee is the only thing I look forward to every day. I don't know if that is a sad thing.

I have gigs lined up, but that is me trying to push myself. I haven't done 2 sets for years and doing it alone in front of a mainstream night market crowd is scary. Let's see.

I'm going to Baler this weekend to play without my friends tagging along. Hoping to meet strangers that can inspire me.