11/22/2008
I've got my stereotypes on

Glare in the eye. Couple of eye bags, usual for a graduate, barely discernible unless you look closely, boom, there goes lunch. Mysterious from the beginning, absurdly quiet, understandably quiet. Nice. Apparently nice.

Apparently crazy enough to drive you crazy. Tendency to be crazy unknown, pretty much a variable, reports of possibility significant but still unsustainable. Noticeable effect in people, easily dismissible, reasons unknown.

Literary background. Got noticed, will get noticed, probably published but all people probably notice is the name and nothing else. Presence minimal, prescribed by some sightings, very easy to miss unless assured entry into exclusivity circle. When noticed, don't notice too much. Don't overflow, unless willing to risk relationship status, unless you're willing to be subjected to thought torture. Don't initiate physical contact. One poke is probably enough. Shoulder taps still not a good thing.

Bookworm but never seen with a book, frequently in bookstores, not knowing where certain bookstores are, amazement at certain instances. Notebooks are an exception, but never in a meeting. One grab, scribble, scribble, usually unnoticed until provoked. High probability of being an introvert. "So shy it kills me" or "so snobbish it breaks my heart" and nobody definitely cares. Literary qualities? Unsure.

Tendency to collect chocolate wrappers, not certain about cartons if subject to receiving one.

Flamboyant, or possessed with a wide vocabulary, with tendencies to write in word salads but still remaining sensible to others. Possessively long. Bullet points, things others don't like, wondering, straightforward, weird sense of giddiness, or is it just the researchers' idea? Questionable background. Afflicted for three months, disturbing presence, breaks boundaries, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick with the flu, sick with the cold, sick with God knows what. People are not supposed to care.

People are not ever, not ever, not ever supposed to care. Caring risks self-hurt, perceived need of nothing, perceived independence, doubtlessly so. Negative family background? Patriarch seems nice, weird, wondering, "why not the folio?" queries, inconclusive. Point out causes, pretend, watching television or lying in bed, who knows. Aesthetically imbalanced, noticeable and weirdly so. One week advance.

Talking only to certain people. Hard to achieve trust, seemingly impossible, dauntingly so. Attempts result in emotional implosion, especially when given red card, no talking, not ever. Wanting to talk results in terrible implosions. Looking at dental expressions results in even more terrible implosions.

And yet I don't know when your birthday is, or what things you like, or why you collect chocolate wrappers, or why I get affected so much by all these. After all these years, you still remain a mystery, and I'll never figure you out. Or stop trying to do so.

And your responses...

uy. wala na naman akong masabi.

sa sobrang profound. you know, the usual.

Blogger NiƱa11/23/2008     

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