I admit that perhaps this is a bad move on my part, to remember things I should have put behind me. Yet, here I am, unable to sleep, thinking about thoughts I shouldn't be thinking at all.

I cannot find words to explain the heavy feeling I'm experiencing nor could I compose any creative prose to give it form. Frankly, I've had a migraine since last thursday and I just want to crawl under my blanket and die. I couldn't write anything since my head started aching, so I went back to drawing for a while and realized that I still remembered how, much to my happiness.

But drawing, like writing, can only take so much time. There's only so much time I can put in my work until I take a breath and realize, that I'm still here, in this world, breathing. I don't know why I write or draw for that matter. I don't see improvements at all whenever I take a pen and start drawing the same old characters, nor do I see any change in what I write. I've been writing the same old things here in this blog for two years - the same hatred, angst, sadness and melancholy of living day by day in this big circumstance I call a life. What for? A friend of mine told me, I'm always looking for something whenever I write. He sees it in how I write these things I call an entry. They always seem open-ended, in a question, never really having any periods at the end - unfinished or, in a term I personally would like to describe, broken.

It seems that every time I press the publish post button for my blog, I take a small pause and review what I had just done. I have just let a multitude of who-knows-who's look into a small portion of my life and aside from that, maybe I have desperately knocked on their doors and asked for help. Why would I write about sadness if it wasn't for pity? Or happiness if not to gloat about it? I wasn't always like this I'm afraid. I had happier days when I didn't need (yes need) to write or draw to keep my sanity and maybe those days are gone now (like the hopes of expecting a reply from you, my dear).

Even as I try to desperately go back to a time when everything was bliss, there is just no rewind button anywhere in my life's VCR. It seems to just be at this constant fastforward, making my head spin and giving me this aching migraine to deal with. It's my greatest regret that I can never go back and fix the things I did wrong, I could have saved myself then if I did. I wouldn't have been broken and I wouldn't have to ask myself the same old question of "what am I doing to deserve this?" The proverbial question of justice, call it what you like.

Mark told me about an irony, my irony. I will only be able to achieve what I want when I'm depressed, hence I can never be happy lest I sacrifice what I want. An example would be taking an ELC test; I could only pass it when I'm depressed or writing for that matter, I can only seem to write my best under a certain degree of disappointment or sadness. AC backed this up also when he said something like, "masaya ka kung malungkot ka" I know, I found it funny the first time I heard it too but thinking about it again, it kind of made sense. What is happy anyway? Happy was 5 years ago when I was still friends with **** when I felt complete and loved but I can't go back to 5 years ago so I sought a different kind of happiness which seemed to me, like poor substitutes to the original... but happiness nonetheless.

I guess that's where the sadness is, how happiness now seems so temporary compared to back then. As much as I desperately claw into that locked section I call a past, the door won't open because simply, life moves on and doesn't give a damn about little ol' you. So what do you do when you're broken? You wander around trying to find a means to get fixed again. You look for the same feeling, the same person, the same instance to somehow get back that feeling of happiness in your life - the complete one. It's sad for me because whenever I try to find it, it eludes me at every turn and what's more, it rubs it on my face. Sometimes, I'd rather not feel anything or rather, I'm tired of chasing stars. I just want to draw, write or sleep until the day is over, day by day until I finally kick the bucket. I find that easier and less painful, rather than get hurt over and over again in search of something that can possibly... not be there after all.

So I wonder now, as I observe that an hour has passed, whether there is something to look forward to for broken people like me. I wonder if I can ever trust someone as much as I did, or love someone as much as I did before. I wonder whether or not I will ever get better in drawing or write about happier things, like how beautiful rainbows are without it turning into a metaphor about disillusion after the gloom of a rainy day. And finally, I wonder when I will find my happiness - find my peace, so I can finally put these thoughts to rest.

My head still aches from my migraine