Posted in hamilpuff talks

Inchoate Thought


You never ask, I wonder why

You were never curious, I wonder why

I love it when someone asks

I love it when someone always asks

I love answering questions, if you haven’t noticed

That’s why I love asking questions too

Maybe I get bored easily

Because you ran out of questions

Maybe I get bored easily

Because you never ask

Somebody else asks, and I wonder

How am I supposed to answer

Somebody else asks, and never you

How am I supposed to comply

Every time I speak my mind and what I want

You just laugh

As though I have said something funny

You just laugh

As though I made a joke

So I laugh with you

And pretend to be okay

So I laugh

And take myself as a joke

And so every time I want to speak my mind

I try to zip my mouth

And every time I want to speak the truth

I try to laugh at myself first

For you not to notice

How hurt I am inside

For you not to notice

How bad I want you to ask

How bad I want to be asked

How hungry I am for questions

And never really answers

Because when you ask, I know

That you care and that you want to know things

Because when you ask, I’d know

You want to know more

Because when you ask, I know

That you are true and real and that I exist

Because when you ask, I’d know

That I am not being used somehow

Because when you ask

But you never ask anything

And you never question my day

And you never asked a thing

So I stay awake

Still lingering in the shadows

Still thirsty for those question marks on the screen

That never came

That never appeared

So I stay awake

And wonder

Why you never ask

Why I even cared

The Daily Post

Posted in hamilpuff talks

I. Am. A. Control. Freak.

I am a control freak. I panic when something does not go according to plan and when the atmosphere is disturbed. And apparently, my peace was disturbed when I became the poison to their eyes. They may not be verbal about it but I know hatred when I see it. And feel it.

Being in the position does not fit me. Being the one in control and having the power to do so does not suit someone like me.

I would rather be behind the curtains, working my ass off and assuring that everything goes well on stage, that the actors have all that they need, that the show goes on smoothly. I would rather clean everyone’s trash after eating and make sure that the actors goes along with each other, that nobody is left behind.

To be an assistant, a helper, an all-around runner for everyone. That’s me. I could list your schedule and make a To-Do List for you. I could grab some coffee for you and make things for you. I could be your Personal Assistant if you want. I can only follow your orders. But if you put me in a position where “friendship” and “relationship” is at risk and is being threatened, I kindly ask for space, for distance. Because I highly value those two like those are sacred words for me. (I do not know why I said that, but yeah I can be your anything behind the scenes).

Also, I am addicted to order even when I am a messy person myself (what an irony) so when things gets messed up I get irritated and displeased so I have a tendency to take over. I guess you can slap me for that. BAHAHAHA. control-freak



Posted in hamilpuff talks



Will somebody really choose a broken soul?

Will somebody really live up to one’s broken brain?

She’s out of her wits, she’s out of her mind

A cheery jumping monkey by day,

A sweet sad writer by night.

She’s drained and exhausted

As insanity consumes her in class

At the end of the day, the prince is not a prince for her

But rather

At the end of the day, the prince turns into a sleepy cat

And in this ideology, she was the prince

Although not literally, her mind blows up

With flowers popping everywhere

Expecting no one to pull her close and hold her tight

Saying “Hush now, little one, you I am here and you can just be silent and weep if you want,” or something like

“Ssh, it’s okay, I know often you become sad and happy and I can take you for what you are, thorns or no thorns,”

How does one knight in shining armor say such words when the world shuts their thoughts to her mindless talking and senseless humor?

How does one man carry such a broken burden, a walking madness, and a self-proclaimed mad writer?

In the midst of a crooked road, there lived a crooked man, and he loved a broken maiden from the hills of Crooked Land.

via The Daily Post

Posted in hamilpuff talks

Identity Unknown


What is it with identities that I never wanted to get found by people around me, by people whom I converse with from time to time? What is it with identities that I keep on hiding myself from the world?

I don’t know. They say, you write for other people to read. You blog for others to read and follow you through. You publish something for people to look at and to buy or to appreciate. But how do you see someone who loves to write, blog, and publish almost everything, then hide herself away and fake her identity so people would not know that she was the one who wrote it?

Weird, right? But I don’t know. That’s just how I am, I guess? I mean… I created this new blog (again) only to realize it will be public and it will represent me, so I don’t know if I could still write over there or publish something there. I know, it’s been years since I started to blog, but my blogs usually hide me. Like, the curtains are up but the audience could not see the thin invisible line where it covers me as I watch the audience’s reaction to my shows. I created a self-hosted WordPress blog before where yeah, I earned $10 from it and no more. Then I created free sites after, reflecting me in every page without announcing it to the world. I love seeing stats, who does not? But I cringe when my stats bar show me that someone from my country read something I wrote. I just don’t feel comfortable. I feel naked every time someone from nearby views my posts.

So, identities. Let me just hide for a little while please? Let me just cover my face and embrace the comforts of being anonymous, of being no one, of being “just another WordPress Blog”, of being “oh-her?-I-do-not-know-her-actually” kind of reaction. Because being no one for me is the grandest label I could appreciate. Because being anonymous is better than people looking at you, knowing that you’re the author of this and that and some would love or hate you but I just cannot take the stares, the unspoken thoughts, the clear facial expressions. Let my identity be unknown for some time please? Let me just compose myself first before going all out once again.