Irony.

I think it's strange how people break up then suddenly hate each other. First of all, don't you think you should be even just a little grateful for the people that worked so hard to keep you happy at one point? And what about all that time you spent together, all the stuff you went through...do you just erase it from your memory or what? I've always wondered why ex-couples feel the need to talk all that shit about each other, I mean, if that girl was so bad in bed, why would you even fuck them five more times after the first one? And if that guy was so bad at kissing, then why did you keep going to the movies with him just to make out? If your ex was so bad at everything, why'd you even keep dating that person in the first place?! We all know our ex's were amazing but just too afraid to admit it because you'd feel like you let something good go. And we all talk shit because we're angry. But if it was meant to be, it would always find its way, and since you're still not back together, maybe you were meant to be just friends. Like I always say, the current is always good 'til you find something better. I'm friends with almost all my ex's because they were my best friends at one point, and taking it to the next level and having it not work out would NEVER be my reason for a broken friendship. But take note that I said ALMOST when I said all my ex's are my friends. There is only one exception, and this guy was the only one that dumped me. So, he dumps me over text right, then doesn't tell me why. So i decide to confront him about a week later when I was completely over it and he says "Oh, I just thought you liked someone else...do you wanna get back together?" WTF? First of all, if that was your reason, why wouldn't you have just ASKED me, it would've probably avoided the whole break up shit. Secondly, how the hell are you gonna ask to get back together? Who do you think you are?!
SOOO of course I rejected him and that's when he started talking shit. So I sit next to one of his good friends in Spanish class. I walk into the class and his friend starts crackin' up and I looked at him funny and he said he was sorry. And I said is there something on my face? Then he says no, but I have to tell you something that [insert my ex's name here] said. So I ask what, and he goes "he said he dumped you 'cause you have a bigger dick than him." And I was shocked and angry but all that was taken over by my laughter of how immature [insert my ex's name here] is! Honey, anyone could have a bigger dick than you, but no one could ever BE a bigger dick than you. I didn't even bother trying to confront him about it because he just proved to me that rejecting him the second time was the best decision I've ever made in my life. And he was actually doing me some good by breaking up with me.
You can call me a hypocrite because before me and any of my ex's were ever able to build our friendship back, there was a lot of shit talking and dirty looking and eye rolling going on between us. But we managed to push all that behind us and be able to talk again, because relationships don't last forever, but friendships do...or at least they SHOULD.

Nonchalant.

My uncle told me when I was 6..
"Stop being so happy. Or something bad's about to happen."
So he believes that happiness is a jinx. And that when it occurs, some tragedy is about to strike. I kinda wanna go back to the Philippines. Just for one day, just to look him in the face and tell him how he always brought glumness into the room every time he walked in. And how I was afraid to be happy around him because I knew he was gonna lecture me and act as if being happy was some kinda felony or something. Then I would teach him how to smile. Maybe he would learn that life isn't a tragedy. Maybe his wife will come back. Oh, and maybe even introduce him to his 3 kids.

Deprival.

My dad's lived in the U.S.A. for 11 years. When I was 7, he, 2 of his brothers and 1 sister, visited us in the Philippines. They were staying for a month. When he arrived, there was a welcome home party at his mom's old house downtown. Everyone was over fucking excited like nothing bad could ever happen to us. It was a damn good time. But me? I was depressed from the first day that he came. Because I knew the time would end soon, and it would be heartbreak all over again. And that was exactly what it was once his departure hit. I couldn't even turn off the light in my room knowing that he would be doing that for me if he was still around. I couldn't even get out of bed in the morning because I knew he wasn't gonna be there to say "Want an otter pop for breakfast? Don't tell your mom!!" Speaking of, my mom's a really tough woman. I've never really seen her cry. 'Til that day my dad went back to where he lives. So you must think that we were glad to move to America to live with my dad right? Wrong. So, so wrong. I lived in the Philippines for 10 years. Yes, I brought most of my things with me when I moved, but I left my whole life down there. And it's still there now. There's just some things I'll never be able to get back. I'm happy here, don't get me wrong. But this isn't my home. This isn't where I took my first footsteps, this isn't where I spoke my first word, this isn't where I made my first friend, this isn't where I live! I feel like...in this whole life, I've never been 100% happy. When I was in the Philippines, I missed my dad. Now that I'm with my dad, I miss the Philippines. Just when I'm about to be happy...I'm not. You're thinking life isn't perfect Claudine, build a fucking bridge and get over it. Yeah, well, I probably won't ever get over it.
My whole life just always lacks something. I have the best family anyone could ever ask for...the best friends...etc. But I always knew something was missing. I still haven't figured out the whole side of it. I mean I'm satisfied. And I'm content and totally capable of being happy. But I'm not happy. I sometimes I feel like I need to be home. But then again, I can't picture my life back to the way it was when I lived in the Philippines. Can't deal with the heat...can't deal with the all-girls school...can't deal with the corrupt government...can't deal with the sky-rocketing crime probabilities, and other things like that. But still...there's just really no place like home sometimes.

Faith.

You don't got trust, you don't got nothing. You can't be best friends with a person you don't trust, because you can't build a friendship if you can't confide in each other. This especially applies if you're getting into a relationships. Relationships don't last long unless you're good friends first, and if there's no trust, there's no friendship, and there's no relationship. If you realize, when people quickly jump into dating each other when they barely just met, they don't last too long. And why not? Because those people don't know each other. They're probably together based on appearance and first impressions. But people aren't always what they seem. You never know, what if the person you're with is abusive? Or possessive? Or just someone you would rather not be with? It's easier to make mistakes on that. But if you got to know someone first, then most likely the friendship is there. In the dictionary, trust is a firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something. That's a very mere definition. I think they should add that trust is being able to confide in someone without having second thoughts on whether the word will get out or not. How about putting your guards down because you're sure that this person will not hurt you. Or how about...giving someone the ability to crush your world, and trusting that they wouldn't. I can't relate to the last one. I don't give my all to anyone. For some reason, when I start to, they give me something to burst my bubble. So I can't really say that I've ever put everything on the table. Because I know, not from experience, but from instinct, that no one can seriously be trusted. And I will never stop believing that. I noticed that everyone else has at least once broken down because of broken trust. I trust no one. Therefore, I haven't been really hurt. I don't let myself get hurt. Things that hurt other people emotionally, don't hurt me. And you'll rarely ever see me cry. I have cried, but never in my life have I fully 100% been crying. Maybe only when I moved from the Philippines to here. But I disagree when people call me strong. People that have gotten up after being beaten down to rock bottom, are the ones that I would call strong. I come off as insensitive, but I'm really just covered and shielded up in avoidance to being hurt. I'm not strong. I'm weak.

Deception.

Create a strategy of telling the truth without telling a lie. What do I do with the puddle of regret that resides in the core of my pupils as I deceive the being in front of them? I applaud the ones that are able to live with a conscience and a soul pinned down with dishonesty. And how they even get better and better every time they dive into the shallow end of a pool. A pest, tugging at the hem of your shirt. Tolerable, but irritating, especially on the worst possible day. Paranoia takes over, and trusting is impossible. Because even yourself can't be trusted. Like a fire tearing down a forest, tearing down a friendship. Quick! Before there's nothing left at all. While you punch and kick the smoke out of anger, out of frustration. Ironic, since you lit the match. The truth may hurt so go on telling your white lies. And black lies, and gold lies, and silver lies, and copper lies. Because in the end, it's still a lie.