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Thanks Pinay Chicken Heart for this award.
At least I can now post about something aside from my daily ramblings about my inner inhibition.
The rules for this award are as follows:
1. Put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Add links to those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.
And therefore, I am giving this award to MeL, Melandia, Tina, Lunes, Vicky, Ate Xy, and Vannie.
Updates:
Had my hair dyed burgundy.
Finally got my company shirt, I made it through 13 rough months.
I'm confused with what I'm feeling right now for this skema at work.
I'm very disappointed with this colleague of ours who's not even considerate enough to come to work early so she won't be late. Now she's done it and our team's not qualified for the PA(Perfect Attendance) incentive. Damn it!
I don't like being treated like a kid, a baby, nor do I want anyone mocking me about how I want them to treat me like an adult.
Just because I look younger, doesn't mean my mental capacity is the same.
It's one of those days that somehow makes me think about what I'm missing in my life.
This is, again, another never-ending rant about how I'm basically spinning and talking in circles. Now isn't that toooooo redundant?
Someone once asked my if writing was my passion. I told her that it was my second. Dancing would be my first. But I don't believe I've proven myself worthy enough to be even called a "good" performer. Now let's not talk about me dancing, that would be like watching a monkey walk upright across a hall.
Writing, writing.
I do know how to construct sentences. I just never know when to end them, aside from putting a dot at the very end. I have learned how to express myself through words I cannot imagine myself saying to someone in person. I'm just floating through the words building up inside my head, hoping for a conclusion.
Come to think of it, I'm not exactly sure about what I'm passionate about now. And I guess it would be too much a narcissist if I'd say I'm passionate about myself looking good.
What do I really want? What am I good at?
I can think of something I'm capable of doing but that's just it. Doesn't exactly mean I'm good at it. Maybe I haven't figured out yet what I want. I can only think of what's interesting to me at this moment. And that is dancing. Literary arts will stay otherwise.
And why numb?
I'm talking about the title. That would be because I'm almost wearing myself out every friggin day, feeling nothing but how things got fast and days slowly turning to nights. Although I can still tell the difference between hot and cold. But I don't think I'm making the most out of what I have now even about what I'm doing.
Maybe it's because even though I work my ass off and have instant fast heart beats whenever I see someone pretty on the floor, I still feel nothing beyond that.
Can you say I'm numb?
What is life without purpose?
Without doubt nor fears.
What is life without hope?
Only an ocean filled with tears.
And what is hope without faith?
A mere illusion for the sake of sanity.
This is not about love that's lost,
I'm merely talking about me.
Time is starting to stand still, as I sit here waiting.
Waiting for an answer that I believe is already in front of me but I'm just too damn stubborn to see.
I have occupied my mind with thoughts about what I'm doing being the right thing to be.
What has become of me?
I am no more than but a stray along lonely streets.
This is not even near breakdown, nor hitting rock bottom. But another slap in the face about how my life really is and what I'm trying to ignore. Will this desperate cry for help be heard? When and who will ever listen.
The story goes on...
