There are days when I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, what will become of it, or what I can make of it. But I figured that as long as I’m happy or at least content with what I’m doing in the moment - that’s all that should matter.

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5 6 7 8 Lifestyle

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Most of it branches off from what I plan on doing in my life and what I can make of it while I’m still here. And eventually those thoughts wandered its way into what I’m doing here and now - in the present.

I’ve come to realize that I honestly wouldn’t have picked any other way to live my life. If I had an option to reset everything and all the choices that brought me here, I wouldn’t think twice about it.

And all these thoughts fortified my love for dance even more.

These 1 2 and 3 and 4 steps aren’t just a hobby to me anymore. The 5 6 7 8 has become a lifestyle. It’s the way I learn to get by some of my days when I feel like there’s no way out. It’s the way I’ve learned to smile. And most definitely - it’s the way I’ve learned to love myself.

As dancers we become our worst enemy. We pick at everything we do and the work we present. I’ve become so lost with trying to please others but forgot what dance was all about - Expression. To emerse yourself in music and escape reality with snares and beats. To create a character so that the character itself could learn from it. I don’t understand how I’ve lost my path and where it crumbled along the way but I’m glad that she’s always there to pick me back up.

Dance will always be there for you as long as you find the time to love and cherish it.

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It has been a damn long time since I last wrote something. Talking to someone in particular probably made me want to do this again - but I just feel like there’s something I need to get off my chest.

The only problem is that I don’t even know what’s bothering me.

I feel like there are just some nights where I think to myself and suddenly an overwhelming rush of depression takes over. I don’t understand what it is.

Loneliness? Frustration? Fear? I don’t even know.

I feel like there’s so much to say but I can’t even pin point what exactly I’m feeling.

I just know there’s sadness in me somewhere.

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Damn.

Who knew

that thirty minutes 

of alone time

on Christmas Eve

could bring

such depressing thoughts?

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Sometimes I just wish I could be an underwear model.

How perfect life would be to just wear cute underwear all day.

c:

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My heart melts every time I’m graced with the thought of you.

I know now that there is beauty in the world.

<3

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I wish I could write up some beautiful post about you but the fact that I can’t put down how I feel into words is beautiful enough for me.

You make me happy and I can’t thank you enough for that.

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You know what’s sad?

I think majority of the girl’s who love gays the most - stereotype the most. Of course there are exceptions to the rule and those who are associated with them more and blah blah blah. But I mean just because I’m gay, not in any way would I find it acceptable for a girl to grab at my junk. No matter how close I am with you respect my personal space. Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean anything. And no - if you were a guy, that wouldn’t make anything better. It’s even more insulting that you’d even say that. I never understood what was up with some girls and wanting to turn you straight. “Oh cmon, you’ve never even tried it!” Like seriously? Have you tried it? Are you just that in love with your vagina? Or are you just upset that there are some guys you’ll never have? Okay, whatever. End of my rant.

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Questions for mom.

Been a while since I’ve actually written something… But I’ve always had these questions I’ve wanted to ask my mom. There was always that guilt that ate me alive whenever I looked at her. I was in the kitchen looking for something to snack on and my mom heard me and came out of her room. She warmed up some stuff and we sat down and talked for a bit. I thought, now would be the perfect time.

Me: “Hey mom… Can I ask you something?”
Mom: “Yeah, what is it?”
Me: “Are you … Okay with me still? You know, me and my… Lifestyle? I feel like sometimes you still think about it whenever you look at me.”
Mom: “Anak (child), of course.”
Me: “I just feel guilty sometimes.”
Mom: “Nooo no. Don’t feel that way, I don’t want you to ever feel that way. I love you, you’re my son. Don’t think like that.”
Me: “Okay… But mom, what happens if I get in a relationship with a guy, and it’s serious… What about dad?”
Mom: “It should be fine. I’ll talk to him when the time comes. We’ll just see.”
Me: “Okay. Sounds good I guess.”
…
Me: “Mom… I love you.”

And that’s when my mom started tearing. Hah… I don’t normally tell my mom that as often as I should, and she knows that, but I finally felt like the moment was right for it.

I can finally breathe.

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