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Anyways I had a sweet dream this morning. Sweet enough for me to endear, but not as much that I dreaded waking up from it. I'm worried I'm losing my yearning, but that was just a pleasant sequence with a cute premise. It goes like this.

I am living in my actual house in reality with two other mates. It's grey because we're all working on a collective project which is a movie made up of different shorts, all prompted around horror. I can recall what the movies in the end were about and I can remember our short being this absurdist comedy that had grim undertones, giving the emotion that makes people nervously laugh. I think it's a weird approach to the prompt, which I enjoy doing. Being in a sharehouse with my two mates, we were approached by a woman that seemed around the age of 21-23 to temporarily stay with us. She is small, adorable, cold, but nice enough as gratitude for being let to stay. She is also part of the same project and working on the same prompt, which we worked seperately. Me and my two mates working in different places and parts while she works on hers alone. A lot of bickering comes from her in what we're doing, which I took offense from because she verily hides hers. At the time of submission, the four of us celebrate. Her being slightly jollier than before, but not enough to actually be called jolly. At the time of the movie's release, we all watch it. A really messy and incoherent stockpile of "horror" movies, many being not of note. Eventually, our short came on. We were flabbergasted by how different ours was, but from what I saw, I didn't think it was half bad at all! I kept peering to the woman, just a peek for the reaction by someone who wasn't involved in the creation. I saw someone enjoying our short, and I felt relief. My friends on the other hand, they were exploding in excitement, shame, and regret, all mixed together, but I'd like to think we liked what we made, I know I did.

A few more shorts came up, all of them with nothing of note. Hers came up, and she excused herself, which reminds me of how I almost never wanna see or hear anything I make. We excused her, and her short came up to be the most gritty and gruesome horrifying short we've seen. Very abstract and graphic, like it was Mad God but more vicious. It didn't use real humans, but it wasn't as cartoonish as Mad God's claymation. Me and my mates were speechless. She comes up and sits back down with hesitation on her short's last few seconds. Us three having a shocked reaction as we look at her, as if we were sat next to a demon. She doesn't react to our reactions, and the final few shorts come up next. We end the night immediately after the movie. Not much words towards each other, just me and my friends bantering about, as per usual.

Days passed by and she gives me her exit note in the form of an E-mail. She signed it with her real name, which is meant to be a reveal since we actually didn't ask her name, but her E-mail address basically saying [email protected] doesn't really conceal it that much. I checked the e-mail of the project's invitation, which is sent to a dozen e-mail addresses, and her name is there.

They started having sex. Me and Instagram girl watched. Guy leaves and it's actually so casual. Afterwards, the three of us chat for a bit, which evolved into some roughousing and I had to pull away in order to keep them from grazing my erection, which they understood and affirmed was fine, but I was very bothered. I really wanted to jerk off watching her friend get fucked for money. Next guy comes and larps as an abusive police officer father. She starts to fondly speak about her brother like he died, but he just moved out because he got someone pregnant at 15. During their "activity" a female stranger films them outside out of shock, I got worried that I'm included in the footage, which I for sure was. All of a sudden, the girl from instagram leaves, as if something bad happened. I talk with the prostitute girl and I see weird scars all throughout her back, like self-harm scars but it's peculiar why they're at her back, you can't even reach those parts. I basically interview her about her line of work and she's very casual about it, all this while abusive police father larper is present, he goes in and out of character in a snap. Afterwards, we go to an awards show and we see the 2 dudes as awardees, as if indicating that bad/weird people still get their flowers at the end of the day. Lizzo was there for some fucking reason.

It's such a bizarre dream, I don't get much dreams involving sex, maybe once or twice before this. I've had dreams with a singular girl as the main focus. In one of them, I was secretly dating a hostess, but I was much smaller and she was much older and taller. In another, I was doing random arts and crafts with a cute, concerningly thin and pale girl, with a friend that was fairly close with me, though never too close. Finally, off the top of my head, a very countryside setting where I seem to be having moments and having fun frolicking around with what appears to be a childhood friend. All of these dreams involves so much about love, some so raunchy and some so innocent. It feels criminal to be having these dreams, I don't think I'm such a love-starved weirdo and I don't wish for someone that horribly, but I can admit that I may be unhappy. I'm in a state where anything else would be better. It feels so static. Peaking or bottoming out seems equally as good, as long as it goes somewhere. I'm very conflicted. I feel disgusted at how stale everything currently is. I don't see a way out without risking not getting what I want, which I'm surprised I still worry about. Maybe I'm not that desperate yet, but I'm itching to wiggle out.

Currently, I am starving myself of experiences. Maybe that's why. I don't feel like I deserve anything, and I keep wanting things to punish myself further. I don't deserve to be happy nor sad, I need to stay still until I get my things in order. Nothing good is happening, as much as nothing bad is happening either. This feels like hell, fully self-inflicted, and totally deserved. I know of a few ways to remove myself from this feeling, I don't want to do them. I don't deserve pain or relief. I deserve none. I'm very privileged to have the choice. I know I don't know any better either. I'm stuck with what I can think of right now, and I think I need nothing more than nothing.

Here's the things I'm not doing:

-Fixing my PC

-Talking to this girl that I kinda like

-Talking to this other girl that I really like

-Talking to this girl who's my neighbor that I really find pretty

-Buying the new Katamari

I could do ALL of this, I feel like I shouldn't. I feel like I'm not warranted. Something I obssess myself with is having choices. I need to be capable of the wrong things, to be able to choose not to do them. It's the only way I can see myself as right. Comparing someone nice because they just couldn't afford to be mean to someone who has every right to be mean but is just flat out nice, I think the latter is a better person. Not to say the former is a bad person, but when you can't even be one, what's making you choose good? It probably sounds psychotic. These are the type of thoughts nobody has to know about someone. I just wanna say them, this is for nobody's eyes to see; just mine to regurgitate. I own everything done to me.

I may be liking too many girls, it almost feels like cheating to have this many "prospects", which is a disgusting term, but it feels safe to say. It feels right to say. It doesn't seem correct, but it just feels like it. I may be too cynical about all this. Liking someone again, oh how I dread having to go through all this all over again. This time, it's not even someone anymore, it's two girls. One taken, and one who to me feels like she could use my attention. It feels so disingenuous, but it feels just right. It feels right enough that I can balance their wellbeing with mine. I have this feeling that I shouldn't put all my eggs in one basket. I have to have a backup plan that involves another poor soul. I feel terrible, the guilt is almost there, but these girls should stop being so pretty and attainable if they wouldn't want to be felt upon like this. Kidding. It's me that's the problem, I hope I don't crash into anything with this line of thinking. I don't want people to see how disgusting I really am. This is something I want exclusive to me. Excuse my greed, but I actually almost don't care about how people see me, almost, because I still care about how I show myself to other people somewhat. As if my consciousness has a consciousness of its own, as funny as it sounds. My insides feel like a bad mix of every color. A disgusting greenish grayish black purple sludge color. I'm at the mercy of what's concrete. What people see is the only thing I can calculate. What people think, that's way out of my interests. I own everything done to me.

This is posted online in case I switch phones. I never back anything up. I don't want anyone to see this, but posting it in a private cloud feels boring. I want someone to talk to me about this. I want someone to ask. But at the same time, I don't. This is just one way of how I think lately. I'd like to read this again in a few years from now. I'm very excited for my thoughts when that time comes!

I can't private anything off this website. Things I did back then, I don't want to show them, but I want to see them. As if saying that everything I did should only be for myself. Self-serving, yet self-defeating. My biggest admirer should be myself and no-one else. Is there any purpose to this? Does anything I do ever amount to anything but the worst parts of myself? All the filth, the trash, the flares, and the flashes, nobody even knows about this account, save for a very few, some more than others. I don't know, it's very confusing. Everything I create, I destroy or I hide. I don't know if it's unfortunate, or I just need to wait.

Maybe I just need to wait.

I just wanna type something fairly long. Something about the air and recent occurences just make me feel a whole lot. I feel like an adventurer who got back from their journey, with a heavy baggage filled with many things to unpack.

I took a break from taking my crafts too seriously to put some time on other, more prioritized things. I discovered a whole range of emotions and feelings that I never thought I would have. I have always thought of myself as a mere freeter in the winds of life, only appreciating things as they happen. I've been long past longing, so to speak. Everything I felt like wanted always occurs seconds before, though for the things I don't want, they're cemented somewhere. I've always heard about me being someone who hates a lot of things, which surprises me, because I always thought I have a high amount of tolerance when it comes to mishaps. It seems like it's just always there, just not being acted on. Looks like my face that I show others isn't really the face I see.

I've dipped my toes in pools of many things. Some felt knee deep, others drowning, but it never occured to me to leave. I always needed to be told when to stop when it comes to things, either by others, or by the limits of possibilities. It's like I never truly knew what I want for the long run, save for a few delusions, and I don't feel like that's something I should even be working on. It seems foolosh to want to be this naive, and it may at some point lead to misfortune, but I always want to savor it. I always choose to not let go.

I will always love, I will always care, I will always hate, though it doesn't look like it, I always feel. As of now, the feeling is pleasant. Everything that occured has always been welcomed. It's almost scary to reflect on this feeling, but I can't just lie to myself, it really feels good, and I will keep doing it. The feeling of never expecting, though ever welcoming, I can't stop it. I'd love to be specific, but this would extend to more unnescessary words if I would have. I don't consider the specifics to be of any significance towards anyone who would even bother to read this. Though if you're curious enough, I'll keep it vague; cut off one head, two more shall take its place!

I'd like to end on a message towards someone. I don't think it's love, perhaps something more shallow and stupid, but I can't help but want to tell you that it's really awesome that you existed for me to come across with. This feeling of longing is so fresh, so intoxicating it feels wrong, and based on my experience, it's the worst burden to bear. It's always been a sign of bad things to come, but I'll never stop wanting this. Will you be the end of it? Or perhaps you can be a part of my journey of ending it? It feels oh so familiar, and it reminds me of really bad things, but I'd like to hone it as a tool for myself. I missed this feeling, and I'd like to try again. I don't hate myself now, but I've started to feel tired of how things are for my side. I want change, and unfortunately, you look like change. Are you a change I want? I don't know. Like I said, I don't know what I want, all I know is I want this. To get back to what this was all about, I wanna say this. You don't have to wait, I don't want you to wait, but just know that you're in my radar, and then, we'll see!

I dedicate this moment of piece to some of my favorite artists on my wall. We may have interacted super long ago, but it's quite something how time crawls and we are back to being less than strangers. I don't wish too much but it's pretty melancholic to see now how things just work like that. It's just notable, but nothing to be sad or glad about.

Loving someone, whatever classicficaton I might prefer to give it, happens more than I realize. My small actions of holding the door for someone, passing on fare in a jeep, or even a gleeful grin as a silent greeting, can be easily rooted to love. For me, it's easy to think of this as my way of appreciation for anything that occurs, my acknowledgement of someone's existence, that entropy aligned for me to have the opportunity to be present in their life.

But more than that, my ways in expressing love are all rooted to my character. The ways I was raised and the environment I grew up in, even though I don't think of them as fondly, gave me every reason to be how I am today. I personally think I am not the best person, not even average, but I'd much rather focus on ways to make it different for other people in how they see me. It's just a guess, but I hope their receptions are positive.

Now on a slightly different topic, love languages have been a fad of every platonic small talk and considered a test for people on assessing their characters and their abilities and traits. It can be aligned with the golden rule, giving people ideas on how you'd want to be treated, in the assumption that you aren't a total hypocrite. Love language is just expressions for others, how you carry out yourself towards other people, and how you want them to treat you back.

And there lies a problem of supply. In a sense, love is a resource, and it could run out. When the amount of love given is not matched, one is left with not much love to give. At its minimum is towards the self, but when one goes empty, in simple terms, love is gone. A person low on love might only shut out anyone and anything for themselves, while a person out of love will be a husk out of anything. Their sense of identity which is deeply rooted in self-love is minimal, and couldn't end well in any way.

Now's the part where I'd preach to make people give out love as much as they receive, but this is just a hyperbole. It's never that easy to measure love, especially when there are times where they aren't received, and since it's conceptual, could vanish in thin air. I would assume that it would take alot to take unreceived love back in for future use, but it's not impossible, though I wouldn't put it on the person to be that strong.

One other way is that love can be given and taken in some twisted manner. It could be in the giving, or the receiving, but it can also be corrupted. The ways it is expressed also comes in the mix, and suddenly you're left thinking the wrong things. I must say, in my experience, I doubt much of the love I got from my parents, as much as done for my sake, has just twisted how I see things, and is probably the sole reason why I struggle in assessing how people see and treat me, as well as how I see and treat people. It was all up to me to manually adjust and assess how I felt like I should really think and feel, taking into consideration how I was treated.

The typical dynamic between the two main characters in any of these movies involve an exaggeratedly airheaded, plain, and perfect female character, who just playfully refuses the goofy advances of the male protagonist, focusing on his unattractiveness, or unconventional looks to be blunt, as a point of humor. This whole tirade continues until our damsel slowly strikes out subtle smiles until they just somehow magically accept these advances, through the slow and steady clown show, or an incredibly unrealistic scenario where the female protag just gets affected by the titular male in a very significant way.

This kind of entertainment is very well enjoyed by my father and his. And this applies to more than my household, as a matter of fact, this still applies today. In areas where their medium of entertainment are vintage and/or pirated DVD's with hundreds of these films watched and are still being watched. The standards they created reverbate filipino masculinity, affecting the ways kids are raised, wives are loved, and selves are seen. The novelty of these films exist through some sort of main character syndrome going on painfully obvious in every iteration.

Complemented by a timed Damsel in Distress trope, it rots the head. It monopolizes every hope of not only meaningful portrayal of more colorful characters, but also the values of being a man in the Philippines. Instead of better characters suited with more flaws that can reach lesser known spaces in a man's psyche, you're only getting the dimwit making one of five funny faces, hitting his head on a pole, while the lady he woos laughs at him, taking him in out of pity, not by charm or anything else. I'm not discrediting this dynamic that may occur in real life, but with it being 60% of classic Filipino cinema marketted towards men and their families, the best case scenario is for profit, the worst case is the corruption of a generation, who then would be responsible for another generation, bringing about this modern hellscape that we live in.

With these values and tropes instilled to our mothers and fathers, as easy it is to generalize, I much prefer to shift the blame to those with influence, perhaps above the actors and the personalities who portrayed and became the progenitors of this trend, or even the directors who are probably just inspired by something. The question lies: what could've caused this cultural sinkhole, and what will fix it? I can make this easier and blame every fucking failed election, every corrupt polititian being elected, to Vic Sotto movies, but I think we're way past that, surely after 40 years there must've been a point where change should've happened, but where is it? These old movies have been and are still in circulation, not only in households where they are deemed as treasures, but also on air as they continuously and endlessly rerun and show these movies with their out of date portrayals of values still on full display, eerily corrupting current generations with terrible values.