ISTJ: The one in denial that there’s actually a killer ISFJ: The one who calls out “Who’s there?” as if the killer will answer ESTJ: The one who tries to tell everyone else what to do ESFJ: The one who screams at everything ISTP: The one who finds a really good hiding place ISFP: The one who dies first ESTP: The one wondering around without a flashlight ESFP: The one who tries to hook up with the killer INFJ: The one who knows what’s going on but no one will listen to them ENFJ: The one who keeps saying “It’ll be ok” even though they don’t believe it INFP: The one who sacrifices themselves ENFP: The one who figures out who the killer is a little too late INTJ: The one who everyone thinks is the killer ENTJ: The one who tries to fight back but ends up dead INTP: The one who created the monster ENTP: The one who makes it until the end
Why am I the first one to die? In reality while everyone is going crazy over the killer I’d be the one taking care of everyone, not in a “protecting” way but in the “nurturing” way, making sure that everyone has food to eat and beds to sleep in and comforting anyone who feels afraid. And then everyone will end up loving me and they will protect me.
1. High school days — I could compose text messages even if my phone was inside my high school uniform skirt’s pocket. I just need to take one quick look before I send it to make sure I typed everything correctly, and 99% of the time I don’t need to make corrections.
2. I had my 3210’s backlight changed to bluish white color.
3. Picture message and operator logo download costs 15 pesos each.
4. I once dropped my phone (accidentally) from the second floor of our school building. It was still alive. Same thing happened when I didn’t realize that my phone fell in a tub full of water for five minutes. It still worked.
5. I knew how to compose my own ring tones (bonus: all my ringtones were boyband songs).
6. “Du du dut - duu duu - du du dut” *vibrates*
7. I was able to “beat” snake — I filled the whole screen with the snake’s body.
In less than 24 hours, I will be sitting inside our operations manager’s office probably with shaking hands and feet, for an interview. Is it for a promotion? Well, not exactly, but this move will hopefully give me a better chance at the job position that I am aiming for.
It could by my introversion, but I think I am generally a lazy person. If I had to choose, I’d rather have a job that pays me just enough to live comfortably, than to climb up the highest rank and live in luxury, if it meant more responsibilities (and more socializing — yikes). However, once in a blue moon I get hit by inspiration and actually find something worth my time and energy. The thing is, since I mostly prefer to be in the background, whenever I finally want to step up and take part, nobody thinks of me as a qualified person.
I am always the underdog, but in cases like this when I really want something, the questioning look on people’s faces fuel me into proving them that I can be worth something. It had happened before, and looking back, the desire to feel validated helped me in actually succeeding and being recognized.
“You will be shocked, kids, when you discover how easy it is in life to part ways with people forever. That’s why when you find someone you want to keep around, you do something about it.”—Ted Mosby,HIMYM S09E21 (via theurbanhistorian)
At some point I thought this Tumblr blog was ‘too public’ and I created a new one — a blog that can only be viewed by people I actually knew IRL.
It was fine until I broke my heart again.
There are several reasons why, right now, I refuse to share my heart issues with friends. It’s the holiday season and everyone is still in the mood to celebrate; I doubt if they would appreciate someone whose intention is to darken their mood with her petty love problems. Aside from that, I find it difficult to open up to people. Sometimes I feel as if I’m being a nuisance to them, and so I just keep my thoughts locked up in my head… but the main reason why I refuse to talk about it is because, honestly, I really don’t know what to say. How do you translate pain into words?
No matter how much I deny it, the truth is, my heart is wounded. I hate him for leading me on, for making me believe that there is something to hold on to. I hate myself for believing him. For months I thought there was something special. I want to put the blame on him so I can have something to hate, but no matter how much I try, I eventually forgive him in my head and channel all the hate to myself. Was I desperate, or was he really an asshole for making me feel extra special and then leaving me in the end?
Why do I find myself returning to this blog whenever my heart gets all torn up? Is it the ‘anonymity’ that draws me into pouring my heart out, knowing that I can continue facing the real world with a smile still plastered on my face?
“Ask your female friends, if you have any, if they’ve ever walked home late at night with a key pushed through their knuckles, just in case, if they’ve ever crossed the street to avoid a stranger, just in case, if they’ve ever taken the long way home because of the weird guy on the corner, just in case. Ask them if they’ve ever made up a boyfriend to get a guy to leave them alone, if they’ve ever gotten off a train car and moved to the next because you just never know, if they’ve ever shelled out for a cab because men like you were at the bus stop. Do you really want to be that guy?”—Emily Heist Moss, “A Letter to the Guy Who Harassed Me Outside the Bar” (via executiveproducerdickwolf)
Sometimes I find myself lying to other people, not because I want to fool them or weave stories out of air, but because I want to protect myself. Whenever I am asked a question and the answer would reveal a thing from my past that I don’t want to talk about, I would cover them up with stories that are slightly different from what really happened.
Am I the only one? I’m not entirely sure if this is right or wrong.
Marriage. I definitely want to get married someday and have lovely kids. Sunday will strictly be a day dedicated to our family — we might go out on a picnic, or a movie, or ride bikes, or travel somewhere, or just stay at home. It doesn’t matter as long as we spend the whole day together.
McDonalds. Just thinking about this fastfood place makes me want to throw up — not because I don’t like the food there, but because I used to eat there a lot and now I’m sick of everything that they offer… Except fries. I can never have enough of ‘em :3
Morning. Early morning will always be my favorite part of the day. Nobody aside from me is awake, and I love how I can hum a song, cry while listening to a song that brings back memories, and do chores quietly without interruption, smile while at it, and nobody would ask me why. It’s as if I own the word at 4 o’clock in the morning.
Mangoes. I’m a mango monster. No explanation needed.
I ate dinner at a fast food restaurant today while stuck in a grocery store because of the rain. While at the counter, I overheard a customer shouting at several crew members. Apparently, when he asked for chicken breast parts, the trainee failed to inform him that it wasn’t available. He was also mad because the crew member put too much ice in his drinks.
It’s easy to feel pity towards the crew members, but then I realized, while I was eating, that I pity this man’s children. While he was shouting at the crew members, his two children were looking at him with blank faces. Have they gotten used to their father being like this? I feel bad for these children — apparently, their father thinks it’s alright to shout and lose temper because of other people’s excusable mistakes. There are no breast parts — couldn’t they eat leg, or thigh, or wings? If there’s too much ice in their drinks, they could have it replaced. Children learn a lot by observing, and the first authority that they have in their life are their parents. This father is teaching them that it’s alright to blow your steam whenever, wherever, towards whomever you want to shout at. Have they gone numb over their father’s temper, based on their blank expressions? Perhaps they experience the same tone of voice from their father at home, and it was no surprise to them that their father can talk like that to strangers.
The true test of character is not based on how you treat those you love, but how you interact with the people who are ‘lower’ than you.