I usually don't post cheesy stuff like this but because I've decided (just seconds ago) that I wanted to be cheesy, I'll do this just for the heck of it.

So I was rummaging or should I say cramming for a fast Jeepney ride going to school (Hello, Can't afford to be late or else I'm doomed) and while I was being suffocated by the smoke belching leeches of the Jeepneys, My eyes wandered around my environment. UP that is. I thought a lot of "What if's". What if I passed UPCAT? What if I get to study Journalism here? That would be oh so guhhreat. Dream school, dream course. But sadly, it's just a fairytale.

Wait, commercial. FUCK I WRITE CRAP, sorry.

So while I was being crumpled, tousled and bitched inside the jeep, there stood a young prince with his blue shirt (Yup he's in Highschool, I know, I should get sued for being a Phedophile but who cares) heavy traveler's bag (I think he's a varsity) and dropped his cute ass beside me. We were all crammed up inside the Jeepney so Imagine, our beads of sweat getting intact, we, being as one body. Shit, looks like were having sex but were not. It's our eyes dancing around the stars and...blah OKAY I SHOULD STOP. =)

So, we don't know each other but I think....JOE JONAS is still the GOD.

hahaha. Sorry, I just had to fool you. I mean, yeah, HE could be hot, THAT prince charming but DUH. He isn't JOE. HAHAHA

and oh @itskwik...HAHA I have to work on your blog post pa pala. SHIT
IT'S YA (REAL) BIRTHDAY TOMORROW!

Bad vibes.

Ayaw gumana ng pinakaimportanteng website sa buhay ko. BADTRIP. BAD VIBES. Pakamatay nako.
Bahala na, magdodownload na lang ako sa Youtube ng kung ano ano.

Bad vibes talaga.

Decided to post my Psych paper, I know lame.
I did this for the sake of making this site alive.
My blog's dead.

It was one of those moments where I was conscious enough to know I was dreaming, but unconscious enough to be able to do nothing about it but watch as my mind‘s eye projected the dream in my head as if it were some type of old movie.

It was in black and white, first of all. And the quality absolutely sucked. And I watched it all happen in the third person. I’d never experienced such an out-of-body, low-grade dream in my life, but it made it all the more intense. It was a nightmare. The fact that I knew this and still couldn’t fully wake myself up enough to put it to rest was the scariest concept of all. I was trapped in the misery. Very literally.

I was flying. In an airplane, that is. It was an old fashioned one, too. Not like the first one ever made (or even like the ones you can find pictures of Amelia Earhart piloting), but maybe a couple of decades-worth of improved technology more recent. Anyway, it wasn’t high-tech at all and I found no comfort in knowing that.

I was sitting in my uncomfortable seat nonchalantly until the plane started hitting a strong chunk of turbulence. At first, I couldn’t distinguish the turbulence from the vehicle actually crashing down into a forest or something. After I glanced out the window and saw nothing but the whites of clouds, I knew we had only hit a patch of unsteady air. Why I got the urge to visit the pilot in the cockpit during said turbulence attack instead of tightly buckling up in my seat, I have no idea.

In my dreams, curiosity got the best of me.

Correction: curiosity got the best of me no matter what.

I knocked on the door leading to the cockpit, and stood there for a while, holding onto the plane walls on either side of me for support. I was standing there for a pretty long time before I knocked again, and I guess I was waiting for someone to open the door for me. I’m not sure who, exactly, I figured would respond to my multiple hits against the plywood, but I stood there patiently nonetheless.

Unlike reality, I had Godlike patience in my dreams.

When it seemed as though hours full off rickety turbulence had continued mercilessly without the door being opened by another being I finally reached for the knob and pushed it open myself. What was revealed to me was…nothing.

I guess that was the wrong word to use. There was a massive array of toggles and buttons and lights and switches, along with two chairs I supposed the pilot and co-pilot would utilize, but there was no one occupying the place. It was vacant.

For the first time throughout the whole dream - ahem, nightmare - I started to panic. Sweat broke out across my forehead, and my breathing increased to a rapid rate. I could feel my pulse beating in my stomach and I felt like I was going to be sick. I was alone. No one was there. I knew this, but I started yelling out to familiar faces anyway.

“Mommy?! Daddy?!” Yeah, I am Seventeen and still called them that. So kill me. “Kyle?!”

I ran to the back of the plane, searching for them. It was clear that I was completely in solitude, but for some reason that just wasn’t settling properly in my mind. It was as if that the fact that I was alone was a complete outrage. Sure, it had me scared, but it seemed like I found it unacceptable or something.

“Mommy?!” I hollered again, setting the names of my immediate family on repeat.

This went on for a while before turbulence intensified and I realized the plane could only go so far with no one directing it. So I sprinted back to the empty cockpit, throwing myself into the pilot’s chair and viciously raking my fingers through my unkempt hair.

“How the fuck do I do this?!” I screamed out of frustration to no one in particular. To no one, period.

I started pressing each and every button, flipping every switch, messing with every toggle. I found a headset resting across a random lever, and I secured it onto my head before pulling the lever as well as every other thing there was to pull in that confined space. I tried everything, but nothing different happened. And even if it did, I wouldn’t have known because I had no idea what the hell I was doing in the first place.

Finally, I gave up.

Giving up…something I was raised to conquer. This part was possibly the second most frightening part of my inescapable nightmare. There were many things in life I had tried and failed, but never had I quit anything altogether. Never. Not even once.

So as my hands retreated into my lap, my fingers interlocking amongst one another, and as I sat back in the chair, I felt my stomach drop like it would naturally had I been riding a roller coaster, or going down an elevator. But this was no roller coaster, nor was it an elevator, and I knew it. I was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I called for my family members again, apparently under the logic that if I screamed loud enough they would magically materialize before my very eyes and save me. Get me out of this bind. Like they always had prior to that very moment.

But no one was coming, the plane continued to fall, and I started hyperventilating. Never before had I been more terrified.

That was when I was hit with the realization of my greatest fear.

Dying alone.