Watch muh din yung larong 90s sa fb sis @Sahlee Sicio and for sure you may catch .....
Jakston--  ganyan yung
libangan ko nung una kong
matutunan yung unang
beses akong makaranas na*
mangapitbahay😁 magmula nun
akuh ay natutong makipaglaro sa
paruparo at tipaklong
😅🤣😂 banda roon sa may madamong bakuran na trinato kong palaroan kasi nga walang mga talahib, malayo sa panganib.

And...
By the time you reaches it in your searches ...
share here , or somewhere out there .

Since I'm old enough

to understand adult jokes --


they're disappointing.

Nowhere can it be

safe anymore, look: adults --


too can cry a lot!

When I grew out of my adolescence
I lost my crippling thrist to write

I stopped cutting myself in my early 20's;
just like the research articles said I would

Disorder direction, however,
was not the cause of my coping correction

I moved away from rampant tantrums
Sliding down the ***** of sufferance


I used to write to externalize my internal desperation
My frustration with the life I was given
(Certainly not the choices I've made)

Over a decade of time has aged me
From a helpless girl, to an impassive woman
Submissive to circumstance

Now, I chain bricks to my ankles
And throw myself in the sea of apathy

I will not expend the energy to care,
but rather intentionally strive for indifference


In doing so, I sacrifice my desire to write…
Losing desperation makes me hollow

Then again, helplessness is for children.

I am a woman now.

I no longer crave the ability to describe my emotions
Asking for help is not a viable option anymore
I've tried that long enough

Remember that summer
when it was dry and heavy
but in the evening
the breeze would gently
sway the smoke
of your cigarette in my hand
when you were trying
to teach me how not to choke

And I remember coughing
and laughing it off with you,
how smoke had always
been around me
but my lungs were funny
'bout this direct approach

And we talked 'bout everything
from heartbreak, to lovers, to family
And I truly felt wonder
at the simplicity of those moments
and how much they meant to me

So much I look back to them now
when it's winter and I'm alone
missing your warmth, your voice
and itching for a smoke

In my experience, most adults have “vanity walls”, usually in their offices, where they hang diplomas, awards, certificates and important pictures. Most parents I know have them.

I like to look carefully at those momentos - they’re like breadcrumbs tracing back through their lives. Some items are expected while others are extraordinary - like pictures of Lisa’s dad playing golf and laughing with famous people.

“It’s a very particular kind of vanity.” Lisa’s dad said, from in back of me, from his office doorway. I almost jumped in surprise - I definitely flinched. I’d become so absorbed in examining his wall that I’d unconsciously inched into his space, like someone stealing into a closed museum exhibit.

I flushed with embarrassment, ”No,” I said, making a hand gesture that swept the area. “I LOVE these kinds of things - I couldn’t resist - I’m sorry!”

He made a “Pssshtt” sound and waved his hand, “You make yourself at home.”

“I want to have a wall someday,” I said. He smilingly turned and with a little backward wave, said, “You will,” as he strolled off to the kitchen, leaving me to continue my tour.

I will.