Saturation Point

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing as The Script ditty goes. No, I'm not falling to pieces nor even close to the edge. But, life lately is a series of unfortunate events. There were a handful of slightly traumatic moments in a span of 1 week, 7 days, 168 hours and 10080 minutes. If you just sort of imagine the kind of cataclysm that knocked my so-called life. It was nearly the fall of the house of Pableo-Gomez when fire hit the neighborhood. It was THISCLOSE and just around the bend. This is the point in time where I prefer a gruesome zombie attack or alien invasion over FIRE. All I thought of saving when everything nearby was burning were my precious books layered with dust mites and my murderous heels. That just says so much about me, does it? In a world where almost everybody is having babies, I just keep having new shoes or books. Am I not in fashion? Not that I'd like to keep myself updated with the trend, but, I don't see myself being preggers. Not yet. Let me enjoy on what remains of my sweet life. Getting preggers would not count as traumatic but why am I talking about babies? 

I keep deviating from the things I'm suppose to say or write for that matter. If there's one thing I've learned from THE whole ordeal - you subconsciously attract what you think you deserve. Fresh from the Chaka-Khan-through-the-fire-trauma-rama, I nearly got hit by a speeding car. Flashback your Hollywood movie, where the protagonist is basking under suspicious clouds, then a car comes out of nowhere. Good thing I had unearthly body reflexes and partially inhuman speed. It pays to be an athlete sometimes. It made my legs stronger but it sort of gave me weak lungs. I wanted some rest and relaxation to escape the tormenting reality but I ended up in the hospital bed instead. I was stuck in that hell-hole for four days. I can't even get over the skin test. Nerve ending is just beneath your skin and you're gonna poke it with a needle. It was my fifth hospitalization in three years time thanks to bronchial asthma. I don't have any hopes of joining the exclusive 27 club. Not this time. The only good thing about being hospitalized are the visitors. I had my own private nurse who I'm thankful just for existing. He defines someone to watch over me. Enough said. High-school and closest friends also paid a visit. You'd really know who your real friends are cause they stick around through sickness and in health.


I don't want to sound cheeseballs or silly. But, I'm always thankful for my sister Liezyl. She can be bitchy sometimes but she loves me, alright. This is where I feel like I'm a feline creature with nine lives. Survived near accidents but I heard bad-ass girls die hard. Is life lately becoming a series of unfortunate events or I'm just reading too much fiction?   

Saturated Photos taken last June from Van Ayson's Iphone 4

(Zara Shirt, Bag and Oxfords by Parisian, Thrifted Blazer)