newest bff

on boring class hours, i have the leaves of my notebook as a trash bin. a familiar territory where i dump emotional overloads. i form hearts, draw circles and decide which name fits perfectly to both shapes. i quote thoughts i know will be useful and when words are scarce, i simply dot. but overtime, i have ceased viewing notebooks as mere things. they have evolved to be the ultimate companion.
the friend. my bestfriend. i can rant, profess feelings, bitch and bitch more and even doodle--they wouldn't do a thing. and it is never their lapse of emotion nor the lack of heart that causes them to be silent. they are the way they are because they were made to listen. their black lines were made horizontally straight so that anyone who writes on them has straightened up issues with himself. that is why people are brutally honest when they choose to battle with words. when they choose to write, they bare their souls out. at times they attempt, like water to drown facts too nicely, the truth still stays afloat. they try too hard. we try too hard... so much that we forget it was the very reason why jose died.
he was too honest.

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im still writing on notebooks.
=*