. grrrl .

kate, 18, is currently a junior journalism major at the university of the philippines, diliman.

she digs buffy the vampire slayer, pays homage to faith and eliza dushku, and drools over spike and james marsters' accent. she cried when tara died in "seeing red". she had desperately tried to dye her hair the exact colour of willow's hair for several times now, but miserably failed. every time.

when she's not abandoning everything else for the love of buffy, she also writes much, while listening to sarah mclachlan, tori amos, clair marlo, lisa loeb, lifehouse, the corrs, matchbox twenty, and evanescence.

she's single, and she (thinks) she's now tired of looking at the wrong places for the right person.

[she's crazy about webdesign, and she swears she'll marry the geniuses behind adobe photoshop and macromedia dreamweaver. check out her recommendations, as well as her other sites at linkage.]

Saturday, March 15, 2003
1:46am

I am waiting for you to emerge from the darkness. Just the outline of a figure I'd know from anywhere, from any distance away, to be yours.

There's a certain fear that grips me… and a certain question that haunts me in my sleep. How could I be feeling this way?

But then again, who am I to say this is wrong?

I don't know. but what I do know is the fact that I'd been sitting here since forever, smoking one cigarette after the other, waiting for you to come right out of the darkness.

And then perhaps, you'd make me smile. Maybe you wouldn't even know I'm there, but nevertheless, I know I'd find myself smiling.

It's the kind of feeling that makes me want to scream. It feels good, yes… but the knowledge that there's something in me that's changing, mixed with the feeling of helplessness… it's driving me insane.

How could I be feeling this way… and not understand why? it's crazy, I know.

But this is what you do to me.

Five minutes, then ten, then probably thirty, all torturous. I hate it. I hate the waiting.

But then again, I couldn't blame you, right? You don't have a clue.

You don't have a clue, none at all, that somebody is in fact out here in the cold, puffing on a cigarette in fear of being alone, absolutely crazy about you.

That somebody is out here, and she once told you that your happiness belongs to you… but yeah, irony of ironies, she thinks - she feels - she doesn't know anymore which, actually… that her happiness belongs to you.

Actually, her happiness as it is now is you.

You and your smile and the little things you do that captivates her everytime...

Yes, yes, to say that she's crazy about you would be to state an absolute understatement that wouldn't do her feelings any justice at all.

She's here, and she's waiting.

A last drag from my last cigarette, and then I give up.

Perhaps, you would never come out of the darkness. Perhaps I would never see you again.

But then again, who am I to get sad? After all, I'm here because I chose to wait.

And you don't even have a clue, not a single one.