#Prose: February 2015

Look me in the eyes And tell me those three words That I’m dying to hear Kiss my scars One by one And tell me that I’m not my past Hold me tight when I’m Caving in Tell me I’m beautiful and stronger than them Make me believe in love And try again Tell me …

#Prose: January 11, 2015

I don’t know what made me fall in love with you. Must be your smile. Your laughter. Your voice. Must be the way you run your hand through your hair. Must be your humor. Your twisted words. Must be the sensation when your hand pressed to mine. Must be the gaze you give me when …

#Prose: March 2015

I remember, when I was younger How beautiful the fire underneath the burners on our stove was And if I could just reach out and touch it, then maybe Maybe I too could be painted in red and blue. And so when my mother turned away I found out how hot fire could burn and …

#Journal: October 2015

I never felt unimportant. I had my friends. They were always there. Though there are some people who wouldn’t mind if I was there, I didn’t mind either. I was happy. I had my friends. I never felt unimportant. Though I always want to wander alone. I was never alone. I was happy because I …

#Prose: September 2015

will you be at my funeral? i’m just wondering. will you go bury me with my relatives? what will you be wearing? black or white? will you guys release balloons in memory of me? will you guys talk about how i became a part of your lives? did i ever become a part of your …

#Journal: September 2015

I don’t know what to feel. Feels like I am now void of emotions. I already cried my tears out. I have no more tears to cry. I have no more reasons to cry for. I have run away, and I don’t know if I shall emerge victoriously. And we all know that there’s no …

#Journal: August 15, 2015

I don’t know why people label people who find true love as ‘hopeless romantics’. Is romance at this age a hopeless case? Is real/true love a rare find? Of course. With this kind of thinking it is a rare find. Why do people think of love as something disposable? Something that can be changed daily, …

#Journal: July 2015

This morning, Pa and I were talking about Julia Buencamino’s suicide. I told him that I read her suicide note [here in tumblr] and it focused on her closeted sexuality. Then Pa said that she was a painter, and she was allegedly painting the demon. Well, what can you expect from a person with a …

#Journal: June 2015

i hate you. i wish i never knew you. i hope i didn’t decide to go home and study here in Ateneo. i hope i never saw you. now, i’m ruining myself because of you. but it was all my fault. i fell in love. because you were worth falling in love with. i couldn’t …

#Prose: May 29, 2015

There are nights when I wake up in the middle and I sometimes find myself struggling or sometimes I would punch the wall where your 4th-year high school picture is taped. Sometimes I wake up scared. Sometimes, mad. And every time this happens, I just look at our picture together, taped on the wall, and …