#Journal: November 26, 2017





I’m addicted to a vice. Alcohol. I know what it tastes like. I know what it does to you. I know how blissful and destructive this could be. Liquor that’s bitter and sweet at the same time. Drink that heals you and fucks you up at the same time.

She is alcohol. She is my vice. She is bitter. She is sweet.

Like I am in alcohol. I am hooked. I know I’d get nothing good from this but a moment’s bliss and utter destruction. Like I am in alcohol, I could and would accept the bitterness and the sharpness of her attitude and past just to satisfy and get a taste of the sweetness I first found in her.

Her words could be as smooth as a shot of Jagermeister. Her past the sharpness of a shot of tequila. She could be as sweet as a glass of Moscato. I could live in the temporary bliss my alcohol and this girl can give me.

Like alcohol, I allow her to destruct me. Like alcohol, I allow her to burn my insides. Like alcohol, I can let her crush me down. Like alcohol, I’m down, drunk of my thoughts of her.


#Journal: November 22, 2017

I managed to get myself hooked. I hate it. It seemed to be an everyday habit of talking to this certain person. Now I’m trying to stay low, making my soul stir violently. I can’t calm down. It felt like I was hooked to cocaine, shaking involuntarily, anxiously looking for a fix. I feel like I need a fix of that person, that fix to be a conversation that would end around almost midnight. I did this to myself. I knew I get too emotionally attached to things and now I’m down the drain.

This is my bad side. I have no control. I abuse every single thing that makes me feel good. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Love. Passion. Emotions. Some unspeakable things. Some things people find absurd but I do it without regrets. These things that make me feel good are the things that carry me away from the twisted world we live in. As part of my addiction, I create a world where I live in with any of those things. I find solace in these things.

I am currently addicted to a certain person. Or probably an idea of this person. This is one of the worst kind of addiction. I overthink. I over analyze. I can’t stop thinking about you when you don’t appear on my phone. Yes, I get to do more important stuff but your name’s a huge neon billboard in my head. I can’t just remove it.

Like cocaine. Like heroin. Like any other drug out there. You make my soul buzz with emotions. Like alcohol. You are bittersweet but I still take it. I know you can massively ruin me but I still take you in. How crazy, how stupid, how foolish am I. I’d ruin myself just to get a fix. I never learn. I try not to do the same things I did back then but I go back whenever I see something that makes me feel good and indulges in it too much…too much.

My ex was right. I have a penchant for raging tempests. I have a penchant for looking for death behind a tempting cigarette stick. I smoke it. I take a drag, let death, danger, risks, wrecks, storms, and whatnots fill my being.

I am so not innocent, yeah? I am more than these things you see. I am my addictions. I am my uncontrolled self. I am all my toxic substances I take. Apparently, one of these substances is you. You’re like cocaine. I’m hooked. Now I can’t get the fuck out of this hell.

Now, could I get a line to sniff?



From https://king-klaus-wicked.deviantart.com/art/Pulp-Fiction-Mia-Wallace-664078544


#Journal: November 21, 2017

Us human beings are no different from the universe. Neil deGrasse Tyson once said “There’s [sic] as many atoms in a single molecule of your DNA as there are stars in the typical galaxy. We are, each of us, a little universe.” Both are complex beings. For years we have tried looking for a definite, final answer to our questions like “why we exist?” or “what is really out there?” but to no avail. We have vague answers but most of the time we are faced with more questions.

No, I cannot give you a definite answer as to who I really am. My experiences and memories could show you. But, humans as we are, I change. I might not be the same person as I am last year or probably a few months ago. For days, months, years pass by I have learned from my experiences.

No, what you’ve done before does not ultimately define who you really are as a person. You might have done those things back then, it’s okay. We all make mistakes. Forgivable. It just becomes unforgivable if you do not learn from it or it does not become a wake-up call for you to do something to get yourself back on track.

These things that happened and are to happen to each of us makes us complicated beings. Each of us is an individual, unique galaxy. The good things are the Borealis within, giving colors in our initially black and white life. The bad things, on the other hand, are those dying stars and planets exploding loud enough to wake us up back to what it is in front of us.

We are like galaxies, complex and limitless. Each of us still has crevices in our soul yet to be discovered and explored. Boundaries yet to challenge.

Like galaxies, our souls are restless beings trying to find our ultimate happiness and purpose in life. Like celestial bodies, our bodies have a certain time limit. It is on us to make each of our lives better for us and for the people who care.

#Prose: February 21, 2017

Icarus was a foolish man. He was told not to hover near the sun. He did, and he died.

We all are Icarus at one point in our lives. Our head says no but our heart says go. We lived and loved blindly, foolishly.

I had my time. He had his, too. Together, unknowingly, we flew too close to the sun. I might have made sure not to put wax on my wings, but I flew too close for my own passion to burn me down.

I might have fallen, but like a phoenix rising from the ashes, each scar would be a reminder for me to take caution…to take shelter if I have to…to fly once again.

The sun was a temptress. She was too perfect for mortals, yet humans wanted to see the beauty up close and personal. We are not contented creatures. Nothing is ever enough for us.

At one point, we are all the sun. At one point, he or she was the sun. Too perfect, too pure for us. We know we can get to the sun but sometimes we do not have the willpower to work for what we want. We fall, like Icarus.

At some point, we reach the sun. We become so engrossed by the beauty it shows us. We become so obsessed with it, we try to make it our own. I tried to make things my own since I work for what I wanted, despite all the red flags telling me to stop or back down. I was so into the sun. I was so into the love I created. Unconsciously, the sun’s tongues of fire are already consuming me. It did hurt, but I deserved to burn in my own passion and desperation that never ceases to die, like the sun.

Like everyone else, Icarus taught us not to be foolish like him, Like everyone else, the sun taught us that passion can grow to obsession and it’ll be the last of us.

#Journal: November 12, 2017

Why did I say that? I think I said too much. Did I blow my chance? I hope not. I hope I was vague enough to reserve some parts but obvious enough for her to feel that she was the one I was talking about. I gave away too much, now you might be thinking it’s a completely different person.

Girl, let me tell you this. I might risk our connection. This might look like a stupid attempt to go back to how it used to be. To go back to that time when we were still innocent, unaware of how each of us feels and thinks. To go back to the time when I could feel genuinely happy when I receive a notification from you.

I take back what I said about me risking nothing. I realized, in this careless action, I’m risking a lot: my chance, our connection, and, most importantly, you. I placed myself on the line, along with those three. But you believe in me, even told me I was brave, brave enough to talk and write about my thoughts and feelings. Mind you, I just realized this boldness takes a toll on me.

This is stupid, but a brave, attempt to take back our innocence. But aside from that, let me tell you this: it is you all along. This happiness was because of you, and I thank you, thank you so much for bringing light back into my life. I feel like I owe much to you.

Cliche as this may sound, but you made my heart beat again. Yes, it sounds corny/cheesy, but it’s the truth. I feel that I could love again.

I don’t know where this goes. I don’t know when this would last. If you’re reading this, for I fear that you are actually reading, I hope this might not change how you treat me, because, although I feel this way for you, I am still the same old kid you first knew. I hope things will still be the same for us, or even better. I hope you’ll still ask me out and enjoy each other’s company, because your presence makes me happy, too. I hope you feel the same way too.

Sometimes I wish I would know less so I could feel less. But, as usual, things happen for a reason. If that is so, then there must be a good reason as to why our paths crossed, and why I feel this way. I hope there’s a good reason behind all these.

#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 you will never leave
Like the rest of them

#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
What it does to the skin on your fingertips
Even then, I was not afraid of the heat
How could I be afraid of something so

But then there was you,
You whirled your way into my life
Burning away all I had built up
You were a firestorm stronger than I have ever seen
And suddenly the light under the burners seemed
So cold compared to the light in your eyes
And I thought, again, foolishly
How could I be afraid of something so

And I forgot how it burns when you get too close to the fire.
But you didn’t let me forget for long,
Because your lips tasted of ash
And your hair smelled like smoke
And I should’ve been afraid, but then
Maybe I liked the slow burn under my skin
And the way you trailed flame
And maybe I liked the smoke slipping through my hands.

I didn’t notice how my fingers had started to turn black
How your lips sparked with every word you spoke
Or how everything had begun to turn dry and dead.

My mistake-

I let you burn everything in your path.

Including me.

And maybe the skin under my fingernails won’t ever by anything but charred.

And maybe I’ll never let go of the heat now under my tongue.