4Ws

Where am i in your inbox,

Which part in the drawers of your mind am i stored, 

Where am i in your life, 

Which part of your body do i exist, 

Just where

Who

What

Am i to you

Yung one-sided love? EST 2012.

I've been loving you for so long. From a distance, I whisper to the wind what my heart is shouting. It's beating "I love you, I love you, I love you" just like your favorite song playing in a repeat mode. We are friends, we laugh together, joke and fool around. There are awkward moments because society says you're a man and I'm a woman. Meant to be together, not to be keep apart. There's one moment where I see a glimpse of hope of "us", "we", being one together, sharing the same noun with a single verb in a sentence, in a paragraph, in a story, creating a life, breathing the same air. During a class discussion, I always raise my hands to feign intelligence. I have to endure the embarassment and humiliation when a teacher calls me for recitation. I am a stammering freak. I hate her, she should know that I am feigning. Maybe I could forgive her if one day she'll ask me"what is love?". I'll point you without much hesitation. Very cheeky perhaps but that's what you are to me. In Geometry, we sit apart, you sitting in front of the row, while I'm contented sitting at the back, staring and glowing at the mere sight of your back, the shape of your ears, your tousled hair, that tiny mole on your nape that's mocking me. Mindless to the teacher whose asking the class to compute the speed of car B from car C and A and all those shit that makes the world a complicated math world. You barely notice me because you are happy. I hold my breath as I see you look on your right. Sitting beside you is the woman you love. You look so perfect together, from the back of my mind, an evil thought says "ruin that perfection". But, I just watch silently from behind, murmuring from within that it's alright, I'm not hurting. This thing go on as we enter to other school ground called college, we remain friends. I say, I am dying. I could not hold on to you any longer. Waiting is a disease burning deep within me.

Written July 21, 2012

World War Chill

Sarap nung greenwich pizza tangina pero parang feeling ko mas masarap maging si Manong at seven in the morning, chill and still and perhaps content? Just perhaps

👫👬👭

Just thankful that before this year ends, I get the chance to make up with dear people who were missing in my life for months, especially this one here. Cheers to friendship! Choose it, no matter how the world tells you otherwise, prove them wrong and choose it. ❤

Me against the world lol

Me: Hi, world. Bahay na ako. Tangina nung bus na nasakyan ko. Mas mabagal pa sa usad ng pagkakaroon ko ng lovelife! 

World #1: Atleast nakauwi ka na, yung sa lovelife mo hindi pa rin dumadating ✌

World #2: Atleast the bus is moving... 👻👻👻

What makes a lousy, heartbreaking decision?

What makes a lousy, heartbreaking decision? 

Was it finding myself one fine existentially boring Sunday morning the need to get up, take a bath, dress, comb, c'mon, self, you can do it, let's have your eyes checked at EO Festival Mall?

Was I too dramatically slow in movement? Or should Wong Kar Wai's Chungking Express to blame? 

Was EO processing my check up too fast? Or should I blame Sarah Geronimo who were about to perform at the activity center that day? Popsters might be angry, perhaps my being too millennial and mainstream and pa-witty in wanting Sarah G on my instagram story were at soar? Was it excitement to the possibility of new adventure which makes me say yes to his "let's bike around filinvest this afternoon. G?" Was I too quick to respond "join us biking around alabang" to the anguish cry of her "Nasaan ka? I need a friend, I don't know how to be alone"

Was it choosing Bonchon over Jollibee as late lunch? Was the bike hours too long and the sweat too thick? No matter how I turn the events of that fine existentially boring Sunday morning over and over my head, it always goes back... What makes a lousy, heartbreaking decision? 

#

If the world is up to me? Heck, we don't need more libraries, art and culture establishments, laboratories, parks, arts installations, trees, parking space. What we need are darker lightings in shuttles and vans, sadder songs on spotify to listen to, blasting walkie talkies of drivers to muffle sounds of hiccups, more sleepy, more tired, more indifferent 17 co-commuters and sturdier handkerchiefs that can hold tears of a silly woman who just receives heartbreaking news of "kami na" that afternoon

Writing Exercise

She passed upon a girl and a boy along the corners of Ayala Triangle on her way home from work, the way the girl's smile flickers and the boy's eyes shines, they must be a new couple, she named them Jenny and Josh. As they advance closer towards her, all nature grew hushed. If birds were on sight, they may fell silent. Even the construction of a building in the distance seem to cut its sound. The golden, late afternoon light intensified around them, the sight was hurting her eyes, it was tuesday, exactly nineteen days at being 26 years old, and to nature, she can't help but whisper, "remember me? i'm waiting, i'm still here"

When the Night ask Itself

Walking in the sidewalk at 11-ish PM is a scenery of a boy begging for a little piece of bread, of a girl in high ponytail with tight short shorts, she's crossing and a crowd of boys are whistling, there's that woman screaming for a lost wallet and a man running for his life, tightly holding a bag, inside he could feel the growling hungry stomachs of his children, his breathless, "Hush! Hush now, my children!" could be heard in the silent of the night, the stale smell of sex is mixing with the smell of tapa, of burger, of.. There's a groan of adultery inside the kitchen, stretch your eyes far to that pillar beside that two kids sniffing 'til their noses bleed, is death without a scyth, he's holding a party, each night, at this hour

*randomly written 05 September 2013 

Inconsistencies.

I don't know what to make of this day. 

There's troubled poetry

throbbing in my head. 

The dear vagina is bleeding and

People are nagging. #NothingSeemsToRhyme

How Should A Person Be

1. i'm free:
2. this afternoon, night
3. tomorrow afternoon, night
4. the next afternoon, night and day
5. just hiding inside painting
6. wearing a matching tracksuit and listening to the bbc. 

Iyong

Mga posibleng sagot sa tanung na, "Ano ba kasing standard mo?"

1. Iyong lalaki na hindi po sana magmumukhang bading sa wedding day picture namin kapag sinabit sa wall ng magiging bahay namin

2. Iyong mabait

3. Iyong mukhang maraming pera sa bank account, kung hindi po talaga achieve, kahit sa mukha na lang, fake it 'til we make it in life na lang kami ganern

4. Iyong kaya pong mabigyan ng limang apo na may matatangos na ilong ang mga magulang ko, if not move on po tayo sa next please lol

5. Iyong kaya po ako ipagtayo ng bahay na hanggang third floor ang taas with rooftop, carpark at balcony, with garden po na may tent overlooking the whole world

6. Iyong nabasa nya na lahat ng libro na gusto kong basahin bago ko pa man ito mabasa

7. Iyong nilatag nya na yung mga bituin sa mga paa ko bago ko pa mabigkas ang "Ang ganda ng mga bituin, kung kaya ko lang silang abutin..."

8. Lalaki. Just to be clear, Lalaki po ang hanap ko. Isang malaking standard na po iyon para sa'kin. Thanks po. Lol

😂😂 

The Great Perhaps

Drops of rain, the comfort of pillows, 5 years worth of running man and the return of superman episodes, pile and pile of to-read books, waiting for wet hair to dry, picking out white and dead hairs, hand lotions, constant betrayal of my mother, the promise of another mundane tomorrow, thy holy singlehood, these, and our friendship are few of the things that I hold true and dear in my life, friendship that endured more than ten years, sharing life stories as we encounter them, life stories that binded us with the possibility of, "Perhaps?" 

A love sentence

"He met another girl he loved, one that probably knew him a little less well" 

Here

From the "flexible time nga pero ngarag kung ngarag naman kapag andiyan na ang trabaho" as Program Researcher in GMA wearing almost always the haggard slash walang akong pake fashion of pangbahay clothes na spaghetti straps at tshirt na ipapares sa maong sige larga pwede na yan during shoots ocular at post-mortem meetings to a fixed eight to five routine contract of service Researcher-Writer in PA na masaya na sa renew renew lang every six months ng kontrata kind of employee in the government reluctantly wearing pink and yellow that scream wow lakas maka-talino, lakas makagalang-galang, lakas maka-teacher peg na uniforms to making it in Makati City as Technical Assistant in GCG wearing "dazed and culture-shocked" corpo attires everyday - definitely made the five-year experience, Experience lol 

#hugsarehandmade ❤

Chiara changing the world one knit of yarn at a time 💓💖💕 each projects named after Filipino women worthy of note 💪 Thanking the Universe I get to encounter such unique people with overwhelming passion who defy the gravity of "rest", "stability" and "immovability" with "restlessness", "change" and "moving"

It was Monday.

I hope to meet a guy who would love me with all the figure of speeches in him than shower me with adjectives, yung mala-Tonyo po sana please #KitaKita 

TMI.

Today's Lit: 

1. "May lakad ka sa Sunday?" 

2. "Meron eh. Bakit sana? Bike ba? 

3. "Hindi. Simba sana sa Baclaran. Gusto ko sana ng may kasama... Ano palang lakad mo sa Sunday?"

4. "Niyaya ko Sya lumabas. Hehe"

19 July 2017

Cc

Mama combed my hair today, I'm her prettiest daughter, she says cc my two older brothers lol 

Yellow lights

The van always found itself stopping at the exact same place where yellow lights are glowing, where it saw a girl tightly hugging a boy she cannot have 

Fleeting.

She was 23, on her way home from work and was thinking about spaghetti, of burger, the smell of hot rice, of home cooked meal from the mother she missed for 2 days. He was 25, on his way to work with lungs filled with one packed cigarette smoke and was thinking about sex, stars and moon bursting... And yet, and yet here they are, two wandering souls in a chance encounter so precious, so profound, so short, so sweet, lost in that ten second heartbreak.

*Another random writing of 2 years ago lost somewhere between Alabang and Wanderland but was physically stuck inside a Tas Trans bus waiting, watching from the window a random stranger smoke

Happy Father's Day ❤

Next to God, he as a person is the biggest riddle I want to solve in my life. But try as I may, I just can't. Or won't. Or wouldn't want to. I understand (or do I?) his pains. His agonies. His sufferings. His sacrifices. I couldn't imagine being a root, to endure that heavy burden of bushy leaves, branches and fruits as it grows before your eyes. He's one hell of a man. But a man is a man. There must be impulse decisions. He must have made mistakes. I see it in the shady sketches I found in one of the drawers of my mind called past. Everything was all hush-hushes and whispers from a distant place. It never was confirmed, the voices were so far that reaching at them now is utterly pointless. I don't care either. He makes good advices. He throw words with utmost care, he almost always stumble upon saying it. You can never cut him in mid-sentence. He never shuts up once he starts talking. The world makes sense after spending one day at his company. Sometimes he's brutal. Most of the times he is forgiving. But just like Mother, I never really knew him before he became my Father. It's so hard to reason him outside his religiously grounded philosophies. To argue with him is like shouting on the wall. It's frustrating. But in the end of everything, he's still my father that I believe and respect in all aspects of life

*Randomly written on November 2013

Oh.

Today's Lit caught during transit:

Oh simple thing, 

Where have you gone?

I'm geting old and I need something to rely on

I came across a fallen tree

I felt the branches of it looking at me

Is this the place that I've been dreaming of? 

Poetic Peace.

"What is your dream?", we get to asked this question number of times when we're young, by our parents, by our relatives, by our nosy teachers, by friends, by the commercial on a television, and get to answer it in a jolly and very high pitch voice: "pangarap ko pooooo..." on and on til these number of people asking us gradually disappears, so holding onto it, this so called "dream" isn't that easy as we become "adult" into this world, we sigh and just surrender to the whims of our lazy thoughts, why, it is so much easier to just sleep it off in the bus on the way home from work, molest it even more on weekends, than to dream, than to think about it, than facing the complexity (or is life too simple?) of our reality, so it disappears, we allow it to disappear like a butterfly overcome by the fragrance of the flower it's clinging into (lousy figure of speech, i know) and as time passes, we asked, when we aren't too consumed, we dare to asked, "what was that dream? It was so sure, it was definite, it was, it is", so fleetingly that we scratch our head and just forget about it, again ... til one bright sunny day we wake up to a feeling of "was my feet this tingly before I go to bed last night? My hand, was it this soft?" we get up, wonder, and right there and then we stumble upon a poetic peace of our adult self asking us, "how about you giving it a try?"

*Randomly written on May 22, 2016 upon finishing 20-episodes of one particular korean series. 

Where Am I if not Here

It was a saturday, it was friday, it was between friday and saturday, it was exactly that - the weee hours of the night, caught somewhere between being resigned and hopeful of the day that passed and will continue to pass, when I was jolt up from a very tiring sleep caused by the six hour La Union travel, slowly, like a prayer, I woke up feeling my ears, then my eyes, my nose, my lips, I felt the inside of my mouth (breath some ear out on the inside of my palm and realize with grave certainty the relying cause behind my singlehood at twenty five lol), I felt the stiff baby hair of my armpits, I stretched my toes and felt my soul, my pain, my thoughts which store drawers of frustrations, struggles, insecurities, all my whims, my happiness, my joy, my core - it was all there. I was whole. Self. Important. Still. Reassured, I yawned. It is another day.

I reached over my bestfriend lying beside me, my phone, my buddy who knows all my "the world revolves around me" notes, to check the exact time, when I saw the notification of five messages, my heart beamed with familiar fear, wishing, hoping that it was not bad news about something someone somebody close to my heart, it was not. 

It rained "congratulations, vane!" and I was there right in time to catch it, a bit dazed and amazed, I cried, stared on the wall and cried a bit more. But I was there. I made it. With just the right amount of luck to catch it. 

Was the sky brighter and bluer than it was just yesterday? Does the world look more colorful and kinder than it was when I have last seen it? My mother, she was not this forgiving when I switch channels, was she? This "Diamond" song by Rihanna, has it always been so dancy and groovy than the last time I heard it? The world feels so alive. Where was I this entire time?

It is true what they say, a whole lot can happen in a day :) 

The God of Small Things

Dear Ms. Roy Arundhati, I've just finished your "The God of Small Things" few days ago. I now take pleasure in seeing the ordinary with a new eyelids of similes metaphors and hyperboles, thanks to you, ma'am.

All of the Stars

Dear Ed Sheeran, 

It's not just another night and I'm not staring at the moon, did not see a shooting star and did not think of you. Mali ka. Pero lots of love parin. 

Some Lit.

Just two random snatches of Literature encountered today that stretched the normal lines of dissatisfaction in her face, a smile was it called?

1. Regina Spektor's, "All the lies on your resume have become the truth by now and the things that you never did have become your youth"

2. A cannot-be-still child somewhere between five-six curiously found herself stuck in a commute traffic with 17 tired impatient snoring souls and was left to wonder, "Saan nanggaling yung mga stars, Mama? Mga kaluluwa ba ang mga stars?"

With longing, vanro.

It's 11:23PM, the air is dry and full of thoughts and things to say, but at times such as these, only the small things are ever said, 

Happy Birthday. 

Are you happy? 

You must be. 

Be-"coming"

Have you ever been asked, "what have you accomplished so far in your life?" or have you asked this yourself lately? I do. I did. Constantly. Other 24 years old from different walks of life have become a "something" of this or that for once in their lives; either they have established themselves a business that they have always desired, created something wonderful that, if not changed or transformed, somehow altered the future for the young ones, or started building their family, got married and experienced that orgasmic feeling of be-"coming" a man or a woman, or have traveled to different countries and cities they've always dreamt of seeing, or took courage and became the person they have always wanted to be, or went to Africas of the world to sustain humanity, or just simply managed to materialize the "someday" they have been waiting for. Where was my poverty soul possibly be during it? It was sitting at the far off corner of the roomful of uniformed men, breathing, vibrating at having this one chance to live - if not Live - with peroxide hair. Lol 😂 

Randomly written on June 19, 2016

DM

Happy Birthday to Ate DM wearing flowers in her hair with magic secrets of youth in her eyes up there in heaven.

We miss you so much beh, our lives may have come a long way, but seeing you grow up before our eyes would have been more than enough to make our lives better. You will always be in our hearts. Continue to be an angel to all of us especially to Clark and your cousins.