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"