There is no plot twist.

This year has been a crazy, wild ride. I was gifted with family, friends, and that special someone who makes my heart happier than it was before.

I’ve been blessed with the people who surround my personal space, with the talents God has given me, and for the adventures and lessons that this year has brought me. But, as much as I would want to give light to the positive things that I’ve encountered this year, I have been weighed more with each awaking moment in which I wished I was dead instead.

“Oh, but why? You’ve got everything! You ungrateful bastard!” You would say. Well, no. Even with the amount of joy that may have been granted upon me, the catch is that I will ALWAYS face its downside; that is, being lonely than I already am. You have all these people around you, people who support and yearn for your success, and yet, you feel so alone when the clock hits 3 AM. There’s no one you can count on, no one to lean on, no one you can call to talk about your demons with.

Not even the person you’re in love with. Sometimes, it’s that very person that triggers all of your emotions at once. And sometimes, you screw things up because these demons play tricks to the one you love. They’ll break your relationship, make you realize you’re actually better off on your own. The fact that you should be fighting off your own demons than to drag someone with you is already disappointing you. What a dependent, shitty person I am. Do I even deserve this person in front of my cellphone screen? Do I deserve his reply, even when he has none?

There is no plot twist. God knows I’ve been hysterically asking Him to make my 2017 a year I won’t forget. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist.

Still, you try to subside all these thoughts and feelings away, for the sake of the ones you love and care most about. Who cares, right? Put a mask. Suppress everything. It’s what I do best anyway. There’s more to my story, but it’s a surface I can’t break. It’s too deep that even I can’t fathom what lies underneath. What stories are yet to be told. No one’s willing to listen. So, I’ll keep them to myself until I die.

 

I wish I was dead. Or maybe I’ve always been dead with every passing minute. Or you know, maybe I’m dead now, after you’ve read this.

 

There is still no plot twist.

Advertisements

I finally swallow the truth.

An open letter to the boy I like but I was too late. 


Hello. You know that this is about you. Everything was goddamn about you. We were very close, though we started being friends through social media. An internet friend is a real friend, too.

I don’t know why it happened all of a sudden. I was fine before. Was it because, I finally met you in person? And it felt so good to talk to you in real life than through a screen? Well, yes. It is.

It wasn’t your intention to break my heart. The timing was just very wrong—even though I was the first one to break yours. Yes, I broke yours first. I hated you for liking me in such a short span of time, for asking me silly things and admitting that, in fact, you liked me. What was I supposed to do then? Tell you I love you? No. It doesn’t work that way, prince charming. I didn’t know you very well, and you can say the same about me at that time being. We were still strangers then. So, no, I didn’t reciprocate the love you gave. I threw it, because I was so unsure. I mean, who THE HELL were you?

But that all changed now. Years later, we finally met in an unexpecting way. Who knew? I though I’d never see you. It was good we remained friends, though. Close friends, to be honest. But, something in my heart clenched and my stomach swirled. What? What was it? I shrugged it off.

But, even when I jumped on my bed and layed there, you messaged me—”nice seeing you”—and I said the same. Wow, it really was SO NICE to see you. Because you are the boy whose heart I broke a few years back. I never did admit to you that I liked you, too, then. But it was just crazy; it felt like we were going too fast. So, yet again, I restrained myself at that time.

I’m really sorry if I didn’t give you a chance. And now I regret it. What if, somewhere at some point, I told you that I liked you too? Where would we be then? What ifs. They’ll torment you for the rest of your life.

So now, I accept my defeat. And my mistake. You have someone special in your life now, and I don’t want to interfere and ruin such connection. You deserve it after all the heartbreaks you experienced after me. I know I broke your heart intentionally, but you are breaking mine, too, right now, without knowing. And not because you wanted that.

It’s my fault I let you go. And I’m sorry. I’m glad we remain friends though and that means the world to me. You aren’t aware that I really like you now, but it’s better off that way. You deserve a peaceful and happy relationship. Until then, I wish you luck.

 

I can’t write right.

Sometimes I can’t write,

my mind’s being deceived.

Not sure if it’s right,

don’t know what to believe.

 

A blank piece of paper

stares intently back at me.

I can’t even bother

to write meaningfully.

 

It’s as if every inch

of creativity has been taken.

Maybe I just need a pinch,

or  a life-changing awaken.

 

Take me back

to those days,

when I don’t lack

the words to say.

 

A few drops of inspiration,

something to set the mood.

Using my imagination,

to write something good.

 

Perhaps, my talent is missing.

But, I can’t seem to discern why.

I used to long for writing,

letting every word go by.

 

I am thirsty to create anything

that will leave your literary soul

hanging, banging, jumping, craving.

Will I achieve my goal?

 

 

 

 

Inadequacy.

Have you ever had the feeling of not being good enough? That you’re never worth it?

 

Well, this day is one those days. Where I feel as if I’m running away from something that’s not there; something abstract, invisible. Lately, I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions. Questions mostly about self-hatred, dispute, and scarcity.

 

“Why am I not good enough for writing?”

Is one of the questions I ask myself. I have always been fond of writing ever since childhood. I used to make fan fictions for my friends, one-shot stories, and even “imagines”. Currently poetry is the bloodline of my writing “career” (if you can even call it that) and I still feel like my poems are shit. They’re absolutely no good, not well-constructed, a mess. Yet, I see other people my age who can write beautiful pieces with or without breaking a sweat–still, the point is, that if they can do it, why can’t I seem to? Is it because I don’t actually have the talent? Or maybe I wasn’t just really gifted with talent of writing? I guess I’ll never know. While typing this, I feel sick. Because I can’t use fancy terminologies or fix my train of thoughts appropriately and because of that, I know I lack the important skill of writing.

 

“Why am I not good enough for painting and drawing?” 

This one’s pretty obvious to me. I am aware that I am not great at painting (and drawing for that matter) yet I keep doing it. Just shows how much how hard-headed I am. This is kind of upsetting because I genuinely enjoy painting and drawing but my passion for it isn’t enough to fuel my creativity to be able to make mesmerizing art. I’ve realized this thought as I was watching a person paint a realistic painting of a person, with shading, lighting and everything, which is one of my greatest weaknesses. I kept comparing myself to her over and over; “how come she can do it perfectly?” “how can she do that?” “why can’t I do it?”. In fact, I can’t paint without a base or copy–which she can do just fine (but if I do it, my piece will surely turn out as trash). Sometimes, I can’t help but doubt my love for art. Maybe art’s not meant for me after all, considering all the weaknesses and cons I have whenever I make one.

 

“Why am I not good enough of a student?” 

As a student, I frequently ask myself this question. Why I’m never able to be the best top-notcher, why I can’t perfect an easy exam, why I can’t recite in class properly, why I can’t perform speeches or performance tasks in front of people. I’m always anxious, queasy, easily pressured even when I’m not supposed to be. I study all day and night because I want things to get done the soonest. Once they announce quizzes, exams, homeworks, activities, I do them as soon as the words leave from my professors’ mouth. But still, I don’t get the grade that I think I deserve. I even once considered myself to be homeschooled because people terrify me (since I go to a bigger school now than before). I feel them judging, criticizing, stabbing me in my back. I can hear their whispers, the roll of their eyes as I walk past, the uncomfortable shift of the world as they turn to look at me. I lack social well-being. In relation to this question, I ask myself, “I think I’m only good at memorizing stuff. But that doesn’t make me smart, does it? They have a difference, I know.” And I admit it to myself in the mirror. I’m not smart, I can only memorize–and there’s a goddamn difference.

 

With these questions, I tend to question myself and my abilities. In line with this, I scrutinize myself in the meanest way possible. I am my own enemy. Either I meddle with these demons, or I break free. There is no in-between. But meddling with them is much more fun because I don’t see one positive thing about being talentless. I want to be good enough, to be worth it, to be okay. Will I ever?

Having that said, I hope you find what you truly love doing, and being good enough for that. I hope you find yourself worth it, amidst the negative things that are choking you. Stay strong, reader. Stay strong, self.

 

xx

 

 

A magnet attracts a non-metal

I let my walls down 

For a guy who wouldn’t bring me up.

He said he likes girls who like pink;

But I’ve always liked black.


He searches for the sunrise, 

While I await for the twilight.

I let my feelings flow

For a boy who wouldn’t let go of his past.


I love his smile,

But he hates his own smirk.

He prefers his coffee plainly brewed,

I want mine with milk.


I spend my time alone;

Quietly.

He spends his in a bar;

Loudly.


But lastly…

I was attracted to a magnet, 

But I was non-metal.

I knew I stood no chance.


I still had my hopes,

My wishes, my dreams.

But, alas, I accepted it;

He will never be mutually attracted to me.


 

Seasonal changes.

It’s summer
The brown leaves fell off the trees
In unison with how I fell for you.

It’s halloween
The kids are terrified of horror movies
As much as how terrified I am of losing you.

It’s winter
The streets are filled with snow and the breeze is cold
Kind of like how you talk to me now—cold and blunt.

It’s all souls day
The day to remind us of the people who are dead
But in my state, it’s a day to evoke that you and what
we used to have is long dead and gone